Ghost in the Pact (10 page)

“Are we stating the obvious now?” said Morgant. “We…”

“I’ll go after Callatas,” said Caina. “Morgant and Annarah will come with me. We’ll get to Murat, and force him to sail for Pyramid Isle at once. If we’re fortunate, we can sink Callatas’s galley before he even gets to the island. Or we can arrive on the island first and set a trap for him.” 

“And where will the rest of us be?” said Kylon, his voice flat. 

He must have figured out what she intended.

Caina took a deep breath. “You, Nasser, and Laertes will go to the Imperial Embassy and warn Claudia and Martin. Get them out of the city, and head south with Sulaman to join Tanzir. Without Sulaman, they’re just rebels. With Sulaman, they are following the true heir of the Padishah, and they are marching to the city to depose his father’s murderers. Tanzir has never commanded men in battle, but you have, Nasser, and so have you, Kylon. They’ll need your help.”

“I should go with you,” said Kylon at once. “The valikon is the best weapon to use against Callatas and the Huntress.”

“Aye,” said Caina, “but a ghostsilver dagger would work just as well. And Kalgri won’t be with Callatas. He’ll send her away to keep her from interfering to his journey to Pyramid Isle. Likely he will send her after Sulaman.” She shot a quick look around the nearby buildings. For all she knew Kalgri was watching them right now, wrapped in her stolen shadow-cloak, waiting for the right opportunity to attack Sulaman. “Or she’ll go to the Imperial Embassy and kill everyone there.”

Kylon let out a long breath. “I should still go with you.”

Caina shook her head. “I…” 

She wanted to pour her heart out to him, to ask him to come with her to Pyramid Isle, but she did not want to do so in front of Morgant and Sulaman and Mazyan. And the cold part of her mind, the part that Halfdan and the Ghosts had trained, knew that this was the only way. Callatas might be strong enough to shake off the compulsion. If the Grand Wazir crushed the rebels, Callatas could return with the Staff and the Seal and the Star and complete the Apotheosis without opposition. If Callatas failed to resist the compulsion and let Kharnaces claim a drop of his blood, the Great Necromancer would unleash the nagataaru and destroy the world. 

Absolutely everything was at stake, and neither Caina nor Kylon could be everywhere at once. 

“I think,” said Nasser at last, “that this may be our best chance to triumph.” 

“Or at least,” said Annarah, “to avert disaster.”  

“We should go at once,” said Nasser. 

At last Kylon gave a single sharp nod, his eyes still fixed on Caina. 

“Give me just a moment,” said Caina, “and then we’ll go. I need a word alone with Kylon.” 

###

Kylon followed Caina into the alley. They were close enough to the others that they could come to their aid if necessary, but far enough away that they could not be overheard. 

His mind kept working, trying to find a better plan, a way he could accompany Caina to Pyramid Isle. If she tried to fight Callatas on her own, she was probably going to die. Even if Kylon went with her, they would likely both die fighting against the Grand Master. Her plan was logical, but his heart screamed against it. Gods of storm and brine, after everything they had gone through together, did they have to be separated now? She had saved his life below the Craven’s Tower. He had saved her in Rumarah. Together they had beaten Cassander and stopped him from destroying Istarinmul. 

“Caina,” said Kylon as she turned to face him.

A spasm went over her face, and before he could say anything else, she reached up, seized the back of his head, and kissed him long and hard. At the physical contact her emotions flooded over his senses, a mixture of love and overpowering dread and anguish. She didn’t want to go to Pyramid Isle without him. She didn’t want to go anywhere without him. 

“I’m sorry,” said Caina when they broke apart, her voice soft and unsteady. “I’m sorry. I…should have seen it sooner, I should have found a ship, I…”

Kylon shook his head. “We all tried. If we had taken the road to Catekharon the same thing would have happened when Callatas and the Huntress caught up to us.”

“I know,” said Caina. “It’s just…”

“You have a habit of blaming yourself,” said Kylon. 

She laughed a little. “I suppose I do.” She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I wish you would come with me. I wish I could come with you. But this is the best plan. Gods, I wish I could think of something better, but I cannot.”

“No,” said Kylon. “No, you’re right. This is the best course. Bitter as it is.” 

“I know,” said Caina. “Keep Sulaman and Tanzir safe. And Nasser, though I expect he can take care of himself.”

“I will,” said Kylon. “I promise it.” 

