Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 06 - Ghost in the Forge (14 page)

He thought of his father’s threats.

He thought of Claudia’s hesitation when the First Magus had asked if she wished to return. 

And he remembered the slave woman who had tried to kill him. He had thought Nairia had loved him, but he had been a fool. 

Was he a fool now?

He heard the faint whisper as his door slid open and reached for his sword hilt. 

But it was Caina. She wore only a robe, her hair down and her makeup scrubbed away. 

“What did Basil say?” said Corvalis. 

“Tomorrow we’re going to speak with Annika,” said Caina. “All of us. She has contacts throughout the city. If Mihaela used necromancy to create the glypharmor, she might have built the armor at a location outside the Tower of Study, away from the Sages’ notice. One of Irzaris’s warehouses, maybe. Annika might know where to find it.”

Corvalis nodded. “You should go back to your room and get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.” 

She blinked, and it was as if a mask fell away. She looked younger, somehow, and tired, so very tired.

Corvalis held out a hand, and she crossed to him and rested her head against his chest. 

“I have nightmares, sometimes,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “Such terrible nightmares.”

“As do I,” said Corvalis. 

“I don’t want to sleep alone tonight,” Caina said. “Let the slaves gossip. I don’t care.”

Corvalis nodded. “It would make sense for your masquerade. A merchant’s daughter would seek the arms of her illicit lover after episode trying day.” 

Strengthening her disguise. Was she wearing a disguise with him, even now? Would she one day try to cut his throat, as Nairia had done?

She slumped against him a little more.

“I don’t want to sleep alone,” she whispered. “Please.”

Corvalis nodded and led her to bed.

Chapter 13 - A Weeping Slave

The next morning, Caina dressed for the desert. 

She pulled on a robe of sand-colored cloth and a heavy turban. Around her waist went a belt of worn leather holding a dagger and a sheathed scimitar. She kept her hair concealed beneath the turban, and shaded her jaw and cheeks with makeup to create the illusion of stubble. Caina was too pale and too short to look properly Sarbian. But few enough Sarbians ever came to Catekharon, and her disguise would fool casual observers. 

Especially in the midst of Saddiq’s men. 

“Gods,” said Corvalis, adjusting his own robe. “How do the Sarbians fight in these? Don’t they trip over the hems?”

“They’re divided front and back,” said Caina. “But they prefer to fight on horseback. Shoot their enemies full of arrows, ride away, and then hit them again a few hours later. It works. Both the Empire and Anshan have lost armies in the Sarbian deserts. Ready?” 

Corvalis nodded, and followed her into the hallway. Halfdan and Claudia awaited them there, both clad in Sarbian robes. Halfdan, as always, melded into his disguise, while Claudia seemed anxious and ill at ease. 

“You look,” said Halfdan, “positively disreputable. Like you’d cut my purse and my throat and dump my corpse into the lake.”

“Don’t be absurd,” said Corvalis. “You see how still those waters are? I dump you in the lake, everyone in the city and the Tower of Study will see it. Much more sensible to dump you in the aqueduct. All the molten metal would burn away the evidence.”

Caina laughed.

“That’s not funny,” said Claudia. There were dark circles under her bloodshot eyes. The encounter with her father had done little to help her get a good night’s sleep. “I’m sure our father and Torius will do that to us, if they get the chance.”

“Let us laugh while we can,” said Halfdan. “Matters will become grim soon enough. In the meantime, we shall find Saddiq and carry out that tyrant Master Basil’s errands.” 

###

The ambassadors, and the ambassadors’ guests, had been lodged in the various palaces ringing the Tower of Study, but the Masked Ones had housed the ambassadors’ various guards in a Redhelm barracks near the causeway to the city proper. Caina was surprised there hadn’t been a riot. Saddiq and six of his men waited outside the barracks, and straightened up at Halfdan’s approach. 

“Aye?” said Saddiq.

“Master Basil has given us instructions,” said Halfdan in Cyrican with a Sarbian accent. “We are to go into the city and purchase supplies. Some cloth, some silk from the Anshani factors. And some silver candlesticks. Apparently the master’s daughters have taken a shine to them.” 

“Indeed,” said Saddiq. “One must be attentive to the whims of one’s womenfolk.”

He grinned at Caina, and she grinned back.

“Come,” said Saddiq. “The sooner we return, the sooner the master will be pleased.” 

###

“We’ll stop here,” said Halfdan as Annika’s pawnshop came into sight. “We will meet you back at the Tower of Study.”

“As you say,” said Saddiq. “We shall make haste. I do not like this half-empty city. Why would anyone want to live near this coven of unnatural sorcerers?”

Caina understood.

Saddiq and his men went about their errands, while Caina, Corvalis, and Claudia followed Halfdan into the pawnshop. The interior remained as gloomy and dusty as Caina remembered. This time Annika sat upon a stool, her cane propped against the counter, making notes in a ledger. She wore a green Anshani-style robe, and would have looked pretty if not for the scar marring the left side of her face. 

