Ghost Nails (5 page)

I laughed a little at that.

“Mistress Damla?” said one of the other merchants, an
old man who sold brassware in the Bazaar.

“Nothing,” I said. I started to reach for a cup of
wine and realized that I needed to keep my wits sharp. “I am
contemplating the peculiar nature of life, that is all.”

The merchant grunted, gave me an odd look, and
started conversing with someone else.

Dozens of slaves issued from the kitchen doors,
carrying trays of food. They laid platters upon the tables, and the
guests began to eat with vigor as the music played and the dancers
whirled, the bonfires throwing their long, flickering shadows
across the courtyard. I ate only a little, just enough to avoid the
appearance of rudeness, and drank nothing at all. From time to time
I exchanged polite remarks with the guests near me, but my whole
attention was upon Korim, Dinaka, and Kamal. Korim tore into his
food with an appalling lack of manners. Had Bahad or Bayram eaten
like that in public, I would have slapped them. Dinaka’s disdain
for her husband was plain. Perhaps she had simply tired of his
table manners, though that was a poor reason to kill a man.

Korim finished the first course, the second, and then
the third, downing five goblets of wine in the process. Dinaka
remained seated the entire time, ignoring her husband as he stuffed
himself. Kamal hovered in the shadows behind them. The dancers
whirled and spun before the bonfires, forming elaborate patterns of
flickering shadows across the banquet. I met Caina’s eyes for a
moment, and there was a flash of acknowledgment there, and she gave
me a faint nod.

I had to keep watching. Kamal and Dinaka would make
their attempt tonight. But when? Maybe Korim took a cup of wine
before bed, and Dinaka would slip the poison into it then. Or…

Suddenly Kamal moved. He detached himself from the
shadows of the door behind Korim and Dinaka and made his way across
the courtyard. Another troop of slaves emerged from the kitchens.
One slave headed for Korim’s table, bearing a tray laden with
saffron rice and curried lamb. Even from a distance, I smelled the
potent spices upon the dish. It was the perfect food to conceal a
vile-tasting venom.

Kamal strode towards the kitchen slave and pointed.
The slave frowned, looking over his shoulder, and as he did,
Kamal’s hand moved. I saw the glint of a glass vial as he waved it
over the dish of rice and lamb, saw a splash of liquid fall upon
the food. It took an instant, and by the time the slave’s gaze
turned back, Kamal’s hands were back in place, but I had seen it
happen.

That was the dish.

Caina stopped her dance, her limbs glistening with
sweat, and looked at me.

I murmured an excuse, got to my feet, and hurried to
Korim’s table.

Kamal returned to the shadows behind Dinaka, and the
kitchen slave placed the dish before Korim. Despite the quantity of
food he had already consumed, the Hakim showed no sign of slowing,
and his eyes lit up at the sight of the rice and lamb.

“Splendid,” he rumbled, taking a sip from his wine
goblet. “Splendid indeed. Dinaka, you must try some.”

Dinaka did not even look at him, her expression
frosty.

Korim shrugged and lifted his fork.

“My lord Hakim, wait!” I said, coming to a stop in
front of his table. The watchmen nearby stiffened, hands dropping
to their sword hilts. “My lord, wait. Do not eat that rice!”

Dinaka looked at me, her eyes narrowed, and I felt
Kamal’s cold gaze turn towards me.

“Mistress Damla?” said Korim, blinking in
surprise.

“My lord, I beg of you, do not eat of that food,” I
said.

Caina moved closer. She wore sandals with
ridiculously high heels, their leather straps curling around her
calves, yet somehow she made no sound as she moved.

“Why not?” said Korim, astonished.

Briefly I wondered how he had managed to avoid
getting himself assassinated already.

“The food has been poisoned, my lord Hakim,” I
said.

Silence fell over the nearby tables, and I felt more
and more people staring at me as the guests realized that something
was wrong. Dinaka scowled at me with fury, while Kamal remained
motionless and expressionless.

“Poisoned?” said Korim in astonishment. “Who would
poison me?”

“That slave, my lord,” I said, pointing at Kamal. The
disguised Kindred assassin gave no reaction. “I saw him pour
something into your food.”

