Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 05 - Ghost in the Stone (26 page)

The slave walked away, muttering something.

“That was cruel,” said Caina.

Corvalis shrugged. “Considering we’ll probably kill him tomorrow, I can live with it.”

Caina walked back into the Plaza of Majesty. 

But she would return here soon enough.

“We will strike tonight,” said Marzhod. 

Caina blinked in surprise. 

Once again they stood in Marzhod’s workroom at the Painted Whore. Dawn sunlight leaked through the closed shutters, and Caina’s eyes felt heavy and gritty. It had been a long and taxing night. 

And another long night was on the way.

“A bold move,” said Theodosia, yawning. 

“A necessary one,” said Marzhod. “You said it yourself. Sooner or later the Kindred will get lucky and kill both Khosrau and Corbould. Then we’ll have civil war at best, or at worst Cyrica will join Istarinmul or Anshan. The sooner we exterminate every last one of the Kindred, the better.” He sneered. “Even an opera singer should be able to see that.”

“There’s no need for churlishness,” said Theodosia. 

“As Theodosia said,” said Corvalis, “a bold move. Just how do you intend to accomplish it?” 

There was a knock at the door, and they fell silent. One of Marzhod’s slave women entered, carrying a tray of food and drink. She set it down on a table, bowed, and departed without a word. 

“You should free her,” said Caina, voice quiet.

She helped herself to some food anyway. Gods, but she was hungry. 

“Why?” said Marzhod. “If I do, where will she go? She’ll be whoring on the street within a week. And we have larger problems just now.”

“Yes,” said Corvalis. “Such as how you’ll destroy the Kindred without getting slaughtered. 

“We should ask Lord Khosrau for help,” said Theodosia.

“We should not,” said Marzhod. “Lord Corbould tolerates the Ghosts because he finds us useful. Khosrau is utterly indifferent to us, and as always Armizid takes after his father. Warn him about the assassins and he’ll thank you politely. Ask him for troops to wipe out the Kindred and he’ll laugh in your face.” 

“So where,” said Corvalis, “will you find the men to fight the Kindred? I assume you have spies among the slaves of every noble House in Cyrica, but they’ll be useless against the Kindred.” 

“The Sarbians,” said Caina, reaching for the tea. 

“Yes,” said Marzhod. “Very good.” He scratched at his unshaven chin. “The Sarbians detest the Cyricans and vice-versa, so they make for very reliable mercenaries. One of the reasons I use them as enforcers.”

“How many?” said Theodosia.

“Two hundred,” said Marzhod. “I’ve hired every remaining warrior from Saddiq’s tribe. Expensive, but worth it. The inbred bastards are all related to each other, but they’re deadly fighters. There can’t be more than a few dozen assassins in the Haven. The Sarbians can take them.”

“Assuming they live long enough to get into the Haven,” said Caina, remembering the subterranean trap. 

“My spies in the Ring of Valor found the escape tunnel,” said Marzhod. “It’s guarded, of course, but the Sarbians can overwhelm the guards easily enough.” 

“And two hundred desert men will make enough noise to alert the Kindred,” said Caina. “They’ll flee through other tunnel and into the Temple of the Living Flame.”

“I’ll have some mercenaries guard the Temple,” said Marzhod. 

Caina shook her head. “You’ll need more men. The Temple is huge. The Kindred could conceal themselves in the Temple or escape in the chaos.”

“And you won’t be able to move that many men through the city,” said Theodosia. “The Temple is too close to the Palace of Splendors. A fight there will draw the attention of the civic militia. They’ll fall on your mercenaries like a hammer, and some of the Kindred will slip away in the chaos.” 

“So the opera singer is a general now?” said Marzhod. “Do you have a better idea?”

“Actually,” said Corvalis, “I might.” 

They all looked at him.

“This had better be good,” said Marzhod. 

“Don’t take mercenaries through the entrance below the Temple,” said Corvalis. “Instead, I will infiltrate the Haven and seal that entrance. When you attack, the Kindred will be trapped, and you can kill them all.” 

“And just how will you accomplish that?” said Marzhod.

“The portcullis is massive,” said Corvalis, “but the mechanism to open and close it is delicate. It’s similar to the one in the Haven of Artifel. I can jam it easily enough.” 

“Of that I have no doubt,” said Marzhod, “but how will you get inside? You’re a renegade, Aberon, and you’re known to the Kindred. They’ll kill you on sight.”

