Ghost in the Flames (5 page)

The tattoo of a flame marked his chest.

“Check the others,” said Caina.

Without exception, the dead men had the tattoo of the Living Flame upon their chests. 

“What do you think?” said Caina.

“I don’t know,” said Ark.

“You wear the tattoo of the Eighteenth Legion upon your arm,” said Caina. “Perhaps this tattoo is a similar mark. The sign of membership in a secret society, maybe.”

Ark snorted. “A secret society of fools, then, if they all wear identifying marks.” 

Caina finished cleaning her knife and stood. “To our benefit, then.” She stared hard at the dead men. A man found burned to death in his bed. Eternal sorcerous fires crowning the pyramids. And now thugs with flame tattoos upon their chests. 

Gods, she detested coincidences. 

She walked around the coach. Lasko sat slumped in the driver’s seat, eyes wide and empty, blood trickling down his legs. The horses stamped and whinnied at the smell of blood, but they hadn’t bolted.

“Damn it,” said Caina, looking at the corpse. The deaths of the tattooed thugs troubled her, but they had tried to kill her. Lasko had only been a tired old man looking for work. 

Ark stared at her, expression unreadable. 

“We should go,” said Caina. 

Ark nodded, and Caina heard the sound of running footsteps. She saw men in leather jerkins hurrying towards them, spears in hand. 

“City militia,” said Ark, his lip curling in contempt. “Local Saddai auxiliaries. Not a single veteran of the legions among them. No doubt they hid when they heard the sound of fighting, and only now crawl out of their holes.” 

Caina nodded. “Let me do that talking.” 

The militiamen stopped, looking at the carnage with wide eyes. One of them stepped forward, an officer’s crest upon his helmet. 

“You there,” he said, pointing at Caina, “what happened here? Speak quickly, woman.” He spoke Saddaic with the same thick Caerish accent as Ark. 

“Woman?” said Caina, her voice cracking like a whip. “Do you not know who I am, fool?” 

“Ah,” said the officer, his eyes skittering over the crest on the coach, and Caina’s own disheveled but expensive clothing. “I…fear I do not, my lady.”

“I am the Countess Marianna Nereide,” said Caina, “recently arrived from the Imperial capital, and no sooner do I set foot upon your streets than I am set upon by robbers and brigands! Did you not hear our cries for help?” She turned a furious glare over him. “Well?”

The officer seemed at a sudden loss for words. 

“My captain of guard was forced take up arms in my defense!” said Caina.

The officer blinked. “He…killed them all? By himself?”

Ark gave him a chilly smile. 

“I am an Imperial countess, a noblewoman of Nighmarian descent,” said Caina in her most affronted tone. “Do you expect me to lift a sword in my own defense? Of course he killed them all! He had no choice.” She pointed at Lasko’s body. “These murderous villains slew my coachman, a retainer long in loyal service to my family! Your Lord Governor shall hear all about his valiant militia. Oh, yes, he shall hear all about them.” 

“My lady,” said the officer, “it was only ill fortune that we came upon the scene too late. These…insurgents infest the streets of our city, and the militia has only so many men. We cannot be everywhere at once. Please, permit us to escort you.”

“What is your name?”

“Ah…Valgorix, my lady, Decurion of the city militia.” 

“Very well,” said Caina, voice cold. “We were making for the Inn of Mirrors. I assume you know the way? 

“Of course, my lady,” said Valgorix. “We…ah, shall see to the body of your retainer, with your permission.” Caina nodded, and two of the militiamen took Lasko’s body down. Ark clambered up into the seat, laid his broadsword across his knees, and took the reins. Caina brushed off her skirts as best she could and climbed into the coach.

Anya, Julia, and Cornelia all stared at her with expressions caught halfway between fascination and horror. 

“You are all well, I trust?” said Caina. “What is it?”

“You…you killed him,” whispered Anya. “That man who grabbed you.” 

“Of course I did,” said Caina. “He was trying to kill me, after all.” 

“But…you killed him,” repeated Anya, half in shock. 

This could be a problem. Caina doubted that any of them had realized Countess Marianna Nereide was only a fiction, but best to leave nothing to chance. 

“Listen to me,” said Caina. They looked at her. “My…mother came to an evil death, when I was a child.” That was not a lie, at least. “So my father made certain that I knew how to fight, should I, too, ever face dire peril. It…he said that in Old Nighmar, in the first days of the Empire, it was said that it was better for a man to die on his feet, with his blade in hand, then upon his knees. Why should the same not be true for us women, as well?”

