Ghost Nails (3 page)

“Normally I would agree with you,” said Caina, “but a
disguise must match its environment, and it…never mind, we have
more important things to do. If you offer help, I shall happily
take it.”

“Let me attend to Korim and change clothes,” I
said.

***

A few moments later we left the House of Agabyzus and
headed for the Street of Carpenters. I had traded my usual widow’s
black dress and headscarf for a blue dress with black trim and a
matching headscarf, a leather belt with a dagger around my waist,
sturdy sandals upon my feet. It felt very odd not to be wearing
widow’s black. It almost felt like a betrayal of Bahlar. But it was
well known that Damla of the House of Agabyzus was a widow, and if
I wanted to do this, I needed a disguise.

Caina walked at my side, still wearing the robes and
turban of the disguise she called Kyrazid Tomurzu, Cyrican factor.
She even walked with the stiff arrogance I had seen in the factors
and seneschals of high noblemen.

“You could have made an effective actress,” I
said.

She smiled a little. “I spent some time with an opera
singer when I was younger. She taught me a trick or two.”

“I suppose anyone who looks at us,” I said, “will
think a son is taking his aged mother for a walk.”

She laughed. “You are not nearly old enough to be my
mother. And you’re nothing like her, thank all the gods.”

“I am old enough to be your mother,” I said.

“No, you’re not,” said Caina.

“I’m almost forty.”

“You’re thirty-five,” said Caina. “I’m twenty-four.
Anyone who sees us will think that I am going for a walk with my
wife.” She considered for a moment as we went around a corner. “At
the very least, you’re old enough to be my…elder sister, let’s
say.”

“Does that mean I must offer you counsel?” I
said.

“If you like,” said Caina. “There’s no guarantee I
will listen, though.”

“Ah, then you would be just like a younger sister,” I
said. “Or my sons.” I laughed. “It feels inappropriate to wear
something other than black…but it is pleasant. Cooler, too.”

“I understand,” said Caina. “I disguise myself as a
man most of the time. Wearing actual women’s clothing is pleasant
after that.”

We came to the Street of Carpenters. A dozen
different workshops lined the street, selling cabinets and chairs
and wardrobes and doors and a score of other things. The sound of
saws and hammering and curses came to my ears, and a faint drift of
sawdust blew across the paving stones.

“Do you ever think about remarrying?” said Caina.

I hesitated. “Why do you ask? Surely you do not have
someone in mind.”

“No, nothing like that,” she said. “You act like an
old matron…but you’re young enough not to be. Young enough to
remarry and have more children, if you wished.” She sounded almost
wistful at that.

“I…have thought about it,” I said. “I was married
when I was eighteen, and had Bayram the next year. I thought I
would be married until my husband died and I was an old widow with
grandchildren. Instead the war came, and everything changed.”

“It changed a lot of things,” said Caina.

“I miss my husband,” I said, my voice soft. “I
miss…having someone else to carry the load. I miss having him guide
my sons. It would be nice to have a husband again. I miss having
someone to warm my bed at night.”

“And everything that goes with that,” said Caina.

“Well,” I said, my cheeks warming a bit, “yes.” I had
only gotten pregnant four times, but it had not been through lack
of trying. “But I don’t want to be married. I want to be married to
my husband, and he is dead. No one can replace him. And if I did
remarry, there would be consequences.” I shrugged. “A new husband
would control the House of Agabyzus. He would not care for my sons
as I do. What if he wished to sell the coffee house and leave my
sons destitute? I could not allow that. I can trust no one that
much.”

“Perhaps that is wise,” said Caina.

“Why do you ask?” I said. “Not that I mind the
question, but we have never spoken of it before.”

“One of the other Ghosts in the city,” said Caina, “a
woman I’ve known for a few years…she thinks I should move on. That
it’s not good for me to be alone.”

“It isn’t,” I said.

“But I have many of the same objections that you do,”
said Caina. “And my life does not lend itself to companionship.
Breaking into a boarding house, for instance, is no way to be
introduced to a suitor.”

