Ghost in the Winds (Ghost Exile #9) (49 page)

Caina kept her face a calm mask, but her mind wheeled in shock. Gods – the Padishah’s sister? That made her one of the most powerful women in Istarinmul, second perhaps only to whoever would become Sulaman’s consort and senior wife. Gods, she would have estates, and servants, and people trying to gain her favor and patronage, and…

“Does this mean, my lord Padishah,” said Tanzir, “that I ought to cancel Erghulan Amirasku’s bounty upon her?”

“It seems to me,” said Sulaman, “that the Padishah’s magistrates should not be placing bounties upon the Padishah’s sister, no?”

A rumble of laughter went up from the crowds. 

Tanzir lowered his voice. “A long way, is it not, from that pier in Malarae where we first met? I fell upon my face, and you pretended to be a coffee merchant’s mistress.”

“A long way,” answered Caina, still stunned. “A long way.”

What would have Halfdan thought? She looked at Kylon, but he only smiled. 

“Balarigar,” said Sulaman, “let it be known that I wish to give you a gift for the great service you have given to our nation. Ask anything you wish of me, and if it is within my power, I shall grant it.”

Caina stared at him. What she wanted, if she was really honest with herself, was to settle down somewhere to live quietly, marry Kylon, and have him father children upon her. 

But only some of that was possible, and she knew better than to pine for things that could never be.

“What I wish, my lord Padishah,” said Caina, “is for you to rule wisely and well, and to administer your people with justice. I wish for your people to have no need of a Liberator or a Balarigar, and for Callatas to always be remembered, lest another follow in his path. I have no wish for riches or titles or power. What I ask you is for Istarinmul itself – Istarinmul ruled with justice and mercy. That is what I ask.”

“A costly gift,” said Sulaman, “but if it is within my power, I shall grant it to you gladly.” 

A cheer rose from the Court of Justice.

Chapter 32: Summons

“Now that you’re the Padishah’s sister,” said Morgant, “it’s traditional for you to commission works of art. Paintings, of course, since that is the best form of art. Ah!” He grinned his toothy grin. “Perhaps I’ll paint you. Standing at the Court of Justice, arm outstretched as the crowd applauds…”

“If you do that,” said Caina, “I will have you killed.” 

Morgant laughed. “Already the power goes to your head.”

“No one thanked you,” said Caina.

Morgant snorted. “Who wants thanks?”

She and Kylon had drawn away from the crowds draining out of the Court of Justice. Traditionally the Padishah threw a great banquet upon his coronation, hosting the nobles in the Golden Palace and providing free food and drink for all in the Tarshahzon Gardens. Sulaman had not abandoned the tradition, and now the guests departed to begin eating. A few of the more ambitious nobles had already approached Caina, but thankfully Nasser had lent her some of his guard, and she could converse in relative privacy. 

“As loathe as I am to admit it,” said Kylon, his callused fingers warm against Caina’s, “we could have done none of this without you.”

“Bah,” said Morgant. “I kept my word. That is all that matters to me. Well, that, and we did kill some people who deserved killing. What more do I need? Certainly not thanks.”

“Well,” said Caina. “You have my thanks, anyway.”

Before Morgant could stop her, she leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the check. He flinched as if she had struck her, his pale eyes wide and unblinking.

“Thank you, Morgant,” said Caina. 

He scoffed again. “I think I will paint that portrait of you. Except you’ll be gazing up at the Kyracian with rapturous adoration.”

“Why not paint it that way?” said Caina. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?” 

“Bah,” said Morgant again. “I am going to go eat some of Sulaman’s food and drink some of Sulaman’s wine. I suppose Annarah will want me to talk to Mishan. The fool wants me to teach his sons swordplay, did you know that? No doubt they’ll grow up to become valikarion to stand scowling behind their mother.”

“Perhaps you could become the court sword master of Iramis,” said Caina, grinning. “I’m sure that Nasser would…”

Morgant shook his head and walked away. 

“I think you irritated him,” said Kylon. 

“Good,” said Caina. “He deserved both thanks and irritation.” She squeezed his hand again and looked up at him. “And maybe he will paint that second painting. Because it is the truth.”

He stared back at her and gave her a soft kiss.

“You’ll stay with me, won’t you?” said Caina.

“What do you mean?” said Kylon. 