“And…watch out for Kalgri,” said Caina. “She’ll be coming after Tanzir or Sulaman at some point, I am certain of it. She…”

“The next time,” said Kylon, “that I fight the Red Huntress, she is going to die. She escaped me at New Kyre, at Rumarah, and again in the Alqaarin Bazaar. Not again.” He tapped the valikon’s hilt. “She will not escape again.” 

Caina nodded. “Please. Be careful.”

“I will,” said Kylon. “I would tell you to be careful but I know you shall not listen.”

She smiled. “I’m always careful.”

“For such a gifted liar,” said Kylon, “that was a poor showing.”

Her smile widened a little at that. “This isn’t a lie, though. I love you.” 

He pulled her close and held her for a moment, her emotional turmoil matching his own. Many times during his years as a noble of House Kardamnos and a stormdancer of New Kyre had he sailed away from the city on one of the fleet’s warships. Every single time women had lined the docks as the vessel departed, watching their husbands go to war. The emotional aura from the men had always been grim, fear for the future mixed the expectation of future loss, fear for their wives in their absence, the fear that they would never see them again. 

For the first time in his life, Kylon understood that. 

The fear within him was sharper. The wives of the soldiers and rowers and sailors had been safe in New Kyre. Caina was going after a powerful sorcerer, a man who had killed hundreds of thousands and would not scruple to cut down anyone who got in his way. 

Because of Callatas, it was entirely possible that both Kylon and Caina would be dead within a few weeks, along with countless others.

“I love you,” said Kylon. 

Caina bit her lip and nodded.

“And if I never see you again,” said Kylon, “I just wanted to…”

“No,” whispered Caina. “No, don’t say that. We will see each other again, Kylon, I swear it. No matter how far I have to go, no matter how long it takes, we will see each other again.” She stiffened. “A pact.”

“A pact?” said Kylon.

“We’ll make a pact, you and I,” said Caina. “No matter what happens, we’ll be victorious. We’ll come back to Istarinmul.” Her voice trembled a little before she got it back under control. “Whoever gets back first will wait at the House of Agabyzus. If you get here first, wait for me.” She swallowed. “If I get back first, I’ll wait for you there until the stars go out and the sun turns to ash, I swear it.” 

“I swear it, too,” said Kylon, gripping her hands.

For a long moment they stood there, her emotions washing over him with every beat of her heart. 

But the moment was not long enough.

“We have to go,” said Caina. 

“I know,” said Kylon. He forced himself to let go of her hands and step back. “Nasser and Laertes and I will get Sulaman and Lord Martin’s family out of the city. And then…”

“Wait,” said Caina, reaching for her pack. She tugged it off her shoulders and rummaged through it for a moment. “Wait…here!” 

She straightened up and pushed a small leather pouch into his hand. Kylon opened it and saw crumpled lead foil. He pushed the foil aside, and the pale silvery glow of four vials of Elixir Restorata gleamed in the depths of the pouch, even as he felt the potent arcane power of the thick silver fluid in the crystalline vials. 

“Four vials of Elixir Restorata,” said Caina. “Half of what’s left. If you need them. I hope you don’t. But if you do…”

“Thank you,” said Kylon, tucking the pouch away. “I will only use it if necessary.”

“I know,” said Caina. She closed her eyes for a moment, and seemed to pull herself together. “We had best go. If I don’t do it now, I don’t think I ever will.” 

“Yes,” said Kylon, his voice a thick rasp in his throat.

He followed Caina to the street where the others waited. Without a word she set off in a run for the Alqaarin Harbor, Annarah and Morgant hurrying after her. Kylon watched her go until she disappeared from sight. 

He realized that it was possible, even probable, that it might be the last time he ever saw her. 

“Lord Kylon,” said Nasser, his voice quiet but calm. “We should hasten.” 

“Agreed,” said Kylon, cold resolution closing around him. 

He might not be able to help Caina against Callatas…but Callatas had many servants, and perhaps the gods would have mercy upon them, but Kylon would not. 

Chapter 6: Exiled

They had reached the southern edge of the Emirs’ Quarter by the time Kylon heard the first drums. 

He slowed for a moment, looking for the source of the sound. His first thought was that it was thunder, but it never rained in Istarinmul, and it rarely even became overcast. Another boom rang out, and another and another, accompanied by the moaning wail of a giant horn. 

“Sounds like the drums of a Legion,” observed Laertes. 

