Ghost in the Seal (Ghost Exile #6) (10 page)

“Before you go,” said Malcolm, reaching for the counter, “we wish to give you a gift.”

“Oh?” said Caina, blinking.

Malcolm produced a thin wooden case and opened it. Inside rested a set of eight throwing knives secured with leather loops. Caina reached into the case and withdrew one of the knives. It was razor-sharp, its balance perfect. She tossed it to herself, caught the knife by the blade, and nodded.

“These are superb,” said Caina.

“Of course they are,” said Malcolm. “I made them myself.” Modesty was not among his virtues, but the knives were excellent. “I noticed you used throwing knives at the Inferno, and thought you would appreciate blades forged by a competent smith.”

“I will,” said Caina. She returned the knife to its place and slipped the slim wooden case into her satchel. “Thank you.” 

A wave of emotion went through Caina. This was quite probably the last time she would ever see Nerina and Azaces and Malcolm, if she died while trying to retrieve the Staff and Seal. Nerina and Azaces had gone with her into some very dangerous places, and Caina was glad that they had found Malcolm, glad the Nerina had been returned to her husband.

That was why Caina remained a Ghost. So others might have the lives that she never would. 

“I made the equations for balancing the knives myself,” said Nerina. “They should function excellently.”

“I know,” said Caina. She took a deep breath, calming herself. “Take care of yourselves, and be watchful. I shall see you when I return.”

Azaces escorted her back to the front door. Caina started to open the door, and Azaces touched her shoulder. She turned as he scratched out words upon his slate.

“You do not believe you will return,” he wrote.

“No,” said Caina, her voice soft. “Not this time, Azaces. Thank you for everything.”

The big man nodded, his face solemn.

“Take care of them, will you?” said Caina. 

Azaces nodded again, wiped off his slate, and wrote two more words.

“Thank you.”

Caina nodded and left the house, making for the Cyrican Bazaar. 

The Bazaar was not as empty as the Bazaar of the Southern Road had been, but was nonetheless subdued. Men and women went from booth to booth, buying and selling, the low murmur of conversation filling Caina’s ears. Soldiers in the chain mail and spiked helmets of Istarish infantry stood in small groups, watching everything with suspicious eyes. A few of the soldiers stared at Caina as she passed, and she made sure to keep well away from them. 

Kylon awaited her near a lamp seller’s booth outside the House of Agabyzus. He dressed as he usually did, trousers and boots and leather armor, the valikon in its sheath over his shoulder, a number of daggers waiting at his belt. He smiled as she approached, and a little flutter of emotion went through Caina at the sight. For a moment she wondered what he would do if she asked him to leave Istarinmul with her, to go someplace far away from all of this. 

But she would not ask. She had a duty. 

“You forgot to eat,” said Kylon as she approached.

“What?” said Caina, surprised. Come to think of it, she had forgotten to eat breakfast. 

“You always forget to eat when you are focused upon something,” said Kylon. 

She laughed a little. “Do you know me so well already?” 

“Well enough to realize that,” said Kylon. “You’re here to talk to the coffee merchant, are you not? Come. As long as you’re here for that, I may as well buy you one of her cakes.” 

Caina laughed. “Very well.” On impulse she threaded her right arm through his left one. His arm was warm and strong, and she felt another impulse to run her fingers along the muscles there, but she squashed it. Physical contact heightened his ability to sense her emotions, and she wondered what he detected from her. 

“There’s something wrong,” said Kylon, “isn’t there?”

“You know,” said Caina, “it is damnably difficult to hide things from you.” 

He offered a faint smile at that. “I imagine a spy would find that irritating.”

“Beyond belief,” said Caina. “I’m a very good liar. I’ve spent my whole life practicing. Is that why they say it’s impossible to lie to a stormdancer?”

“It’s possible to lie to a stormdancer,” said Kylon. “Sensing emotions isn’t the same as sensing truth and falsehood. But you know that already. And there are other forms of deception than simple falsehood.”

“Such as?” said Caina, steering him towards the House of Agabyzus. 

“Such as expertly deflecting a question,” said Kylon. 

She sighed. “Have I become so transparent?”

“Not at all,” said Kylon. “I’ve known you for long enough and we’ve been through enough together.” She met his gaze. He had brown eyes with amber flecks in them, a combination she had come to find oddly compelling. “So I know when something troubles you.” 

