Ghost in the Pact (33 page)

“And that is why you came here,” said Caina. 

“I thought Maatish necromancy might suffice,” said Callatas, “but Kharnaces told me about the nagataaru, and I realized that they would allow me to transform humanity into a new and better form…”

“But why?” said Annarah.

Callatas scowled. “I told you why, child. I…”

“What was it?” said Annarah. “What drove you to this? We might likely die in the next few hours, and before I die, I want to know why you betrayed Iramis, the Prince, the loremasters, and everyone who ever admired you and respected you.” She swallowed. “I want to know why you betrayed me.” 

For a long time Callatas said nothing, contempt for her weakness filling him. Yet some other emotion stirred in him, something he had not felt for a long time. 

Was it pity? 

Annarah was too stupid and sentimental to see the truth of his plan, the splendor of the Apotheosis he would bring to mankind. She would die when the Apotheosis came. Perhaps she deserved to know the truth.

Perhaps he wanted to talk about this, to make her see the truth. 

“Iramis,” said Callatas, “was the height of human civilization. Other nations might claim that title, but in Iramis it was true. There were no slaves. The Prince and the priests of the Divine saw that no one went hungry, and there was work for everyone willing to do it. In other lands sorcerers ruled and enslaved their people, but in Iramis, the loremasters protected the people from corrupt sorcery. Our valikarion wandered the world, hunting those who abused the gift of arcane talent. The word of the Prince and the knowledge of the loremasters was respected across the world. And still…it was corrupt. Still it twisted those within it. Iramis was the pinnacle of mankind, and yet still it was a corrupt abomination.” 

“What are you talking about?” said Annarah. “There were evildoers in Iramis, yes. There are evildoers in every nation, which is why kings and princes bear the sword so that wrongdoers may be punished. But there was nothing in Iramis like the Brotherhood of Slavers or the Umbarian Order.” 

“There was a girl,” said Callatas. 

“A girl?” said Annarah.

“One day I walked in the Princes’ Bazaar below the Towers of Lore,” said Callatas, his voice distant. “Merchants came there to buy and sell from across the world. I saw a girl weeping in an alley, a Caerish girl from the Empire. There were many Caers in Iramis in those days, fleeing the civil wars between the Emperor and the Magisterium that marked the end of the Fourth Empire. I did not speak Caerish in those days, but I could see that her arm had been broken. I healed her, but she fled from me, and I could not find her.”

“What happened?” said Caina. 

“The Prince’s Guard found her dead two days later,” said Callatas, remembering. “She had been a slave, in Iramis where there were no slaves. So many were fleeing for their lives in those days, hoping to get away from the war between the Emperor and the Magisterium. So an enterprising Iramisian merchant had an idea. He started a home for young women fleeing the war, offering them food and drink…”

“But in exchange,” said Caina in a hard, quiet voice, “he forced them to whore for his customers.” 

Callatas blinked. “How did you know?” 

“It’s a very old story,” said Caina. 

“The girl had been looking for help,” said Callatas. “She had escaped from her imprisonment, breaking her arm in the process. I healed her…and the merchant recaptured her. Fearing discovery of his crimes, he started to slaughter his slaves to ensure their silence, which was when the Prince’s Guard interrupted him.” 

“I remember that,” said Annarah. “It was a very grave crime.” 

“Yes,” said Callatas, rubbing his thumb against the smooth metal of the Staff. 

“That merchant’s crime,” said Annarah, “was a serious one. I remember it well. I had no idea you knew anything about it.” 

“You should have paid better attention, then,” said Callatas. 

“It was a serious crime,” said Annarah, “but what you have done since…the blood that merchant spilled is but a single drop in the oceans of blood spilled from your victims. Is that why? Because you failed to save one girl?” 

“That girl showed me the truth,” said Callatas.

“What truth?” said Caina. 

They had come to a stop in a small gap in the trees. Both Morgant and Kalgri looked irritated at the halt. Callatas knew that they were right, that they should continue towards the Tomb of Kharnaces. At the moment he was too angry to care. Why could they not see the truth? Why could they not understand?

He would make them understand. 

