Ghost in the Flames (12 page)

Well, if someone wanted to offer her trouble, she could repay them in kind. 

As ever, the burning pyramids bathed the city in their fiery glow, casting all kinds of lovely shadows over the streets and alleyways. Caina moved from the stately mansions (and, she supposed, the high-class brothels) surrounding the Imperial Basilica and Corazain’s pyramid, and into the slums. The buildings changed from marble to brick and sagging wood, and Caina saw more and more people slinking on the streets and the alleyways. Women selling their bodies, and hungry men looking for prey. Lord Nicephorus’s seizure of the peasants’ lands had put a lot of desperate, starving people on Rasadda’s streets. Just thinking about it made Caina angry, so she put the thought aside. She needed to focus on remaining unseen. 

They never saw her. 

She came to Arzaidanir’s pyramid. It was only about a third of the size of Corazain’s, and weathered with age, but its crowning fire burned as brightly as ever. The neighborhood around the pyramid seemed the worst that she had seen in Rasadda so far, block after block of sagging, crumbling apartment houses alongside a row of charcoal works. Caina stared at the charcoal works for a moment, and then nodded. The Lane of Ashes. Of course. 

Caina moved through the shadows until she came to the ninth house overlooking the street. Like all the others here, it looked abandoned, the windows empty, the boards sagging and splintered. Someone had even stolen the door. Caina went up the front steps and looked around, listening. She saw nothing but dust, heard nothing but her own breathing. 

She saw recent footprints in the dust, though, going up the stairs. She followed them, her boots making no sound against the boards, and came to the fourth floor. A door opened into an empty room, and Caina saw Ark standing by the windows, staring down at the street. He was waiting for her.

“Ark,” said Caina in her disguised voice.

She had the immense satisfaction of seeing him flinch in surprise. He whirled, broadsword flying into his hand, the blade coming up. His eyes fell on her, and he took a step back in sudden alarm. 

“Don’t you recognize me?” said Caina, in her normal voice. She walked into the room, the cloak blending and blurring with the darkness. 

“No,” said Ark. He shook his head. “In the dark, when you are dressed like that…you look and sound like the very shadow of death itself.” He scowled. “How did you sneak up on me? No one has ever been able to do that.”

“I’ve told you before,” said Caina, her voice snarling and hissing, “practice.” 

His lip twitched.

“Now, what is going on?” said Caina. “Why did you want me to meet you here?” 

“There’s something you need to see,” said Ark. 

Caina waited.

“A meeting of the Sons of Corazain,” he said. 

“How did you learn of this?”

“When we delivered your response to Romarion. Some of Romarion’s servants are Saddai. I spoke only in Caerish to Romarion, so I suppose they assumed I couldn’t understand Saddaic. I heard them speak of it, and I went to find a convenient place to observe.”

“You should have told me,” said Caina. 

“I did. You’re here, aren’t you? You must have gotten the note.”

“You should have told me before you did this,” said Caina. “For all I knew you had been killed.”

“The opportunity was there and I took it,” said Ark. “It needed to be done. Something had to be done. The Ghosts of Rasadda have been slaughtered, the city is on the edge of revolt, and all you are doing is accepting dinner invitations.”

“That is because Romarion and the Magisterium are plainly involved in this,” said Caina, “and if I am to find…”

“Plainly?” said Ark. “For someone so clever, you have a remarkable gift for deluding yourself. Gaidan has all but confessed to the murders in front of us, and yet you insist upon chasing this merchant and the magi…”

Suddenly furious, Caina stepped closer to him. “Gaidan is probably involved in this, yes. But there’s more to it than that. Romarion’s name was in Vanio’s ledger. And I have ample precedent for believing the Magisterium guilty of forbidden practices.”

Ark’s scowl deepened. “Do you really…”

“Enough,” hissed Caina. She held up her hand for silence, and listened, but heard only the old house groaning. “What’s done is done. This is not the time and the place to argue about it. So the Sons of Corazain are meeting. Where can we watch?”