“Considering everything that lies before us,” said Caina, “all the things that we are about to attempt, it would be unusual if they did not trouble me.”

“That’s not it,” said Kylon. “You’ve been planning to do risky things in the entire time I’ve known you.”

Caina had to laugh at the statement. “That’s true enough.” 

“But this is different,” said Kylon. “Something changed after the Inferno. And again, more recently.” He lowered his voice. “Was it those curved knives?”

Caina hesitated as they reached the door to the House of Agabyzus. “Ask me again when we are done here.” 

“Very well,” said Kylon.

She pushed open the door and stepped into the main floor of the coffee house. As usual, the tables and booths were full of merchants and khalmirs taking their noon meal, drinking coffee as they discussed the news of the day. Damla stood speaking with a pair of merchants. Her dark eyes took in Caina, and then widened a bit when they saw Kylon. She looked again at Caina, and a delighted smile spread over her face. 

“Welcome,” said Damla, hurrying over. “Welcome to the House of Agabyzus. I am Damla, the proprietor. You must be the Exile.”

Kylon blinked. “You saw me fight in the Ring?”

“No,” said Damla, “but I have heard all about you from our mutual friend. I am very, very pleased to finally meet you. More pleased than I can say.”

“Thank you,” said Kylon, a faint note of confusion in his voice. 

Caina knew the reason for Damla’s delight. She thought that Caina had finally taken Kylon as a lover, as Damla had urged her to do before the Inferno. Yet if Caina did, and if she was slain as Sulaman had warned her…no, she could not inflict that kind of pain on Kylon…

“Is he here?” said Caina, pulling her thoughts from their gloomy course. Gods, but she had spent a lot of time brooding lately. She could indulge in self-pity once she was dead. 

“Of course,” said Damla. 

She led the way to a booth in the corner. A thin middle-aged man in the robes of an Istarish merchant sat there, scrutinizing a stack of papers. A gray beard shaded the lines of his face, and dark rings circled his dark eyes. He did not have much of a family resemblance to his sister, but his eyes were the exact shape and color of Damla’s. 

“Here you are,” said Damla. 

“No, stay,” said Caina. “I have things to tell both of you.” 

She sat in the booth. Damla sat next to her brother, and after a moment’s hesitation, Kylon sat next to Caina, adjusting the valikon in its sheath. The man in the merchant’s robe regarded them both for a moment, his eyes thoughtful.

“I suspect,” said Agabyzus, the nightkeeper of Istarinmul’s Ghost circle, “that something is afoot.” 

“You suspect correctly,” said Caina. She gestured at Kylon. “You know this man as the Exile. He is not one of our circle, but I trust him as I do you. Exile, this is Agabyzus, Damla’s sister and one of the chief Ghosts of the circle.” 

“A pleasure, Master Exile,” said Agabyzus. 

“And you, Agabyzus,” said Kylon. “Is this not your coffee house?”

“Not quite,” said Agabyzus with a thin smile. “It was, but the Teskilati took me captive and held me in the Widow’s Tower. Our mutual friend,” he nodded at Caina, “freed me, and I have worked for her ever since. The coffee house now belongs to my sister and her sons.”

“So she saved your life, too?” said Kylon. 

“Mine as well,” said Damla. “I think, Master Exile, that you shall find that a common event among her friends.” 

Caina reached into the satchel and passed a sealed scroll to Agabyzus. “I need to leave the city for a time.”

Agabyzus took the scroll, tapping it against his thin fingers. “The last time you left the city, a few weeks later the Inferno was destroyed and the southern emirates rose in rebellion.”

“I am afraid,” said Caina, “that this trip may prove even more significant.”

Damla and Agabyzus shared a look.

“That scroll,” said Caina. “If I do not return within four months, open that scroll. It will contain instructions on how to proceed. Also, it is possible that the Exile may return while I do not.” Kylon frowned at her. “If he does, I want you to listen to him. He knows a great deal about the dangers we face, and he will know what must be done.” 

“It will be as you say,” said Damla. “Can you tell us nothing of where you are going?”

“No,” said Caina. “It’s not safe. Our enemies would kill us for the secrets we have discovered. If we tell you, you would be at great risk.” 

“A prudent precaution,” said Agabyzus. “Before you depart, I have uncovered something that you must know.”

“What is it?” said Caina.

Agabyzus slid the stack of papers towards her. “The Umbarian Order has been buying houses throughout Istarinmul.”

