Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 08 - Ghost in the Mask (11 page)

Caina offered the same bow back. “And I am Rania of House Scorneus, a sister of the Imperial Magisterium.”

“You honor us with your presence,” said Martin, “though I am curious why you have chosen to visit at such an unsettled time.” 

“Certain disturbances have come to light,” said Caina, “and the First Magus and the high magi wished them investigated. They entrusted this task to me.” 

“I see,” said Martin. “Will you forgive my bluntness, mistress? We need fighting men. The cultists of Anubankh are attacking travelers. I am surprised you did not encounter them on your journey.”

“We did,” said Caina, “though they dispersed, once they realized that I was a magus.”

“Wise of them,” said Martin, “though I was unaware of any…sorcerous disturbances. Our problems have been with the cultists and the rabble of treasure hunters outside our wall.”

“My lord,” said Caina. “May we speak in private?”

She saw the calculation flash over his face. She was a magus – she could use her spells to read his thoughts, or perhaps to influence his will. Better to speak with her before witnesses.

“Of course,” he said. “We may make use of the guardroom.”

A brave man, then. 

Caina followed him to a guardroom in the gatehouse. The room was stark, empty save for a long table, a pair of benches, and a rack of weapons along the wall. A crackling fire in a hearth kept the moors’ chill at bay. 

“You spoke bluntly,” said Caina, “and I shall return the favor, my lord. There was an attack in Malarae two weeks ago.”

Martin frowned. “Unleashed by a worshipper of Anubankh, I assume?”

“Yes.” He was clever. “A former magus named Jurius, banished from the Magisterium years ago. Do you know him?”

Martin shook his head. “Odd that a former brother of the Magisterium should worship a foreign god. And one from a long-dead nation, at that.”

“That was unusual, but his weapon was even stranger,” said Caina. “He had a Dustblade.”

“A Dustblade?” said Martin, puzzled, and then recognition came. “One of the weapons of sorcery from the Fourth Empire?”

“You are correct,” said Caina. “All the Dustblades were destroyed long ago, and the only surviving blades are in Caer Magia. You see how this would catch the attention of the First Magus.” 

“Then you are here,” said Martin, “to ensure that these weapons are returned to the Magisterium.”

“You mistake me,” said Caina. “I am here to ensure that those weapons remain untouched in Caer Magia.”

“I thought,” said Martin, frowning again, “that the Magisterium would wish to reclaim the relics of the Fourth Empire.”

“Some within the Magisterium do,” said Caina, “but the risk is too great. What man could be trusted with such power? The First Magus fears his rivals might claim the weapons and use them to depose him.” She shrugged. “And the Empire is at war with New Kyre. Suppose a Dustblade or something worse falls into the hands of the Archons? What might they do then? No, better to leave the weapons within Caer Magia, where they threaten no one…and where they do not threaten the First Magus’s position.”

“Ah,” said Martin with a grim smile. “That sounds like Decius Aberon.”

Caina returned his smile with a chilly one of her own. “Then you see our interests are in alignment. You do not trust me, my lord, and you have no reason to do so. But we both wish Caeria Ulterior returned to peace and the secrets of Caer Magia to lie undisturbed. Will you cooperate with me?”

Martin stared at her, and Caina met his gaze without blinking. She was impressed. Not many lords would stand up to a magus of the Magisterium as he had. Of course, she was no magus, merely a woman in a black robe.

But he did not know that.

“Very well,” said Martin. “I have never found the magi to be trustworthy, and the magus assigned to advise the Lord Governor of Caeria Ulterior, Oberon Ryther, is utterly useless. But the good of the Empire requires that we work together.” 

“It does,” said Caina. “I have some questions for you, if you do not mind.”

“Ask,” said Martin. “I have no secrets.”

Caina doubted that. “The two camps outside of the Henge. Who are they?”

Martin scowled. “Our resident troublemakers. The camp to the west of town belongs to Anashir, an Anshani occultist.”

“What is an Anshani occultist doing inside the Empire?” said Caina. She remembered Yaramzod the Black from Catekharon. The man had been ruthless, brutal, and tremendously powerful. She shuddered to think of what he would do with a Dustblade. 

“The occultist claims to seek Anshani relics from the Seventh Battle of Calvarium,” said Martin. “One of the Shahenshah’s armies penetrated this far north during the Third Empire, and was defeated here before Caer Magia was built. Anashir claims to have a license from the Emperor granting him permission to dig.”

