Ghost in the Inferno (Ghost Exile #5) (39 page)

Kylon nodded, watching her. 

She gave him a faint smile. “You look at me as if I’m about to explode.”

“Are you?” said Kylon. 

“I…don’t know,” said Caina. 

“You did a great thing today,” said Kylon.

“We did a great thing,” said Caina. “You and I and Nasser and Annarah and Morgant and all the others. The poets will recite about the damned Balarigar, but no one will remember those smiths who died fighting in the Hall of Forges. We liberated thousands of enslaved Undying from the Halls of the Dead, but no one will remember them. I’m sick of it, Kylon. I’m sick of…this.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her sense churning with exhaustion. 

“All of it,” she whispered. She opened her eyes and looked at the sun rising over the mountains. “I’ve seen so much death and destruction and mad sorcery, and I’m tired of it. I was ready to stop, did I ever tell you that?” Kylon shook his head, surprised. She was rarely so open. “I was going to stop after the Emperor made peace with New Kyre. I would run the House of Kularus with Corvalis, maybe gather a rumor or two for the Ghosts, and that would be that. Then the day of the golden dead happened, Corvalis died…and here I am.” 

“Here we are,” said Kylon.

Caina blinked. “I’m sorry. I should not be…maundering on. I’m not the only one who has lost things.” She waved a hand at the gray-clad slaves far below. “And I haven’t lost nearly as much as some people have.” 

“No,” said Kylon. “I understand. You know that I do.”

She nodded. 

“And whatever you might think, we did a great deed today,” said Kylon. “All those Undying, freed at last. It will be years before the College of Alchemists can train Immortals again. With all their other problems, maybe they’ll never be able to train Immortals again. All those freed slaves. That was your work, too. You promised Nerina you would find her husband, and you did. You promised Morgant you would help bring Annarah out of the netherworld, and you did that as well.”

A rasping sound came from Caina’s left hand. Kylon looked down as the ghostsilver gauntlet shimmered and vanished, folding back down to the shape of a bracelet. She lifted her fingers and flexed them.

“And you heard Annarah,” said Kylon. “That pyrikon is actually a spirit of defense. It chose you. I do not think it would have done that if it found you unworthy.”

Caina snorted. “Do you want the thing? I’m not sure I want to be carrying around an object of sorcery, even if it is actually a spirit. Especially if it is really a spirit of the netherworld.”

Kylon shrugged. “I don’t think we have much choice in that matter.” 

“Do you believe it?” said Caina, still not looking at him as she frowned at the pyrikon. 

“Believe what?” said Kylon.

“All this nonsense about the Balarigar,” said Caina, her lip twisting, and a strange mixture of dread and annoyance went through her aura. “The demonslayer. Spirits and sorcerers keep calling me that. Annarah seems to think so, too. I don’t believe in destiny. The world is far too chaotic and disorganized for that.”

“The Surge can see the future, sometimes,” said Kylon. 

She smiled a little, still not looking at him. “The silver fire is your only salvation.”

“The star is the key to the crystal,” said Kylon.

“That, too,” said Caina. “Maybe the Surge and the others can see the future. Or maybe they’re manipulating us for their own ends, and all this,” she gestured at the smoldering wreckage that buried the Inferno, “are pieces upon a game board.” She met his gaze. Her eyes were sad and heavy, matched by her emotional sense. “What do you think? Am I really the Balarigar?”

“I think,” said Kylon, “that there is no such thing as the Balarigar. I was there at the beginning when you slew Rezir Shahan, when the legend began. It’s just a myth that has grown in the retelling.” 

“Thank you,” said Caina.

“Though if I could believe that anyone is truly the Balarigar,” said Kylon, “it would be you, Caina Amalas, and no one else.” 

She looked at him, a surge of deep emotion going through her aura, a muscle near her eye starting to tremble. Then she took a deep breath, and he felt the struggle as she got her emotions under control, as she pulled the cold mask over herself once again. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. Then she cleared her throat and spoke in a stronger voice. “Though maybe you’re really the Balarigar, did you ever think of that? You’re the one with the enspelled sword, and you’re the one who just killed the Lieutenant and blew up the Inferno.” 

“Me?” said Kylon. “I did it with the Hellfire you brought to me. And you’re the one who found the ancient sword of legend. That is the sort of thing the Balarigar would do.”