Caina started leafing through the papers. They were bills of sale and letters to various merchants. “All under false names, I see.”

“Obviously,” said Agabyzus. “Cassander Nilas is a clever and dangerous man.”

“Yes,” said Kylon. 

“Nonetheless, I have many friends among the scribes of the Padishah’s magistrates,” said Agabyzus. “More to the point, I have many friends who owe me favors. They let me know things I might find interesting.”

“This definitely qualifies,” said Caina, reading. Her first thought was that the Umbarians had been buying houses near their embassy in the Alqaarin Quarter, to expand the little fortress they had built in the heart of the city. But the houses were scattered throughout Istarinmul. “Any idea why?” 

Agabyzus shrugged. “My guess is that Lord Cassander wishes to establish quiet safe houses for his agents. The Umbarians have aggressively been recruiting spies over the last few months, and several new detachments of Adamant Guards have been sent to their embassy. I suspect the spies and the houses are part of some plot, though I have not been able to guess its purpose.” 

“It would have to do with the Starfall Straits,” said Caina, turning over another page. “That’s the entire reason Cassander is here, the reason the Umbarians sent an embassy to the Padishah. If they convince Callatas to open the Straits, the Umbarians will attack Malarae by sea at once. That’s why the Umbarians have been looking for me. Cassander has a deal with Callatas. If he kills me, Callatas will allow the Umbarians to use the Straits to attack Malarae.” 

“Lord Cassander has been here for over a year now,” said Agabyzus. “Perhaps he has grown impatient with the Grand Master’s game, and has some plan to seize the Straits and open them by force.”

“How?” said Caina. “The Inferno might be destroyed, but there are still thousands of Immortals in the city, and thousands more regular soldiers. Cassander is a powerful magus, but no match for Callatas alone, let alone the entire College of Alchemists. If the Umbarians try to seize the city, they’ll be crushed.” 

“A ring,” said Kylon.

Caina blinked and looked at him. “I’m sorry?”

“The houses make a ring around the Emirs’ Quarter and the Golden Palace,” said Kylon. She hadn’t realized that he had been reading the documents as she did. For all his trouble speaking the Istarish language, he didn’t seem to have any trouble reading it. “Look. Two houses in the Cyrican Quarter, another in the Old Quarter, two more in the Tower Quarter. Then a small shop on the northern edge of the Alchemists’ Quarter…”

“Which makes a ring around the Golden Palace and the Emirs’ Quarter,” said Caina, sifting through the bills of sale as she pinned the locations on her mental map of Istarinmul’s streets. 

“The Exile is correct,” said Agabyzus, frowning. “That creates an almost perfect circle around the Golden Palace.” 

“Why, though?” said Damla. “I am not a soldier, but it seems a useless effort.”

“It is, madam,” said Kylon. “If Cassander wanted to assail the Golden Palace, hiding small bands of soldiers in these safe houses would be useless. The Golden Palace is too well defended.”

“If he wanted to use them as safe houses for spies,” said Caina, “that makes more sense. But then why place them in a ring around the Palace? It is a very odd coincidence.” 

“A spell of some kind?” said Agabyzus. “I know little of sorcery, but the forbidden arcane sciences are the chief weapons of the Umbarians.”

Caina stared at the papers, an uneasy feeling coming over her. 

The idea that Cassander needed the houses for a spell made sense, even if she could not guess the spell’s purpose. She knew that Cassander Nilas was without mercy or scruple, that he would not hesitate to kill as many people as possible to reach his goals. 

Was Caina overlooking something important?

She thought again of the battle for Marsis, the battle that had started the Empire’s war with Istarinmul and New Kyre. The Ghosts of Marsis had been so focused upon stopping Naelon Icaraeus that they had missed Rezir Shahan’s preparations to attack the city. Was Caina making the same mistake now? Was she so focused upon Callatas and the Apotheosis that she had failed to detect a threat from the Umbarians? 

“What manner of sorcery could it be?” said Damla with a shudder. “Some catastrophe like the day of the golden dead?”

“Cassander isn’t powerful enough to do something like that,” said Caina. “But he is powerful enough to work serious harm if he put his mind to it.” She remembered the malevolent rage of the Sifter, remember the ifrit’s efforts to consume her mind and flesh. “I want you to look into this while I’m gone. See if you can find out what Cassander intends.”