Ghost in the Seal (Ghost Exile #6) (37 page)

“Perhaps not,” said Kalgri, “but if you were more effective with your spells, she would not be here now.”

That took the smirk from his face. “Can you sense her?” 

“No,” said Kalgri. She sensed Caina’s allies, the Voice watching them with malice, but Caina had vanished. 

“Then she’s wearing her shadow-cloak,” said Cassander, his eyes gleaming with eagerness. “You pulled the same trick on her for months.”

Kalgri said nothing, still watching the inn with unease. She was certain something was wrong, that she was missing…something. But she could not think of it. 

So she followed Cassander towards the Corsair’s Rest, her instincts wound tight. 

###

Caina staggered down the stairs, the silver fire burning in her veins, competing with the poison for the amount of pain filling her. She gripped a wooden rod taken from one of the other rooms. 

The dead followed her. Her enemies, her mother and Maglarion and Kalastus and Ranarius and all the others. They taunted and jeered at her, promising that she would soon join them in darkness everlasting. 

But this time, she saw others. 

Her father, smiling at her. Halfdan in his robe and cap. And Corvalis, his eyes green and hard, eyes that softened when he smiled at her. She would be with them, soon. That didn’t seem so bad. 

She only wished that Kylon…

Caina put the thought out of her mind. It would have been too painful for her to continue, and it took all her strength to keep moving. 

She stumbled into the common room. 

Adamant Guards filled the common room of the Corsair’s Rest, staring at her with their cold, merciless eyes. There were at least a hundred of them, maybe more. Kalgri stood near the door, that ghostsilver short sword in hand. Her face had changed since their battle at Silent Ash Temple, her skin paler, her eyes now blue, her blond hair tied back in a braid. In fact, she looked a great deal like Caina herself. 

Apparently the Voice had a sense of humor, and Caina laughed aloud at the thought. 

Cassander Nilas tilted his head, regarding her. He wore his black greatcoat, a golden medallion with the winged skull sigil of the Umbarian Order resting against his chest. He watched her with amused contempt, his armored right fist closing and opening over and over again. 

“The Balarigar herself,” said Cassander in his resonant voice. “Caina Amalas.”

“That’s me,” said Caina, taking a step towards him. The room started to spin around her. The dead watched her from the balconies, all the faces from her past. 

“With the Staff and Seal of Iramis, I am pleased to see,” said Cassander, looking at the useless stick in her hand. 

“They’re yours,” said Caina. “Just…just let the others go.”

It did not take much to put a quaver in her voice. 

Cassander laughed. “Bring them to me.”

Caina took another step, and her legs failed. She fell to one knee, breathing hard, the pain of the silver fire warring against the pain of the necromantic poison. Caina tried to stand, tried even to keep her breathing regular, but the pain was too much. 

The wedjet-dahn burned like something molten against her right arm.

“Bring her to me,” said Cassander. “Now.”

An armored foot slammed into Caina’s side with enough force to crack her ribs, and she fell onto her side with a groan. Two Adamant Guards seized her arms and hauled her forward, her boots dragging against the floor. 

As they did, the cowl of her shadow-cloak fell back. 

###

Cassander watched as the Guards dragged Caina Amalas forward and threw her to the floor at his feet. She curled up around the staff with a little grunt of pain. 

Peculiar. She seemed…so much smaller up close. She was not a large woman. Hard to believe that this dying woman had terrorized the Magisterium, had brought the Brotherhood to its knees, had earned a bounty of two million bezants upon her head. 

Her legend had grown large…and Cassander’s legend would grow larger for his victory over her.

He looked forward to the expression on Callatas’s face when he dumped her corpse at the Grand Master’s feet. 

He looked forward to teaching the pompous old fool some humility with the Staff and Seal. 

And he especially looked forward to returning in triumph to the Empire once the fleet had passed through the Straits and the Emperor had fallen, to take his rightful place among the leaders of the Order. 

“My dear Huntress,” said Cassander, looking at Kalgri. “Would you like to do the honors? I did promise you her life.”

Kalgri said nothing. She stared at Caina, her blue eyes narrowed, her head titled to the side as she listened to the Voice. 