“It is good that you knew how to fight, my lady,” said Julia. “They would have killed us all, otherwise.” All three of them nodded. 

“I would prefer that this remain secret,” said Caina. “It…well, if I am to find a worthy husband, it would certainly help if he didn’t know.”

They nodded again. Caina sighed and sat back as the coach rattled and bounced through the streets of Rasadda, past the grim black buildings and the lines of beggars.

Cornelia did not make a single snide remark, not one. 

Chapter 5 - A Priestess of the Living Flame

The coach came to the plaza below the Great Pyramid of Corazain.

The Inn of Mirrors stood on one side of the plaza, a tall building with three wings overlooking a paved courtyard and a bubbling fountain. Inn and courtyard had been covered in gleaming black marble, and it shimmered like a dark mirror in the sunlight. Rich merchants of both Saddai and Nighmarian birth stood in the courtyard, drinking wine, while armed guards kept away the beggars.

The Imperial Basilica stood on the far side of the square. It had been faced with white marble, a stark contrast to the rest of Rasadda. The purple banners of the Emperor hung from the walls, adorned with a golden eagle. It was one of the larger basilicas Caina had seen, a monument to the might of the Empire.

But the Pyramid of Corazain dwarfed both Inn and Basilica. 

The great black pile reared against the sky, terraces and ramps and stairs climbing ever higher. Caina looked up, and up, and saw the flames crackling at the Pyramid’s distant crest. It was like looking at a mountain. And mere men had raised this thing?

Or, Caina amended, mere men equipped with sorcery.

The coach halted before the Inn, and Caina got out, holding her skirts in one hand. Valgorix approached her and made a polite bow. “Lady. The Inn of Mirrors, as you asked. Have you lodgings here?”

“Yes,” said Caina. “A man in my service named Narmer arrived in advance a few days past. He will have made arrangements.” 

Valgorix hesitated. “I would suggest that you stay off the streets, my lady.”

“What do you mean?” said Caina.

“Forgive my bluntness,” said Valgorix, “but you are a noblewoman of high Nighmarian blood, and the mob will detest you on sight. If you stray too far into the city you may be attacked again. The Empire is not very popular in Rasadda, because of the…” He frowned. “At least, keep your guardsman with you at all times.”

“What were you going to say?” said Caina. “Because of what?”  

“The murders, my lady,” said Valgorix. “Among other things.”

“Those brigands in the street?” said Caina, glancing at Ark. 

“Yes. That…and people have been found burned to death,” said Valgorix. “Twenty-six total, with the most recent found yesterday.” He scratched his jaw. “A horrid way to die. And it’s got the city in an uproar.” He glanced fearfully at the beggars wandering around the plaza. “There’s a rumor going around that sorcery was used in the murders. Ridiculous notion. The Magisterium killed off all the Ashbringers long ago. Some charlatan is playing tricks to make the Saddai rabble think an Ashbringer has returned. Still, the murders are inflaming the populace, and it is not safe to travel the streets alone.”

Caina had never considered that. “I see. Well, your counsel seems sound, and I shall leave the city when convenient. I thank you for your service, and you are dismissed.”

Valgorix bowed and returned to his men. 

“What do you think?” murmured Caina, when Valgorix was out of earshot.

“I don’t know,” said Ark. “I left Rasadda six weeks ago to seek out Halfdan in Mors Crisius. Things were bad then, but now the city seems on the edge of a revolt. And six more murders?”

Caina nodded. “Then let us find Narmer. Perhaps he shall have more information for us.” 

She turned to the coach, calling for her maids, and stopped. They still sat hunched inside the coach, staring at everything with wide and fearful eyes. The fight in the streets had terrified them. Caina’s training and experiences as a Ghost had inured her to violence. The maids had no such luxury. 

That troubled her. Had her heart become so cold, so hard? Could she kill two men and walk away without it affecting her in the least? She remembered the savage emptiness in Ark’s eyes as he had butchered the thugs. Was that what she had become?

So be it. Someone had burned nearly thirty people to death. And when Caina found this killer, he would not face a frightened girl but a Ghost of the Empire with cold steel in hand. 

Caina walked to the coach and touched Anya’s sleeve. “See that the horses get stabled and my things unpacked. Then get something to eat and take some rest. You’ve had a dreadful shock, all of you. I’ll send for you when I need you.”

“Thank you, my lady,” said Anya. Caina gave the girl a quick smile, and then followed Ark into the Inn.

