Ghost in the Pact (5 page)

It was exactly the same fire that filled the eyes of Samnirdamnus. 

“You’re a djinni of the Court of the Azure Sovereign,” said Caina. 

“Not quite,” said Morgant. “He’s something called an Oath Shadow. On the day he was born, a djinni was summoned and bound to his flesh, and it will remain within him until the day of his death. He has grown up with the djinni’s power at his command, and so naturally is quite a formidable fighter. Though he is, alas, somewhat unimaginative.” 

“This woman is a trap, master,” said Mazyan, “sent by the untrustworthy assassin to kill you.”

“I keep my word,” said Morgant to Sulaman, “and I told your father that I would protect you.” 

“Yet I cannot perceive her,” said Mazyan. 

“You can’t see her?” snapped Kylon. “She’s standing right there!”

“Wait,” said Caina. “Mazyan, look at me.” The burning eyes shifted to her. “You can see me with your eyes of flesh, correct? But the djinni within you cannot perceive me with its senses.”

“You speak truly,” said Mazyan. 

“That is because,” said Caina, “since the last time we met I have become a valikarion, and therefore the djinni within you cannot perceive me.” She looked at Sulaman. “That is why your vision cannot find me, either.” 

“A valikarion?” said Sulaman. “Impossible. The valikarion died when Iramis burned, and no one living knows the means by which they acquired their abilities.” 

“It was an unpleasant experience,” said Caina. “I can tell you that much.” An idea came to her. “Take my hand.” 

Sulaman tilted his head, puzzled. 

“You might be able to sense me then,” said Caina. Kylon could sense her emotions, she knew, when he touched her. Perhaps Sulaman’s abilities would work in same fashion. 

“No, master,” said Mazyan. “It may be a trap.”

“I’ve trusted you many times,” said Caina, holding out her left hand. “Now trust me, this once.” 

Sulaman offered a small smile. “You are wrong. I have trusted you many times, Balarigar. What is one more time?”

He gripped her left hand, his fingers cool and dry and bony, and closed his eyes. For a moment he did not move, and Caina felt the tingle of arcane power around him as he drew upon his vision. Then his dark eyes opened once more, and he stepped back, his expression stunned. 

“It is true,” said Sulaman. “She is the Balarigar, Mazyan. Morgant did not betray us.”

Mazyan’s scowl did not fade, but the smokeless fire in his eyes and vanished and his sword of force unraveled into nothingness. 

“A valikarion,” said Sulaman. “I never would have thought such a thing possible.” He laughed to himself. “But if ever there was someone who needed the abilities of a valikarion, it is the Balarigar.” 

“I would have preferred to do without them,” said Caina. “The process of acquiring them was…not enjoyable.” Memories of silver fire and necromantic poison and a blade ripping into her chest flickered through her mind. “But they have been useful.”

“I am overjoyed that you are truly alive,” said Sulaman. “Before you came to Istarinmul, I hoped to find a way to stop Callatas, but I saw no path to victory. Yet you have done more to upset his plans than anyone else.” He paused. “How did you survive? I was certain that you would die. I saw your death in fire, and I knew you had perished.” 

“Kylon saved me,” said Caina, looking back at him. “This is Kylon of House Kardamnos.” 

“The Archon of the Assembly?” said Sulaman. 

“Former Archon,” said Kylon. “I fear I am no longer welcome in New Kyre.” 

Sulaman looked from Kylon to Caina, and a brief smile flickered behind his beard. To Caina’s surprise, she felt a pulse of embarrassment. Likely Sulaman had realized that she and Kylon were together. The man had always been perceptive. 

“I grieve for the loss that brought you to Istarinmul, Lord Kylon,” said Sulaman.

Kylon inclined his head a little. He had lowered the valikon, but he had not sheathed the sword. “Thank you.”

“And I rejoice that you saved the Balarigar,” said Sulaman. “For she has done great good for Istarinmul…and for her to have become a valikarion is tremendous news. For in ancient days the valikarion and the loremasters of Iramis kept watch over the nations. Callatas would not have been able to work such harm if the valikarion of old had been there to stop him.” 

“Which is why,” said Caina, “he destroyed Iramis first.” 

“Yes,” said Sulaman. 

“Well,” said Morgant, looking at Mazyan and Kylon, “if we’re not going to kill each other, perhaps we can get down to business? Complimenting each other is well and good, but…”

“I’ve seen you before,” said Kylon. 