“Wait,” said Kalgri. “There’s something…”

Her eyes widened, and she moved so fast that Cassander did not have time to react. She darted forward, seized Caina’s shadow-cloak and something from her belt, and then the Huntress sprinted out the front door to the Corsair’s Rest, vanishing into the darkened bazaar. Cassander stared after her, incredulous, and then looked back at Caina. 

She looked up at him, smiling a little. 

Then he saw the silver fire shining in her eyes, spreading through her skin like glowing fingers. 

And in that frozen, terrible moment, Cassander realized just how grievously he had miscalculated. 

He shouted, starting to cast a spell, and silver fire devoured the world. 

###

Kylon looked back at the Corsair’s Rest.

Caina’s ruse had worked. Nearly all the Adamant Guards had vanished into the inn, with only a few left to keep watch. Night had fallen, and it had been easy to slip past them. Now Kylon and the others stood at the far end of the bazaar, watching the Corsair’s Rest.

“Lord Kylon,” said Nasser. “We must go.”

“Yes,” said Kylon. “Forgive me. I…”

Someone burst from the front door of the Rest, moving with inhuman speed. Kylon sensed the cold, malevolent presence of a nagataaru. It was the Red Huntress, sprinting from the inn with all the terrible speed her nagataaru granted. She held something clutched in her right fist, a dark shadow billowing from her arm. Kylon raised the valikon, the blade starting to burn in response to the nagataaru, but Kalgri didn’t look at him. She didn’t even notice him. She dashed into another alley and vanished. 

“Why did…” Morgant started.

A surge of arcane power went through the air, so strong that it almost knocked Kylon from his feet.

“Take cover!” said Annarah. “It’s…”

The Corsair’s Rest exploded. 

Kylon stood rooted, unable to look away. Every single window and door in the Corsair’s Rest exploded at once, silver fire spraying into the night. The ground shook and heaved, and Kylon grabbed at the nearby wall for support. In that moment the dome of the Corsair’s Rest ripped apart, silver fire stabbing into the sky, the debris raining over Rumarah. 

Not all of it was debris. Adamant Guards tumbled through the sky, screaming as the fires chewed into their flesh, and struck the ground.

They did not get up again. 

Kylon reached for his sorcery of water, driving his senses into the firestorm. He caught, for just a fleeting moment, a hint of Caina’s sense, felt her agony and fear. 

And then her sense vanished, snuffed out like a candle. 

He stood motionless and watched the pyre of Caina Amalas.

Chapter 21: Ashes

A little later, Kylon walked towards the smoldering wreckage of the Corsair’s Rest.

Not much had survived the explosion. The walls still stood, mostly, though the silver fire had torn gaping breaches here and there. The roof and the dome were completely gone, and lay in burning chunks throughout the bazaar. Close to a score of Adamant Guards lay outside the inn. Their armored carapaces had protected their torsos, but had done nothing for their exposed flesh, and the stink of charred meat filled the air. The interior of the Corsair’s Rest was filled with flaming rubble. 

Kylon stood at the edge of the fire, his fingers hard and tight against the valikon’s hilt. 

“It figures.”

Kylon looked over his shoulder as Morgant approached, the flames throwing hard shadows over his face. Annarah followed him, her eyes sad, her valikon back in its staff form. 

“What?” said Kylon. The word was a hard rasp, and hurt in his throat. 

Morgant jerked his chin at the burning rubble. “The Balarigar had to burn down one more damned building.” 

“She would have laughed,” said Kylon. “The first time we met, she burned down a building. This warehouse in Marsis, off the Great Market. She wound up killing Rezir Shahan in it. I…”

He fell silent. His mind was numb, though he knew the rage and grief would come later. Right now he could not think, and could do nothing but gaze the burning wreck of the Corsair’s Rest. Ashes crunched as Nasser and Laertes picked their way over the rubble and the dead Guards. 

“Lord Kylon,” said Nasser. “We should go.”

Kylon nodded, not moving. 

“The explosion will have drawn attention,” said Nasser, “and…”

“I know all that,” said Kylon.

Nasser said nothing for a moment.

“At least,” said Nasser, “Cassander Nilas will trouble us no more.” 

Kylon nodded again, his mouth twisting at the bitter thought. He had come to Istarinmul to kill Malik Rolukhan and Cassander Nilas. Now both men were dead, but so was Caina. 

It had not been worth the exchange. 