“I can disguise myself well enough,” said Corvalis. “And I will come with a gift the Kindred will not be able to refuse.”

“What?” said Marzhod.

Corvalis looked at Caina. “You.”

She frowned. “Me?”

“Aye,” said Corvalis. “Understand this. An Elder rules over every Kindred family…and the Elders are not like other men. Each Elder bears a torque around his neck that supposedly holds the souls of all his victims. I don’t know what it really is, but it bestows superhuman strength and speed upon the Elder.” 

“Rubbish,” said Marzhod.

“No,” said Caina. “I’ve seen objects of sorcery that can do that.” 

“The torque also has…other effects on the Elder,” said Corvalis. “It enhances his lifespan. An Elder can live for centuries. But using the torque has costs. The Elders are not quite sane, and their appetites are far beyond those of ordinary men.” 

“Appetites,” said Caina, understanding.

“The Elders send each other gifts,” said Corvalis. “Jewels. Rare books. Artifacts. Slave women of exceptional beauty.” 

Marzhod snorted, and Theodosia scowled. 

“No,” said Theodosia. “I forbid it.” 

“Will it work?” said Caina to Corvalis.

“It should,” said Corvalis. “I will disguise myself as an emissary from the Artifel Haven, and you as a gift for the Elder. That should get us past the portcullis. Once we’re in, we shatter the mechanism on the portcullis and wait until Marzhod’s pet Sarbians storm the Haven.”

“So,” said Marzhod, chuckling, “your plan is to wave the girl in front of the guards, get inside the Haven, kill the guards, jam the portcullis, and then hide until my men fight their way in to save you.” 

“Essentially, yes,” said Corvalis.

“That’s absolute idiocy,” said Marzhod. “I say we do it. You should at least provide a distraction for my mercenaries.” 

“It is too much of a risk,” said Theodosia. 

“Loathe as I am to agree with Marzhod,” said Corvalis, “do you have a better idea?”

“You won’t be able to save your sister,” said Theodosia, “if you’re dead.”

“No,” said Corvalis. “But I can’t save her without help. I need your help.”

Theodosia sighed and looked at Caina. “You’re the one who will have to dangle yourself like a piece of meat before a Kindred Elder and his guards. What do you think?”

Caina looked from Corvalis to Theodosia and back again. 

His plan was a risk, but it had a very good chance of succeeding. The Kindred guards would not see a young slave woman as a threat, and she would have the chance to take decisive action. And if they jammed the portcullis, the Kindred would be trapped and the Sarbians could slaughter the assassins to a man. And the Kindred would almost certainly have records. What kind of secrets could the Ghosts glean form the archives of a Kindred Haven? 

In one stroke, they might cripple the Kindred of Cyrioch and learn who had hired them to kill Khosrau, Corbould, and Armizid. 

And then Caina could help Corvalis save his sister. 

He was right about her. It was far too late to save her father. But she could help others save their loved ones. She could help Corvalis save his sister, just as she had helped Ark save Nicolai and Tanya from Jadriga. 

“All right,” said Caina. “We’ll do it your way, Corvalis.” 

“Gods,” said Theodosia. “Are you sure about this? Walking alone into a den of assassins?”

“She won’t be alone,” said Corvalis.

“Your skills are formidable,” said Theodosia, “but not formidable enough to fight off an entire Kindred family.”

“No,” said Corvalis. 

“This is a risk,” said Caina, “but a necessary one. You know what will happen if the Kindred kill Khosrau and Corbould. And something much worse will happen if Ranarius finds that greater elemental.” She took a deep breath. “If we don’t take some risks, we will regret it.” 

“Very well,” said Theodosia. “If you’ve decided to trust Corvalis that far, so be it.” She sighed. “Myself, I will be at the Palace of Splendors tonight. Lord Khosrau is holding another ball to repay Lord Corbould for his kindness with the chariot races. Someone will need to keep an eye on them, in case the Kindred strike.”

“If all goes well,” said Corvalis, “the Kindred will be too busying dying to strike.”

“One can hope,” said Theodosia.

“I have to get started,” said Marzhod, turning towards the door. He glanced at Caina. “I suggest you get some rest. You’re going to have a very busy evening.” 

###

That afternoon, Caina lay on her cot at the Inn of the Defender and dreamed. 

