Ghost in the Blood (The Ghosts) (6 page)

“The Imperial Magisterium,” said Caina. “They have no regard for the laws of men or gods, and view all other men as either slaves or raw materials for their arcane experiments.”

Jiri and Ducas shared a look. 

“That…is unlikely,” said Jiri.

“Why not?” said Caina.

“Because,” said Ducas, “the local Magisterium is a collection of fools. Oh, don’t misunderstand me, girl. Magi are more trouble than they’re worth, and I wouldn’t mind killing the lot of them. But I doubt the Marsis chapter has anything to do with Icaraeus. I know all four of the masters, and they’re fat, craven old fools. Too cowardly to dare the First Magus’s displeasure. The junior brothers are desperate to get reassigned, and none of them will risk doing anything to jeopardize that.” 

“But Marsis is the largest city in the western Empire,” said Caina. “Why wouldn’t the Magisterium have a strong presence here?”

Ducas looked annoyed, but Jiri answered. “The head of the local chapter displeased the First Magus in some way. I don’t know the details. Ever since then, the Marsis chapter has been neglected, a dumping ground for the Magisterium’s misfits. Which is idiocy. If the Kyracians ever attack again, we’ll need capable magi to counter the sorcery of the stormsingers and stormdancers. Not a collection of incompetent fools.” 

“Incompetent fools often feel slighted. They’d have excellent reason to betray the Empire and side with Icaraeus,” said Caina.

Jiri shrugged. “Perhaps. I don’t know.”

“They would,” said Halfdan, “but I doubt any of them have the power or skill necessary to hide slaves entering the city. A foreign sorcerer must be working with Icaraeus.” 

“Oh, how splendid,” said Ducas. “Our Magisterium is bad enough, but at least the Legions and Ghosts keep them in line. Foreign sorcerers are always trouble.” 

“So, who is buying Icaraeus’s slaves?” said Jiri.

“Three of Marsis’s noble Houses,” said Halfdan. “Palaegus, Chlorus, and Heliorus.” 

“Their equations didn’t balance, either,” said Radast, still peering at the ruined knife.

“What does that mean?” said Caina.

Ducas scowled at Radast. “Widows. Women head all three of those Houses. Their husbands have died, some of them have lost children, and yet none of them have remarried. Young, wealthy widows.” He sighed. “I could use a wealthy wife, though they’re all a bit mouthy.” 

“So you know them?” said Halfdan.

Ducas scratched his jaw. “Oh, aye. All three of them. I haven’t yet gotten any of them into bed, but I’m working on it.” 

“Can you see any of them buying slaves?” 

Ducas thought about it. “Maybe. None of them are terribly bright. They’re addicted to novelty and indolence, and waste a great deal of money. I could see them buying slaves just for the fun of it. Or maybe their seneschals are embezzling money.” 

“What about disappearances?” said Caina.

Ducas snorted. “If you want to kill them, that’s easy enough. Hard to question a corpse, though.”

“No,” said Caina. “Has anyone in the city disappeared? Even with the aid of sorcery, it’s got to be expensive to smuggle slaves into Marsis. If Icaraeus is supplying slaves to the noble Houses, it would cheaper to kidnap people in the city.” 

Ducas shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Caina gave him an incredulous look. “You don’t know?”

“Marsis is a busy port,” said Jiri. “Thousands of people travel here every year, both by land and sea. Some stay, some don’t. Three quarters of a million people live here. Our Ghost circle has only three members - too many of our brothers and sisters were killed in the last Kyracian raid six years past, and we haven't had the chance to replace them. My informants can only do so much. There’s no possible way to keep track of that many comings and goings.” 

“Any rumors of disappearances?” said Caina. 

“Some,” said Jiri. “But nothing substantial. Like I said, people leave all the time. There are rumors that slavers are snatching people…but no proof.”

“Counts,” muttered Radast. “The counts are wrong. That equation doesn’t balance.” 

“All this is speculation,” said Halfdan. “The one solid piece of evidence we have is that Icaraeus is selling slaves to the noble Houses. We’ll start looking there.” 

“You’re in luck, then,” said Ducas. “Agria Palaegus is holding one of her balls tonight. Since I’m a dashing military hero, I am of course invited.” 

