Masud himself lay on the bed, quite dead.
And like Kamahd, his body had been ripped and slashed by claws.
“A lion didn’t do this,” said Caina. “It’s just like Kamahd. Look at the way the blood soaked into his blankets. He was killed right there, and he didn’t put up much of a fight. Someone took out his throat with a spiked mace, probably while he was sleeping. Then they hit him enough to make it look like something mauled…”
She frowned and stared at the tapestry on the left for a moment.
“Look out!” she said, yanking her dagger from her belt. “There’s someone…”
Even as she spoke, two men leapt from behind the tapestries, weapons in hand. I cursed and reached for my sword, but Corvalis was faster. He moved in a blur of steel, and one of the men fell dead to the ground. Caina stepped forward, her arm shooting forward, her entire body seeming to snap like a bowstring, and one of her throwing knives sprouted from the second man’s thigh. He stumbled with a scream, slashing at the air with a peculiar forked mace, and Corvalis killed him with a quick thrust.
I let out a long breath. I hadn’t even gotten my sword out of my scabbard. I’m getting old…but there are advantages to surrounding oneself with capable fighters.
“I know these men,” said Caina, poking at one of the corpses with her boot. “These are Cardiz’s guards. I’ve seen them at his wagon a dozen times.”
“And look at this,” said Corvalis, lifting the odd-looking mace. It was a wooden club, its end tipped with a carved head that looked like a lion’s paw. Four gleaming black claws, each three inches long, jutted from the paw.
“Grass lion claws,” I said.
“An odd thing,” said Corvalis.
“It’s a trophy, a ceremonial weapon,” said Caina. “If an Anshani nobleman slays a lion, he has the skin made into a mantle and the claws fashioned into a ceremonial mace.” She pointed at the rack by Masud’s blood-soaked bed. “There’s a matching one there.”
“A ceremonial weapon,” said Corvalis, “but a useful tool, if you wanted to make it look as if a man had been killed by a grass lion.”
“I think,” I said, “that it is time to have a second talk with our friend Cardiz.”
###
I crept around the edge of Cardiz’s wagon. I may be old, but I know how to move quietly, and my boots made not a hint of sound against the grass. I peered around the edge of the wagon, and saw Cardiz himself standing there, hands on hips as he gazed at the Anshani camp. Beads of sweat glittered on his forehead, and he kept gnawing on his lip.
I stepped around the edge of the wagon and cleared my throat.
“Good morning, master Cardiz,” I said.
Cardiz whirled, his eyes going wide, and reached for a dagger at his belt.
“You!” he said. “What did…I mean, Master Basil. Good to see you again. Can I…”
As I held his attention, Caina and Corvalis stepped around the other side of the wagon. Corvalis seized the peddler and slammed him against the wagon, while Caina drew a dagger and rested it at his throat.
“What…what is the meaning of this?” said Cardiz. “I demand that you release me! I have powerful friends! I…”
“Am surprised to see us, I suppose,” I said, “given that you sent your men to kill us.”
“I…I did nothing of the sort,” said Cardiz. “I…”
“Let me spell it out for you,” I said. “You heard that Kamahd and Masud killed a white lion, and knew you could sell the pelt for a vast profit. So you killed Masud with one of his ceremonial maces while he slept, and then lured Kamahd out and killed him, too. You figured you could blame the deaths upon the lions. But then we started asking questions, and you realized we might learn the truth. So you hinted that Masud might have killed Kamahd, and you sent your men to kill us.”
“You…you killed them both?” said Cardiz, shocked, and then realized what he had just admitted. “This is preposterous! A wild fancy, Callenius. Are you already drunk at this hour? Your men have no right to…to manhandle me like this! Unhand me at once, or I shall call for help.”
“And if we searched your wagon,” I said, “would we find the pelt of a white lion?”
Cardiz sneered. “You have no right to search my wagon.”
“Perhaps not,” I said, “but I am friends with Lord Titus. And if I asked Lord Titus to send men to search your wagon by force, I think we would find…”
Cardiz slammed himself against the wagon. As he did, I heard the sound of breaking glass as something in his pocket shattered.
An instant later I saw a bright flash burst from his robe, followed by a plume of smoke. Caina and Corvalis stumbled back, coughing, and I realized that Cardiz had shattered some kind of smoke bomb. The merchant sprinted into the high grass, and Corvalis started after him, Caina leaning against the wagon and coughing…
A golden blur slammed into Cardiz.
I heard the peddler’s horrified scream, followed by the sound of tearing flesh and crushing bone.
A huge golden grass lion crouched over Cardiz’s corpse, its muzzle smeared with the dead man’s blood. The brilliant golden eyes fell upon me, and the beast showed its fangs.
“Back away,” I said, walking backwards and spreading my arms to make myself look larger. “Back away slowly. It wants to protect its kill. If we get away…”
But Caina could not stop coughing.
