Ghost in the Flames (18 page)

And it did not feel the same as the furious spell that had killed Ostros. 

Gaidan stood a short distance away, watching. Again Caina saw the seething hatred in his gaze. She knew that had Tadaia not been present, he would have ordered both her and Ark killed on the spot. 

“Countess,” murmured Tadaia. “You speak with an eloquence that belies your youth.” 

“You are too kind, honored Sister,” said Caina. 

Tadaia’s eyes flicked over her, up and down. They were penetrating, and Caina had that odd feeling that the old woman’s gaze could pierce flesh and bone to view the heart beneath. “Why have you come here? Truly?”

“Because your concern for the poor has touched me,” said Caina, “and I wished to prove it.” It was not entirely a lie. She reached into her cloak and withdrew the purse from her belt. “Please to take it to buy bread for the hungry.”

Tadaia took the purse, hefted it, and glanced inside. She seemed surprised at the amount of money within, and turned to face the crowd of Saddai once more. “Let it not be said that all the people of Nighmar are cruel and grasping! For the Countess has seen our plight, and donated a sum of money to help buy bread for the poor. Now go, my brothers and sisters, go and support one another in our sufferings.” 

Most of the Saddai seemed pleased, but the Sons of Corazain looked furious. No doubt taking charity from an Imperial noblewoman insulted their pride. Gaidan continued to glare at her, and Caina was certain that the Sons of Corazain would try to kill her again, soon. 

“This was a noble gift, Countess,” said Tadaia. “Thank you.”

Caina shrugged. “It is not nearly enough, that is plain.”

“No,” said Tadaia, “but it is still needed.” She smiled. “Tell me. Have you chosen to convert to our faith? Such is a thing is rare, but it has been known to happen.”

“No,” said Caina.

“Ah,” said Tadaia. “Do you have a god, then? Do you pray to the stern gods of the Empire? The storm gods of the Kyracians, perhaps, or the hard and cruel gods of the northerners? Or are you haughty like the magi, certain that the gods are only a crutch for the weak and feeble?” 

“No,” said Caina. “I do not know what gods reign in heaven, or what follows this life. I only try to live as best I can.” 

Tadaia inclined her head. “We are doomed not to just one life but many, to be reborn again and again until our souls may join with the Living Flame.” 

“I disagreed, honored Sister,” said Caina. “There is but this one life, and then eternity. And I am glad of it. One life has enough pain to it; who would want to relive it over and over again.”

“Pain?” said Tadaia. “Forgive me, but what does an Imperial noblewoman know of pain?”

“More than you might think,” said Caina. 

Tadaia nodded slowly. “It has been given to me to see the hearts of men. A gift from the Living Flame, though it is often more curse than blessing.” Caina suspected that Tadaia’s gift was a sorcerous ability, but she said nothing. The old woman’s gaze fastened upon Caina, and the gentle prickling against her skin intensified. Her eyes actually seemed to brighten, like pools of liquid jade. 

Tadaia shivered and took a step back, her cane rasping against the marble step.

Caina wondered, with some unease, just what the old priestess had seen.

“Yes,” whispered Tadaia, “you know more of pain that I had thought. Much more. And more of many other things.” She shook her head. “Your mind is like ice, cold and hard and sharp, but your heart is filled with pain. And rage, rage like a furnace.”

Ark grunted. He did not sound impressed.

Tadaia’s eyes flicked to him. “And you are much the same way. But your pain paralyzes you, leaves you bereft of purpose and will.” Her gaze returned to Caina. “But not you, Countess. Not you. You wield your wrath like a weapon, a brand of fire in your hand. A heart of fire and a mind of ice…you would make a terrible enemy, Countess. A terrible enemy. Who are you, truly?”

“I told you,” said Caina, putting as much uncertainty into her voice as she could. The priestess’s level of insight had unsettled her. “I am Countess Marianna Nereide. Who else would I be?” 

Tadaia shook her head, and some of the sharpness faded from her eyes. “No one, I suppose. Forgive an old woman’s foolish fancies, I pray. Thank you for the generous gift, Countess. You are right that it will not buy enough bread to feed all those who hunger.” She smiled, some of the lines easing from her face. “But it will still buy quite a lot of bread. And that is by far better than nothing.” She lifted her hand in benediction. “May your pain reforge you in the image of the Living Flame.”

“the same for you,” said Caina.