Halfdan nodded. “I’ve arranged invitations for myself and my daughter, as well. We’ll have a look around and see if we notice anything amiss. Get a feel for the land.”

Caina knew what that meant. He wanted her to familiarize herself with Lady Palaegus’s mansion during the party. 

That would make it easier to break into the place and have a more thorough look around. 

“All right,” said Ducas. “I’d better get going. Any longer and I’ll be missed.” 

“We’ll see you there,” said Halfdan. “Best if you pretend that we’ve never met.”

Ducas gave him a look. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Basil.” He gave Halfdan a shallow bow and departed through the massive steel door. 

“Insufferable fool,” muttered Jiri. “A pity that his contacts among the Houses are so useful. Otherwise I’d arrange to have him assigned on the other side of the Empire.”  

“You do good work here, Jiri,” said Halfdan. “The Emperor is pleased with your service. If you hadn’t intercepted one of Icaraeus’s letters, we never would have known that he was operating out of Varia Province in the first place.”

“That devil is clever,” said Jiri. “Good luck at the ball tonight.”

“We’ll be in touch,” said Halfdan, and they left.

###

“What did you think?” said Halfdan as he pulled shut the coach’s door.

Caina though it over. “Jiri’s the one charge, isn’t she? Radast is too eccentric to function, and Ducas…how did he become a Ghost, anyway?” 

“His wife,” said Halfdan.

Caina sighed. “Not this again.” Ark had hated her on sight. Later Caina learned that she resembled his lost Tanya, and her very presence caused him pain. They had gotten past that, but it had been difficult for a while.

Halfdan chuckled. “No, not like you and Ark. Ducas’s family is old, but poor. He married the daughter of a wealthy merchant for the dowry. His new wife grew weary of him and hired assassins. Ducas came to me for help, and he’s belonged to the Ghosts ever since.” 

“What happened to his wife?” said Caina. Ark snapped the reins, and the coach rumbled into the street. 

“She escaped, unfortunately,” said Halfdan. “Last I heard, she made it to New Kyre, and is living high off Ducas’s money and entertaining an endless string of lovers.” 

Caina laughed. “Little wonder he’s bitter.”

“What did you think of Radast?”

“There’s something…off about him,” said Caina. “And not because of his poor social graces. That’s common enough in scholarly men. But…he was right about my height and weight from a single glance. He’s dangerous, but I can’t see how.”

“Very good,” said Halfdan. “He’s killed twenty-seven people. That I know of.”

Caina blinked. “How? Poison?”

“Crossbows,” said Halfdan. “He’s a genius with mechanical devices, and built his own crossbow. He’ll follow a target, learn his habits. Then he’ll spend a few days calculating the shot.” Halfdan waved his hand in an arc. “Radast once shot a man dead through an open window from ninety yards away. He’ll usually shoot over the rooftops, so by the time people start looking for the crossbowman, he’s long gone. The Ghosts use him from time to time to dispose of people who need killing.”

“I can see how that would be useful.”

“It is,” said Halfdan. “A strange man, though. He and Jiri are lovers. I don’t think he could function without her. He’d become so engrossed in a calculation that he’d forget to eat or drink or dress himself.” He shrugged. “But if turns out that Lady Palaegus has been buying slaves…well, Radast will have a new target to calculate.” 

Caina glanced out of the window. She saw Radast staring down at them. Perhaps he was calculating the precise angle to send a crossbow bolt smashing through the glass. 

She looked away, trying not to shudder.

“Well,” said Caina, “then let’s meet Lady Agria Palaegus, shall we?” 

Chapter 6 - Agria's Ball

Caina spent the rest of the day preparing for the ball. 

It took a lot of work. She bathed, shaved, perfumed, coiffed, and dressed. Her hair went into an elaborate piled crown, leaving her neck exposed. Since she was masquerading as the daughter of a jewel merchant, she had no shortage of jewelry. Silver pins held her hair in place, silver earrings went in her ears, and a silver chain with sapphires to match her eyes went around her neck. She chose a black-trimmed blue gown with a billowing skirt and a tight bodice. It left her shoulders bare, and dipped rather lower than she would have liked, but she was fishing for information, after all. Her daggers went into her boots, though the sleeves were too tight to conceal throwing knives.

