Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 07 - Ghost in the Ashes (14 page)

Caina went last, closing and locking the door behind her. Nalazar might not find the hidden door at all. But if he did, it was stout and thick and would resist for a long time. By then, Caina hoped to have gotten Muravin and Mahdriva to safety. She started down the stairs, following the light of the retreating lanterns.

The stairs ended in a long galley, the vaulted roof supported by thick brick pillars. The dancing lights of the lantern revealed hundreds of niches lining the walls, stuffed with moldering bones. Small niches held funerary urns, some of age-tarnished bronze, other of stone, and still others of brittle clay. The air smelled musty, and Caina heard the distant skittering of rats.

“This is an ill-omened place,” said Mahdriva, voice faint. 

“It is,” said Caina, “but it will let us get away. We…”

A crossbow bolt hurtled out of the darkness and slammed into Tanzir. The emir fell with a strangled shout of pain.  

“Take them!” roared a voice in Istarish, and a half-dozen black-cloaked men appeared from around the pillars, weapons in hand. “Kill them all, but leave the girl alive!” 

The servants fled back towards the stairs, Shaizid shouting at them. Corvalis and Halfdan raced to meet the assassins, swords in hand. Muravin stood before his daughter, brandishing weapons in either hand and bellowing curses at his attackers. Caina ran after Corvalis as four of the Kindred converged upon him. Two faced Corvalis and Halfdan from the front, while the others circled to stab him from behind. 

Caina lunged, dagger in hand, and buried the blade in the back of the nearest Kindred. The man stiffened, and she ripped the weapon free and stabbed him twice more before he fell. She stepped back, the blade wet with blood, and the assassin toppled to the damp stone floor. A second assassin charged at her, his sword a blur. Caina jumped back, but not fast enough, and the tip of his sword raked across her chest and belly. Her leather armor kept the blade from reaching her skin, but the sheer force of the blow knocked her to the floor. 

The assassin loomed over her, raising his sword for a killing blow.

Caina snatched the last flask from her belt and flung it into his face.

She slammed her eyes shut and rolled to the side, the assassin’s scream filling her ears. Caina sprang to her feet as the assassin fell to one knee, sweeping his blade back and forth as he sought her. 

She stepped out of reach, drew her ghostsilver dagger, and plunged the blade into his side. The man stiffened, and Caina seized his hair and opened his throat. The assassin fell to join the dead of the catacombs. 

Caina whirled, seeking new enemies, and saw that Corvalis had cut down one of the Kindred, and he and Halfdan drove their remaining foe back. Muravin faced two of the assassins at once, and Caina ran to aid him.

But he hardly needed the assistance.

The assassins fought with skill and grace, but Muravin met them with power and brutality. His fist slammed into an assassin’s face, and the man’s head snapped back. Muravin stepped into the opening, driving his scimitar through the assassin’s chest. He spun to face the remaining assassin, and Caina drew a throwing knife and flung it. It struck the Kindred in the hip, and the assassin staggered. Muravin’s free hand darted out, seized the wrist of the Kindred’s sword arm, and twisted.

There was a hideous crackling noise, and the assassin fell with a scream.

Muravin’s sword descended and ended the fight.

Silence fell over the catacombs once more, save for the terrified whimpers of the maids and Tanzir’s moans of pain. Caina saw that Corvalis and Halfdan had slain the last assassin. Corvalis looked untouched, save for the blood of his foes, while Halfdan had a cut on his jaw and a patch of blood upon his left sleeve.

“You’re hurt,” said Caina.

“It will keep,” said Halfdan. “Shaizid, are your people all right?”

“Yes, Master Basil,” said Shaizid, his voice shaking. For all his other skills, Shaizid was not a fighter. 

“Get them together,” said Halfdan. “We need to move. Muravin?”

“I am unharmed,” said Muravin. “As is Mahdriva.” He spat upon the corpses. “Bah! These foolish men fight for money and think it makes them warriors. A man is not a warrior until he has fought for his life!” 