“Well,” Annika said, looking up. “Sarbians from the great desert of the north. One sees many strange things living in the City of the Artificers, but Sarbians are rare indeed. How may I serve you?”

Halfdan pulled off his turban. “Annika. You are looking well.”

Annika blinked and set aside the ledger. “Marcus Antali?” That was another of Halfdan’s aliases. “Ah, you clever scoundrel! I never thought to see you again.”

She heaved to her feet, grabbed her cane, and to Caina’s surprise, hobbled across the room and gave Halfdan a hug. 

“It seems you have come to some prosperity,” said Halfdan.

Annika snorted. “Of a sort. Still, it is good to be a big fish in a small pond, no?” Her smile faded. “I thought this business with the Scholae was already serious when Anna and Cormark came to visit.” She shot a glance at Caina and Corvalis. “But for you to come in person from the Empire…the Emperor takes this very seriously, does he not?”

“As he should,” said Halfdan. “Mihaela demonstrated her weapon last night.”

“I heard,” said Annika. “My friends among the slaves of the Tower told me. A terrible weapon, a suit of living armor that rends men like a child crushing insects.” She shook her head. “How could Mihaela create such an evil thing? Does she not see the wicked uses to which it will be put?” 

“Perhaps she does,” said Caina, remembering Mihaela’s sour expression, “and she rejoices in it.” 

“Perhaps,” said Annika. “Mihaela…carries a great deal of rage.”

“Understandably,” said Halfdan. 

Annika shook her head. “As do I. But we all carry scars. Yet that does not give us the right to inflict scars upon others in retribution.”

“Wisely said,” said Halfdan. 

“Bah!” said Annika, but she smiled. “Wise is simply a polite way of calling a woman old. I should beat you with my cane.” She sighed. “But you shall have whatever aid you require, if it is in my power. My sister and I owe you our lives and our freedom. I remember, even if Mihaela does not.” 

Caina should not have been surprised to learn that Halfdan had been the one to arrange their freedom. The man seemingly had friends and associates everywhere. 

“Thank you,” said Halfdan. “We will need your help.”

“The Emperor wants Mihaela’s armor?” said Annika.

“No,” said Halfdan. “We want to destroy both the armor and the knowledge of its creation.” 

Annika stiffened. “Then you will kill Mihaela?”

“I would prefer,” said Halfdan, “that she may be made to see reason.”

That was an evasion. 

“But that may not be necessary,” said Halfdan. “I don’t know how Mihaela created the glypharmor, but I am certain of one thing. She used necromancy to forge it.”

“Necromancy?” said Annika. “The Scholae forbids its use within the city. And surely one of the Sages would have sensed its presence. The Sages prefer to ignore the outside world, but they are strict about this. Any necromancers found within the walls of Catekharon are slain at once.”

“Nevertheless, I am certain,” said Halfdan. “And therein lies our opportunity. If we can prove that the glypharmor is a product of necromantic science, the Sages will turn against Mihaela and destroy the glypharmor. Then no one will obtain the armor, and the problem will be solved.”

“But do we truly know for certain,” said Claudia, “that Mihaela used necromancy to create the glypharmor?”

“We do,” said Halfdan.

“We do not,” said Claudia, looking at Caina. “We only have her word for it.” 

“That is enough for me,” said Halfdan.

“It shouldn’t be,” said Claudia. “That room was filled with sorcerers, and none of them said anything about sensing necromantic power in the armor. The Sages have wielded sorcery for centuries. Surely they would have sensed something.”

“You think I am lying?” said Caina. 

“I think you believe yourself to be telling the truth,” said Claudia. She looked at Halfdan. “But you know how much she hates sorcery. Maybe she is seeing things where there is nothing to see.” 

“Then,” said Caina, keeping her temper under a tight grip, “what else would you suggest? That we approach Mihaela and ask her nicely?”

“Yes,” said Claudia. “You’re so quick to assume that she used necromancy, that there must be a dark secret behind the glypharmor. Perhaps Mihaela is simply a genius.”

“She was always clever,” said Annika.

“Maybe she discovered something, some application of arcane science that never occurred to the old men of the Scholae,” said Claudia. “Rather than fearing her, we should recruit her. Think of how her skills and knowledge could aid the Ghosts.” 

“That is a poor idea,” said Caina. “You saw what she did with the glypharmor. Even if she did not create it with necromancy, then she still used her power to forge a terrible weapon. The Ghosts would be no more trustworthy with that weapon than anyone else.” 

“You speak,” said Claudia, “as if sorcery is some sort of corrupting power that ruins everyone who wields it.”

“It is,” said Caina. 

“That is irrational.”

Caina felt her temper start to slip. “I have seen little enough evidence otherwise.”