So she strapped them to her thighs instead. Just in case.  

Caina gave herself a critical glance in the mirror, nodded, and left her bedroom to join Ark and Halfdan. Ark waited by her door, clad in his usual mail and leather, though he had put on a nicer cloak. Halfdan stared out the window, wearing the rich fur-trimmed robe of a master merchant, a gold badge glittering in his cap, and a jeweled dagger at his belt. 

“Well, daughter,” said Halfdan, turning, “you look as fair as rose. A pity we aren’t seeking you a rich husband in truth. You’d snare one in no time.”

Ark stared at her, and said nothing. There was a look of distant pain in his eyes. She knew that he was thinking of Tanya.

“A rose with steel thorns, no doubt,” said Ark. “How many blades? Two?”

“Six,” said Caina. 

“Six?” said Halfdan. “Where did you hide…I don’t want to know. Shall we?” 

###

Lady Agria Palaegus’s mansion blazed with light. 

Glass spheres rested in every window, lit from within by sorcery. The Magisterium made a fortune from the sale of those glowing spheres, the novices of their order manufacturing and enspelling them by the thousands. The mansion stood six stories tall, built in the classical Imperial style, with columns and porticoes and statues of long-dead Emperors. Behind the mansion rose the crag of the Citadel, and the Black Angel Tower, darker than the night itself. 

Caina took Halfdan’s arm and walked towards the mansion’s double doors, following a long line of other guests. Ark followed, hand on sword hilt, his eyes flickering over the crowd. Caina took the opportunity to do her own examination of the guests. Most looked like lords or wealthy merchants. There were even a few masters of the Magisterium, fat old men in black robes with purple hoods. Like Ducas had said, they looked more at home with wine and rich food than with intrigue.

But appearances could deceive. Did they have dealings with Naelon Icaraeus? 

“Ah, Basil. There you are,” said Ducas as he approached. He still wore his tribune’s armor, though he had exchanged his red cloak for a black one with gold trim. His eyes flicked over Caina, up and down, lingering at her chest. “And you, Anna.” He took her hand and kissed it. “You look good enough to eat.”

Caina smiled. “I fear I would give you indigestion, my lord.” 

Ark snorted.

Ducas gave him a foul look and let go her of her hand. “Well, let’s get in line. Time to meet the rich whore herself.”

Caina glanced at him. “I though you wanted to marry her.”

“I want to bed her and get my hands on her money,” said Ducas. “That doesn’t mean I like her.” 

Lady Agria Palaegus waited by the door, flanked by a pair of bodyguards with the look of Legion veterans. She was her in her middle thirties, with long blonde hair, artfully arranged, and bloodshot blue eyes. Her black gown looked like mourning dress…yet it had been cut to leave her arms and cleavage bare, and it was too tight. 

Somehow she gave Caina the impression of overripe fruit that had just started to turn. 

“Ducas, you wicked man,” said Agria, as Ducas kissed her on the cheek. “I thought you weren’t going to come. My parties are dreadfully dull unless you attend.”

“Dear Agria,” said Ducas. “I wouldn’t miss your ball for the world. How else shall I feast my eyes upon your radiant beauty?”

Agria laughed. “Ever the flatterer. And you’ve brought guests?”

“So I have,” said Ducas. “This is a friend of mine, Master Basil Callenius, a master merchant of the Imperial Collegium of Jewelers.”

“My lady, an honor,” said Halfdan, kissing her hand.

“Why, Ducas!” said Agria. “You’ve brought me a present, haven’t you? You know how I love beautiful things.” She turned to Halfdan. “A noble lady must keep up appearances. If your merchandise is good, master merchant, then perhaps I shall honor you with my patronage.”

Halfdan bowed again. “My lady is too kind.” 

Agria’s face lit up as she saw Caina. “And who is this?”

“May I present my daughter, Anna?” said Halfdan. Caina gripped her skirts and did a deep curtsy, appropriate for a merchant’s daughter meeting a lady of high lineage. 

“Why, aren’t you a darling thing?” said Agria. “What do you think of Marsis, my dear? Not quite as beautiful as the Imperial capital?”  