“Indeed,” said Halfdan. “My lord emir?” 

Tanzir groaned, and Caina cursed and hurried to his side. The crossbow bolt had clipped his right shoulder, drawing quite a bit of blood, but as far as she could tell, it had not struck an artery or a vein. 

“I’m going to die,” said Tanzir.

“Not from this,” said Caina, examining the wound. “Not if we get you to safety. Get up, my lord emir. We need to…”

“Leave me,” said Tanzir. “It’s useless. Mother is right to hate me. Leave me, Ghost. I will only slow you down. Leave me here to die in the darkness like I should.”

“We are not going to let you die,” said Caina, glancing at the others. Shaizid herded his workers together, while Muravin looked at Tanzir with ill-concealed disgust. “You can still stand. Get on your feet.”

“No,” said Tanzir. “It is futile. I can’t escape my mother. I can never escape my mother.” He was crying. “Just let me die. Let me die! Let me…”

Caina slapped him as hard as she could manage.

Tanzir sat up, gazing at her in shock.

“Stop whining and get up,” she spat. “Those assassins weren’t even trying to kill you, my lord emir, they were trying to kill Mahdriva. A pregnant girl, and she is handling this better than you are. Now get up, or I swear by all the gods that I will have Shaizid and his workers tie you up and drag you along like a sack of flour.” 

“You hit me,” said Tanzir.

“Yes, I noticed,” said Caina. “Are you going to get up or not?”

Tanzir staggered to his feet, breathing hard, one hand on his wounded shoulder. 

“Thank you,” said Caina. 

“Would you have really…really had them drag me?” said Tanzir.

“She would have,” said Corvalis. 

“If we are all quite finished,” said Halfdan with a hint of asperity, “perhaps we can move along?”

“Aye,” said Caina, stepping over one of the assassins Muravin had killed. “We…”

She stopped.

She felt the faint prickle of sorcery. 

“What is it?” said Corvalis, recognizing her expression.

“Wait a moment,” said Caina, kneeling next to the dead Kindred. She pushed the corpse onto its back and waved her hand over it. Again she felt the tingle of sorcery.

“We must go!” said Halfdan, one hand clamped to his wounded arm.

He was right. But Caina felt arcane force…

“There,” she breathed, opening a pouch on the dead man’s belt. Inside was a flat, round metal box, one side faced with glass. It looked a bit like a smaller version of a mechanical Strigosti clock. Yet instead of a clock, the metal case held a single crimson needle that spun back and forth wildly. 

Like a compass, perhaps.

And the thing absolutely vibrated with sorcerous power. 

“We have to go, now,” said Halfdan.

Caina nodded, tucked the compass into her belt pouch, and followed the others into the catacombs’ gloom.

Chapter 14 - Hunters 

“Push!” said Corvalis.

“I am pushing!” snarled Muravin. 

They shoved once more, and the stone door swung open, moonlight spilling into the catacombs.

Caina gave a sigh of relief.

“Oh, good,” said Mahdriva, a faint quaver in her voice. One thin hand rested upon her swollen belly. Caina was sure that Mahdriva was in pain, but the girl had not complained as she marched through the catacombs in grim silence. She was indeed her father’s daughter. “I feared we would wander this evil place forever. It is ill to offend the dead.”

“I do not think the dead mind very much,” said Halfdan. “Perhaps they are even glad for the company.” He beckoned with his lantern. “These stairs should open up near the Imperial Citadel.”

“I’ll go first,” said Corvalis, drawing his sword. He climbed the spiraling stone stairs, Halfdan following. Muravin came next, standing before his daughter like a shield, and then Shaizid and his workers. Tanzir followed them, one hand gripping his wounded shoulder, face glistening with sweat. Caina brought up the rear, shooting one last glance over her shoulder. Nalazar had been clever enough to set an ambush at the secret tunnel, but hopefully he had not been able to follow them through the stone maze of the catacombs. 

Still, best not to dawdle.

Caina followed Tanzir up the stairs.