I blinked as she came to a stop. We stood near a
four-story house of whitewashed adobe. Caina circled to the alley,
and I followed her, looking around. A flight of wooden stairs ran
up the side of the building. We climbed the stairs, the boards
creaking beneath us, my heart hammering against my ribs in fear.
Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. Maybe I should have stayed
at the coffee house and let Caina handle this.

“No need to worry,” murmured Caina. “For all anyone
knows, we actually live here.” She reached the top of the stairs
and tried the door. It was locked, and she produced a slender steel
pick and went to work.

“We’re committing burglary,” I said. “That is
illegal.”

“You’re also sheltering the most wanted outlaw in
Istarinmul,” said Caina, twisting the pick back and forth. “Next to
that, what’s a little burglary? We…ah.” The lock clicked. Caina
nodded, reached into a pocket, and handed me a length of cloth. I
wondered why until I saw her produce a second cloth and wrap it
around her face.

A mask, in case anyone saw us.

I hurriedly wrapped the cloth around my face and
followed her inside.

We entered a small, dusty, unfurnished room, utter
silence meeting our ears. Caina’s eyes roved back and forth over
the floor, and I saw that she was noting footprints in the dust.
She crossed the room and opened a door in the fall wall. Beyond was
a small, dark bedroom. A narrow cot rested against one wall, and a
wooden rack and a small table stood against the other. The rack
held weapons, a lot of weapons – swords, daggers, knives,
crossbows, brass knuckles, and other tools of violence.

“I don’t think,” I said, “that Kamal is a
carpenter.”

“Probably not,” said Caina. She stepped into the
empty bedroom, looking around. “On balance, I think he is likely a
Kindred assassin.”

“A Kindred?” I said with a shudder. “In my coffee
house?” I had never met a Kindred assassin, at least knowingly, but
I had heard tales about them all my life. The Kindred assassin
families, it was said, purchased slave children from the
Brotherhood of Slavers and raised them into merciless fighters,
their brutal training transforming the children into killers
without conscience or scruple. The thought that such a man had been
under my roof was disturbing.

“I fear so.” Caina crossed to the table and looked at
the papers upon it. “Letters. Look. This is Korim’s official
seal.”

I blinked and moved closer, realized I was blocking
the light from the door, and stepped to the side. “Then…Korim hired
Kamal to kill himself? That makes no sense.”

“It doesn’t,” said Caina, examining one of the
papers. “More likely someone from Korim’s household. Someone not
all that bright, apparently, if they’re using his own seal.
Listen.” She lifted one of the papers and read. “You have the
payment. Do what I have asked of you. Make him suffer a thousand
times over, rip him apart from the inside out, and we can be
together. I shall be yours, and his money shall be mine.”

“That sounds vengeful,” I said.

“Is Korim married?” said Caina. “Do you know if he
has any children?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think he married a few
years ago. Likely he has some concubines. Most nobles and
magistrates do. Or it could have been written by one of his slaves.
Like you said, a magistrate has many enemies.”

“But within his own household?” said Caina. “I don’t
think…”

I was standing with my back to the wall, looking into
the outer room, so I saw the flicker of movement in the
doorway.

“Look out!” I said, throwing myself to the side.

Caina was already moving before the first word was
out of my mouth. Something shiny shot past my face and struck the
wall with a thump, and I saw a quivering knife embedded in the
wall. Caina’s right arm and shoulder moved in a blur, her entire
body seeming to snap like a bowstring, and a knife spun from her
fingers. The man at the door dodged, trying to avoid the blade. In
that instant he seemed frozen, my alarmed mind making note of his
lean, wolfish features, his dark hair and beard, the workman’s
clothing he wore. I had seen him before, talking to Novaya, though
I had not known his name. It was Kamal…and apparently he had poured
nails into the Hakim’s cake.

Caina’s knife clipped his shoulder, and Kamal
staggered back. She moved forward, drawing another knife, but Kamal
had apparently had enough. He sprinted away down the stairs, and I
heard a thump as he vaulted the railing and jumped the rest of the
way to the alley below. Caina hurried onto the landing, and I
followed her. I saw Kamal sprinting down the alley, limping a bit.
He must have turned an ankle in the landing.

Caina hesitated, looking back and forth between
us.

“Go after him,” I said. “I’ll head back to the House
of Agabyzus.”