Sulaman nodded. “We have met before, Lord Kylon. I wondered if you would recall.” 

“Before?” said Caina. “You went to one of his recitations?” She could not remember Kylon meeting Sulaman since he had come to Istarinmul, but it was not as if Kylon had spent every waking moment with her. 

No. Kylon had been a powerful noble before his exile, a High Seat of House Kardamnos and an Archon of New Kyre. And he had spent years on the various ships of the Kyracian fleet, sailing to the various ports of the civilized world. He would have visited Istarinmul before, and the most likely time he would have visited Istarinmul would have been when Rezir Shahan and Andromache plotted their attack on Marsis. And that in turn meant…

What kind of man had a bodyguard like an Oath Shadow? 

That massive realization stirred a little more in her head.

“Oh,” said Caina in a quiet voice.

Gods, what a blind fool she had been.

“Perhaps you realize the truth at last, Balarigar,” said Sulaman. 

“Who are you?” said Caina. “Really?” 

“Nasser told you once that secrets are a kind of armor, and we have both worn our armor, you and I,” said Sulaman. “But now I must put my life into your hands, Balarigar, and take off my armor. I did not lie when I said my name was Sulaman the poet, for if I could work my will I would be only a poet. But I am other things as well.” He drew himself up. “My full name is Kutal Sulaman Tarshahzon, and I am the sole surviving son of the Padishah Nahas Tarshahzon of Istarinmul.” 

Caina stared at him. Ever since she had come to Istarinmul, she had heard rumors of how the Padishah and his sons had disappeared, how Callatas and Erghulan now presumed to rule in their names. She had spent a good deal of time over the last two years trying to discover what had become of them, but the security around the Padishah’s Golden Palace was too strong, and then finding the Staff and Seal had taken precedence. 

“My first day here,” said Caina. “The missing Prince, and I met you my first day in Istarinmul. Gods. Nasser was right. Hiding in plain sight the entire time.”

Sulaman nodded. “As we have said, secrets are a kind armor.”

“Don’t blame yourself too harshly,” said Morgant. “It really was an excellent deception, and…” 

She punched him on the jaw as hard as she could. 

###

For an instant sheer astonishment froze Kylon.

Morgant didn’t see the punch coming, and Caina was a lot stronger than her size indicated. His head snapped around, and he stumbled against the wall and dropped to one knee, his pale eyes wide with surprise. Caina stalked towards him, her hands curled into fists, and Kylon caught her shoulder. Her emotions pulsed over his senses as his fingers brushed her skin. 

She was enraged, almost past the point of self-control. 

“You knew,” said Caina, her level voice at odds with the fury pulsing inside her. “You knew this entire time.” 

Morgant got to his feet, rubbing his jaw. He didn’t seem perturbed. “Gods, but that hurt. You know, I always wondered what it would take to get you to lose your temper, and…”

“Shut up!” snapped Caina. “I’ve been trying to figure out what Callatas did with the Padishah and his sons for years, and you’ve had the answer all along? Gods! I should…”

“Do not be wroth with him, Balarigar,” said Sulaman. His calm did not waver. “He kept my secret at both my request and my father’s. I wished to take you into my confidence, but…I grew increasingly certain that you would be captured or killed. You took so many chances, and I feared that sooner or later fortune would not be in your favor.”

Caina said nothing, her lips pressed into a tight line. 

“Callatas has been looking for me since the war with the Empire,” said Sulaman. “If you were captured with my secret, he would learn the truth. I could not take the risk.” 

Caina took a deep breath, her rage cooling. When Kylon had first met her in Marsis, he had thought of her emotional sense resembled an inferno of rage wrapped inside a layer of ice. The fire never really went away, but she forced it back, the ice predominating once more. 

“Very well,” said Caina. “I cannot fault your logic.” 

“Is that an apology?” said Morgant, wiping some blood from his lip. 

“No,” said Caina. “You deserved that.” 

Morgant laughed. “Maybe.” 

“All right,” said Caina. “If you need my help, then you need to tell me what is going on.”

“This is correct,” said Sulaman. “Morgant?”

“So you already know,” said Morgant, “that I spent a hundred and fifty years trying to recover Annarah’s pyrikon and find a way into the Inferno so I could rescue her. None of my plans ever worked.”

“I just assumed you were incompetent,” said Kylon. 