Ark nodded. “This way.” He led to the opposite wall. “These houses are abandoned, and they’re all built up against each other. The house next door overlooks where the Sons will meet. The place is a complete wreck. The bottom three floors have collapsed, and the doors have been blocked.” He gripped something on the wall, and wrenched. A wooden panel came away with a groan, revealing a jagged gap in the wall. “I found another way in, though.” He beckoned. “Careful. The floor is…uneven.”

That was an understatement. Caina saw that the house’s bottom three floors, and most of the fourth, had collapsed into a pile of shattered timber and broken bricks. What was left of the fourth floor jutted from the wall in a precarious tangle of sagging beams and shattered floorboards. It was a long fall to the rubble heaped below. 

Ark climbed onto one of the more solid-looking beams, and Caina followed him. It felt sturdy enough, but she still took careful, hesitant footsteps. She did not want to trust her weight to what remained of the floorboards. Bit by bit they made their way to the wall. A good chunk of the wall had collapsed, and they had an excellent view of the square below Arzaidanir’s pyramid.

A square that was full of people. 

Caina leaned over, put her arm over Ark’s shoulders, and put her mouth against his ear. He flinched, and then she began to whisper. “Cover your head.”

“Why?” Ark breathed back.

“Your forehead is reflecting the light. And keep your cloak closed. You shouldn’t have worn a mail coat.” 

Ark scowled, but pulled up the hood of his cloak. Caina settled into a comfortable position and waited. More and more people filed into the square, facing the first terrace of the worn pyramid. Most of them had torches. 

“They dare to meet so openly?” whispered Caina.

“There’s no risk,” said Ark. “The militia never comes into this part of the city after dark.” 

There was movement on the pyramid. Caina saw Gaidan in his red robes, climbing the lowest stairs, flanked by a number of tough-looking Saddai and other red-robed Brothers of the Living Flame. Gaidan lifted his hands, and the crowd in the square fell silent. There were at least two thousand people there, Caina saw, with more packed into the alleyways. 

“Hear me, my fellow Sons of Corazain!” said Gaidan, his voice booming. “I have heard your grumblings, and your complaints. Your lack of faith shames me. Have I not promised you, again and again, that the great day of freedom is near at hand? The great day of burning, when the Empire shall fall!”

A rumble went through the crowd. Someone shouted a question, which Caina could not quite hear.

“I will tell you why,” said Gaidan, gesturing. “I did not know, at first. When the first burned corpses appeared, I blamed the Empire and its running dog Nicephorus. Why were the victims only Saddai, and foreigners of no importance? Why did Nicephorus not burn, or any of his pack of fat, thieving merchants? This troubled me, and I spent long hours in prayer to the Burning Flame. And, at last, the answer came to me.”

He paused, leaning towards the assembled Sons of Corazain. An expectant hush came over the gathered Saddai. Gaidan, Caina had to admit, knew how to play a crowd. 

“Great Corazain has been reborn!” thundered Gaidan. A stunned silence fell over the crowd, and a dozen men shouted questions at once. “Yes! Corazain himself has been reborn.” Gaidan pointed at the great dark mass of Corazain’s pyramid, its pyre bright in the darkness. “Did not our lord Corazain stand there and predict his return, even as he unleashed the mighty spell that struck down the murderer Crisius and his legions? He spoke truly!” Gaidan’s voice rose to a scream. “Corazain himself appeared to me, and promised me that he would soon return openly. The burning deaths, my brothers, are the signs, the harbinger of his return. Those Saddai who burned were weak in their faith, and the others were only foreigners. Mighty Corazain will return, my brothers, and when he does, the Empire will burn!” 

A roar of approval met his words. 

“I think,” Caina murmured, “that we’ve heard enough. And we’d better go before somebody sees us and they decide to celebrate with a bonfire.”

Chapter 12 - A Simple Merchant

An hour later they returned to their rooms the Inn of Mirrors.

“How can you possibly think that?” said Ark.

“Keep your voice down,” said Caina. “You’ll wake the maids.” 

Ark began to pace. “You heard the same thing I did. Gaidan all but took credit for the murders. He and the Sons of Corazain are behind this.”

“I don’t doubt that Gaidan is a scoundrel and the Sons are dangerous,” said Caina, “though it is Nicephorus’s fault for creating them. And it is possible that Gaidan is involved. But I didn’t think he was directly responsible, and I am more certain of that now.”