“That license is forged,” said Caina. She doubted that the Emperor had been foolish enough to grant an Anshani occultist leave to search for ancient relics near Caer Magia, and even if he had, Halfdan would have told her. “Perhaps if we prove it we can force him to leave.”

“Perhaps,” said Martin, “but he may not wish to leave. I hope your skill in the arcane sciences are a match for his.”

“We may see,” said Caina. “What of the eastern camp?”

“That belongs to Lady Maena Tulvius,” said Martin, “and she, too, is searching for relics from the Seventh Battle of Calvarium. Apparently some of her ancestors perished during the battle, and she hopes to recover their relics.”

“That is easy enough,” said Caina. “Order her to stop with your authority as Lord Governor.”

Martin grimaced. “I have. She denied my authority, and appealed to the Lord Governor of Caeria Superior. We have not yet heard a reply from Caer Marist.”

“Can you force her to stop?” said Caina.

“I considered it,” said Martin, “but I have only five hundred militiamen to keep watch over the entire province. Lady Maena has three hundred mercenaries with her, all battle-hardened men.”

“Such mercenaries do not come cheaply,” said Caina. “It seems that Lady Maena is expending a great deal of coin simply to find some old relics.”

“That was my thought as well,” said Martin. “If I tried to force her from the Henge, she might well prevail in such a battle. If I lose too many men, I fear either Anashir or Lady Maena would seize control of Calvarium themselves. Or they might come to blows – there have been skirmishes between their men. Or, worse, the cultists of Anubankh might claim the town for themselves.”

“This cult,” said Caina, “when did it first emerge?”

“Perhaps nine or ten months ago,” said Martin, “shortly after I was sent to Calvarium. At first we thought it an oddity. A cult worshipping some long-forgotten Maatish god? It was hard to take seriously. But then the cult started attacking and murdering travelers, all the while proclaiming that the Kingdom of the Rising Sun will be reborn. I fear their prophet, whoever he is, will lead his followers in a revolt against the Emperor.” 

“Either Anashir or Lady Maena,” said Caina. “Are they involved in the cult? Perhaps one of them is this mysterious prophet.”

“I doubt it,” said Martin. “I have met them both, and neither seems the sort to worship anything but their own power and prestige.” 

“We need,” said Caina, “more information before we can decide upon a course of action.”

“Obviously,” said Martin. “I would welcome any suggestions on how to obtain it.”

Caina thought for a moment.

“Have a banquet,” said Caina.

Martin blinked. “A banquet?”

“To welcome me to Calvarium,” said Caina. “Invite Lady Maena and Anashir as well, as guests. We shall have an opportunity to speak with them, and perhaps we can learn something useful.”

“Or they’ll come to blows and kill each other,” said Martin.

Caina shrugged. “That would help resolve the problem, would it not?” 

“I suppose it would. Very well,” said Martin. “I will send the invitations to Anashir and Lady Maena. We shall have a banquet in the magistrates’ hall tomorrow evening to welcome Rania Scorneus to the town.”

“Thank you,” said Caina. “I will begin my investigations, and let you know if I discover anything. What is Calvarium’s best inn? I have yet to secure lodgings for myself and my men.”

“The Inn of the Seven Skulls,” said Martin. “A grim name, but this is Calvarium. The inn is quite comfortable.”

“Thank you,” said Caina, heading towards the door. “Oh, one more thing. Is there a reputable physician in the town? One of my men is ill, and I would like a physician to look at him, or preferably a priestess of Minaerys.”

“We have no temple of Minaerys,” said Martin, “but we do have an excellent physician. Mistress Komnene, just off the northern gate. She is quite capable.”

“Thank you,” said Caina with a bow. Unlike Martin, she knew that Komnene was the Ghost circlemaster of Calvarium.  Her question would mask her later visit. 

And she was looking forward to seeing her old teacher again.

She was less excited about seeing Claudia Aberon, but Corvalis would be glad to see his sister.

###

The Inn of the Seven Skulls, true to its name, had been built around a set of standing stones, a monolithic stone arch serving as its entry hall. Seven ancient skulls sat in the stone lintel, gazing down at the street. 

“Charming,” muttered Caina, exiting her coach. 

Despite the grim entrance, the common room was warm and cheery. Corvalis haggled with the innkeeper, since it was beneath the dignity of a magus to address persons of such low station herself, and obtained a suite of rooms for her on the fourth floor. 

