Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 05 - Ghost in the Stone (38 page)

“I hope she keeps her blindfold on,” said Caina. “It would be unfortunate if she turned half the nobles of Cyrica to stone.” 

He laughed. “Though it would be amusing to see the looks on their faces.”

“So you’re not with Claudia,” said Caina. “Why did you come here?”

Corvalis took a step closer. “I wanted to thank you myself. For saving my life. For freeing Claudia.” 

Caina shrugged. “I promised I would, when you helped us against the Kindred. And you kept your word.”

“But if you had not helped me, I would have perished. Sicarion would have killed me. Or Ranarius would have killed me, or had Nicasia turn me to stone. Instead Claudia is restored, Nicasia is free, and I am alive.” His voice was quiet. “Thank you.”

“I was glad to do it,” said Caina. She hesitated. “I told you…what happened to me. At least some of it. I could not save my family. So at least we could save your sister.”

Corvalis nodded, his eyes on her face. 

They stared at each other for a moment

“Claudia said you’re going to join the Ghosts,” said Caina at last.

“Aye,” said Corvalis. “Where else shall we go? I’m not the sort of man to settle down as a shopkeeper, and I suppose the Ghosts could make good use of our skills. And perhaps I’ll get to take a shot at my father one day.” He shook his head. “I thought I would kill him or die trying. Now I am not so eager to die.”

“You have more to live for,” said Caina. “Claudia.” 

“Aye,” said Corvalis. 

He took another step towards her. They stood almost face to face now, and Caina had to incline her head to look up at him. 

“So you just came here to thank me?” said Caina. 

“No,” said Corvalis. 

“To find out my real name?” said Caina. “I never did tell you, and you kept asking. It’s Caina, if you must know. Caina, of House Amalas.”

Corvalis blinked. “So you are noble-born? Caina. But I did not come here to ask your real name.”

“Then why else?”

He stood so close they were almost touching. She saw the heartbeat pulsing in his temples, felt his breath against her face. 

“Because,” said Corvalis, “I could not live with myself if I did not do this at least once.”

He took her face in his hands, leaned down, and kissed her on the lips. Her hands closed around his arms. It went on and on, and Caina felt her heart hammering against her ribs, a slow warmth spreading through her chest.

After a moment he pulled back, looking down at her. 

“Can you live with yourself now?” said Caina, her voice hoarse.

Corvalis nodded.

“Then,” said Caina, “I think you had better do that again.”

He did.

Sicarion could not get his new face to fit properly.

He limped down the busy street, ignoring the pain in his left leg. His new left leg, since the old one had been smashed to pulp when he hit the ground. He had also needed a new right arm, new ribs, and several new teeth. 

Fortunately, slaves filled Cyrioch, and no one minded when one went missing. 

Or three or four. 

Sicarion stopped at the Plaza of Majesty, stretching his new jaw, and looked at the Palace of Splendors. He had been sure that Ranarius would overpower both the Ghost and Corvalis, but his pessimism had been misplaced. The Ghost had triumphed. He should not have underestimated her.

He could see why the mistress wanted her so badly. 

Still, part of him thought it a pity Ranarius had not been able to awaken the greater elemental. The thought of death on that scale made Sicarion shiver. 

But that was just as well.

For when the Moroaica completed her great work, the entire world would die.

###

Marzhod sat at his work table in the Painted Whore, paging through the Kindred Elder’s store of letters. A wide smile spread over his face. Marzhod was already wealthy, but before he was done, he was going to be richer than Lord Khosrau himself. 

He decided to pay Nadirah a visit later. Seducing her into bed was always a great deal of work, but worth the effort in the end…

A boot tapped against the floorboards.

Marzhod looked up, frowning. He had left the door locked. No one should have been able to get in here.

A man in a hooded gray cloak stood over the table, a rod of peculiar shining metal in his left hand.

Marzhod did not have time to shout, let alone draw a weapon, before darkness claimed him.

“Boss?” 

Marzhod blinked.

He sat at his work table, the door to the corridor standing open. Saddiq stepped into the room, hand on his sword hilt. 

“What is it?” said Marzhod, his voice thick. 

“You wanted to know when Barius returned,” said Saddiq.