“Here, in Istarinmul,” said Caina. “I can’t leave now. This business about being an amirja and the Padishah’s sister…I don’t know how to do it, Kylon. I’m a spy and an assassin. Not a noblewoman…”

“Technically, you are a noblewoman,” said Kylon. “Your father was a lord of the Empire. You’ve pretended to be a noblewoman countless times.”

“I’ve pretended to be a man, too,” said Caina. “That doesn’t make it so.”

He nodded. “Of course I’ll help you.”

“Thank you,” said Caina. “I…”

“Ah…Lord Kylon?” 

Caina blinked and turned. 

The Kyracian embassy approached, Lord Ramphias at its head.

###

Kylon gazed at the man who had succeeded him as High Seat of House Kardamnos. 

Rhamphias had always been a blustering, arrogant braggart, full of confidence and self-assurance, and utterly convinced that he should have been the High Seat of House Kardamnos instead of Kylon. After Kylon had saved Rhamphias from a nagataaru in New Kyre, that bluster had vanished, at least around Kylon, and now his cousin regarded him with a mixture of respect, uneasiness, and a hint of fear. 

A tangle of dark emotion went through Kylon at the sight of Rhamphias. Oddly, little enough of it had to do with Rhamphias himself. The Surge had given Kylon the ability to sense nagataaru, and that had allowed him to save Rhamphias’s life. Of course, that same ability had given him no warning of the Huntress’s attack, had not permitted him to save Thalastre. 

“Cousin,” said Kylon. He ought to have addressed Rhamphias as the Lord High Seat of House Kardamnos, but he could not bring himself to care, and he was curious to see how Rhamphias would react. 

Rhamphias’s lip twitched a little. “Cousin. I…confess that I am surprised to see you here. I was not expecting it.” He glanced at Caina. “Or in the company of…that woman.” 

“She does have a name,” said Kylon. Caina smiled a little.

“Indeed,” said Rhamphias. “She…is the one, Kylon? The Balarigar? The one who was in New Kyre on the day of the golden dead? She stopped that scarred assassin?”

Caina gripped her Iramisian skirts and offered a bow. “Caina Amalas, at your service, Lord Rhamphias.” 

Rhamphias was too wedded to the traditions of a Kyracian nobleman to do anything but bow in answer. “Rhamphias Kardamnos, High Seat of House Kardamnos. Though I suppose you are properly the amirja Caina Amalas Tarshahzon now. It was Lord Corbould Maraeus who pushed for your banishment, was it not? I imagine he would be most vexed to find out that you are now the Padishah’s adoptive sister.” 

Caina smiled again. “Perhaps I shall have the opportunity to see his vexation in person.” 

“Yes, undoubtedly,” said Rhamphias, looking back and forth between Kylon and Caina, and Kylon sensed his cousin’s discomfort grow. “I…had not realized that you two were…ah…”

“Cousin,” said Kylon. “What do you want?” 

Rhamphias shrugged, the discomfort sharpening. “To greet you, that’s all.”

“No,” said Caina, in the quiet voice that meant she was thinking. “You were sent as the Kyracian Assembly’s ambassador to the court of the new Padishah. You ought to be following the Padishah, or the new Grand Wazir, attempting to get into their good graces. Instead, you have come to speak with a man the Assembly banished from New Kyre, a man who once was the High Seat of the House you now rule. That means you have a reason rather more pressing than mere greetings.” 

Rhamphias sighed. “Clever. I never liked clever women. Andromache was clever, and look what it brought her.” 

“How fares House Kardamnos?” said Kylon, wondering if Rhamphias had steered the House to ruin. 

“Well,” said Rhamphias. “I…admit that the business of High Seat is harder than I anticipated. Certainly you and Andromache made it look easier than it really is.”

“High praise,” said Caina.

Rhamphias gave her an annoyed glance and then looked back at Kylon. “But the House is not in dire straits. Granted, our standing was not as high as it was under you or your sister, but our finances are sound, and our properties are profitable.” 

“Good,” said Kylon. “I haven’t been to New Kyre in two years, so you can take credit for that, not me.”

“I agree,” said Rhamphias, “but I haven’t come to speak of the business of House Kardamnos. I have a message for you.”

Kylon felt something cold close around his heart. “From whom?”

“The Surge, the oracle of the Kyracian people,” said Rhamphias.

The ice flickered into anger, and he felt Caina’s concerned glance.

“What the hell does she want?” said Kylon.

“She commands you to return to New Kyre at once, in our company,” said Rhamphias. 

“Why?” said Kylon. The word snapped out harder than he anticipated. 