Tadaia smiled, they bowed to each other, and the old woman began limping back towards the temple. Gaidan gave Caina one more venomous glance, then hastened to Tadaia’s side and began whispering in her ear. Caina looked around, saw the crowd dispersing. 

“A crock,” said Ark. 

“Hmm?” said Caina, watching Gaidan whisper at Tadaia. The priestess shook her head, making a dismissive gesture. 

“This business about reading your heart,” said Ark. “Any charlatan at a fair can do as much. A cold-read.”

“I know what a cold-read is,” said Caina. 

“Surely you don’t believe her?” said Ark.

Caina shrugged. “She has some ability at sorcery, though nothing like what a magus could do. Couldn’t you feel it?”

Ark shook his head, glanced around, and kept his voice low. “Do you think she is our Ashbringer?” The prospect seemed to displease him. “I would hope not. Despite all her religious mummery, her actions are those of a virtuous woman.” 

“No,” said Caina. “It doesn’t seem to suit her. And I can…feel a spell, for lack of a better word. It makes my skin crawl, my hair stand up. Like a lightning stroke. And the spell that killed Ostros felt nothing like what Tadaia did just now.” 

Tadaia stopped in the entrance to the temple, looked Gaidan full in her face, her expression angry. Their voices rose, and Caina could almost hear them. 

“Wait here,” murmured Caina, and she began walking closer, taking care to keep her footfalls silent. Neither Gaidan nor Tadaia noticed her.

“It would have been a criminal act,” said Tadaia. “To murder an unarmed woman in our midst. Shall we dishonor ourselves so before the Living Flame? The purpose of our path is to purge our souls of impurities, Gaidan, not to tarnish them further.” 

“And our souls were tarnished by her presence, Sister,” spat Gaidan, his sweating face red with his fury. “Bad enough that Nicephorus rules over us with a crushing hand. Now his whores are to strut among us unchallenged.” 

“She gave us money to buy food for the hungry,” said Tadaia. “That is hardly the act of a whore.” 

Gaidan sneered. “You speak foolishness, Sister. We are to reforge our souls and purge them of dross, yes. But the fire must also cleanse other things. We must rid Rasadda of the Empire and of its vile works.” 

“Now you speak blasphemy!” said Tadaia, rapping the tip of her cane against the steps. “You would follow in the errors of the Ashbringers, who brought our people to ruin and the brink of destruction. You would follow in the path of whatever murderous thug litters the streets with burned corpses.”

“I told you,” hissed Gaidan, “that these deaths are a sign. A sign that the Saddai shall be ascendant once more. Corazain himself will be reborn, and he will restore our people to their past glory.”

“Corazain laid Rasadda waste with his pride and his folly, and nearly brought our people to annihilation!” snapped Tadaia. “I will not let you follow his path, and drag our people to ruin.”

“You should not speak of ‘letting’, Sister,” said Gaidan. “Very soon you will no longer be in a position to dictate to me. I…”

He blinked, and saw Caina watching them. He sneered at her and stalked into the temple, his red robes swirling around him. Tadaia sighed and continued her tired limp, the cane rapping against the marble steps. Caina watched her go, and then returned to Ark.

He looked almost amused. “I suppose you learned all sorts of dark secrets.”

“Eavesdropping is a profitable activity, I’ll have you know,” said Caina. “Tadaia is not behind the murders, I’m almost certain. She rebuked Gaidan for trying to use them to stir up a revolt against the Empire.” She thought for a moment. “Which would imply that he isn’t behind them, either. He’s only trying to exploit them. He may know who’s behind it, though. Remember? He claimed to have spoken with a reborn Corazain, though that might have been a lie. And I’m certain Tadaia knows much more than she happened to mention.”

“We ought to put Gaidan to the question,” said Ark.

“Certainly,” said Caina. “Just like Romarion. And if you can figure out a way to get at either of them without getting killed, I’d like to hear it.”

Ark shook his head. 

“Sister Tadaia, though,” said Caina. She smiled. “I wonder if she’ll be more forthcoming if she receives a visit from a Ghost of the Empire.”

Chapter 18 - Wrath of the Magi

They rode back to the Inn of Mirrors, Ark at the reins, Caina sitting besides him. She stared at nothing, rubbing at her father’s ring. Gaidan. Tadaia. Romarion. Nicephorus. Ostros and the Ghosts of Rasadda. Corazain reborn and Saddai statues looted from ancient ruins. So many pieces, and yet she lacked the single piece to bind them together. 