Caina raced down the stairs. Male clothing had one
major advantage over that of women. It let her run faster, and
Caina could run like the wind when she set her mind to it. She
dashed down the stairs and vanished around the corner after Kamal.
I hurried down the alley and into the main street, my heart racing,
my hands quivering a bit as I removed my mask. I calmed down as I
headed back to the Bazaar and traffic started flowing around me,
but still the fear remained. I was not suited for this kind of
thing.

But I hadn’t been given a choice in the matter, had
I? Ulvan’s abduction of my sons had thrust me upon this path. I
hadn’t asked Kamal to try and kill Korim beneath my roof, but he
had. I would do what I had to do.

I hoped Caina knew what she was doing, and the icy
fear in my stomach did not ease.

***

I did not see Caina for three days.

I would have worried, but a few hours after I
returned to the House a courier delivered a note, a bill of sale
for an order of coconuts from a Kyracian ship in the harbor. I had
not purchased any coconuts, but it was a message from Caina. We had
worked out (or, rather, she had instructed me in) a series of coded
messages. That particular message meant that she was safe, and I
would hear from her in a few days.

Life went on at the House of Agabyzus.

I served coffee and cakes and dealt with my
suppliers. Bayram and Bahad helped me with those tasks, and I was
pleased to see how much they had grown. I feared of what would
become of my sons when I was gone. I thought they might have their
heads turned by stories, might run off to become soldiers as their
father had been or take up arms to fight as gladiators in the
arenas. Fortunately, they showed no inclination to do so, and they
both had a head for business. I hoped the coffee house would
support them and their sons for many years to come.

Three days later, Caina returned, and suddenly my
fears for the future became more immediate.

This time she wore the disguise she had employed when
I had first met her a year and a half past, the dusty coat,
trousers, and boots of a courier for the Imperial Collegium of
Jewelers. Makeup gave her the illusion of dark stubble to match her
close-cropped black hair, and she wore a sword and a dagger at her
belt.

“Master Ciaran,” I said. “It is good to see you
again.”

“And you, mistress Damla,” said Caina, her voice
rough and disguised. “A word?”

I nodded. It was mid-morning, and the tables were
mostly empty. We sat at one of the booths near the kitchen. Caina
sighed as she sat, and I realized that not all of her weary,
haggard appearance was a disguise.

“You’ve been busy,” I said.

“Aye,” she said in her normal cool voice. “I’ve spent
the last few days infiltrating Korim Murasku’s mansion in the
Wazirs’ Quarter, and I’ve learned a few things in the process.”

“What have you discovered?” I said.

“Korim has a wife a third of his age and weight,” she
said. “A Cyrican noblewoman named Dinaka. From what I understand,
he made the marriage as a business alliance. He ignores Dinaka in
favor of food and drink and work, and lets her do whatever she
pleases so long as she does not embarrass him before the Wazir of
the Treasury and the Grand Wazir. Naturally, she hates him and
plans to have him killed.”

“That seems…foolish,” I said. “If she waits but a few
years, he will die of his indulgences and she will inherit his
wealth. If she bears a son for him, her position is secure for
life.”

Caina shrugged, her eyes distant. “I’ve seen this
sort of thing before. An older, wealthier husband and a bored
younger wife. In the Disali provinces, years ago, and again in Mors
Septimus. Corvalis was…”

She stopped talking for a moment. Corvalis was the
name of the man she had lost, the man she had loved. She had spoken
of him to me only once, tears in her eyes as she refused to meet my
gaze, and I was shocked that anything could bring tears to the eyes
of a woman as bold and cunning as Caina. I had never pressed her
further on it.

“Anyway,” said Caina a moment later, “Dinaka is vain
and arrogant, and hates Korim for ignoring her. I think she hired
the Kindred to rid herself of Korim, but in the process she’s
become infatuated with Kamal. They’ve been carrying on an affair
with Korim none the wiser. She wants to murder Korim and wed
Kamal.” She shook her head. “I fear Kamal is besotted with her.
Otherwise he would never have agreed to that ridiculous plan with
the nails, and he would have killed Korim in a more efficient
fashion long ago. But Dinaka, you see, wants Korim to suffer.”