Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 05 - Ghost in the Stone (32 page)

She caught a flicker of movement through the Hall’s door. A pale slave girl, clad in a long gray tunic, the glitter of a jade collar at her throat.

Nicasia.

Caina frowned.

Ranarius was here?

Corvalis hurried past the Sarbian mercenaries and made for the doors. Caina cursed and slipped after him. All eyes were on Khosrau and Armizid’s corpse, and no one saw her leave. Nicasia disappeared through the doors, and Corvalis picked up his pace.

Caina went after them. 

Corvalis turned right and disappeared into one of the Palace’s elaborate colonnade-lined corridors. Caina broke into a run, her boots clicking against the marble floor. If Nicasia was here, that meant Ranarius was nearby. Perhaps Khosrau had invited him to the disastrous ball at the Hall of Glass, and he had retreated from the Kindred attack. 

She rounded a corner and froze.

Corvalis stood a dozen paces away, sword and dagger ready.

Thirty feet further down, Nicasia stood motionless. 

A Kindred assassin in the armor of the civic militia stood behind her, his sword resting at Nicasia’s throat. The slave girl showed no sign of fear, though Caina saw the motion as her eyes darted back and forth behind her blindfold. 

“Back off!” shouted the Kindred. “Or I’ll open her throat!”

“What makes you think I care?” said Corvalis. 

“I’ve heard of you,” said the assassin. “The mask can’t fool me. I know you’re Corvalis Aberon. You were too soft to stay in the Artifel family. If I slay this girl in front of you, you’ll weep like a woman.” His eyes darted to Caina. “And you! Stay back!” 

Nicasia began to giggle. 

“Quiet,” snapped the assassin. 

Caina eased to the left, hoping to hit the assassin with a throwing knife. But the assassin jerked Nicasia around, keeping his dagger at her throat.

“I said to stay back!” roared the assassin. “Or I will kill her.”

Nicasia burst into full-throated laughter, her high voice ringing off the ceiling.

“Shut up!” said the assassin. “I’ll…”

Then Caina heard the voice.

It was a deep rumble, like slabs of granite scraping together. The voice made Caina’s bones tremble, made the metal of her knives vibrate. No human had a voice like that.

And it was coming from Nicasia’s lips.

“Foolish little mortal,” said Nicasia in that rumbling voice. “You think you have captured me? Then look at me. Look at me and see what you have captured.”

The assassin stepped back, and Nicasia reached for her blindfold. She tugged it aside in a single smooth motion as she faced the assassin, and Caina caught a brief glimpse of her eyes.

They blazed with golden light, like sunlight reflecting upon polished disks of gold. 

“Look at me!” roared the thunderous voice coming from Nicasia’s lips.

The assassin looked at her and screamed, golden light pouring over his face.

And then he turned to stone. 

One moment he was a man of flesh and blood, his face twisted with sudden fear. A heartbeat later he became a statue of white stone, the same white rock as the Stone itself, the same stone that Saddiq and Barius had become. 

The deep voice rumbled laughter, and Nicasia wound the blindfold back around her head. 

The golden light vanished. 

Caina stepped to Corvalis’s side.

“You,” said Corvalis. “It was you all along.”

Nicasia shuddered. “I…I don’t know your voice.” Her voice had regained its reedy, birdlike quality. “Who are you?” 

“Don’t you know who I am?” said Corvalis, his voice rising in anger. “You turned my sister to stone!”

“Did I?” said Nicasia. “There were so many. I can’t remember them all.”

“Can you turn her back?” said Corvalis. “You will turn her back! I…”

“Well,” said a cold voice. “Corvalis Aberon. How long has it been?” 

Ranarius appeared at the far end of the corridor, the hem of his black robe whispering against the floor. A half-smile was on his face, but it vanished when he saw Caina.

“You,” he hissed.

Caina frowned behind her mask. “You know me?” 

His smile returned. “All too well, mistress. All too well. But now I am the master.” 

“What are you talking about?” said Caina. “Mistress? I’m not…”

Then she remembered Sicarion. He had come to Cyrioch to kill a wayward disciple of Jadriga…

“You,” said Caina. “You’re the one Sicarion came here to kill! You were a student of the Moroaica.”

“Yes,” said Ranarius, hate flashing over his face. “Her student and her slave. But no longer. After tonight, she will never have the power to harm me ever again…”

“You will turn my sister back!” said Corvalis. “Now!”