“Aye,” said Marzhod. Had he fallen asleep and left the door unlocked? That was criminally stupid. Still, he had been under a great deal of strain lately. 

He would have to take greater care in the future.

###

The man in the gray cloak stepped into the streets, leaving the Painted Whore behind.

The memories in the Ghost circlemaster’s mind had told him everything he needed to know. The Moroaica was loose in the world, but trapped in a body she could not control. 

The Moroaica would be destroyed.

Along with, perhaps regrettably, the body of her host. 

Thank you for reading GHOST IN THE STONE. Turn the page to read the first chapter of Caina’s next adventure, GHOST IN THE FORGE. 
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“Then,” said Caina Amalas, her voice hoarse, heart hammering against her ribs, “then I think you had better do that again.”

Corvalis Aberon looked down at her, hands resting upon her arms. He was a tall man, handsome in an austere sort of way, with a hard face and eyes like cold emerald disks. 

He put his arms around her, pulled her close, and kissed her long and hard upon the lips. She reached up and took his face in her hands, her fingers sliding along his jaw and neck. Her heartbeat sounded like a drum in her ears, a slow warmth spreading through her chest and into her arms as she leaned into him.

Corvalis stumbled, lost his balance, and fell against the wall of the sitting room with a thump. The breath exploded from his lungs and into Caina’s mouth with a startled exhalation.

She laughed in surprise, and he did, too.

“Gods,” said Corvalis. “I haven’t done that in a while.”

“Nor I,” said Caina. “I wasn’t…I wasn’t expecting that.”

It had been a long time since someone had touched her. Her head almost spun with the sensation. 

“No,” murmured Corvalis, one hand rising to brush her cheek.

“I thought,” said Caina, “I thought you were going to leave with Claudia.”

“So did I,” said Corvalis. “But I found I could not. Caina…I have never known a woman like you.” He shook his head, a brief expression of wonder flickering over his face. “I thought you a spy with veins of ice. Yet you put yourself at terrible risk to save Claudia and all of Cyrioch.” 

“And I thought you a Kindred assassin,” said Caina. “A killer without a conscience. But I saw what you did to save your sister. You are a better man than I thought.”

Corvalis barked a harsh laugh. “Perhaps, but I am not a very good man. I…”

“You do have one flaw,” said Caina.

“Oh?” said Corvalis.

“You’re talking too much,” said Caina. “Kiss me.”

He obliged.

After a long moment they broke apart, breathing hard, a tremor of excitement going through Caina’s hands. 

“Come with me,” said Corvalis. 

“Here?” said Caina. “Theodosia will be shocked when she returns.”

“I have my own room at the Inn of the Defender,” said Corvalis. “Away from the others. No one will disturb us.”

Caina smiled, the warmth spreading through her…but the cold part of her mind, the part the Ghosts had trained, did not remain still.

It pointed out the many ways this was a terrible idea. She was a nightfighter of the Ghosts, a spy and an agent of the Emperor of Nighmar. He was a former assassin of the Kindred, and had only recently left them. And though she and Corvalis had gone through great danger together, had faced powerful foes side-by-side, she did not know him very well. Perhaps he had been planning to seduce her from the beginning, had been hoping to infiltrate the Ghosts…

No.

She had seen what kind of man he was, how he had risked himself again and again to save Claudia. 

And Caina was so tired of death, of killing, of fighting. 

She wanted this.

Corvalis’s expression did not change, but the cold shield fell back over his green eyes. She had hesitated too long.  He had trained in the brutal regimen of the Kindred families since childhood…and every one of his instincts must have screamed against making himself vulnerable to her. 

He would step away, make a polite excuse, and then leave. 

“Corvalis,” said Caina, and she kissed him again. “Lead the way.”

###

His room was nicer than she had expected. 

It occupied the Inn of the Defender’s second floor, its narrow windows overlooking the alley behind the Inn. Yet the carpet was thick beneath Caina’s boots, and the room boasted a bed, a pair of chairs, and a gleaming wooden table. Corvalis’s weapons and supplies rested in neat order upon the table, no doubt fetched from his rooms in Cyrioch’s Seatown slums.

The bed was large enough for both of them.

###

The next morning Caina blinked awake. 

Only a faint glimmer of dawn sunlight came through the shutters. For a moment Caina could not remember where she was.