Morgant snorted. “You were at the Inferno, Kyracian. You saw how well it was guarded. I knew I needed help. I didn’t think we would wind up making the place explode, but life sometimes throws little twists our way…”

“You’re rambling again,” said Caina. “Get to the damned point.” 

“The Lord Lieutenant of the Inferno was appointed directly by the Padishah,” said Morgant. “So right before the war with the Empire, I had the idea of breaking into the Golden Palace, stealing the Padishah’s signet ring, and forging myself an official document. I figured I could walk up to the Inferno, present the document, and the Immortals would let me inside.” 

“Clearly that plan didn’t work. So. What went wrong?” said Caina. 

Morgant grinned. “I was a little more successful than I had planned. I wound up meeting the Padishah himself.”

Kylon frowned. “Truly?” 

“He was hiding from Callatas,” said Morgant. “He told me that Callatas was coming for him, and he needed help.”

“You didn’t help him escape?” said Caina.

“He could not have escaped,” said Sulaman. “My father’s health was not robust.”

“What the poet is too polite to say,” said Morgant, “is that the Padishah was immensely fat. He probably weighed as much as five or six Balarigars at that point. He couldn’t even walk, and had to be carried in a palanquin by a team of burly slaves.”

“He was fat when I met him,” said Kylon, “but not that fat.”

“I suspect the Padishah preferred to soothe his worries with food,” said Morgant, “and Callatas had given him a great deal to worry about. He told me that Callatas was planning to make him disappear. His other sons were already dead, and he begged me to help Sulaman hide. If I did this, if I saved Sulaman, he would give me a document granting its bearer access to the Inferno.” 

“So what went wrong then?” said Caina. 

“Callatas moved too quickly,” said Sulaman. “My father disappeared, and I had no choice but to flee. I have remained hidden in the city since, acting as a poet…”

“But trying to find a way to oppose Callatas without getting yourself killed,” said Caina.

Sulaman nodded. “Indeed. Such as providing aid to a clever young Ghost who set her face against Callatas.”

That explained a lot, come to think of it.  

“What happened to your father?” said Caina.

“I do not know,” said Sulaman. “He vanished from my vision, and I have not been able to discover what Callatas did with him.” 

“He must have been killed,” said Kylon. “If the Grand Master and the Grand Wazir are claiming to rule in the Padishah’s name, having a living Padishah arrive would prove inconvenient.” 

“I do not think so, Lord Kylon,” said Sulaman. “I think my father yet lives, for I suspect Callatas needs my father alive to work the Apotheosis.”

Caina blinked. “What? Why?” 

“I do not know,” said Sulaman. “The Padishahs of Istarinmul possess many secrets, just as the Emperors of Nighmar must possess secrets of their own. My powers of vision are one such secret. All those of the Tarshahzon blood are blessed and cursed with such vision. Our faithful Oath Shadows are another such secret.” He gestured at Mazyan, who had stood impassive throughout the entire conversation. “Upon birth, every Tarshahzon is granted an Oath Shadow. The Master Alchemists buy a slave child, conjure a djinni, and bind the spirit in the flesh of the child. The child is given the finest training, and spends his life as a bodyguard to his master.”

“That is cruel,” said Caina. 

“It is a great honor,” said Mazyan at once. “I guard the royal blood of Istarinmul. None shall harm the prince while I live. Should he be slain, it will be only after I have slain an army of foes.” 

“Fine,” said Caina, unwilling to argue the point. “So Callatas has your father hidden away somewhere, and he needs the Padishah to work the Apotheosis. Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because,” said Sulaman, “Callatas is coming for me. Today Kindred assassins attacked my residence, and Mazyan and I barely slipped away.” 

“They were coming to kill you?” said Kylon.

“No,” said Caina. “They were coming to capture you, weren’t they?”

“You see truly,” said Sulaman. 

“You’re his…backup, then,” said Caina. “Whatever quality Callatas needs from your father to work the Apotheosis, you possess it as well. That’s why he hasn’t made any real effort to capture you before now. He hasn’t needed you, but with the civil war, he wants to get you under his control before you join Tanzir Shahan.”

“That is my thought as well,” said Sulaman. 

Caina took a deep breath. “There is another reason Callatas acted now. We found the Staff and Seal of Iramis.” 

For the first time Sulaman looked alarmed, fear going through his emotional sense. “You did? Where are they?”