Or perhaps she had all the pieces already, and could not see how to assemble them. The timeline flashed through her head. Romarion had made his fortune selling ancient Saddai artworks to rich Lords and the Magisterium. Then someone started using pyromancy to burn Romarion’s partners alive, and did the same to the Ghosts of Rasadda when they investigated. The Sons of Corazain appeared, agitating for a revolt, and Gaidan claimed to have spoken with Corazain reborn. What tied it all together?

What was she missing?

Caina had the vexing feeling that it ought to be obvious, yet she could not…

Ark hissed and tugged the reins, bringing the coach to a halt. 

“What?” said Caina, snapped out of her thoughts. She half-expected to see a dozen Sons of Corazain running at them. “What is it?”

“Something’s wrong,” said Ark. “Look.”

They had reached the plaza before the Inn, and a crowd stood before the doors of the Imperial Basilica. There were the usual ragged Saddai commoners that seemed to turn up for every public disturbance, but Nighmarians in fine clothes stood among the crowd, along with the richer Saddai merchants. A troop of militiamen blocked the doors, and Caina saw the plumed helm of Valgorix himself among them. 

And before them all, Caina saw the black robes of a magus. 

Ark frowned. “What do you think is happening?”

“Look at them,” said Caina. “Saddai commoners, Saddai merchants, Nighmarians, and militiamen together, and they’re not killing each other. They’re more interested in something else, and that can be only one thing.”

“What?”

“Another murder,” said Caina. “Romarion. They must have gotten Romarion.” She slapped the wooden seat in frustration. “If only I had gotten him to talk first! Stop the coach. I want to take a closer look.”

Ark nodded, and they climbed down and walked towards the crowd. As they drew closer, Caina heard a voice ranting and cursing, and she recognized it with a sudden shock. 

Kalastus. 

“Damn you, Nicephorus!” snarled Kalastus. His deep voice thundered in fury. Caina drew closer, and saw with some satisfaction that Kalastus looked terrible. A livid blue-black bruise covered most of his face, and he paced back and forth before the stairs. Caina wished that she had punched him harder. Or used a dagger. Four black-armored soldiers of the Magisterial Guard flanked him, their expressions cold and hard. 

“I told you to come out!” said Kalastus. “Do you think I will stand for this, Nicephorus? I will not! Come out at once!”

“What’s happening?” said Caina to one of the onlookers, a Nighmarian-born merchant she remembered from Nicephorus’s banquet. 

He shrugged. “Another of these burning murders, I understand.”

Caina frowned. “Do you know who…”

“A brother of the Magisterium lies dead!” thundered Kalastus. “Found burned to death in his own room. You have failed to keep public order, Nicephorus! Come out and answer to me!”

“A magus?” said Caina, astonished. “A magus was murdered?”

“So I’ve heard,” said the Nighmarian merchant. 

Caina shared a look with Ark. A magus had been found burned to death? But why? Had Ephaeron’s investigation gotten too close to the truth? Would the pyromancer start slaughtering the magi one by one? But surely the magi were powerful enough to protect themselves from hostile sorcery. For that matter, how had the pyromancer collected the dead magus’s blood for the spell? If neither Kalastus nor Ephaeron were the Ashbringer, could one of the lesser brothers have turned to forbidden arts?

“I said to come out!” shrieked Kalastus, and Caina’s skin crawled as the magus began to draw in power.

“Learned master,” said Valgorix, stepping closer to the enraged magus, “the Lord Governor comes and goes as he pleases. He will see you, but at his convenience…”

“Silence!” said Kalastus. He made a gesture. There was a thunderclap, and Valgorix and his militiamen stumbled back a few steps, their cloaks billowing in a brief wind. “Do not think to give me orders, do not presume! I will speak to Nicephorus, or by the gods I’ll spill your blood upon the ground!”

The doors to the Basilica swung open, and Nicephorus marched out, flanked by bodyguards. The Lord Governor wore his black finery and crimson cloak, and glared down at Kalastus with all the hauteur of his rank. Yet Caina saw the faint trembling in Nicephorus’s hands, the tightness around his eyes.

The Lord Governor was afraid.

“Well, learned master,” he spat, “you have summoned me and I have come. What is your business with me?” 