The door at the top of the stairs opened at the base of the Imperial Citadel’s mountain spur, near the great stone temples to the gods of the Empire. Caina took a cautious look around, but the street was deserted. Malarae’s taverns and brothels did a brisk business after dark, but the temples were empty. 

“Well,” said Halfdan, “we seem to have eluded our foes.”

“But not for long, I fear,” said Muravin. “How did they know where to find us?”

“We can worry about that later,” said Halfdan. “Meanwhile, we need to get you, your daughter, and the emir,” he glanced at Tanzir, “to safety.”

“What did you have in mind?” said Corvalis. “If Nalazar tracked Mahdriva to the coffee house, he might be able to track her anywhere.” 

“If he can do that,” said Halfdan, “then we need to take them to a place with defenses strong enough that Nalazar will need more than common mercenaries to enter.”

“And you have just the place in mind?” said Caina.

“Why, I do,” said Halfdan. “This way.”

###

A short walk brought them to the mansions below the Imperial Citadel. The chief magistrates of the Empire lived here, along with some of the more powerful lords. The various Lord Ambassadors from the surrounding nations also maintained residences in the shadow of the Imperial Citadel.

“The Lord Ambassador’s mansion?” said Tanzir.

The official mansion for the Lord Ambassador of Istarinmul rose before them. It had been built in the Istarish style, a sprawling-three story mansion with gleaming whitewashed walls. It looked unassuming, but most houses in Istarinmul and Anshan were built with whitewashed walls to reflect the harsh sun. 

“Aye,” said Halfdan.

A large pool, easily three times the size of the mansion itself, stretched next to the house, the waters rippling in the moonlight. It fed into Malarae’s aqueduct system, drawing the snowmelt from the mountains and draining it into the city’s public fountains. 

“Muravin and Mahdriva will be safe here,” said Tanzir, “but the Bostaji will find me easily.”  

“They will,” said Halfdan, “but they will have a harder time reaching you through the three centuries of the Imperial Guard I’ve stationed here.”

He strode up to the polished double doors and knocked. A moment later they swung open, revealing a man in the black armor and plumed helm of a centurion of the Imperial Guard. 

“Tylas,” said Halfdan.

“Master Basil,” said Tylas. “Everything has been prepared as you instructed. We have refused to allow the Immortals entry.”

“Good,” said Halfdan.

“There is a problem, though,” said Tylas.

“We can discuss it in private,” said Halfdan, glancing back at Shaizid and the servants. “Shaizid, take your people to the dining hall and see to their injuries. Tylas, Anton, Sonya, Muravin, Mahdriva. Please follow me. My lord emir, if you will accompany us?”

Tanzir gave a rueful glance at Caina. “It seems that I have little choice in the matter.” 

The entry hall was grand, built in Istarish style with an elaborate mosaic of a garden upon the floor, the walls adorned with frescoes showing emirs hunting beasts in a tangled jungle. Beyond was a wide dining hall with a long, low table, ringed with cushions so the guests could recline in comfort. A huge, gleaming mirror stood over the table. Shaizid led his workers to the dining hall, while Halfdan opened a narrow door in the wall. It led into a small guardroom with a bench. Tanzir started towards the bench, but Mahdriva sat down first, breathing hard. Muravin turned a glare just short of murderous towards Tanzir, and the emir took a prudent step back. 

“Well?” said Halfdan. “What is the problem?”

“You’ve taken wounds,” said Tylas, looking at Halfdan’s bloodstained robe.

“I have,” said Halfdan, “but we have more immediate concerns. What is the problem?”

Tylas took a deep breath. “That Alchemist is here. Ibrahmus Sinan.”

“He wants to kill me!” said Tanzir. 

“I told you to keep him out,” said Halfdan.

“He insisted,” said Tylas, “and we would have needed to use force to keep him out. And since killing an Alchemist of the College would be as bad as killing the emir himself,” he shrugged, “I figured I had better let you decide what to do. He’s probably realized you’re here by now.”