The lion’s head swiveled towards her, and the beast stalked forward, five hundred pounds of muscle tensed and ready to spring. Her coughing was drawing the beast, and I felt a surge of panic. I had no weapons that could hurt the lion, and the Imperial Guards and anjar were too far away to help.
The lion sprang at her.
I saw a black blur as Corvalis ran past Caina, his sword in both hands. The blade slammed into the lion’s head, and the force of his blow knocked the beast aside. Corvalis lost his balance and fell, and the lion slammed into the ground, its limbs thrashing, Corvalis’s sword stuck in its head.
And then it went still.
“Good,” said Caina, still coughing as she rubbed her throat, “good swing.”
Corvalis got to his feet, wiping sweat from his brow. “You’re not hurt?” I saw a hint of fear in his face, but not for himself.
For her.
“I’m fine,” said Caina. “Gods! Someone ought to tell Cardiz not to use so much sulfur in his smoke bombs.”
“I think,” I said, looking at what remained of Cardiz, “that the lesson will be lost on him.”
###
The khadjar Arsakan was annoyed by the death of two of his anjars, but the evidence was plain, and the man responsible for Kamahd’s and Masud’s deaths had met his just fate. Arsakan promised to pay an indemnity to their widows and orphans, and that was that.
When the column stopped for the night, I found Corvalis sitting by a campfire, sharpening his sword.
“Lion bone,” he said, “is not good for a blade. Are you here to kill me?”
“Where’s Caina?” I said.
“She went to buy some tea from one of the merchants,” he said, “something to soothe her throat.”
“I think she’ll be fine,” I said. “A few days and the cough will stop.”
Corvalis nodded, but again I saw that faint hint of fear on his face. I realized that he feared losing her, perhaps more than he had ever feared anything. Yet he had not allowed that fear to rule him. Instead he had slain a lion with nothing more than a sword.
Few men could boast of such a feat.
“Good,” said Corvalis. “So. Will you kill me tonight? Or should we do it tomorrow? I would hate to die without a good night’s sleep.”
I snorted. “That would be tragic. But unless you get yourself killed, I don’t think you need fear.”
I turned to go.
“How did it happen?” said Corvalis. “How did you become a Ghost?”
“I was charmed by a beautiful woman, a woman fearless and clever,” I said, “and in her name I joined the Ghosts.”
Corvalis snorted. “Now you are repeating my story back to me. Keep your secrets, if you like.”
I smiled and walked into the darkness.
My hand dipped into my pocket, and I felt the worn impression of the stone seal of House Naerius I had received thirty-eight years ago. But not from Alexius, of course.
From his older sister Rhoanna.
Caina was right that Alexius had become Emperor thirty-three years ago. But old Emperor Staurion Basilicus had been sick for years, and the intrigue to become his successor had been brutal and often bloody. Rhoanna and Alexius had fled to my father’s vineyard, hoping to elude their pursuers. Stunned by her beauty, I spilled a glass of wine on her gown. My father was furious, but Rhoanna laughed it off.
And when the Kindred came, my father opened his doors to them…but I hid Rhoanna and Alexius in wine casks, and lied to the assassins.
Rhoanna thanked me for protecting her brother, and gave me her family’s seal.
And so, all these years later, I still protected her brother.
All because a kindly woman took pity on a nervous boy so long ago.
Just as millions now lived because I had given a grief-stricken girl a channel for her rage.
So odd that the fate of so many depended upon such small things, that a moment’s kindness could rule the lives of uncounted thousands.
I considered the seal for a moment longer, then went in search of dinner.
THE END
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Other books by the author
The Third Soul Series
Computer Beginner's Guides
The Windows Command Line Beginner's Guide
The Linux Command Line Beginner's Guide
The Ubuntu Desktop Beginner's Guide
The Windows 8 Beginner's Guide
The Linux Mint Beginner's Guide
The Ghosts Series
Ghost Dagger (World of the Ghosts novella)
Ghost Aria (World of the Ghosts short story)
Ghost Claws (World of the Ghosts short story)
The Demonsouled Series
The Dragon's Shadow (World of the Demonsouled novella)
The Wandering Knight (World of the Demonsouled short story)
The Tournament Knight (World of the Demonsouled short story)
The Tower of Endless Worlds Series
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About the Author
Standing over six feet tall, Jonathan Moeller has the piercing blue eyes of a Conan of Cimmeria, the bronze-colored hair a Visigothic warrior-king, and the stern visage of a captain of men, none of which are useful in his career as a computer repairman, alas.
He has written the DEMONSOULED series of sword-and-sorcery novels, and continues to write THE GHOSTS sequence about assassin and spy Caina Amalas, the COMPUTER BEGINNER'S GUIDE series of computer books, and numerous other works.
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