Ghost Claws (2 page)

“He could,” I said. “But if that doesn't satisfy Arsakan, he could demand retribution.”

“Which, if we have bad luck,” said Caina, “could lead to war between Anshan and the Empire.”

We walked in silence for a moment. 

“I see,” said Corvalis. “That’s not good.”

“Not at all,” I said, remembering my last conversation with the Emperor before departing Malarae. The Empire did not have the resources for another war. The Emperor had nearly three hundred thousand armed men at his command, but every spare Legionary was marching with Conn Maraeus against the Istarish or holding the borders. Worse, Kylon Shipbreaker had destroyed the Empire’s entire western fleet a few months earlier. “At all costs we must keep war from breaking out with Anshan.”

“Perhaps we ought to circulate the story that a lion killed Kamahd,” said Corvalis.

“That would be best,” said Caina, “but if I could figure out that he was murdered, others can as well.” 

“Then,” I said, “we had best find how Kamahd was killed.”

Caina nodded. “I will help you.”

I grunted. “It would be a bit odd for a merchant’s daughter to ask about a dead anjar.”

She grinned. “I’ll change first.”

###

Corvalis and I waited outside of Caina’s tent. Around us the camp began to disassemble, Lord Titus’s servants and Arsakan’s slaves loading the wagons. So far no one seemed unduly concerned about Kamahd’s murder, though I noticed fear of grass lions kept anyone from walking too far from the camp. 

“So,” said Corvalis. “How did you join the Ghosts?”

I thought for a moment.

“Well,” I said, “I was born in Artifel.”

“Indeed?” said Corvalis. “As was I.”

“You were the First Magus’s bastard,” I said, “so you grew up in the Magisterium’s motherhouse, at least until the First Magus sold you to the Kindred. My father kept a tavern in the wealthier parts of Artifel, and he died after I was born. So my mother managed the tavern and raised me. She always warned me to stay away from the magi, but I was young and ambitious, and so I joined the personal guard of one of the high magi. One day he came to my mother’s tavern, saw my younger sister, and decided that he wanted her. When she refused, he mind-controlled her and forced himself upon her. When my mother objected, he killed her.” My voice grew hoarse. “As you might expect, I killed him…and I had to take refuge with the Ghosts. I have been with them ever since.” 

We stood in silence.

“That,” said Corvalis, “was utter nonsense.”

I raised an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

“Because,” said Corvalis, “I’ve heard you swear. You curse in Caerish.”

“So?” I said. “Most people in the Empire speak Caerish. We’re talking in Caerish right now.”

“You curse in Caerish with a Caerish accent,” said Corvalis. “When you’re angry, or when you’re hurt. Hard to remember to fake an accent then. If you were from Artifel, you’d speak Caerish with a different accent.”

“True,” I said.

“And,” said Corvalis, “the story was obviously a parable. The foolish young man who trusted the magi.” He shook his head. “You ought to have changed the story to the foolish young man who trusted his sister the magus.”

“I am pleased,” I said, “that the point was not lost on you. It was back in Catekharon.”

“Aye,” said Corvalis. “That was an error. I should not have listened to Claudia.” He shrugged. “It is…hard to refuse your only family in the world. Perhaps you understand this. Or perhaps you do not. But I should not have let her override my own judgment.”

He was showing remorse. That was a good sign. 

“Have you decided,” said Corvalis, “if you are going to kill me yet?”

I had not expected him to figure it out. But he was cleverer than most men.

“I don’t know,” I said. “You did betray us in Catekharon.”

“I didn’t betray the Ghosts,” said Corvalis. “I disobeyed you. Foolish, yes, but there is a difference.”

“Some would argue that disobedience and treachery are one and the same.”

“Some would,” said Corvalis, “but I doubt you would. And I didn’t betray the Ghosts. Claudia suggested a different strategy to achieve the Ghosts’ goals…and I agreed to it. Foolishly, as it turns out.” 

“Are you loyal to the Ghosts?” I said.

“I’ll work for them,” said Corvalis.

“But you’re not loyal,” I said, voice quiet, “because you’re not loyal to organizations. Or sovereigns, or nations. You, Corvalis Aberon, are loyal to people.” I let out a long breath. “And you are loyal to Caina Amalas.”

“When you put it like that…yes, I suppose you are right,” said Corvalis.

“What a bind you’ve put me in, boy,” I said. “I ought to kill you, but Caina has fallen in love with you.”