Then she heard Corvalis’s slow, steady breathing, felt his warmth against her, and remembered. 

For a moment she lay motionless, simply enjoying the sensation. She often woke up alone in the dark, the final threads of a nightmare dancing through her head. She had so many nightmares. Gods knew she had seen and experienced enough horrors to fuel them. 

This was much nicer. 

After a moment she stood up, her bare feet making no sound against the thick carpet, the blankets sliding over her skin. 

She needed to clear her head, and working through the unarmed forms would do the trick.

Her arms and legs moved through the motions she had learned as a child in the Vineyard. Kicks and punches, blocks and holds. A high leg sweep, a middle block, and a low kick. She went through the forms over and over again, the motions imprinted upon her very muscles. Time and time again the knowledge and skill had saved her life. She practiced until her breath came hard and fast, a sheen of sweat beading her forehead. 

She turned, balanced upon one leg, and saw Corvalis watching her from the bed.

Belatedly, Caina remembered she wore nothing but a golden signet ring on a leather cord around her neck.

“I didn’t realize,” said Caina, lowering her leg, “that I was putting on a show for you.”

Corvalis smiled and stood. “I am not vain enough to think it was for my benefit…though I enjoyed it nonetheless.” The swirling black lines of his tattoos marked the muscles of his arms and chest. Those tattoos, inked by an Ulkaari witchfinder, gave him a measure of resistance against sorcery. “A fighter needs to practice to remain sharp. That I happened to enjoy watching you practice…well, I shall not complain.”

He put his hands upon her shoulders and kissed her.

They regarded in each other in silence.

“I thought,” said Corvalis at last, “that I might awaken to find that you had slipped away.”

“If that was my plan,” said Caina, “then I made a botch of it by practicing the unarmed forms in front of your bed for an hour.”

A brief smile went over his face. “True.”

“But why did you think I would slip away?” said Caina.

“I don’t know,” said Corvalis. “You could win the eye of a wealthy lord or a noble easily enough…”

“No,” murmured Caina. “I am not…I do not do things casually, Corvalis. At least not this.” 

“Nor I,” said Corvalis.

“I thought you might,” said Caina, her fingers wandering over his chest. “I know how the Kindred assassins live. How they are rewarded with gold and slaves to…use as they wish.” 

“Aye,” said Corvalis. “When I was a new assassin of the Kindred.” His eyes grew distant. “But I stopped. My father thought it made me weaker, you see, so…once he arranged for one of the slave women to kill me. As a test. After that, it became…difficult to lower my guard.”

“Oh, Corvalis,” said Caina, touching his cheek. 

He blinked, once, and then shrugged. “That is in the past.” His eyes strayed to the scars below her navel. “And I am not the only one to have known pain, am I?”

“No,” said Caina.

“I do not know what the future holds,” said Corvalis. “No man does. But…this is not an idle dalliance. Not for me.”

“Or me,” said Caina.

Again they fell silent, and then she laughed. 

“What?”

“Did you really think I would want to lure a lord of the Empire to my bed?” said Caina. She grinned at him. “Have you seen most of the lords of the Empire?” She ran her hands over his chest and stomach. “I would much rather have you in my bed.”

He grinned back. “Prove it.”

She did.

###

After, Caina stretched against the bed. She felt tired, but it was a pleasant sort of exhaustion. 

“I,” she said, “am ravenous.”

“As am I,” said Corvalis. He barked his short, harsh laugh. “You have a gift for wearing a man out.”

“Good,” said Caina. “We can get breakfast in the common room.” She sighed. “Though I suppose we’ll have to explain things to Theodosia and your sister.”

Corvalis shrugged. “Why? It’s not as if they need to know.”

“No,” said Caina, “but neither one of them are idiots. They’ll figure it out.” 

Corvalis nodded. “Or we could slip away for the morning.”

“Wouldn’t that be transparently obvious?” said Caina. 

“Not if we tell the truth,” said Corvalis. “We’ll simply say we went to see the mood of the city after the earthquakes and the death of the Lord Governor.” Caina remembered the golden light flaring at the heart of the Well, remembered the master magus Ranarius screaming as his enslaved earth elemental turned upon him. “It will be pure coincidence that we’ll walk past the man who sells the best sausage rolls in the city.”