In the dream she stood in the Palace of Splendors, within the Gallery of the Well. The Gallery was utterly deserted, the sky black and starless. The windows in the walls of the palace were gaping eyes into nothingness. Caina wore one of the elaborate blue gowns she had used in her disguise as Countess Marianna Nereide, the sleeves and bodice covered in elaborate embroidery, silver earrings with sapphires glittering on her ears. 

She turned in a circle, and saw the Moroaica standing at the edge of the Well. 

“This is one of your dreams, isn’t it?” said Caina. 

Jadriga wore a blood-colored robe, her long black hair wet and loose around her shoulders, her eyes like black disks in her pale face. 

Except it really wasn’t her face, was it? It was only the body the Moroaica had been using when Caina had faced her. How many dozens of others had she stolen over the centuries?

“Yes,” said Jadriga. “Your mind is getting stronger. When I first inhabited you, you often did not realize these were only dreams. Now it is very difficult to fool you.”

“Sicarion disobeyed you.” Caina stopped a dozen paces from Jadriga, arms crossed over her chest. “He tried to kill me.”

“I suspected he would,” said the Moroaica.

“But you knew that already,” said Caina, “because you can see and hear everything that I can.”

A thin smile flickered over Jadriga’s red lips. “As I said. It is getting harder to fool you. But I did not need your eyes to know that Sicarion would try to take your life. He is a useful tool…but only to a point. To ask him to stop killing is like asking a man to stop breathing. And sometimes a tool other than death is required.”

“Why not kill me?” said Caina. “You’re stuck inside me, I know that much. You might be able to see and hear through my eyes and ears, but you can’t do anything. Kill me and you can steal a body you can control.” 

“I have my reasons,” said the Moroaica. 

“Because you think you can subvert me?” said Caina. “That you can twist me to your way of thinking? That is ridiculous. I saw what you did to all those slaves in Marsis. I saw what Sicarion and Andromache and Scorikhon did. I will not serve you, and you’ll be imprisoned inside my mind for another forty or fifty years.”

“Optimistic,” murmured Jadriga, “given that the Kindred might kill you in another six hours.” 

“Or I could choke on dinner,” said Caina. “But assume I don’t, and I die of old age. You could wait for decades.”

Jadriga shrugged. “I have died many times, child of the Ghosts. Fifty years seems an eternity to one as young as you. To one such as me…fifty years is an idle afternoon. And I do not need to twist you or subvert you or corrupt you. No. I corrupted women like Agria Palaegus and Andromache, true. But they were mere tools, like Sicarion, and could not understand my true purpose. But you, my child…you have greater vision. You, I think, can understand my purpose.” 

“And what purpose is that?” said Caina. “The death of innocents? Power for the sake of power? Conquest for the sake of conquest? I want none of those things.”

“Nor do I,” said Jadriga. “As I said, those are only tools.”

“Then what do you want?” said Caina. “What is this ‘great work’ Sicarion keeps talking about?”

The Moroaica was silent for a long time.

“You have known pain,” she said, voice quiet, “just as I have. Pain that should have broken you. But it didn’t. It made you stronger instead. And now you go out into the world to seek those who cause pain and destroy them. You rescued Ark’s wife and child, because you could not have a husband and son of your own. You will help that assassin save his sister, because no one loves you as he loves his sister. But you cannot save them all. There is agony everywhere. The world is a prison for us, a torture chamber. Men and women are born, they are broken in suffering, and then they die, all for naught. Over and over again.” There was a hint of anger in her tone. “The gods have made a cruel joke of a world. Perhaps they sit and laugh at us, mocking us for our sufferings.”

“What about all the suffering you caused?” said Caina.

Jadriga shrugged. “It was necessary. Just as you, too, my child, have inflicted suffering when you thought it necessary.” 

“Necessary to do what?” said Caina. “Destroy all your enemies?”

“It is necessary to break the world and remake it,” said Jadriga, and the anger in her voice grew sharper. “The world is broken, child of the Ghosts. It is defective. I will destroy it…and I will forge a better world than the gods ever managed. I will make a new world where there is no more pain, no more suffering, a world where no one shall ever die.”

“That’s mad,” said Caina.

“It is only mad if I cannot do it,” said Jadriga, “and I know the path. All your efforts are futile. You saved your friend’s wife and son, and perhaps you will save the assassin’s sister…but they will still know pain, terrible pain. They will still suffer and die. But I shall set the old world to burn…and in the new world, there will be no more pain, no more suffering, no more death.”