“You love her, too,” said Corvalis.

As much as man like me could love anyone. “Let us just say I wish her to find what joy she can in her life.” I sighed. “If I do kill you, for her sake I will make it look like an accident.”

“How comforting,” said Corvalis. “Will you kill Claudia, too?”

His stance remained relaxed, but I knew my answer might provoke a violent response. “Most likely not. I admit I misjudged her. She is not suited for work in the field. Likely I will send her to Caer Magia, to work with the Ghosts there. From time to time we need experts in sorcery.” 

“And experts in assassination, too,” said Corvalis. 

I nodded. “I suppose I could hire you to kill yourself.”

Corvalis snorted. “At least it would get done efficiently.” His face grew grave. “Do you want the truth, Basil Callenius? I am loyal to Caina…and I will stay with the Ghosts as long as she does.”

“We will see,” I said.

A man in the leather armor of a caravan guard appeared next to us. My hand dropped to my sword hilt as I wondered how the guard had gotten so close to us…and then I recognized Caina.

Gone was all trace of the spoiled merchant’s daughter. Now she wore dirt-caked boots, ragged trousers, a leather jerkin with steel studs, and a worn brown cloak, a short sword and a dagger at her belt. Her black hair hung in greasy curtains around her face, and makeup gave her jaw the illusion of stubble. If I had not known better, I would have sworn that she was a man, a ragged mercenary and caravan guard.

“You look as if you’ve come to cut my purse,” I said.

“Why bother?” said Caina. Even her voice had changed, becoming rough and harsh. “You’ll give me what I ask anyway.”

I wondered if she had overhead my conversation with Corvalis. Her expression gave no hint that she had…but it would not unless she wished it. If she wanted, I knew she could kill me without hesitation and without the slightest warning.

I had turned her into that kind of woman, and again I felt a twinge of the old guilt. Perhaps it would have been better to give her to the Temple of Minaerys. 

But if I had, millions of people would have perished.

“I take it,” said Caina, “we’re going to talk to Cardiz?”

“Clever girl,” I said, turning my mind back to the business at hand. “Yes, if there’s been a murder in the camp, Cardiz is the man to question.”

###

I had dealt with dozens of men like Cardiz over the decades. 

Cardiz was a peddler, a seller of trinkets…and of secrets and stolen goods. He had attached himself to Lord Titus’s column soon after we left Cyrica Urbana, offering his wares to the Imperial Guards, and had traveled with us to Catekharon. I suspected he had offended someone powerful in Cyrica and wanted out of the Empire for a time. 

We found him with his wagon, humming to himself as he packed up his goods. He wore a florid robe of bright color, topped with a turban he had won playing at dice. He had a pointed black beard in the Mardonish style and beady black eyes that reminded me of a ferret. 

“Master Basil!” said Cardiz with a bow. “So good of you to come! Do you wish to purchase some wine? I have many fine vintages for the discerning palate. Or some silks for your lovely daughters? Such lovely jewels ought to be displayed in the finest settings.” He smiled. “Where are your daughters?”

“Alas,” I said, “Irene has a headache. Some woman’s concern, so Anna is tending her.” It gave an explanation for their absence, though Cardiz would never know that “Anna” stood behind me, disguised as a guard. 

“Ah,” said Cardiz. “Do give the dear lady my regards. I have an unguent guaranteed to ease the cramps of the woman’s time of the month, if you wish to purchase some.”

“I am certain she shall be delighted to know that,” I said with a straight face. “Though I have other business. Have you heard about the anjar Kamahd?”

“Yes,” said Cardiz. “A tragic business. Torn apart by a grass lion.”

“You know I am friends with Lord Titus,” I said. That got his attention. “And Lord Titus believes that the anjar was murdered. He has tasked me with finding the killer, lest this cause a rift in the Emperor’s friendship with the Shahenshah.” 

Cardiz blinked, several times. At once I realized he knew at least something about Kamahd’s fate. 

“So,” said Cardiz, licking his lips. “You know he was murdered over the white lion?”

“White lion?” I said. 

“Yesterday, before dawn,” said Cardiz, lowering his voice. “Kamahd left the camp and went hunting with another anjar named Masud. They found a white lion, and Kamahd slew it. A white grass lion, you see, is very rare, and the Anshani believe that good fortune graces the man who slays one.”

“How do you know all this?” I said.

“Kamahd wished it kept secret,” said Cardiz, “lest the other anjars try to take credit for his kill, or steal the lion’s pelt.”  

