Ghost in the Throne (Ghost Exile #7) (33 page)

“He insisted on coming, once he learned you had returned,” said Malcolm, gesturing with one of the stuffed mushrooms. Given that Azaces had once betrayed Malcolm to the Inferno on the orders of Nerina’s father, the two men had a reasonably civil relationship. “Besides, he’s good at chopping off heads, and I suspect we’ll need a lot of that before this is over.”

“The probability approaches one hundred percent,” said Nerina. 

Azaces approached, scribbling with a piece of chalk on a small slate. His tongue had been taken as a boy, but Annarah had been teaching him to read and write. He turned the slate towards Caina.

“You returned,” it read. “You thought death awaited you.”

“It did,” said Caina, remembering her last conversation with Azaces before leaving Istarinmul. “The Exile saved me.”

Azaces looked at Kylon, bowed, and scribbled something new upon the slate. 

“This is well,” it read. “The Balarigar has returned. The time for great deeds is now.”

“I hope so,” said Caina in a quiet voice. 

“Now that we have all arrived,” said Nasser, stepping around the table, “we can attend to business.” 

“Were you able to find a ship?” said Caina. 

“Unfortunately, no,” said Laertes. “Every ship we could find in the Cyrican harbor has been hired up. It seems the Empire has been hiring everything that floats in the Cyrican sea to bring grain from Cyrica. Since there are no Umbarian ships in the Cyrican sea, it’s easy, safe work. None of them would break their contracts for a trip to Catekharon.”

“Catekharon?” said Claudia, wrinkling her nose. “Why would you want to go back there?” Caina could not fault her reaction. Neither of them had enjoyed their visit to Catekharon. 

“We found something Callatas needs for the Apotheosis,” said Caina. She and Nasser had decided not to tell anyone else about the relics who did not already know. What they did not know could not be wrung from them by torture. “We’re taking it to Catekharon and giving it to the Scholae. Once it’s in the Tower of Study, not even Callatas will be able to get his hands upon it.” 

“A good plan,” said Claudia. “The Sages are indolent and foolish, but I don’t think even Callatas could break into the Tower of Study.”

“What about the Alqaarin harbor?” said Caina. “We could hire a ship there, pay the toll to pass through the Starfall Straits, and sail to Catekharon.”

“I checked,” said Nasser. “Unfortunately, there were no ships available in the Alqaarin harbor. All were already taking on cargoes.” 

“For the gods’ sake,” muttered Caina. “A thousand ships come to Istarinmul a month, and the first time in two years that I need one they’re all hired out.” 

“You may have used up all your good fortune at Rumarah,” said Morgant.

Again Caina remembered the Huntress’s sword erupting from her chest, the pain exploding through her, and she did her very best not to shudder. She didn’t want to show weakness in front of the others, and especially not Morgant. 

Which was probably why Morgant had said it. 

“Maybe,” said Caina. “I suppose we’re going to find out. Until we can hire a ship, we should focus upon whatever Cassander is planning.” 

“What have you learned?” said Martin.

“We walked past Fariz Terdagan’s palace on our way here,” said Caina. “It’s not a large place, but there are a lot of wards around it, and I think the Umbarian magi were casting additional spells inside.” 

“What manner of spells?” said Annarah. 

“Warding spells,” said Caina. “Both to shield from arcane observation, and to sound an alert should any intruders enter the gate. I think one of them was a summoning spell as well.”

“Summoning?” said Martin. He looked at Nasser. “Could Cassander be attempting to summon something?”

“Perhaps,” said Nasser. “That is what we hope to discover.” 

“I think,” said Caina, “that we can break into the palace and take the Umbarians within unawares. The palace grounds have only one gate. If we overcome the gate guards, hold the gate, and send the Imperial Guards into the palace, we can make sure no one escapes to warn the other Umbarians or Cassander himself.”

“A good plan,” said Morgant. “Just how are we going to accomplish that?” 

“I can get past the wards,” said Caina. 

“How?” said Claudia.

Caina gave her a tight smile. “For the same reason that your spells can’t detect me any longer. Once I open the gate, the valikon will collapse the warding spell, and the Imperial Guards can storm the palace. Then we shall take a leisurely look around and figure out what Cassander is planning to do.” 

“What if there are Umbarian magi?” said Laertes.