“Thanks,” said Halfdan.

“Rank has its privileges,” said Corvalis.

Halfdan gave him an annoyed look and opened the door. 

Sinan waited in the entry hall, staring at them.  

“My lord emir,” said Sinan. “How good to see you are safe.” He strode forward as Tanzir and Halfdan stepped into the hall, his gold-trimmed white robes rustling against the floor. “I feared these northern barbarians had done you some harm.”

“The only reason I am still alive is because of these northern barbarians,” said Tanzir. “My own Immortals betrayed me, Ibrahmus. If not for the northerners, I would be dead on the floor of the opera.”

“Impossible,” said Sinan with a thin smile. “Immortals do not disobey the commands of their superiors. Your attackers must have been impostors clad in stolen Immortal armor.” 

“Perhaps,” said Tanzir.

“Come with me, my lord emir,” said Sinan. “I will take you to safety.”

Tanzir hesitated, licked his lips, and looked at Caina.

She gave him a tiny nod.

“No,” said Tanzir. “I would rather stay here for a time. If you do not mind. At least until any traitors among my Immortals are discovered.” 

“You would trust your safety to foreigners?” said Sinan. 

“Forgive me, learned one,” said Halfdan, stepping forward, “but I believe the emir is quite safe with us. You see, if the emir were murdered while in Malarae, people would believe that the Emperor had him killed. Why, an unscrupulous person could use that to continue the war between the Emperor and the Padishah. Though I’m sure the thought of such perfidy never crossed your mind.”

Sinan glared at Halfdan. “Indeed not.” He looked at Tanzir. “Come with me, now. This discussion is over.”

Tanzir looked at Caina, and she nodded again.

He drew himself up. “I am Tanzir Shahan, emir of the Vale of Fallen Stars and the Padishah’s Lord Ambassador to Istarinmul. I come and go at my pleasure, Alchemist. Er. Not…not yours.” 

Sinan drew himself up, his fingers flexing…and Caina’s skin crawled as she felt the surge of arcane force.

He was preparing to cast a spell.

“Basil,” said Caina.

“I should point out, learned one,” said Halfdan, utterly calm, “that you are surrounded by three hundred of the Imperial Guard. Not quite as ferocious or supernaturally strong as your own Immortals, true, but better disciplined and just as tenacious. Even an Alchemist of power might find it difficult to overcome three hundred men.”

Sinan offered a tight smile. “Difficult, but not impossible.”

He flexed his fingers again…and then froze, his eyes fixed on Caina. 

She stared back at him without blinking.

“But made more difficult,” said Sinan, and the sense of power faded from the air, “by the presence of the sorceress you have among your number. A good evening to you, Basil Callenius. Do keep the emir safe. It will go quite badly with you if you do not.”

He turned and strode for the doors without another word.

“Let him go,” said Halfdan to Tylas. “Don’t admit him again, even if he tries to force his way inside.”

“What was that about?” said Corvalis to Caina. “Why did he think you were a sorceress?”

“I think,” said Caina, reaching into her belt pouch, “because of this thing.”

She held up the peculiar compass and held it flat, the needle spinning. 

“What the devil is that?” said Halfdan.

Muravin stepped out of the guard room. “It looks like a ship’s compass.”

“I don’t know what it is,” said Caina. “One of the Kindred in the catacombs had the thing. It’s enspelled powerfully.” 

“Why would the Kindred take a compass with them into the catacombs?” said Corvalis.

Caina shrugged. “It’s easy to get lost down there.” The needle began to slow. “But I don’t think this is actually a compass.”

“It looks like one,” said Muravin.

“It is enspelled,” said Caina, “and it’s not pointing north.” The needle had stopped to point at the guard room. “That’s…south, I think. Due south.” 

“Oh,” said Tanzir, staring at the compass. “Oh, that’s not good at all.” 

They looked at him.

“I think,” said Tanzir, “I think that is a blood compass.”

“A blood compass?” said Caina.