“Why?” said Ark.

“Weren’t you listening?” said Caina. “His followers were grumbling. They asked him why some Saddai were among the victims. And Gaidan didn’t know.”

Ark opened his mouth, closed it. He was not happy, Caina saw, but he was listening.

“So then he prayed and suddenly realized that Corazain had returned,” said Caina. “I’ll wager he made the entire story up so that he had something to tell his followers. Else he would look powerless, otherwise.” She looked at him. “Unless you actually think that Corazain has been reborn.”

Ark said nothing. 

“No doubt in a few months Gaidan will claim to be Corazain reborn, and take credit for any more murders.”

“Perhaps he is,” said Ark. “Not literally Corazain, of course. But perhaps he has enough skill at sorcery to have managed these deaths.”

“I doubt it,” said Caina. “Gaidan doesn’t strike me as all that clever. If he had any talent at pyromancy, I suspect he would have gone after Nicephorus, or tried to burn the Imperial Basilica to the ground. Then the Magisterium would have killed him. There are more arguments against it as well. Gaidan’s sent the Sons to have me killed twice now. Why not just burn me to death if he knows pyromancy?” 

“I don’t know,” said Ark. 

“Which is part of the reason I’m suspicious of the local Magisterium,” said Caina. “These burning murders have been going on for at least a year, correct? Why haven’t they found our pyromancer yet?”

Ark shook his head. “We haven’t, either.” 

“We haven’t. I, however, have only been looking for a few days,” said Caina. “If I am still looking in a year, we have problems.” 

Ark snorted.

“The truth is, we do not have enough information,” said Caina. “Gaidan knows something. Romarion knows something. The Magisterium knows something. Together, they might know everything.”

“And just how are you going to learn that?” said Ark. 

“I told you,” said Caina, “I’m going to start accepting dinner invitations.”

She went to bed. Tomorrow was going to be busy.

###

The damned grooming and beauty regimen, as usual, took forever. 

The maids clucked over the collection of bruises and scratches Caina had acquired. They washed her hair, complaining at how sweaty and tangled it had gotten. After the bath was done, she wound up in a dark blue gown in the old Imperial style, which Julia claimed matched her eyes. It left her arms bare, which Caina disliked, since it had no sleeves for concealing weapons, but it looked charming, which she supposed was the point. She could still keep the daggers in her boots. She also chose silver bracelets and earrings, and a silver coronet set with pale sapphires. Anya shaped her hair into an elaborate pile, and Caina was ready.

“My lady looks lovely,” said Cornelia.

“Let us hope so,” said Caina, examining her reflection. “I’d hate to have done all this work for nothing.”

“You will surely capture this rich merchant’s heart,” said Anya, “and live in comfort for the rest of your days.” 

“Indeed,” lied Caina. She had no use for his heart. She needed his head, and the secrets it held. 

Ark escorted her to the coach, and they rode to Romarion’s house. The streets were quiet, guarded by numerous patrols of militia. Caina suspected that Valgorix wanted to make a show of force. She doubted they dared to venture into the slums. Romarion’s house stood on the far side of Corazain’s pyramid, and it was only a short ride.

“Well,” said Caina, climbing out of the coach, “it seems that Romarion has done well for himself.”

Larger than the Inn of Mirrors, Septimus Romarion’s mansion had been built in the classic Imperial style. That meant lots of marble columns, a red-tiled roof, and numerous statues of Emperors and the Imperial gods standing in alcoves. Four armed guards stood by the doorway, keeping a cool eye on the street. Servants hurried from the front doors, and led her and Ark into the house. 

Romarion met her in a cavernous atrium, sunlight pouring through the skylight and into a sparkling fountain. His coat and boots and shirt looked only slightly less expensive than the house itself, and he wore a bejeweled rapier at his belt. He bent over her hand and kissed her ring, and Caina gave him a polite bow in response. 

“Welcome, Countess,” he said, speaking in High Nighmarian. His weathered face creased in a smile, but Caina thought she saw a bit of tired strain around the eyes. “It was good of you to come. My humble house is honored by your presence.”