“That civilization corrupts,” said Callatas. “That it makes humanity weaker and flawed. That instead of perfecting us, it…”

“That is nonsense!” said Caina. “An evil man did an evil thing. That is sad, yes, but because of that one evil thing you’re going to kill everyone in the world and replace them with monsters like the Huntress?”

“It showed me,” said Callatas, “that civilization was corrupt…”

“How?” demanded Caina. Her cool mask was starting to crack, anger and contempt bubbling to the surface. Somehow that made Callatas angrier. How dare this lying spy presume to sit in judgment upon him! “How did it show you that civilization was corrupt? Had the merchant bribed the magistrates?”

“Yes,” said Callatas, wondering how she had known. 

“And what happened to them when the truth came out?” said Caina.

“They were executed,” said Callatas. “Slaving was illegal in Iramis, and so was taking bribes. Prince Nasser had them all executed and the remaining slaves freed.”

“And from that you decide the world was corrupt and had to die?” said Caina, her scorn plain. “Some men committed crimes and were executed. That’s not corruption, that’s justice.”

“You fail to understand,” said Callatas.

“Oh?” said Caina. “Then explain. You’re the great and wise Grand Master, the brilliant architect of the Apotheosis.” Kalgri giggled at that. “Use some of that vaunted wisdom and explain it to me.”

“I told you Iramis was the height of human civilization,” said Callatas. “Yet even there, even in Iramis, corruption festered. Do you not understand? Nothing is perfectible about civilization! It is a poison we take upon ourselves, a weakness we embrace. Nothing is perfectible about man except our savage nature, our rage, our ability to kill. Should we not embrace that instead? Should we not make ourselves immortal and invincible, so we can live according to our true natures for eternity? That is what the new humanity will do. The new humanity will have no need of laws or farms or titles or cities. The new humanity will be free of all restriction, perfect and immortal, for all time.” 

“You’re insane,” said Annarah. She sounded shaken. “You…truly believe that. The Divine have mercy upon us. You believe this madness.”

“It is not madness but wisdom,” said Callatas, “and I alone have the vision to see what must be done and the power to do it.” 

“No,” said Caina. “No, you’re just a child throwing a tantrum.”

That surprised him. “What?” 

“You thought Iramis was perfect,” said Caina. “You thought Iramis was the height of human civilization. Maybe it was, or maybe it was better than many places. But it still had criminals and evil men inside its walls, just like every other city that ever existed or ever will exist. Yet you had this illusion of Iramis inside your head, this bubble of fake perfection. And when the bubble popped, when you saw the truth, you couldn’t handle it. So you decided that everything was terrible and had to burn.” She let out a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a derisive laugh. “As if you were a child with a broken toy, and so you decided to smash every toy in the house.”

“You have the temerity to compare murder with broken toys?” said Callatas.

“Your reaction was certainly the same,” said Caina. 

Callatas shook his head. “Fool. I thought you, at least, would understand. Cassander Nilas learned a great deal about you from the Umbarian Order’s spies, and he told me some of it.” 

“And why do you possibly think I would sympathize with what you want to do?” said Caina.

“Because you were created by the corruptions of civilization,” said Callatas.

“And just how did that happen?” said Caina.

“Your mother, Laeria Scorneus Amalas,” said Callatas, “cast aside by the Magisterium. So instead she turned to Maglarion, a disciple of the Moroaica. The Moroaica, a monster created by the civilization of ancient Maat, and she twisted Maglarion into the man you knew.” The cold mask went over Caina’s expression once more, and Callatas felt a surge of petty satisfaction. “All three of them, Laeria, the Moroaica, and Maglarion, creatures wrought by the corruptions of civilization. And Maglarion made you into what you are.”

“The Ghosts,” said Caina, “made me into what I am.” 

“Maglarion gave them the raw material,” said Callatas. “He left you barren, unable to conceive a child. The spies of the Umbarians learned that about you, did you know? It seems you are rather notorious within the Empire. If you had been able to bear a child, would you have stayed with the Ghosts? No. You would have borne a brood of children and gone off to live quietly somewhere.” The ice in her expression grew colder. “Instead you have been lashing out in rage and pain, killing this petty sorcerer and that, overthrowing one corrupt lord after another. I threw a tantrum, Caina Amalas? Your entire life has been nothing but one long tantrum after another. If the Apotheosis is a tantrum, then you and I are a great deal alike.”