“It is the drums and the Great Horn of the armories of the Golden Palace,” said Sulaman, Mazyan keeping pace alongside him. “By tradition, whenever the armies of Istarinmul march to war, the Great Horn is sounded and the drums are beaten until the army departs from the city.”

“Then Erghulan is marching south to attack Tanzir,” said Nasser. 

“And if he heeds Callatas, he will send men to kill Lord Martin and Lady Claudia,” said Kylon. “We had better hurry.” 

“I suggest you go ahead, Lord Kylon,” said Nasser. “You can move faster than any of us, and the more warning Lord Martin has, the better his chances. We shall catch up as soon as we can.”

“Aye,” said Kylon. He wasted no more breath with speech, but drew upon the sorcery of air, as much as he could manage, and started running again.

This time he hurtled forward with the speed of the wind, the street blurring around him. When drawing upon the power of the air, Kylon could move almost as fast as a galloping horse. He couldn’t change direction easily, of course, but it was almost a straight line to the mansion that housed the Imperial Embassy. Caina had used that against him when they had first met, eluding him by going around corners faster than he could follow…

Caina. 

No, he couldn’t think about her now.

He suspected there was about to be a great deal of fighting, and that needed his full attention. 

The Imperial Embassy came into sight. It was one of the smaller mansions of the Emirs’ Quarter, not even a proper palace, but by the standards of most of the rest of the world it was opulent. The mansion itself, fronted with gleaming white marble, stood in the midst of cultivated grounds. A wall about nine feet tall surrounded the grounds, topped with iron spikes. Four Imperial Guards stood at the gate, clad in black plate armor and helms, long purple cloaks hanging from their shoulders, broadswords at their belts and heavy shields upon their left arms. 

Kylon released the sorcery of air and came to a stop a few yards from the gate. The Guards reacted to the sight of a man running with inhuman speed with admirable haste, drawing their swords and raising their shields. They relaxed a little when they saw him. Likely they remembered him from their desperate battle through Istarinmul’s streets to stop Cassander. 

“You must prepare yourselves,” said Kylon. “The Grand Wazir is sending men to kill Lord Martin and Lady Claudia. Alert the others!”

He did not wait for an answer, but ran forward, drawing on the sorcery of water for aid. One of the Guards shouted a question, but Kylon leaped into the air, grabbed one of the iron spikes, and flipped himself over the wall. He landed in the gardens, his sorcery-strengthened legs cushioning the blow, and sprinted towards the mansion’s doors. Kylon kept his power in place as he pushed open the doors and ran into the entry hall. Claudia had wrapped every entrance and window in wards to detect the Silent Hunters. Every Umbarian soldier in Istarinmul was either dead or in hiding, but the wards ought to alert Claudia to Kylon’s presence. 

He came to a stop in the entry hall as a dozen Imperial Guards rushed down the stairs, weapons ready. Kylon raised his hands and waited. One of the Guards had the plume of a centurion upon his helmet, and Kylon remembered him from the fight against the Umbarians. Caina had known him in Malarae, while she had been masquerading as Sonya Tornesti…

“Centurion Tylas,” said Kylon, the name coming at last.

“Lord Kylon,” said Tylas, surprised. He raised his hand, and his men lowered their swords. 

“I must speak with Lord Martin at once,” said Kylon. “Erghulan Amirasku and Callatas are moving against the rebels, and they’ve decided to kill you all on the way out. Centurion, you must prepare. The enemy will arrive at any moment. Oh, and Nasser Glasshand is right behind me, along with some allies.” 

Tylas turned and gave out a stream of orders, and the Guards began running from the entry hall and into the gardens. “Come with me, Lord Kylon. Lord Martin and Lady Claudia are in the study.”

Without waiting for an answer the centurion strode across the entry hall to the study door, knocked, and then swung it open. Shelves lined one wall of the study, mostly empty, since Lord Martin was too busy for idle reading, and tall windows overlooked the gardens. Lord Martin rose from his desk, frowning as he saw the Imperial Guards running across the grounds. He was a fit-looking man with gray eyes and graying black hair, the very image of a sober Nighmarian lord of the Empire. 

Claudia stood before the desk, wearing a green gown, her son cradled in her arms. She was tall, with long blond hair and striking green eyes. Her recent pregnancy had thickened her figure somewhat, but she carried it well. Her newborn son Corvalis rested in her arms, his eyes closed, his hands clenched into little fists.