“What about me?” said Claudia. “I was a magus.” Annika’s eyes got a little wider. “Do you think I will become a monster? Are you going to cut me down where I stand?”

“We will have to wait and see, won’t we?” said Caina.

Corvalis looked at her, eyes narrowed, and Caina felt a pang of guilt. Claudia was Corvalis’s sister, and Caina had all but threatened to kill her. But if Claudia went too far, if she betrayed the Ghosts, if she started using necromancy, then Caina would kill her without hesitation. 

The thought chilled her.

And Corvalis would never forgive her.

That thought made her feel even worse. 

“This discussion is pointless,” said Halfdan. “We cannot act until we know more. And the first thing we need to know is how Mihaela created the glypharmor.”

“It seems our best approach,” said Corvalis, looking away from Caina, “is to find out where Mihaela created it.”

Annika shrugged. “She has rooms in the Tower of Study. Many of the more favored Seekers do. But they are warded and guarded.”

“There might be a better way,” said Caina.

They all looked at her.

“Mihaela made the glypharmor out of red steel from Nhabatan,” said Caina, “and we know who is bringing that steel into the city.”

“Who?” said Annika. 

“A Catekhari merchant named Khaltep Irzaris,” said Caina.

Annika laughed. “Irzaris? Irzaris is working with Mihaela?”

“You know him?” said Halfdan.

“Better than I would like,” said Annika. “The man is a scoundrel, and will deal in anything that turns a profit. He has contacts with every bandit gang and shady mercenary company in the free cities. From time to time he hires them to attack caravans, seize the merchandise, and sell the merchants and their guards to the Istarish slavers’ brotherhood. He has an opulent mansion on the other side of the lake, and warehouses full of merchandise.” She snorted. “Villainy pays, it seems.”

“Until the payment comes due,” said Halfdan. “Irzaris is friendly with Mihaela. They spent a great deal of time talking last night.”

“And perhaps,” said Annika, “he is behind the raids.”

“Raids? What raids?” said Halfdan.

“In the last several months,” said Annika, “there have been a number of attacks on villages and caravans west of the city. Bold attacks, too, and no witnesses ever left behind. The Redhelms haven’t been able to find the raiders. But none of Irzaris’s interests were ever touched.”

“He wouldn’t be the first merchant to hire men to kill his competitors,” said Corvalis.

“Aye,” said Caina, “but why bother, if he’s selling the red steel to Mihaela?”

Halfdan shrugged. “Irzaris would hardly be the first man to allow greed to scramble his wits. However Mihaela creates the glypharmor, it seems Irzaris is the weakest link in the chain. I think we will have a look around his warehouses.” 

“If you do, be careful,” said Annika. “Irzaris is a scoundrel, but he’s not a fool. He keeps his warehouses well-guarded.” 

“Fortunately,” said Halfdan with a smile, “we are not fools, either.” He bowed and planted a kiss upon Annika’s hand, who laughed. “It is good to see you again, Annika. I am pleased you have prospered.”

“Yes,” said Annika, waving a hand at the shelves, “my kingdom of dust and old pans.” 

“Or you have your wealth hidden,” said Halfdan.

Annika smiled. “It’s as if some clever man once taught me that ostentatious wealth draws unwelcome attention. And that secrets and friends are often far more valuable than any amount of gold.” 

“A wise woman,” said Halfdan. He looked at the others. “Come along. We have a burglary to plan.”

He led the way from the shop, and Claudia refused to look at Caina as they left. 

###

That afternoon, Caina lay down on her bed, trying to rest. 

While still disguised as Saddiq’s men, they had taken a trip around the curve of the lake and located Irzaris’s warehouse. The ugly, squat building of brick and clay tiles sat at the western end of the city. Armed guards kept watch at the door, but Caina noted that the guards paid no attention to the warehouse’s roof. If Irzaris was as cheap as most merchants, he would have built skylights into his warehouse’s roof rather than bother with the expense of lamp oil or enspelled glass globes. 

Those skylights made for a convenient access point. 

Tonight Caina and Corvalis would break into the warehouse and look for additional information.

Corvalis and Claudia had gone off together, talking. Caina closed her eyes, resting her head against the pillow, and tried to sleep. Tonight would prove difficult, and she needed her rest.

Instead her mind returned to Corvalis and Claudia. 

What was she going to do about them? 

Caina had worked with men and women she disliked before, with men and women who had hated her and held her in contempt. None of it had troubled her. She had even worked with sorcerers before. Rekan, a traitorous magus of the Magisterium, had taught her to guard her thoughts from sorcerous intrusion. 

But Caina hated sorcery. 

And she had not been sharing a bed with Rekan’s brother. 

Caina sighed and rubbed the heels of her hands over her face. Claudia was right. Caina loathed sorcery, hated it more than anything. It had taken her father and her ability to bear children. And she had never met a sorcerer whom she liked or trusted. 

But maybe Corvalis was right. Maybe Claudia was different.