They walked into a high common room, the wall ringed with a balcony. Volcanic glass covered the walls, smooth and black, and Caina saw her image reflected dozens of times in the dark panels. A pool ran through the center of the room, three statues of nude women standing on pedestals in the rippling waters. Sunlight poured down through an elaborate skylight in the roof, reflecting off the walls and the water. The combined effect was ethereal, both beautiful and disturbing. 

A fat Saddai man in flame-colored clothes hurried over. “Welcome, noble Countess, welcome to the Inn of Mirrors. I am Sairzan, master of this house, and I am honored that you have chosen to stay beneath my roof in these troubled times.” He bowed, seized her hand, and planted a hasty kiss upon her ring. “All of my rooms are fine, of course, but I shall have my finest rooms prepared for you at once.” He clapped his hands, and servants hurried to her side.

“Your hospitality does you credit, master innkeeper,” said Caina, “but are not my rooms already prepared?” 

Sairzan blinked in sudden consternation. “I fear that my simple mind cannot follow the wisdom of your words.”

“My man Narmer was to meet me here, and to have rooms waiting,” said Caina. “Is he not here?” She looked over the great common room. Any number of tables stood scattered about, along with cushioned alcoves tucked away in the corners. She saw merchants and nobles discussing their business, but no sign of anyone who matched Ark’s description of Narmer.

“Forgive me, my lady,” said Sairzan, “but I know of no man by that name. Nor have I received word that a Countess of surpassing beauty was coming to grace my house with her presence.”

“Surely you must have seen him,” said Ark. “A man of Caerish descent, like myself, about your height, weathered from much exposure to the sun. He would commonly wear leather armor and carry a sword.” 

Sairzan hesitated. “I have seen such a man. He works as a bodyguard for some of the merchants in the dockside. But I fear I have not seen him here for three or four days.”

Ark’s cold mask turned into a genuine scowl.

Sairzan swallowed. “My lady, I fear that this rogue Narmer has taken advantage of your generous nature. He took your coin, and then abandoned his duty to you.”

“So you have not seen him for three days?” said Caina. 

Sairzan shrugged. “Forgive me, my lady, but this Narmer is a small and insignificant man. Had I but known that he was in service to your radiant personage, I would have kept closer watch over his comings and goings. But, alas, no such news reached my ears.”

“This is most distressing,” said Caina, wondering what had happened to Narmer. It was not like a Ghost to be late. Some mishap must have befallen him. But what sort of mishap?

“Ah, Countess, it grieves me to see you so distraught,” said Sairzan. He bowed again over her hand, planting his lips on her ring. “I beg of you, permit me to prepare my finest rooms for you at once, to make up for this Narmer’s faithlessness. Your smile, I am sure, would be more radiant than the sun itself.” 

Despite herself, Caina laughed. “Your flattery amuses me, shameless though it is. Very well. Have rooms prepared. Also, send some of your servants to unload my baggage. My maids are weary from the journey, and have earned some rest.”

“My lady is gracious,” said Sairzan. He clapped his hands again, and servants rushed to do his bidding. “Will you take some refreshment while you wait?” 

“Yes, of course,” said Caina. “Send some food to my maids, as well. Ark, pay him, and then come join me.” 

Ark handed some coins to the innkeeper. Servants appeared bearing glasses of wine and trays of cheese and fresh fruit. Caina realized that she was ravenous and took the food. A few moments later Ark joined her at the table, his face grim. 

“Where’s Narmer?” said Caina, voice pitched low.

“I don’t know,” said Ark. He bit into an apple with too much force. “I spoke with the servants unloading your chests. Several of them know Narmer by name, yet no one has seen him for three days.” 

“What do you think happed to him?” said Caina. She took a sip of the wine. It was very good. Halfdan would have loved it. 

“I don’t know. Narmer has always been reliable,” said Ark. For the first time since Caina had met him, Ark seemed baffled. “He was in the Legions, as was I. Steady man. Knows how to handle himself.” He shook his head. “Something must have gone amiss. Either he’s gone to ground somewhere. Or he’s dead.”

“Doesn’t your Ghost circle have protocols for unanticipated disaster?” said Caina. “You should have a meeting point, or a safe house.”

Ark’s eyes flashed. “Of course we have protocols. We’re not fools.” He took a deep breath, getting himself under control. “There’s more. When I checked on the servants I went outside to have a look. There’s another member of the Rasadda circle, a woman named Crastia. She’s a ceramics merchant, keeps her booth here in the square, across from Corazain’s pyramid. The booth is empty. The servants say that about two weeks ago she didn’t show up, and hasn’t appeared since.” 