“Last night one of the brothers of the Magisterium was found burned to death in his bed,” said Kalastus, stepping closer to Nicephorus. “What have you to say about this travesty?”

Nicephorus shrugged. “Perhaps you ought to be more attentive to your security.”

“This is your failure!” screamed Kalastus, shoving a finger into Nicephorus’s chest. The bodyguards reached for their weapons, but Kalastus did not notice or did not care. “You have failed to keep public order in this hive of rabble, and now one of my brothers lies dead for your errors!” 

“My errors?” said Nicephorus. “Perhaps the magus simply miscast a spell and burned himself alive. Such things have been known to happen, have they not?” 

“The Magisterium does not make mistakes,” said Kalastus. “And this failure is yours, fool.” 

“I do not have time to listen to the incoherent ramblings of an old man,” said Nicephorus. “I have a province to govern. If you have a point to make, state it quickly. Otherwise return to your books and cease wasting my time.” 

“I demand restitution!” said Kalastus. “I demand vengeance. A magus has been murdered. A price must be paid.” 

“A price?” said Nicephorus. “You demand blood money now?”

“Only blood may pay for blood,” said Kalastus. “Find this murderer and bring me his head.”

Nicephorus laughed. “And if you can find the head, you are welcome to it! Frankly, this magus is the first person of importance to have been murdered.” Out of the corner of her eye, Caina saw Ark’s hand close into a fist. “The Saddai have been burning each other alive for over a year now, no doubt squabbling over money and liquor. Perhaps your magus was robbed, hmm?” 

“I will have justice!” said Kalastus. “The life of a magus is worth a hundred strutting Lords of the Empire like you. And it is worth ten thousand of these stinking, slovenly Saddai!”

An angry murmur went through the crowd. The militiamen gripped their weapons. Nicephorus edged towards the doors, his eyes darting back and forth.

“If you are too stupid to find this murderer, then I shall still have a blood payment!” said Kalastus. “Ten thousand of these Saddai animals for one brother of the Magisterium! Yes, that sounds fair. We will teach these Saddai vermin to know fear. Send out your soldiers, have them go house to house, and butcher every last man, woman, and child of the Saddai they find. That will teach these dogs a lesson.”

“The mad idiot,” hissed Caina, risking a look around. There were hundreds of Saddai in the plaza, and none of them looked happy. “He’ll touch of a revolt here and now. I can only imagine what Gaidan will say when he hears of this.” 

Nicephorus, it seemed, had taken a better gauge of the crowd’s mood than Kalastus. The Lord Governor turned and almost ran back up the steps, vanishing into the Imperial Basilica, the doors booming shut behind him. Kalastus spat a curse, and took a step after him, when the abuse of the crowd reached his ears. 

“Murderer!” shouted one man. “Murderer! Sorcerous dog!” The cry came from a dozen more men.

Kalastus spat derisive laughter. “And what do you intend to do about? Please. I am as far above you rabble as a hawk is above a worm. Disperse, and I’ll choose to ignore your insult…”

Caina never saw who threw the stone.

It clipped Kalastus across the jaw. The magus stumbled back with a cry of surprised pain, hands clamped to his bruised face, blood welling between his fingers. The Saddai yelled and jeered, and they rushed at him. Valgorix bellow a command to his men, and for a moment Caina thought the plaza would explode into a riot around them…

Then Kalastus reared up, face twisted with fury, lips pulled back from his bloody teeth in a snarl, and made a chopping motion. 

The surge of power came so fast and so hard that it hit Caina like a slap. There was a roar, and suddenly seven or eight Saddai were tumbling through the air, their limbs flopping. Kalastus chopped again, and the power of his will sent another dozen Saddai flying. One landed with a sickening crunch a dozen feet from Caina, neck twisted at a sharp angle. The Saddai crowd broke and ran, the militiamen staring in stunned horror, but still Kalastus unleashed his powers. He gestured again, and a Saddai woman froze in place. He made a fist, and the woman’s terrified screams stopped as every bone in her body shattered at once. Blood burst from her mouth, and she toppled to the basalt flagstones in a crimson puddle. 

“Countess,” said Ark. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

Caina shook herself, horrified at the carnage Kalastus had unleashed. “Yes, yes, you’re right, he’s lost his…”

“You!” 