“And it was good of you to have me,” said Caina in the same language. “Indeed, your house is most beautiful. Certainly a refreshing change, seeing as how the Saddai so enjoy unrelieved black.” 

Romarion burst out laughing. “You’re quite right. For a people who worship fire, you’d think the Saddai would enjoy using different colors in their architecture. But, no. Permit me to give you a tour of my home.” 

Caina followed Romarion deeper into the house, with Ark trailing a discreet distance behind, along with several of Romarion’s bodyguards. Romarion took great pride in his residence. He pointed out how the marble for the columns had come from the Tauseni Mountains, how glassmakers from Jear had constructed his windows, how the wood for his doors had come from the cedars of the Disali hills, how he had brought in the finest artisans from Nighmar itself to fashion the mosaics on the floor. Caina paid very close attention. She did not care about his building materials, but the layout of the house interested her a great deal. It would come in handy later. 

“I grew up in Nighmar,” said Romarion, “but I came to Rasadda and the Saddai provinces to make my fortune.” He smiled. “Now that I have made my fortune, I have tried to bring some of the Imperial capital here.”

“It must have cost a great deal,” said Caina.

Still, Romarion had a lot of money. Caina wondered how he’d earned it. 

He also had a mania for artwork. There were paintings on the walls and mosaics on the floors. Practically every doorway had a bust of some long-dead Emperor gazing down from the frame. Statues stood on pedestals and on alcoves. Most of the artworks were Nighmarian pieces in marble and bronze, but others looked to have been carved out of obsidian and basalt.

“What is this one?” said Caina. The statue seemed to show a naked woman stepping forth from an amorphous blob of black glass. Or she was melting into nothingness. Either way, she found the statue oddly disturbing. 

“This?” said Romarion, pacing around the piece. “This is Saddai artwork, Countess. Created during the reign of Arzaidanir, or possibly Morazair. Striking, is it not?”

“It is,” said Caina, looking closer. “Is that…obsidian? I didn’t think it was possible to sculpt obsidian so smoothly.” 

“It isn’t,” said Romarion. “At least not by conventional means. A Saddai Ashbringer used pyromancy to sculpt this statue.”

Caina remembered Ostros screaming in agony, and resisted the urge to cringe away from the statue. “Indeed? How does one use sorcery to create a statue? Did they merely wiggle their fingers and say the magic words?”

Romarion laughed. “Not quite. The records from that time are only fragmentary, but from what I understand, an Ashbringer would gather a quantity of volcanic sands. He would then use his pyromancy to heat it to melting, and then would mold it into whatever shape he desired. I believe the funeral pyramids in the city were reared in a similar method, though on a much larger scale.” 

“It’s…almost disturbing to look at,” said Caina. “The poor woman looks as if she’s melting.”

“Oh, yes,” said Romarion. “The sculptures of the Ashbringers are always powerful, and frequently disturbing.” He shrugged. “It was apparently quite common for an Ashbringer to go insane. All that power must scramble a man’s brains.” He hesitated. “Though don’t repeat that in the hearing of a magus, please.”

Caina laughed. “I quite understand. You have my word.” She thought for a moment. “But there haven’t been any Ashbringers for centuries, which means there are no new statues. So I suppose the statue is quite valuable?”

“It is,” said Romarion. “This particular statue could easily fetch a quarter of a million denarii. Perhaps three hundred, four hundred thousand.” 

“Four hundred thousand?” said Caina. In some parts of the Empire a man counted himself lucky to earn a hundred denarii a year. 

“The buying and selling of antique artworks is quite remunerative,” said Romarion. 

“I should say so,” said Caina. “If I may ask, where does one obtain antique Saddai artworks? I rather doubt the Saddai themselves are eager to part with them.”

Romarion shrugged. “A number of sources. Some of the wealthier Saddai still have some pieces, and will sometimes sell them. A huge amount was looted during Crisius’s conquest, and remains in circulation throughout the civilized world. But all that can be costly. The best way to obtain Ashbringer sculptures is to find them in the ruins.”

“Ruins?” said Caina. “There are Saddai ruins?”