“She did not say,” said Rhamphias. “One of the other nobles in our party will remain behind to serve as the Assembly’s ambassador to the Padishah. The rest of us shall return to New Kyre tomorrow, and the Surge wishes that you sail with us to speak with her.” 

“I see,” said Kylon. 

For a moment he knew a wild, mad hope. He had spent the last two years in Anshan and Istarinmul, conscious for every moment that he was an exile. No one spoke Kyracian here, save traders and mercenaries, and the foods and the customs were foreign and strange. The longing to see New Kyre again washed over him as strong as the desire for water in the desert. 

“The Surge also thought the Balarigar might be with you,” said Rhamphias. He hesitated again. “She…commands you to come to New Kyre alone.”

Caina’s face went very still.

###

“You have to go,” said Caina, trying to keep the words from sticking in her throat.

She and Kylon had moved to the corner of the Court of Justice, not far from where the Mirror of Worlds had once stood. Here they could converse without being overheard. 

Caina gripped both of Kylon’s hands with hers. She knew he could feel her emotions when she did that, and she wanted him to know that she was telling the truth, that she wasn’t lying for his sake.

No matter how much it hurt. 

“No,” said Kylon, shaking his head. “To hell with the Surge. I am finished with oracles, with…”

“She wouldn’t summon you if she didn’t have a reason,” said Caina. “I’m not fond of prophecies either…but they did help us. The Emissary gave me the valikon. The Emissary told you how to defeat Rhataban and the Huntress, even if you had to do all the work. If the Surge is summoning you to New Kyre, then perhaps you should go.” 

“If I do go,” said Kylon, “then I will finish whatever damnable task she has for me, and return here as fast as I can.”

Caina hesitated, trying to find a way to phrase her thoughts.

“What is it?” said Kylon.

“Maybe,” said Caina, remembering Kalgri’s mockery, the mockery that had nonetheless held truth, “maybe…while you are in New Kyre, maybe you should consider finding a Kyracian wife who can bear you Kyracian children…”

Kylon’s fingers tightened against her hands. “What? Are you…leaving me?”

Caina shook her head. “No.” 

“Are you telling me to leave you, then?” 

“No, not at all,” said Caina.

“Then what are you saying?” said Kylon, half-angry, half-hurt.

“I am saying,” said Caina, “that you are Kyracian, that you wanted Kyracian children…and that’s not something you and I can have. Not ever. It…we were both exiles, Kylon. Neither of us wanted to come here. Neither of us thought to ever see the other again. Now here we are, thrown together by common enemies, and all of those enemies are dead.”

“Caina,” said Kylon. “That…”

“Is that enough?” said Caina. “Will that be enough for you in five years? In ten years? Once you do whatever the Surge wants of you, do you really think the Assembly will refuse to allow you to return to New Kyre? You want to go home, Kylon, I know you do, just as I want to return to Malarae and the Empire. You have a chance to go home. I can’t deny you that.”

The words hurt to say, but she knew that Kalgri had told more of the truth than she had intended. 

“Caina,” he said again. “You…”

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too,” said Kylon. “And…I don’t want to leave you behind.”

“I know you don’t,” said Caina. “But I know you want to go home, and…I don’t want to stop you from that.”

“You really mean that,” said Kylon. 

“Yes,” said Caina. “As much as it hurts, yes.”

“I’ll come back,” said Kylon. “Once I have finished whatever the Surge wants. I will come back to Istarinmul and to you.”

“I hope so,” said Caina. She leaned up, kissed him, and stepped back, releasing his hands. “I hope so. If you don’t…I understand, Kylon. I know what it is to want a home. To want children of your own.” She took one more step back. “Farewell.”

Kylon stared at her, regret and pain and hope warring on his face. 

She smiled at him, turned, and made herself walk away before he could see the pain in her eyes.

###

“You have made the right choice, cousin,” said Rhamphias, clapping Kylon on the shoulder.

“Perhaps,” said Kylon, staring at the archway where Caina had disappeared. 

“I am baffled why you were with her,” said Rhamphias. “A Nighmarian noblewoman? And more, a spy? The Balarigar? Have you even heard the tales about her in the Empire? They say…”

“Stop talking, Rhamphias,” said Kylon, his voice flat. 

He was angry, and he wanted to hit someone. The Surge, perhaps. Though Rhamphias would serve just as well. But Kylon was indeed Kyracian, and he could not refuse the call of the Surge, even if he hated her.