Ranarius turned his lined face towards Corvalis. “What? Are you still dragging that wretched statue about? Pitiful fool. You should have accepted your father’s chastisement and fled the Empire while you still had the power. You could have escaped this.”

Caina threw back her arm, ready to fling a knife. 

But the master magus was faster. 

Ranarius thrust out his hand, the air around his fingers rippling, and Caina felt a massive surge of sorcery. Suddenly the air in front of Caina’s face rippled, and she could not breathe. She coughed, gagging as she tried to force air into her lungs. 

But she could not. Black spots filled her vision, and she took a staggering step forward. She saw Corvalis fall to his knees, hands at his throat. 

Then she toppled towards the floor, everything going black.

Caina awoke with a splitting headache.

She blinked, tried to stand, and found that she could not.

Her eyes cleared, and she saw a rope wound around her ankles, binding her feet together. Her arms were behind her back, resting against a rough rock wall, and she felt more rope around her wrists. Again she tried to stand, and she saw that the rope around her ankles was tied to an iron ring in the floor. Her weapons rested in her belt, but she could not reach them.

A few inches from her hands, yet they might as well have been a thousand miles away. 

She turned her head, examining her surroundings. She was in a large room, lit by the light of a single glass globe. To judge from the empty shelves and the canvas sacks piled in one corner, it was a storeroom. 

Corvalis sat against the far wall, bound as she was. His head slumped against his chest, dried blood glittering on his temple.

“Corvalis,” she hissed. “Corvalis!”

“Don’t bother.”

She knew that cold voice.

Ranarius stepped from the shadows, peering at her like a scholar examining an ancient manuscript. The jade bracelet upon his left wrist glimmered in the dim light. 

“He fell harder than you did,” said Ranarius. “Hit his head on the floor. He might wake up eventually. Or he might not.” 

“What did you do to us?” said Caina.

He made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “I know about Corvalis’s tattoos, you see. A common trick of petty northern witchfinders. So my spell corrupted the air around your heads until you passed out. A favorite of the Kyracian stormsingers.” 

“You learned it from Andromache,” said Caina, “didn’t you?”

Ranarius blinked. “Yes. One of the Moroaica’s favorite pets. How did she die, by the way?”

Caina saw no reason to lie. “The Moroaica promised her the power in the Tomb of Scorikhon. Except Scorikhon possessed her. The Moroaica intended to use Andromache’s body as a host for Scorikhon’s spirit all along.”  

Ranarius laughed. “The little fool. She was also the Moroaica’s slave, like me, only she was too blind to see it.” He leaned closer, looking at her from a different angle. “Tell me. Are you really the Moroaica?”

“No,” said Caina. 

“Tell me the truth,” said Ranarius. 

“Why?” said Caina. “You’re going to kill me.”

Ranarius smiled. “I have absolutely no intention of killing you. In fact, it is my wish that you never die.”

That sounded ominous. 

“But perhaps I can figure it out on my own,” said Ranarius. “You contrived to slay the Moroaica, and then her spirit possessed you. But something went wrong. She inhabited you…but she can’t control you.” He leaned forward, making sure to stay well out of reach. “She is imprisoned inside of you. So long as you live, the Moroaica cannot hurt me.” 

“Then you should continue to let me live,” said Caina.

Ranarius straightened up. “I agree. In a way.” 

That sounded even more ominous. 

“So,” said Caina, mind racing. She had to delay. Chasing after Corvalis alone had been foolish. But sooner or later Theodosia would notice she was missing. And the more information she pried from Ranarius, the better chance she had. “How did you end up enslaved to the Moroaica?” 

Ranarius said nothing for a moment.

“Does the Moroaica communicate with you?” said Ranarius at last. 

“Sometimes, in dreams,” said Caina. 

“So she cannot control you, only influence you,” said Ranarius. “Why hasn’t she killed you yet?”

“You never answered my first question,” said Caina. “How did you end up enslaved to the Moroaica?”

Ranarius scowled. “I will ask the questions, Ghost. And I have the means to force the answers from you.”

Caina made herself smile. “I wouldn’t do that. Force me a little too hard and you might kill me. Then the Moroaica will inhabit a new body. That wouldn’t be good for you. If you want answers, you’ll have to answer my question.”