Caina stared into her wine, thinking hard. “Could the secrecy of the Rasadda circle have been breached?”

“Possibly,” said Ark. “But I cannot see how.”

Caina shrugged. “A simple mishap. Treachery, perhaps. And the magi of the Imperial Magisterium have spells that let them pry into another man’s mind.” 

“Absurd,” said Ark. “They are forbidden to do so under Imperial law.” 

“Oh, certainly. And the magi have been ever keen to obey Imperial law,” said Caina. 

“Is that your answer for everything?” said Ark. “You were quick enough to blame the Magisterium at Halfdan’s inn. And on what basis? No magus I have ever met has acted other than honorably.”

Caina glared at him. “The magi wield sorcery. And as it happens, sorcery was employed in these burning deaths.”

“Sorcery,” said Ark, his voice dripping scorn. “Are you a Ghost nightfighter, or some peasant child to blame every misfortune on sorcery? Perhaps those thugs in the alley were conjured up by sorcery. Or some sorcerer summoned that lion out on the plains.”

For a moment Caina was so angry that she could not answer. Her fingers tightened hard around the stem of her glass, and she simply stared at Ark.

His dead gray eyes did not waver.

For a moment they did not speak. 

“It is clear,” said Caina, ice in her voice, “that we shall have to exercise the utmost caution. The secrecy of your circle has been breached, that is plain. Perhaps whoever is behind these burning murders did not appreciate your circle’s investigation. We lack information, and until we know more, we shall have regard everyone with suspicion. Even the Magisterium. Despite how eager you seem to lick their fingers.” 

Ark’s eyes got harder. “I put twenty years in the legions, girl. I’ve killed more men that I can remember, and most of them before you had your first moon’s blood. Probably even before you were born. I earned my centurion’s plumes, and I led my men through the sort of slaughter that would leave someone like you weeping and broken if you witnessed it. Were you to live through a tenth of the things I’ve endured, it would break your mind.” He leaned closer. “I am no man’s dog.” 

“All that may be true, centurion,” said Caina, “but in the Ghosts I still outrank you.” 

Ark sat back, his hand curling into a fist. 

Caina sighed. “So Crastia is gone. Do you have another contact?”

Ark blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden shift in topic. “I do. A man named Aulean. He works as a cook in the Imperial Basilica, for Lord Governor Nicephorus himself.”

“Then you shall have to speak to him,” said Caina. “It…”

Sairzan approached their table, bowing, and Caina fell silent. “My lady. Your rooms are prepared, if you wish to go up.”

“Shortly,” said Caina. “After we finish eating. Despite this unpleasantness with Narmer, you have done well, master innkeeper. I thank you for your service.” 

“Ah,” said Sairzan, “you accused me falsely of flattery, Countess. Your smile is indeed as radiant as I claimed.” He bowed again and walked away.

Ark shook his head. “I shall never get used to how your voice can simply…change. You sound like two different women.”

“That displeases you, does it not?” said Caina, her voice icy again.

“Yes. It does,” said Ark. “Who are you truly? A Ghost of the Empire, or an Imperial Countess? Or a girl play-acting at being a Ghost?” 

“I’ve already told you,” said Caina, “that my name is Countess Marianna Nereide.” She stood, tired of the argument. “Now, come. You need to speak with Aulean, and if you go to speak with him directly it will look suspicious. The best way, I think, will be to contrive a dinner invitation with Lord Governor Nicephorus.” She smiled at Ark. “And pretty, empty-headed Countesses make for fine dinner companions, do they not?”

Ark said nothing. But he followed her up the stairs as Sairzan led her to her rooms. Caina glanced back at Ark, wondered how best to handle him. He had saved her life in that alley. But, clearly, he was beginning to loathe her, if he had not already. It seemed that the proud centurion rankled at taking orders from a woman sixteen years his junior. But why? Surely Ark was used to taking orders from men he loathed; soldiers were never fond of their commanders. 

Or was there something more to it than that?

Caina didn’t know, and it annoyed her. They had bigger problems at the moment. But she wished the Rasadda circle at sent someone else to ask for Halfdan’s help. Or maybe that was why they had sent him; perhaps he was too unreliable to be trusted with anything other than delivering messages, despite his formidable skill with that broadsword. 

“Here we are, my lady,” said Sairzan, opening a door. Her rooms were a sprawling suite on the Inn’s top floor. It had a sitting room, an expansive bedroom, a set of smaller rooms for the servants, and a large bathtub hewn of black marble, with hot water piped up from below. Caina appreciated that.