“Which,” I said, “is what happened, is it not?”

Cardiz bobbed his head. “I believe that Masud murdered Kamahd and left his body outside the camp. He will claim that the white lion slew Kamahd, and he then avenged Kamahd by slaying the lion.”

“Allowing him to keep the pelt,” I said, “and credit for the kill.”

“Precisely,” said Cardiz. “Nobles are a treacherous lot.”

“Thank you for your information,” I said. “Lord Titus will be grateful.”

Cardiz bowed. “I am a humble merchant and am ever glad to serve. Do let his lordship know that I am willing to provide him with excellent goods at a low price.” 

“I will,” I said. Titus Iconias was one of the most powerful lords in the Empire, and I doubted he had ever visited a merchant like Cardiz. “Perhaps his seneschal shall soon pay you a visit.”

We departed, walking across the camp.

“Well?” I said to Caina.

“He was lying about something, I’m sure of it,” said Caina. “He kept licking his lips. Either he was thirsty or he was nervous. Liars tend to be nervous.”

I nodded. “True. We should speak with the anjar Masud next.”

###

No one questioned us as we walked through the Anshani portion of the camp. Of course, there was no reason for the Anshani anjars and their slaves to trouble us. Basil Callenius was a merchant, and wealthy merchants traveled with guards for protection. One of the slaves directed us to Masud’s tent, and we stopped outside it.

“His tent’s still standing,” Caina said.

“So?” I said.

“So,” said Caina, “look around. Most of the other tents are down. The caravan master will start today’s march within the hour. Why haven’t Masud’s slaves taken down his tent?”

Corvalis shrugged. “Maybe they are busy trying to hide a white lion pelt.”

“Maybe,” I said.

We stood in silence for a moment. No one moved nearby, and there was no trace of life from the tent. Around us the wind moaned, setting the high grasses of the Anshani plains to rustling. 

“Since we are waiting,” said Corvalis, “how did you join the Ghosts?”

Caina laughed. “You are determined.”

I shrugged. “If you must know, it was entirely an accident. I was an orphan, and wound up working at a vineyard in the southern part of Caeria Superior, not far from Caer Marist. One day about thirty-eight years ago, I came across a nobleman hiding from Kindred assassins. I hid him inside a wine cask. In gratitude he gave me his seal, and told me that he would reward me. The assassins were after him because the old Emperor had died, and they wished to keep the Imperial Curia from electing him as the new Emperor. When he became Emperor Alexius Naerius, I traveled to Malarae…and I became one of the Ghosts.”

“That’s not true, either,” said Caina.

“And just why not?” I said.

“Because Alexius Naerius has been Emperor for thirty-three years, not thirty-eight,” said Caina.

“You are entirely correct,” I said. “An important lesson. Best to keep one’s lies as vague as possible for maximum plausibility.” I thought for a moment. “How about this? I was in fact born near Caer Marist …but I was a smuggler, not a vintner. I helped guide cargoes in and out of hidden coves along the coast to avoid the Emperor’s customs agents. One day I helped a smuggler move a ship out of Caeria Superior, only to realize that he had a cargo of slaves kidnapped from the nearby villages. One of the Ghosts contacted me, I helped the slaves escape…and I have been part of the Ghosts ever since.”

“Unlikely,” said Caina.

I laughed. “And why do you disbelieve me?”

“Because I have seen you on a ship,” said Caina, “and you don’t know enough about them to be a sailor. The part about the slaves happened…but that was fifteen years ago, with a smuggler you recruited into the Ghosts.”

“How did you know about that?” I said. “I never told you.”

“Komnene told me,” said Caina, “when I was at the Vineyard.”

“Another danger of lying,” I said, shaking my finger at her, “assuming that your audience has less information than it actually does.” I stared at the tent. “It seems deserted. Shall we?” 

“Let me go first,” said Corvalis, drawing his sword in his right hand and his dagger in his left. He strode before us, pushed open the tent flap, and Caina and I followed him inside.

The tent was large. Apparently Masud had wealth enough to travel in comfort. He had an actual bed, albeit a small one, and a pair of gleaming bronze braziers to keep the night’s chill at bay. Two elaborate tapestries hung from the pavilion’s wall, showing scenes of Anshani noblemen hunting lions and gazelles. A rack of weapons stood near the bed, displaying fine scimitars, gleaming spears, and polished bows.