“Quite a few, actually. You see, the Saddai Ashbringers used to rule over a great empire themselves. Nearly the entire eastern third of the modern Empire, along with most of the islands in the Alqaarin Sea, and large portions of the Alqaarin mainland. And an empire means fortresses and palaces and cities, many of which were destroyed in the war and now lost. No one knows where they all are, and if you find an untouched ruin, you can lay claim to any relics or artifacts found within.” 

“That would be quite a windfall,” said Caina.

“It is,” said Romarion. He smiled, some of the strain vanishing from his face. “That was how I got my start, Countess. I started out as a merchant captain, trying to turn a profit trading cargoes between Rasadda and the Alqaarin cities. I was thrown adrift in a storm, and came across an uncharted island. Apparently the old Saddai empire had once maintained a fortress there, because we found a rich cache of statues that we sold for a tremendous profit.” He shrugged. “My business partners gambled and drank away their shares. I invested mine, and came to prosper.” 

“A fine story,” said Caina. 

“I rather enjoyed it,” said Romarion. “May I tell you more of it over dinner?” 

“Certainly,” said Caina.

###

Romarion set a fine table. There was meat in sauce, spiced vegetables, chilled fruits, breaded mushrooms, and host of other delicacies. Caina even liked the wine, and she hated wine. All this food must have cost a fortune, especially with prices so high, but Romarion could afford it. 

Which no doubt explained why six guards stood watch over the meal. 

“My father threw me out of the house when I was twelve,” Romarion said. “So, of course, I went to sea. I thought it would be romantic.” He laughed. “I was whipped on my first day, and almost drowned the second, so I soon lost that notion. But I made my way up, and I soon had enough money to buy a share on a merchant ship. When the captain retired, I bought the ship outright. Then I got lucky and found that cache of old Saddai art. I started buying cargoes in bulk, and as you can see,” he waved a hand over the opulence of his mansion, “I have done quite well.”

“I can see that,” said Caina. “The wine is very good, after all.”

Romarion laughed. “What about you?” 

“What about me?”

“What brings you to Rasadda?” 

Caina shrugged. “My father sent me on a tour of the provinces, as is the custom for the children of noble Houses. I stopped at Mors Crisius, and hope to take ship from Rasadda back to the Imperial capital.”

“By yourself?”

“Well,” said Caina, glancing to where Ark stood silent and unmoving. “Not quite. My captain of guard is most direct with anyone who tries to take inappropriate liberties.”

“So I have heard,” said Romarion. “I shall strive to be the perfect gentleman, then.”

They both laughed.

“My life has not been nearly as adventurous as yours, in truth,” lied Caina. “House Nereide is an old House, founded shortly after the Saddai war. Yet we do not have much wealth, and consequently have stayed out of politics. No son of House Nereide has held a provincial governorship, a legion command, or an Imperial magistracy for generations.” 

“Distressing,” said Romarion.

“It troubles my father more than it troubles me,” said Caina. “There is something to be said for living quietly.” 

“But the greatest rewards come from risk,” said Romarion. “Had I not taken risks, I would still be counting jars of wine at my father’s tavern. Risks have taken me very far in life.” He shrugged. “All I truly lack at this point is a noble title.”

Caina hesitated just a bit, and then sipped her wine. “Do you?”

“I am ready to leave Rasadda,” said Romarion. “I have made all the money I can make here, I think. And Rasadda is turning sour.” He lowered his voice. “It is Lord Governor Nicephorus’s fault, I’m afraid. The Saddai province used to be peaceful and well-ordered. Even prosperous. Not the slightest hint of insurrection. Then the Imperial Curia appointed Nicephorus governor, and everything has gone downhill since. His greed has driven the province into the ground.”

“I thought you might approve,” said Caina, “or have profited from our Lord Governor’s dealings.”

“No,” said Romarion, shaking his head. “No. Nicephorus is a fool. He might make some money, but he’ll ruin the Saddai. There is a difference between shearing the sheep and slaughtering them.” He hesitated. “I will admit that Lord Nicephorus’s mismanagement is one of the reasons I wish to leave Rasadda. The province is going to explode into revolt sooner or later, probably sooner, if he is not removed from office.”