“Perhaps not,” said Caina. “But not nearly so crowded.”

“Your father brought you here to find a husband, didn’t he?” said Agria. She made a show of lowering her voice. “Just between you and me, child, men are useless. Marry one for the money.” Her lip curled. “They aren’t good for anything else.”

“Well, my lady,” said Caina. Something clicked in her mind, and she had a sudden insight on how to win Agria’s trust. “Maybe they’re good for two things. I would like a husband with a good strong sword, after all.”

Agria let out a delighted little laugh. “True, true! Alas that the combination is so rare.” She put a hand on Caina’s bare shoulder, the palm cool and dry. “We shall be the best of friends, I am sure. I always enjoy the company of witty ladies.” 

“I should be honored, my lady,” said Caina. 

“Now, off you go,” said Agria. “I have other guests to greet.” She took no notice of Ark. No doubt she considered him part of the scenery. 

The great marble hall of Agria’s mansion blazed with light. Three iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each fitted with hundreds of miniature versions of the Magisterium’s glowing glass spheres. Guests in silk and fur and damask and armor moved through the hall, laughing and chatting and flirting. Musicians played in the corners, filling the air with soft music. Servants hurried to and fro, bearing trays of food and drink. All of them looked well-fed and healthy, if somewhat harried. 

None of them looked like slaves. 

“Quite a woman, Lady Agria,” said Halfdan. 

“Gods have mercy,” said Ducas. “This entire party probably cost a hundred times my tribune’s wages.”

“Why is she in black?” said Caina. “It looked like a mourning dress, if…”

“If whores wore mourning dresses, you mean?” said Ducas. “Her husband died…five years past. Along with her daughter. Some kind of plague, I think. The priests forbade a public funeral, lest the contagion spread.”

Halfdan glanced at Lady Agria, who stood laughing with the guests. “So she drowns her pain in revels.”

All at once, Agria reminded Caina of her mother. 

Perhaps Agria was glad to be rid of her husband and daughter. Caina felt a little chill settle in her stomach. Her mother had murdered her father and come within a hair’s breadth of murdering her. Had she succeeded, Caina had no doubt that her mother would have reveled the way Lady Agria reveled now. 

“What do you think, daughter?” said Halfdan.

“I think it’s an act,” said Caina, voice soft. “I think she’s far more dangerous than she lets on.”  

“Agria?” said Ducas, dubious. “She’s not bright enough to act.” 

“Perhaps,” said Halfdan. “Come, Ducas. Introduce me to wealthy women in need of jewelry. Daughter, why don’t you go and mingle? Arlann, stay with her, in case she meets a rake like Ducas.” 

“Of course, Father,” said Caina. “Lady Agria has a lovely home. I should very much like to see more of it.” 

Halfdan smiled and followed Ducas across the marble floor. 

“And you want to see more of it,” said Ark, “so it will be all the easier to break in later?” 

“What a dreadful thing to say,” said Caina. 

She spent an hour exploring. The ball had begun in the great hall, but had spilled through the rest of the mansion. She walked through the halls, listening to snatches of conversation. More than a few guests approached her, lords and merchants and the sons of lords and merchants, ranging from a boy of fifteen to a lord who had to be at least eighty. Most were inebriated. Caina flirted with them as necessary, gently rebuffed some, had Ark scowl at a particularly obnoxious suitor until he took the hint and remembered urgent engagements elsewhere. Everyone agreed it was a dreadful business about these slave raids, but surely the Lord Governor and the Legions would take care of it. No one knew anything useful. 

“Fools, the lot of them,” growled Ark.

“Aye,” said Caina. “But not foolish enough to buy slaves from Icaraeus.” She spotted a balcony at the end of the hall. Perhaps it would make a useful entrance for a later visit? “I’m going to get some fresh air.”

The balcony had a fine view of the city and the gardens below. Caina put her hands on the cold stone balcony, took a deep breath, and realized that she was not alone.

A man stood at the railing, glaring down at the garden. He was in his forties, and like Ducas, he wore the armor of a Legion tribune. Unlike Ducas, his armor had seen some hard use. There were scars on his face, ugly ones. His grim eyes turned towards Caina, and his hand twitched towards the hilt of his broadsword. A reflex action, she judged.