“The Words of Lore can turn aside their spells,” said Annarah, “and shield us from harm.”

“And this,” said Kylon, tapping the hilt of the valikon, “can penetrate their wards, if they refuse to surrender.” 

“We should take prisoners if it all possible,” said Martin. “Examining their work might tell us much, but interrogating prisoners will tell us much more.” 

“Agreed,” said Nasser. 

“We will strike tomorrow night,” said Martin. “The Imperial Guards are ready. I shall leave half the century to guard our embassy, and bring the other half to Fariz’s palace. Nasser has shown us a route through the sewers, and the Guards and I can move in secret through the tunnels.” 

“I must come with you,” said Claudia.

“That is a very bad idea,” said Martin. “You should stay at the mansion.”

“I agree with Lord Martin,” said Caina. 

“With respect, Lady Claudia,” said Nasser, “in your condition it would be unwise to enter a battlefield. Giving birth upon a battlefield sounds poetic, but I imagine it would be rather less pleasant in reality.” 

“You are correct,” said Claudia, “but this entire city is about to become a battlefield. There is no safe place here. You might need my spells.” 

“Annarah will be going with us,” said Martin.

“Annarah is one sorceress,” said Claudia. “How many magi might the Umbarians have at Fariz’s palace? Everyone is needed.”

“Claudia,” said Caina. “This is madness.”

“It is,” said Claudia, “But you understand madness, don’t you?”

Caina said nothing. She did understand. Claudia’s husband was going into battle, and it was painful to stay behind and do nothing. But it was just as hard to go into battle with a loved one. She had gone into the netherworld with Corvalis on the day of the golden dead, and only Caina had returned. 

“Why not?” said Caina at last. “I suppose you’re right. We need all the help we can find.” 

The rest of the planning went quickly. Once they finished, Claudia and Martin left, as did Nerina, Malcolm, and Azaces. 

“What are we going to do with the Staff and the Seal?” said Caina. “We can’t take them with us.”

“Nor can we leave them behind,” said Nasser. “There is no safe place in Istarinmul to hide them. Lady Claudia has a point. She may as well come with us, because she is no safer with we leave her behind.” 

“A pregnant woman?” said Morgant, his voice sour. “Even by the standards of our usual plans, this is reckless.” 

“Claudia’s right,” said Caina. “We might need her help. We don’t know what’s in that palace, and if Cassander is about to unleash some titanic spell upon Istarinmul, she’s no safer in the mansion.” 

Depending upon what Cassander planned, there might not be any safe place left in the world. If he succeeded, if he allowed the Umbarian fleet through the Straits, then the Empire would fall. 

Unless Caina and her friends stopped him. 

The last time Caina had faced Cassander, it had not gone well.

Yet again the memory of Kalgri’s sword flickered through her thoughts. 

Caina didn’t know if she could prevail against Cassander, but she was going to find out.

writChapter 18: Rift Echo

Kylon watched as Caina prepared herself. 

They had spent the day watching Fariz Terdagan’s palace from concealment, with Caina using the senses of the valikarion to watch the unfolding spells around the palace, while Kylon used the sorcery of water to monitor those entering and leaving the grounds. They had counted nearly thirty Adamant Guards entering the palace, along with a number of men Kylon suspected were Silent Hunters. An Umbarian magus accompanied them, a woman with a cold expression on her sharp features, clad in the black leather greatcoat favored by the Umbarian magi. Likely the coat had been enspelled to make it as strong as steel. 

As soon as the Umbarians entered the palace, they vanished from Kylon’s arcane senses. Caina said that warding spells sheathed the palace like armor. The spells were neither powerful nor complex, but it was far easier to block a divinatory spell than to work one. 

Yet his eyes told him that a strong force awaited them. Thirty Adamant Guards were a formidable force, to say nothing of the Silent Hunters and the spells of the Umbarian magi. Yet Kylon and the others had their own advantages. They had Kylon’s skills and the power of the valikon slung over his shoulder. They had the spells of Annarah and Claudia, the deadly skill of Morgant the Razor, the cleverness of Nasser Glasshand. They had Caina’s new valikarion senses. 

Perhaps more importantly, they had the clever, deadly mind of Caina Amalas. 

Kylon’s own task was simple. He was going to keep her alive, and the gods have mercy upon anyone who tried to stop him. 