“She is lying, my lord Hakim,” said Kamal in a quiet
voice.

“Why should I do that?” I said. “Why should I make up
such lies?”

“I…I do not know,” said Korim.

“She is lying to you, my husband,” said Dinaka. She
had a lovely, musical voice, but fury burned in her eyes. “She
desires you for herself, so she has made up this ridiculous story
to gain your favor and approval.”

Caina moved closer along the base of the mansion, but
no one paid any attention her.

I thought fast. “The Hakim is an august and noble
man, and any woman would be honored to have him as husband.” A
little flicker of rage went over Dinaka’s face. “However, why
speculate when the matter is so easily put to the test, my lord?
Simply have Kamal sample the dish before you. If he is innocent, he
will do so without hesitation.”

Kamal hesitated. “It is not proper for a slave to eat
from his master’s dish.”

“Come now,” said Korim with a wave of his thick hand.
“There is plenty of food. Surely a single bite will not offend
propriety.”

Kamal opened his mouth to answer, but it was Dinaka
who spoke.

“This is ridiculous,” she said. “I will not tolerate
these brazen accusations. I am the wife of a nobleman and a
magistrate, and I should not have to suffer slanders from…from
whorish tradeswomen!”

I saw an opening in the insult. “Forgive me, my lady
Dinaka…but I said nothing of you.”

Dinaka opened her mouth…and then closed it again.

Korim frowned, scrutinizing his wife as if he had
seen her for the first time.

“My lord, I beg of you,” I said. “Believe me or not
as you will, but do not eat of that dish.”

Korim made an impatient sound. “The matter is easily
settled. Kamal! As your master, I command you. You will eat this
entire dish in front of these witnesses, now. If you consume it
with no ill effects, I shall apologize before my guests and reward
you with a purse of gold and your freedom. If not…”

“It,” said Kamal, his voice hoarse, “it would not be
proper. I…I cannot…”

“Guards!” snapped Korim, and a half-dozen watchmen
headed for the table. “Take Kamal and force feed him that food,
now. Honesty shall be decided…”

“You fat fool!” said Dinaka, rising to her feet with
a scream. “You will not touch him!”

Korim gaped at her.

“Dinaka,” hissed Kamal. “Be silent, or…”

“He is ten times the man you are, you quivering
slug,” said Dinaka, “and after he slays you, I shall put your
wealth and power to better use than you could ever imagine.” She
yanked a dagger from her belt and lunged at Korim.

Everything happened at once then.

The watchmen shouted and ran forward, while the
guests screamed. Kamal cursed and yanked a dagger from his slave’s
robe. Dinaka shrieked, her face twisted with hate, and raised her
dagger high to land a blow. I seized the poisoned dish from the
table and flung it into Dinaka’s face. She stumbled back with a
scream of fury, only for Kamal to shove her aside as he raced
around the table.

Caina screamed in terror as Kamal went past her,
raising her arms to cringe away from him, and Kamal took no notice
of her. Yet she spun as he went past, her leg collapsing beneath
her, and her right elbow drove into his back. Kamal went down with
a stunned gasp, and Caina scrambled away from him. The Kindred
rolled to his side, only for three of Korim’s watchmen to tackle
him.

Two others seized Dinaka and dragged her back.

“My lord, look!” said one of the watchmen, pointing
at her face. Angry red welts marked where the rice had struck her
skin, as if she had been splashed in acid, and more from where the
sauce had poured down her neck.

The venom. Korim flinched as he realized what he had
almost eaten.

“Take her away,” he growled. “Take them to the Crows’
Tower!”

The watchmen dragged away Kamal and Dinaka, and the
courtyard dissolved into chaos.

I eased through the crowd, forgotten in the chaos,
and rejoined Caina as she got to her feet, wobbling a bit on those
ridiculous sandals.

“Nice costume,” I said.

She smiled briefly. “You think so? Most of those old
merchants did.” She looked at the chaos. “I suppose we gave Korim
the best birthday present of all.”

“What’s that?” I said.

“His life.”

***

The next day Korim summoned me to his mansion, and I
went.