Kalastus stood not twenty paces away, and Caina felt a sudden surge of fear. Then anger smothered her fear. Kalastus’s face was flushed, his eyes wide and wild, sweat glistening on his bald head. He looked almost exhilarated, as if murdering a dozen had been like a wine to him. 

“Master Kalastus,” said Caina, trying to keep her voice cold, “I see you are…”

“Shut up!” said Kalastus, stalking towards her. “Shut up! I’ve come to detest honeyed words. Especially yours. I hope you choke on them. I hope they rot in your throat.” 

Ark drew his sword, the steel rasping. Kalastus did not seem to care. More likely he did not consider Ark a threat. 

“Come to laugh at me?” Kalastus said, stopping ten feet away. “Did you whip the crowd against me? Have you heard that one of the magi was murdered in the chapterhouse? Did you laugh at that as well, Countess? Well? The Saddai will pay for it.” He looked at the broken corpses strewn across the plaza and laughed. “They’ve already started.”

“You murderous animal!” said Caina, no longer bothering to mask her contempt, her rage. “One man threw a stone at you. One man! And for that you slaughter a score of men, and women too! I doubt you even killed the one who threw the rock, you stupid, blind…”

“The strong can do what they wish, and weak have no choice but to suffer it,” said Kalastus. “And they dared to attack me. Me! A master of the Magisterium, and they dared to raise their hands against me! They’ve paid for it.”

“And the dead magus at your chapterhouse?” said Caina. She knew that she ought to not provoke him further, but she was too furious to care. “Was he strong?”

The rage in Kalastus’s eyes sharpened. “The Saddai will suffer for it. For every drop of a magus’s blood that they spilled, I shall take a thousand gallons. All who defy the will of the Magisterium will pay.” His voice dropped to a purring snarl. “And you defied my will, dear Countess.”

Caina said nothing. Would Kalastus dare to attack her here, in public view? But, then, he had already slaughtered a score of Saddai, hadn’t he?

“You’ll scream before I’m done with you,” said Kalastus. “I’ll show you such pain that a strong man would weep to hear of it. I’ll reach into your mind and fill your eyes with nightmares. And when I’m done, you’ll get on your knees and beg me to take you to my bed.” He smiled. “You’ll beg for it.”

Ark stepped before Caina, sword in hand. 

Kalastus gaped at the weapon for a moment, and then burst out laughing. “Do you think your pet thug frightens me, Countess? Please. If he is foolish enough to stand against me, then I will sweep him from my path like an insect. Run away, fool, or I’ll break every bone in your arms and legs and make you watch as I tame the Countess.” 

“Go to hell,” said Ark. 

“Hell?” laughed Kalastus. He gestured at the corpses lying in their own blood. “I can show you hell, if you like…”

His voice trailed off, and he looked to the side with irritation. Caina saw Ephaeron hurrying into the square, black robes whipping around his thin frame, followed by a half-dozen other magi. Kalastus’s face twisted with contempt. 

“Run away, little Countess,” said Kalastus. His voice had gone quiet, almost calm, and that was almost more frightening than his towering fury. “Run away, and hide in your rooms, and cry into your pillows. But I promise you, you’ll be kneeling at my feet. Begging for it. Soon.” 

He laughed once more, and strolled off to meet Ephaeron. 

“Gods,” muttered Ark, returning his blade to his scabbard. “We should have killed him. We really should have killed him.” He looked at the dead Saddai. “All these people…”

“And nothing will happen to him for it,” said Caina. “Nicephorus is too much of a coward. Kalastus will claim he acted in defense of his life, and our valiant Lord Governor will agree with him. And Gaidan will hear of this, and if he does not whip the Sons of Corazain into a frenzy over this massacre I will be amazed.” She shook her head. “Do you see why I hate the magi so much?” 

Ark scowled. “The only magus I’ve ever really known was Ephaeron. Are they all like that?”

“Probably,” said Caina, “though most have more self-restraint than Kalastus.” 

She shivered, his threats still ringing in her ears. He had the power to make every last one of them come true. Her mother had tried to do it, and reduced her father to a drooling imbecile. But her mother had never been able to throw men like broken toys with a gesture, either. Kalastus could reach into her mind, break her will and reshape it as he pleased, until she knelt at his feet and begged him to take her to his bed. To do so would violate the laws of the Empire, of course, but Caina doubted that would trouble Kalastus in the least. Or his fellow magi, if he was smart enough not to get caught.