“The Alchemists make them to bind useful slaves or servants,” said Tanzir. “They take a sample of blood from a slave and use sorcery to fuse it to a steel needle. The device acts like a compass, but the needle always points towards the slave.”

A dark thought occurred to Caina, and she walked past the others and into the guard room. Mahdriva sat on the bench, leaning against the stone wall.

“Is something wrong?” said Mahdriva.

The needle pointed at her, quivering.

“Probably,” said Caina. She walked in a slow half-circle around Mahdriva, holding the compass flat on her palm. 

The needle rotated as she moved, continuing to point at Mahdriva.

“It’s her,” said Caina. “The compass is pointing at her.” She took a deep breath. “I think we know that an Alchemist wants your daughter dead, Muravin. Maybe even Sinan himself.”

“But why?” said Muravin. “Why would an Alchemist want to harm my family? I was the seneschal’s bodyguard for years, and the College bore me no ill will.” 

“For that matter,” said Tanzir, “where would they have gotten her blood?”

“Any number of places, if she grew up near the College,” said Caina. “When she got a cut, maybe. Drugged her and stole it from her while she slept. Menstruation, maybe.” She thought for a moment. “Tanzir. Would the blood of a near relative work for the blood compass?”

Muravin scowled. “Like a sister or a nephew, perhaps?”

“I…I don’t know,” said Tanzir. “I’m not an Alchemist, or even a sorcerer. I don’t know how the blood compass works.” 

Caina turned, still watching the needle…and the tingling presence of sorcery grew stronger, harsher. She looked around, wondering if Sinan had decided to launch an arcane assault after all. But as she turned, the tingling faded. She turned again, and the sensation strengthened anew. Was it sharpening as she drew nearer to Mahdriva? Caina stepped past the girl, towards the wall of the guard room, and still the tingling grew stronger. 

Odd. But why was it happening?

“Then perhaps we are safe,” said Muravin. “If the Kindred lost their blood compass.”

“No,” said Caina, turning away from the wall. “Nalazar had one. And if he gave one to the ambushers in the catacombs, it is safe to say that he has at least a few more to spare.” 

“Then I shall never be free of this,” said Mahdriva, her voice tired. “They will hunt me to the ends of the earth.”

“No,” growled Muravin. “I shall find them, kill them, and smash their compasses.” 

“Assuming we can find them,” said Halfdan. “You and Mahdriva should be safe here for now, as will you, my lord emir. But we have not gained much of a respite. Neither the Bostaji nor the Kindred will stop. Not until we find them and eliminate them.”

“We will start looking at once,” said Caina. “I’ll have Shaizid and the others close the House of Kularus tomorrow and contact the civic militia. We’ll claim that thieves broke into the House and killed each other.” That would provide an explanation for the corpses in the kitchen. “Perhaps examining their bodies will tell us something useful.” 

“Return here tomorrow night,” said Halfdan. “We’ll decide how to proceed from there.” He turned to Tylas. “If you could find some bandages, thread, and boiling wine, I would be most obliged.”

Caina left the Lord Ambassador’s house, Corvalis at her side, Shaizid and his servants walking before them. They passed alongside the reservoir pool, their reflections dancing on the dark water. 

“Fear not, mistress,” said Shaizid. “We will repair the damage to the House of Kularus, and it shall be as splendid as before. If not more so.”

“I know,” murmured Caina, feeling the cold weight of the blood compass in her left hand. “I have complete confidence in you, Shaizid.” 

She moved the compass before her, feeling the tingling of sorcery grow weaker and stronger as she did so.

It meant something, she was sure of it.

But what?

###

A short time later Caina and Corvalis returned to their townhouse.

There was some risk in that, she knew. Given that Nalazar knew that Mahdriva had been hiding in the House of Kularus, he might decide to raid Anton Kularus’s home. Yet Caina doubted Nalazar would bother. With a blood compass, he knew where Mahdriva was. Most likely he would focus his efforts on finding a ruse that would allow him to enter the mansion and kidnap Mahdriva.