They had returned to the Sanctuary of the Ghosts, the hidden underground refuge of the Ghosts beneath the dry fountain in the little square behind the House of Agabyzus. It was not safe, not truly. The Huntress had been following Caina for months, and likely knew all of Caina’s safe houses. Yet so far the vile creature had showed no sign of herself. 

The Sanctuary was as likely to be as safe as anywhere they could find. Certainly the Huntress could not cut her way through the door without making a tremendous amount of noise. The stone walls of the Sanctuary were thick, light coming from enspelled glass spheres on iron stands. Long wooden tables held supplies and cosmetics and clothing of every kind, and tall cabinets stored more clothing. Kylon had stayed here the first night after Caina had found him in Istarinmul, recovering from the wounds he had taken in their fight with the Kindred and the Adamant Guards and the Sifter. 

Caina stood before a table holding a variety of weapons, donning the clothes she used as a Ghost nightfighter, her reflection showing in a small mirror standing atop the table. She pulled on black trousers, black boots, and a black jacket lined with thin steel plates to deflect blades. A belt holding throwing knives, lockpicks, and a collapsible grapnel with a slender coiled rope went around her waist, and more throwing knives went up her sleeves and daggers into sheaths concealed in her boots. She dressed and armed herself with practiced, smooth motions, moving with the efficient calm of someone who had done it many times before. 

There was one difference, though. This time, she had no shadow-cloak, nor a ghostsilver dagger upon her hip. The Huntress had taken both items. Instead Caina donned a mask of black silk that concealed everything except her eyes, and then a black mantle with a deep hood. It did a good job of concealing her features and helping her to hide in the darkness.

Though not as good a job as her shadow-cloak would have done.

“I thought you would have chosen another cloak,” said Kylon, coming up behind her. His own preparations were simpler. Chain mail, trousers, and boots, the valikon in its shoulder scabbard, and a row of daggers sheathed at his belt. 

She drew back her cowl and pulled off the mask, reaching up to tie back her black hair with a leather cord. It had gotten long enough that it would get in her way if she didn’t secure it first. 

“No,” she said. “Too heavy. It would be too easy to get tangled up in a normal cloak. The shadow-cloak weighed almost nothing, and it blended with the shadows. Made it easier to hide.” She smiled a little. “It also protected me from divinatory and mind-reading spells, though I suppose I don’t need to bother with that now.” 

“No,” said Kylon, coming to stand behind her. Caina leaned against him with a little sigh, reaching up with her left hand to pull his right hand close. The contact of her skin brought her emotions against his arcane senses. He felt the usual cold ice of her mind wrapped around the fire of her heart, the low level of anger that never quite seemed to leave her, the anger that sometimes blazed into the wrath that had defeated Rezir Shahan and the Sifter and so many others. 

Now, though, the fire had burned low. A thread of something wove its way through the ice of her mind. Fear, maybe? 

No, not that. It was doubt, uncertainty. 

The Huntress’s attack had left its mark upon her.

“Reading my mind?” said Caina, her voice soft.

“I can sense your emotions,” said Kylon. “I can’t read your mind. I’ve seen you keep a perfectly calm expression and level tone while angry enough to kill someone.” 

She smiled a little. “I had a good teacher.”

“And a lot of practice,” said Kylon.

“That, too.” 

“I can hide almost anything from anyone,” said Caina, “but not from you, not anymore.” Her fingers squeezed his. “I don’t know if I can do this any longer.”

“Do what?” said Kylon. For a grim moment he wondered if she meant that a Ghost circlemaster could not afford to take a lover, but then he realized she was talking about something else. 

“If I asked you to leave with me, would you?” said Caina.

“To go where?” said Kylon. 

“Anywhere,” said Caina. “Somewhere far from Istarinmul, far from the Empire. Far from the wars. Maybe one of the free cities. Someplace where we could live anonymously and quietly.”

“I don’t think you would ask that,” said Kylon. “Just as you would not have asked me to stay with you in Drynemet.” 

“Maybe not,” said Caina. “But if I did ask that, if I asked you to leave Istarinmul…would you come with me?” 

“Yes,” said Kylon. 

She closed her eyes, resting the back of her head against his chest. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Kylon. After Rumarah…something changed, and I don’t understand what.”