The Magisterial Guards could pitch tents for themselves in the courtyard.

Caina let herself into the rooms. Comfortable chairs furnished the sitting room, and the bedroom featured a large and comfortable bed. No bathtub, alas, as Calvarium did not have the water supply to support one. Caina would visit the public bathhouse later, scrub the dust of the journey from her face and hair…

She heard a tentative knock at the door.

A Szaldic girl of about sixteen entered the sitting room, her expression nervous. She wore a simple green dress, her black hair hanging around her shoulders. The girl saw Caina looking, grabbed her skirts, and did a deep bow.

“Are…are you Mistress Rania?” said the girl.

“I am,” said Caina. “Do you have business with me, child?”

“I…I do,” said the girl. “My name is Alexandra, mistress. I serve in the magistrates’ hall. The Lord Governor noticed that you did not have a maid with you, and sent me to attend to your needs.” She swallowed. “If you do not mind.” 

“I do not,” said Caina, considering. It might be a kindly gesture from Martin. Or the girl might be a spy. Either way, Caina could make use of her. 

“The handsome captain told me to come up here,” said Alexandra. 

Caina raised an eyebrow, and Alexandra flushed.

“I hope,” said Alexandra, “that I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No, nothing wrong,” said Caina. She could hardly blame the girl for finding Corvalis handsome. He was, after all. “If you can put these rooms in order, I would be grateful. I have an errand to undertake.”

“Can I help?” said Alexandra.

“I am afraid not,” said Caina, heading for the door. “I need to see a physician.”

Chapter 8 - Brother and Sister

Claudia heard the rattle of wheels against the street. 

That was not unusual. Komnene’s shop was not far from Calvarium’s northern gate, and wagons often rolled past. But the wheels were too quiet to belong to a merchant’s laden wagon.

Claudia looked up from the medicines she was preparing. 

“Komnene,” said Claudia.

A dark shape halted outside the shop’s window.

“Yes?” said Komnene, paging through a book. She stood, as she usually did. Claudia suspected her hip troubled her when she sat.

“A carriage,” said Claudia, peering out the window. That was very odd. No one in Calvarium traveled in a carriage, not even Lord Martin. The carriage had been painted black, and upon its door Claudia saw a sigil of a book with an eye upon the pages.

Men in black armor moved around the carriage.

“Oh, gods,” said Claudia.

“What?” said Komnene. “What is it?”

“Those are Magisterial Guards,” said Claudia. “My father has found me, he’s going to…”

The door swung open, and a magus of the Imperial Magisterium stepped into the shop.

But the magus was not Claudia’s father. 

It was a young woman, shorter than Claudia, with blond hair and eyes like chips of blue ice, hair pulled back to emphasize the hard lines of her face. She moved with a confident, arrogant assurance, and Claudia felt like a mouse trapped beneath the gaze of a hawk. The First Magus had not come himself, but he had sent one of his agents to kill her. 

“Claudia, Komnene,” said the magus in High Nighmarian, her voice colored with the accent of Artifel. 

Komnene laughed in delight and hobbled closer, her cane clicking against the floorboards. “It is good to see you again.”

“You…know each other?” said Claudia.

The magus titled her head to the side. “You know me as well, Claudia Aberon.”

Claudia frowned, and suddenly the recognition came, just as one of the Magisterial Guards stepped through the shop door.

“Caina?” said Claudia, stunned. 

Caina nodded.

“I didn’t recognize you at all,” said Claudia.

Caina smiled. “Thank you. That is rather the point.”

“You dyed your hair,” said Claudia, unable to think of anything else to say.

“I did.” Caina sighed. “It was necessary for a disguise. But it worked, did it not? You didn’t recognize me.” She gestured at Claudia’s hair. “Yours is properly blond. Mine merely looks like I spent too much time in the sun.”

“Sister,” said the Magisterial Guard, pulling off his helmet. “It does me good to see that you are well.”

Claudia found herself looking into a hard face with green eyes beneath close-cropped blond hair.

“Corvalis!” she shouted, and she pushed past Caina and threw herself into her brother’s arms. He had been her only companion for years as a child. Later, after he had returned from the Kindred, he alone had been willing to follow her as she left the Magisterium. And after her father had ordered Ranarius to turn her to stone, Corvalis had undertaken the dangerous task of freeing her from the magus’s spell, at last returning her to living flesh with Caina’s aid.