“The Surge was right,” said Kylon. “The silver fire was my only salvation. It saved me twice, once at the Craven’s Tower, and now here. It saved all of you. Just not…”

He fell silent, blinking. 

“The Huntress is still out there,” said Laertes. “I wonder why she ran.” 

“She was probably clever enough to see the trap,” said Morgant. “Someone doesn’t survive as long as she has by ignoring the signs of danger.”

The mention of the Huntress jarred Kylon back to something like sanity. 

“I’ll go with you to Catekharon,” said Kylon. “Long enough to make sure that we get the regalia into the hands of the Scholae. Then I’m going after the Huntress.”

“Very well,” said Nasser. “We…”

Something shifted in the wreckage burning within the Rest. Kylon lifted the valikon. He sensed nothing alive beyond the broken doors to the common room, sensed nothing save the echoes of the tremendous amount of arcane power that had just been unleashed, but if any of the Adamant Guards had survived, Kylon would have a target for the overwhelming rage that simmered beneath his numb mind. 

The wreckage shifted again…

“What the hell?” said Morgant, as shocked as Kylon had ever heard him.

Caina Amalas staggered out of the Corsair’s Rest and into the bazaar, her face smudged with ash and soot. 

Kylon noticed two things right away.

The first was that he couldn’t sense her at all. He sensed the emotions of the others, mostly astonishment, and the faint aura of the combined emotions of Rumarah, a combination of fear and shock from the massive explosion at the heart of the city. Yet from Caina he sensed absolutely nothing. It was as if she wasn’t there.

The second thing he noticed was that save for the pyrikon bracelet and a layer of soot, she was naked.

The detonation of the Elixir had burned away her clothes, just as happened to Kylon in the Craven’s Tower. He saw the sharp definition of the muscles in her calves and thighs. There was a nasty scar stretching across her stomach just below her navel. He knew she could not have children – likely that was the injury that had done it. There were old, faint scars on her arms and sides, the marks of near misses from daggers and knives. His eyes moved to her chest, where under happier circumstances his gaze would have preferred to linger anyway, seeking the gaping wound that should have been between her breasts.

It was gone. The skin there was smooth and unmarked.  

The Elixir had worked. Somehow, the Elixir had worked. 

There was no sign of the wedjet-dahn.

Caina stumbled to a stop a few paces away, staring at them in utter bewilderment.

“That’s not possible,” said Morgant, incredulous, his usual sardonic manner gone. “That…is simply not possible.” 

“By the gods,” muttered Laertes. “The Elixir healed him…but it transformed him into a woman.” 

Morgant shook his head. “She was always a woman. She just happened to be a very good liar.”

“Ah,” said Nasser, looking at Kylon. “I see. Yes. That…explains rather many mysteries, actually.”

“Caina,” said Kylon. 

She looked at him, blinking, and held her hands out before her. At first he thought she was warning him away, but then she spoke.

“Fingers,” she said.

“Fingers?” said Kylon.

“How…how many fingers do I have?” said Caina, her voice slurred and unsteady. “I can’t tell just now.” 

“Ten,” said Kylon. “You have ten fingers.”

“Good,” said Caina. “I wasn’t sure.” She started patting herself. “Arms, eyes, legs, I think…I think I have two of both. Ears? Two ears?”

Kylon nodded, still too shocked to do anything else. 

“Do I have anything growing out of me?” said Caina, and she turned in a circle. Had he not been so alarmed, Kylon would have enjoyed the sight. “Ears? Arms? Eyes? Extra mouths?”

“No, nothing,” said Kylon.

“Everything appears to be where it is supposed to be,” said Morgant. 

Caina stopped turning, reeled a bit, and caught her balance. “Good. The Alchemist. Sinan. I saw him use Elixir Rejuvenata in Malarae. Turned him into a monster. Thought the Elixir Restorata might have done the same thing to me.” She shook her head, her hair lashing around her face. “Guess not. Oh…I don’t feel at all well.” 

“You’re delirious,” said Kylon. “The Elixir…it did the same thing when you used it on me.”

“That’s right,” said Caina. She smiled at him. She did not often smile, and when she did, it was usually part of her disguises. But this smile seemed to take in her entire face. “I’m glad I did. I’m so glad. I…” She shook her head again, blinking. “I need…”

“What we need is to get off the street,” said Annarah. “Lord Kylon, can you sense her at all?”