“We,” said Caina, “are nothing alike.” 

“Indeed?” said Callatas. 

“You want to wipe out the old humanity and replace it with your pet monsters,” said Caina. “I want to save them.”

“Do you?” said Callatas. “You’ve killed quite a few people.”

“Maybe when I was younger I thought a little like you,” said Caina. “I thought if only we killed all the sorcerers, or all the slavers, then the world would be clean. But it won’t. There will always be evil, and we will always have to fight it. You’re just talking the coward’s way out.”

“What?” said Callatas. “You presume to call me a coward? You…”

“You won’t do the hard work,” said Caina. “You won’t help people. You won’t try to save them. You’ll just kill them all because you’re too much of a coward to try…”

“Do not call me a coward!” roared Callatas, stalking towards her. She didn’t flinch. He had the power to crush her to a bloody pulp with a thought, but the damned woman did not flinch. “Do you know the things I have done? The perils I have dared, and you name me a coward? I went into the Tomb of Kharnaces alone, and I escaped. I stole the Star of Iramis from the Prince’s stronghold, and I spent a century and a half seeking the other two relics! I spent decades researching wraithblood, and…”

“Shut up,” said Caina. “Everything you have done is contemptible, and I will stop you.”

Callatas started to snarl an answer, and then green light blazed through the jungle.

###

Caina spun, cursing herself as a fool.

She should not have let Kalgri and Callatas goad her. Perhaps she would pay the price for that folly now. Perhaps Kharnaces had found them, and decided to kill them as a sensible precaution before finishing the Conjurant Bloodcrystal. Necromantic power, torrents of it, blazed before the vision of the valikarion.

But it was not coming from anywhere nearby.

It was coming from the apex of the hill.

Caina took a few steps forward, staring at the pyramid-shaped hill that gave the island its name. A brilliant flare of emerald light blazed from its crest, and above it she saw a massive vortex of necromantic power, spinning around the hill like a storm. The sheer power of it made her skin crawl and tingle, and the vortex was getting a little bigger with every revolution. 

“It’s starting,” said Caina.

“Yes,” said Callatas, his voice hoarse from all the shouting. “Kharnaces has added my blood to the Conjurant Bloodcrystal. It will likely take a few days for the crystal to activate, but when it does, it will destroy the barrier between the mortal world and the netherworld.” He considered for a moment. “The resultant explosion will likely also destroy this island as well.” 

“How splendid,” said Morgant. “Shall we go and stop it, or do you wish to exchange further insults? It was entertaining to watch, if useless.”

Caina looked at Callatas. That the man was a monster she already had known, and his attempts at self-justification had only increased her loathing of him. He could have taken a thousand other paths with his life. He could have devoted himself to healing, or to keeping the Magisterium from committing the crimes of the Fourth Empire.

Instead, he had started down the path of the Apotheosis, and he had become something a thousand times worse than that murderous slave merchant. 

But right now, Caina needed his help to stop Kharnaces. 

“Or I could just kill you all,” said Kalgri. “That would be entertaining, too.”

“I suggest we stay quiet,” said Caina. “Further discussion is useless.”

“Yes,” said Callatas, his eyes a cold glitter in the green-lit gloom. 

They pushed onward, dodging the nagataaru patrols and drawing closer to the Tomb of Kharnaces. 

Chapter 18: Fire With Fire

Kylon and the others had just returned to the waiting lines when the drums boomed out again. 

He turned as Tanzir and Nasser and the other chief commanders began conferring about what to do. A shout rose from the lines of the Grand Wazir’s Immortals, and the horsemen upon the wings beat their spears against their shields. One more cheer rang out, followed by a rumbling roll of the drums.

Then the Grand Wazir’s army started to advance.

It did not move quickly. The Immortals and the infantry advanced with a slow, steady walk, keeping their formations intact, and the horsemen eased their mounts forward. The reason for the slow approach became apparent a moment later when the Hellfire catapults started to groan into motion, pulled by teams of infantry. The Grand Wazir’s army would advance under the cover of the Hellfire engines, and if Tanzir charged, his men would be vulnerable to bombardment. If Tanzir’s army stood fast, sooner or later the Hellfire engines would draw within range, and Erghulan’s Alchemists would rain down fire upon the rebel army.