“I am sorry, sir,” said Caina. “I did not realize you were here.”

The man relaxed. “The error is mine. I forget that I am not on the battlefield, and that enemies do not lurk in every shadow.” That had a mocking edge too it. “Are you enjoying the party, my lady?”

Caina looked at him again, and made a gamble. “In truth, no. I do not care for these revels. I find such debauchery…unpleasant.”

“We are of like mind then,” said the man. “The Empire of old had sober, upright men and virtuous women. Now we are reduced to,” he waved a contemptuous hand at the mansion, “this.” He gave her a closer look. “You must be a…merchant’s daughter, I deem, come to Marsis to find a husband.” 

“I am,” said Caina.

“A word of caution, then,” said the tribune. “You will not find a worthy husband here. And do not trust anything Lady Agria tells you.”

“I don’t know,” said Caina. She gave him a bold smile. “You seem worthy enough.”

He blinked at her, and burst out in rough laughter. “I am hardly a suitable husband for a wealthy woman. Nor do I have any desire to take a wife at this time. Though you flatter me.”  

Caina did a curtsy. “Anna Callenius, daughter of Master Basil Callenius of the Imperial Collegium of Jewelers. This is my father’s hired man, Arlann of Caer Marist.” 

He bowed to her in turn. “Hiram Palaegus, tribune of the Ninth Cohort of the Twentieth Legion.”

Caina blinked. “You’re Lady Agria’s brother?”

“Brother-in-law,” said Hiram. “Lord Martin was my half-brother. I was a bastard, and my brother gave me the right to the Palaegus name, but no rights of inheritance, as he hoped to have a son one day. So when Martin died, along with his daughter, Agria became Lady of House Palaegus.” 

“My lord,” said Caina. “I am sorry to hear of your loss.”

Hiram blinked. “It was five years ago. But Martin was a good man. Far too good for that…” He shook his head and looked at Ark. “You, fellow. You were in the Legions, were you not? I can always tell.”

“Aye,” said Ark. “I was a centurion, and ran the Legion while the tribunes amused themselves at grand balls.”

Again Hiram let out a burst of rough laughter. “Well put! But some advice. Keep your mistress away from Agria. She would not be a…good influence.” 

He turned and walked away, vanishing into the mansion. 

“Bitter,” said Ark.

Caina shrugged. “It’s not surprising. He says he loved his brother and hated his sister-in-law. He can’t be happy with how things turned out. Or he’s simply bitter. It’s common enough, in highborn bastards.” She shook her head, thinking. 

“Mistress?” 

Caina looked up. A young woman in a maid’s dress approached. “Yes?”

“Are you Anna, Master Basil’s daughter?” 

“I am.”

“Lady Agria extends her compliments, and would like you to join her in the solar,” said the maid. 

“Of course,” said Caina. “Could you show me the way?” 

The maid led her through the marble maze of the mansion, with Caina taking careful note of the details. They went up a spiraling flight of steps, stopping at a door of dark wood. The maid knocked, and Lady Agria stepped out. 

“Ah, Anna, there you are,” said Agria. “I hope you could join me and a few friends for a quiet glass of wine, away from the party.”

“Of course, my lady,” said Caina.

She glanced at Ark just long enough to look dismissive. “Though your father’s man will have to wait outside, I’m afraid. One cannot have a decent chat with men hanging about, the brutish louts.”

Ark looked at Caina.

She touched his arm. “I’ll be fine. Wait for me at the bottom of the stairs.”

Ark nodded and left, the maid following after him.

“Come inside, my dear,” said Agria, taking her hand.

She led Caina into the solar atop the tower. Pillars held up a domed ceiling, and the spaces between the pillars had been filled panes of glass mounted in intricate leaden frames. The room had a splendid view of the city, and the Black Angel Tower reared up in the distance. Two women in expensive clothes sat in a circle of chairs around a central table, drinking wine and talking to each other.

None of that captured Caina’s attention, though. 

It was the fat white candles standing everywhere. It was the odd symbols and sigils, painted on every available flat surface. It was the fist-sized lump of misshapen crystal sitting atop the table. It was the odd, chemical scent in the air, something she remembered but could not quite place. 

“Not quite what you expected?” said Agria.