“I should have seen it years ago,” he said, his voice
heavy.

We sat in his opulent audience hall, Korim slumped in
his formal chair of office. The sturdy wooden chair creaked beneath
his bulk. His loyal scribe waited at his right hand, and a troop of
watchmen guarded him.

“I am sorry, my lord,” I said. “It…must be a grievous
blow.”

“How did you know?” he said. “I never even
suspected.”

I told Korim about the nails in the cake and the
discovery of the letter with his seal, omitting Caina’s part in
events.

“You have done me a great service,” said Korim. He
sighed. “I cannot blame Dinaka, not really. I wed her to secure
commercial advantages with her father. I had no wish to be cruel to
her, so I let her do whatever she wished. Clearly this was a
mistake.” He sighed again. “I will not bring charges against her. I
shall simply divorce her quietly, and send her back to her father
in Istarish Cyrica with her dowry.”

“That is…most generous of you,” I said.

Korim gave an indifferent shrug. “I am already a
laughingstock. What is one more jest?” He scowled. “The Kindred
assassin, though. His life is forfeit.”

“I bow to your wisdom, my lord,” I said.

“Mistress Damla,” said Korim. “Why? Why did you tell
me? You have been paying…ah, gifts to me for years. If I died, you
would be rid of the obligation.”

I shrugged. “If you died, my lord, the Padishah and
the Wazir of the Treasury might replace you with a harsher man.
And…you did not deserve to be murdered by your wife and her
lover.”

“Thank you,” said Korim. “You have my gratitude. If
you have need of my assistance, simply ask, and I shall aid you
however I can.”

His gratitude took more concrete forms as well. As I
left, his scribe presented me with a document that remitted the
House of Agabyzus from the land tax for the rest of my life.

###

Later that afternoon I supervised in the House of
Agabyzus, and Caina walked through the door, wearing the guise of
Ciaran the courier. Again I was amazed at how thoroughly she had
transformed herself. Gone was all trace of the whirling, lithe
dancer that had drawn the eye of Korim’s guests.

I had Bahad bring us some coffee, and we retreated to
one of the booths.

“How did it go?” said Caina.

“Well,” I said. “At least I think so. Korim is
grateful. If I ask him for a favor, he will likely grant it.”

“Good,” said Caina.

“He spared his wife, you know,” I said. “I thought he
would have had her put to death.”

Caina shrugged. “Perhaps your assessment of him was
right. He may be corrupt, but he is not such an evil man for all
that.” She grinned. “If you are considering a new husband, perhaps
you should consider him.”

“Certainly not,” I said, grinning back. “Your ankles
must hurt, after dancing in those ridiculous sandals for the better
part of an hour.”

“Don’t remind me,” said Caina. “The unarmed forms are
tiring, but that dance is more exhausting by far.”

“You speak of me remarrying,” I said, “but perhaps we
should think of you. Put on that costume and perform the dance
again, and you shall capture any man you wish.”

“You are teasing me, but you are still too kind,”
said Caina. For a moment she hesitated. “And…no. Sometimes I think
about that…no. My life is too dangerous. Anyone who knows me is in
danger. I cannot…bring anyone else into that danger.”

“I understand,” I said. “Do you think we’ll need that
favor?”

“Someday,” said Caina. “Not soon. But someday.” She
smiled. “You did well, Damla. Thank you.”

I smiled. My name is Damla daughter of Torzamus, and
I am a merchant of coffee. I am not a spy or an assassin or a
warrior.

But I am a Ghost…and I will do what I can to aid the
woman who saved my sons as she labors to save others.

THE END

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Turn the page to read the first chapter of GHOST IN THE COWL,
Caina Amalas's first adventure in Istarinmul
.

***

Two weeks after she lost everything, Caina Amalas
stood on the ship’s deck and threw knives at the mast.

It was a way to pass the time and keep herself from
thinking too much. To distract herself from the memories that
flooded her mind if she was idle for too long. Sometimes she locked
herself in her cabin for hours and performed the exercises of
open-handed combat she had learned at the Vineyard long ago,
working through the unarmed forms over and over again until every
muscle in her body throbbed and spots danced before her eyes.