“I should not have told you about that,” said Caina, but she grinned as she said it. “Kylon. Thank you. For everything. I wish you were not here, that you were still in New Kyre. But I am glad you are here nonetheless.”

He inclined his head. “I wish you were selling coffee in Malarae as you wished. But I am still glad you are here.”

“Well,” said Caina, looking down the slope, “if we’re done feeling sorry for ourselves, there’s a lot of work to do. We need to do something with those slaves before they starve to death, and I would prefer that none of those Immortals escape north to tell Callatas what happened.”

“How are we going to manage that?” said Kylon, following her back down the path.

“Oh,” said Caina, “I’ve got an idea.”

“Of course you do.”

###

A few days later, Caina sat in the common room of Korundush’s finest inn, which Tanzir had taken over while the fire damage on the top floor was repaired. The room had been sealed off, Tanzir’s men standing guard at the door, and Caina sat across a table of gleaming wood from the emir. Nasser, Kylon, Morgant, and Annarah sat nearby. 

Tanzir stared at Caina, his face a study in abject astonishment. Had the situation not been so serious, it would have been hard not to laugh.

“You blew up the Inferno?” he said at last.

“Yes,” said Caina. 

Tanzir leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.

“You blew up the Inferno?” he said again. 

“We did,” said Caina. “You saw the explosion.”

“The entire damned Vale saw the explosion,” said Tanzir. He pulled off his jeweled turban, ran a hand through his hair, and returned the turban to its place. “I suppose half of northern Anshan saw the explosion as well.” He shook his head yet again. “You blew up the Inferno?”

“I wish to point out, my lord emir,” said Morgant with his usual smirk, “that you have asked three times, and the answer is unlikely to have changed. If you doubt us, you can proceed to the pile of rubble and view it for yourself.” 

Nasser gave a reproving look, but Morgant’s smirk never wavered. 

“It is all right,” said Caina. “I was there. I saw it all happen, and I can scarce believe it myself.” 

“Yes, of course,” said Tanzir. “I do not doubt you. Even if I did, the crimson light that filled the southern sky a few nights ago would put my doubts to rest.” He sighed. “I suppose you will want this kept secret, yes? I fear that will be impossible. Too many people saw what happened. I suppose news of the Inferno’s destruction has already reached the city by now. Someone will come to investigate, and the Grand Wazir and the Grand Master will be furious when they learn of Rolukhan’s death.”  

“He will also greatly desire my death,” said Annarah.

“Of course, my lady,” said Tanzir. His deference to Annarah surprised Caina. Yet Tanzir was a well-read man, and he knew the history of Iramis. It seemed the loremasters had once been respected, and if they had been like Annarah, Caina could understand why. “Yet the Balarigar already has a bounty of two million bezants.”

“Callatas will want me dead personally,” said Annarah. “I knew him, long ago, before…he became as he is now. I will not hide myself…”

“But you should,” said Caina.

“I agree completely,” said Morgant.

“Though I will take prudent precautions,” said Annarah, smiling at Morgant. “Yet when Callatas learns that I live, he will do his utmost to kill me.”

“Just as well, then,” sighed Tanzir. “This forces our hand.” 

“What do you mean?” said Caina. 

“The Grand Wazir and the Grand Master will want to blame someone for the destruction of the Inferno,” said Tanzir, “and they will try to blame us. The southern emirs, I mean. The southern emirs will not stand for that, and if Callatas and Erghulan give us an ultimatum, we will likely resist.” 

“Resist,” said Caina. She considered her next words. “Then the civil war is about to begin?” 

“Perhaps not,” said Tanzir. “Perhaps the Grand Wazir can be made to see reason. Perhaps the Brotherhood will agree to stop kidnapping slaves from the southern emirates. But from what you have told me of Callatas’s plans, he will not stop.”

“No,” said Annarah in her soft voice. “No. It would be a mistake to consider this solely as a contest of thrones and armies and money. Callatas cares nothing for any of those things, and he regards lands and titles and money with contempt. He is convinced that his Apotheosis and his alliance with the nagataaru are what is best for mankind, and he will not stop for any reason.”

“Not unless someone stops him,” said Caina.

Annarah nodded.

“My lady,” said Tanzir. “You speak as if you know the Grand Master.” 

“I do know him,” said Annarah. “I did know him, long ago. He was my teacher.” 