“Very well,” said Ranarius, though his scowl did not deepen. “I was young and foolish. I felt the laws of the Magisterium and the Empire constrained my genius and talent. Then the Moroaica found me and offered to teach forbidden sciences in exchange for service. I accepted, thinking I could betray her later. But one does not betray the Moroaica. One does not escape her.” 

Caina nodded.

“Now. Answer my question,” said Ranarius. “Why hasn’t the Moroaica killed you yet?”

“She thinks she can bring me over to her side,” said Caina. 

“Perhaps she can,” said Ranarius. “The Moroaica thinks in terms of centuries, even millennia. What are a few decades to her? She has spent far more time pursuing her ‘great work’, whatever that is.” 

“My turn for a question,” said Caina. “What did you do to Nicasia?”

Ranarius smiled. “I suppose you saw her turn that assassin into a statue? She makes for a useful tool.”

“Is she an elemental spirit of earth?” said Caina.

“Not quite,” said Ranarius. “Spirits can be summoned to this world. But they need something to inhabit, a body to wear. An elemental spirit of sufficient power could fashion a body from its associated element. Or it could inhabit a human body.” 

“Nicasia,” said Caina. 

“Yes,” said Ranarius.

Corvalis stirred, moaned, and then fell limp. 

They looked at him for a moment, and then Ranarius kept talking.

“Summoning an earth elemental of power is…difficult,” said Ranarius. “Easier by far to use one already inhabiting our world. They come here sometimes to…hibernate, for want of a better word. I found one in Cyrioch, released it from its cocoon of stone, and forced it into Nicasia’s body. The result was most satisfactory.” He tapped the jade bracelet on his wrist. “Nicasia has proven to be a capable weapon.” 

“Undoubtedly,” said Caina. “Why did you turn Claudia Aberon to stone?”

It wasn’t her turn for a question, but Ranarius answered anyway. She suspected it had been a long time since he had talked honestly with anyone.

“Because the First Magus asked it of me,” said Ranarius. “The Moroaica’s teachings made me stronger, but one does not cross Decius Aberon lightly.” His mouth twisted. “Though if I knew how much trouble Corvalis would cause me, I might have refused the request.” 

“And that’s why you turned the Ghosts to stone,” said Caina. “It was an accident. Corvalis was hunting you, and the Ghosts were investigating him. They just got in the way when you sent Nicasia to turn him to stone.”

“Almost,” said Ranarius. “I didn’t know Corvalis was in Cyrioch until a few hours ago. The Ghosts were investigating Corvalis, but I assumed they were pursuing me, as they have a few times before. It was only sheer luck that Corvalis eluded Nicasia.” He looked at Corvalis and smiled. “Though his luck has finally run out.” He turned back to Caina. “And now a question for you, clever Ghost. Why have you sided with Corvalis against me? Do you not know you will draw the wrath of the Magisterium?”

“You studied under the Moroaica,” said Caina. “The magi are forbidden to use necromancy. If it came down to it, I think the First Magus would abandon you to prevent a scandal.” Ranarius’s lips thinned. “And I know what you really intend.”

“Oh?” said Ranarius. “Do you?”

Caina remembered what Nadirah had told her. “You’re going to summon a greater earth elemental, and attempt to bind it to use against the Moroaica.” 

Ranarius’s amusement vanished. “How do you know that? Did the Moroaica tell you?”

“No,” said Caina. She would not tell him about Nadirah. If Caina died here, Ranarius might try to kill Nadirah. “I know the story of Old Kyrace. You’re going to try to do the same thing here.”

“Yes,” said Ranarius. “I will free the greater elemental and bind it.” He smiled, his eyes glittering. “The process will probably kill you and free the Moroaica to take another body. I look forward to that. For all her might, she cannot possibly stand against the wrath of an elemental lord.”

“Neither can you,” said Caina. “You can’t possibly control such a creature. You’ll probably destroy Cyrioch.” 

“Actually,” said Ranarius. “I will certainly destroy Cyrioch.” 

His calm voice chilled her. “How?”

“Haven’t you realized it yet?” said Ranarius. “When an elemental comes to our world, if it does not take a human body it instead inhabits a form closest to its essential nature. The greater fire elemental that destroyed Old Kyrace was bound within a volcano. An elemental of earth would hibernate within solid rock, rock unlike any other found in the world…”

Caina blinked as the realization came to her.

“The Stone,” she said. “The Stone itself is the greater earth elemental.”