“What?” said Caina. Nasser had never mentioned a word of this. The Prince of Iramis, it seemed, still had secrets. 

“He was not always as he is now,” said Annarah. “Once he was a loremaster of Iramis, and he was the greatest of our order. He was known as Callatas the Wise. Both kings and peasants sought his counsel, and he was the greatest healer and the wisest sage in the Order of the Words of Lore. He was my teacher when I was admitted to the Order, and I learned much from him. But he forsook Iramis and the loremasters to become an Alchemist, and I grieved for that. I grieved even more when he turned against us. And I am horrified to see the evils he has worked in the time since.” 

“What happened?” said Kylon. “Why did he turn against Iramis?” 

“Yes,” said Caina, giving Nasser a look. “What happened?” 

“Alas, I do not know,” said Nasser, his calm unwavering. “Had I known, there might have been a way to reason with him, to turn him from his path. But I never learned why he left Iramis and forsook the loremasters to become what he is now.” 

“You will have to fight, my lord emir,” said Annarah. “If Callatas is convinced of the rightness of his actions, nothing will change his mind. If you oppose him, he will become enraged and try to crush you. I fear you must be ready for a hard battle.”

Tanzir said nothing. Caina remembered the timid young man she had met in Malarae, the man who had been flustered at the thought of putting together a coherent sentence before the nobles of the Empire. The last few years had been hard ones, and they had changed Tanzir.

Of course, they had changed Caina, too.

“So be it,” said Tanzir. “We shall be ready.” 

“You will not be alone if it comes to a fight,” said Nasser. “Our mutual friends in the Kaltari Highlands will come at your call.” He glanced at Caina. “And I’m sure the Empire would prefer a friendly government in Istarinmul, rather than one actively working with the ambassador of the Umbarian Order.” 

“Yes,” said Caina. Actually, she wasn’t sure the Ghosts should be meddling in Istarinmul’s civil war at all, but Callatas had to be stopped. At least part of the reason for the civil war was Caina’s own actions. She had some responsibility for this, and she had to see it through to the end.

“Very well,” said Tanzir. “I assume you will want to leave for Istarinmul as soon as possible? My horsemen found and killed as many of the Immortals as they could, but some undoubtedly escaped. As soon as Callatas knows what happened here, he will send hunters for you.”

“We would, thank you,” said Nasser. “You have your part in the fight against Callatas, my lord emir, and we have ours. With Annarah’s help, we have a chance to launch a heavy blow against Callatas’s Apotheosis.” 

“The slaves,” said Caina. “You’ll give them work?”

“Of course,” said Tanzir, surprised. “Most of them were glad of the chance. A few departed to take their chances elsewhere. I won’t stop them.” He shrugged. “I suppose that ensures that the tale of the Inferno’s doom will spread from the Vale, but it cannot be helped, and even if it could, I would not kill innocent men and women to stop it from spreading.”

“Truly?” said Morgant. “An unusual attitude for an Istarish ruler.”

Tanzir shrugged again. “I am not my father. Or my brothers, for that matter.” He looked at Caina. “You would know, of all people.”

Caina grimaced. “I suppose so.”

“Why?” said Annarah. “Do you know the emir’s brother?”

Caina sighed.

“Our friend the Balarigar killed the emir’s brother,” said Morgant. “In front of thousands of his soldiers, too.” 

Annarah’s eyes widened. “Truly?”

“Do not trouble yourself,” said Tanzir. “He was quite a bad man.”

Annarah shook her head. “It seems every time someone mentions you, Ciaran, I hear another astonishing tale of your exploits.”

“Exaggerations and myths,” said Caina.

Nasser smiled. “Did I tell you how I first met Ciaran? He had stolen your pyrikon from the palace of a dead Master Alchemist and was fleeing from Immortals and Kindred assassins.” 

“You can amuse yourself by telling tales on the way back to Istarinmul,” said Caina. “It’s going to be a long journey and you’ll need something to do.”

Nasser laughed, and the discussion turned back to Tanzir’s gathering army. Caina listened with half an ear, lost in thought. It seemed that an Istarish civil war was coming, and she could do nothing to stop it.

Except, perhaps, one thing.

If she found the Staff and Seal of Iramis, if she killed Callatas himself, that would ensure his Apotheosis never came to pass. His supporters would lose their grip on power, and the reason for the civil war would pass.