Ghost in the Inferno (Ghost Exile #5) (40 page)

Which made it important they return to Istarinmul as soon as possible so Annarah could read her journal and recover the secret.

Chapter 22: Messages

The day they returned to Istarinmul, Caina checked in with Agabyzus and Damla and her other informants. Rumor of the events in the Vale of Fallen Stars had already reached the city, and Istarinmul buzzed with a dozen different accounts. Some said that the Shahenshah of Anshan had launched an invasion, and was even now marching to besiege Istarinmul. Others claimed that the Umbarian Order had destroyed the Inferno, or that the Lieutenant had challenged Callatas and been crushed for his rebellion. A few others whispered that the ancient spirits of the Kingdom of the Rising Sun had risen in wrath and thrown down the Inferno. 

They were closer to the truth than they knew. 

Other rumors spoke of how Erghulan and Callatas would respond. Some said that Erghulan Amirasku was assembling an army to march upon the southern emirs. Others claimed that Erghulan was only a puppet of the Brotherhood of Slavers, and that the Padishah would declare every man of the southern emirates a slave. Still others whispered that Callatas was preparing some deadly and dangerous sorcery to unleash upon his foes.

That, too, was closer to the truth than they knew. 

The day after that, Caina went to pay Nerina and Malcolm a visit.

Tomorrow she and Kylon would meet Nasser at his hideout at the sculpture works. He had hidden away Annarah’s journal so thoroughly that it would take him a day to recover the book from its hiding place. Once he did, Annarah would read the encoded journal, restoring her memory of where she had hidden the Staff and Seal of Iramis. 

Then they would know how to stop Callatas and his Apotheosis once and for all. 

But for the moment, Caina had the day free, so she dressed herself as a caravan guard and went to see how Nerina and Malcolm were doing. 

Azaces opened the door at her knock, limping heavily. His face still had a gray tinge, his eyes sunken, but he looked much better than he had on the slope below the Inferno. Annarah’s spell had not healed him, not precisely. His wounds should have killed him, yet Annarah’s power seemed to have held back his death and strengthened his body, allowing him to heal faster than he should have otherwise. 

“For a man who should be dead,” said Caina, “you are looking well.”

Azaces offered a brief smile, nodded, and pointed to her. 

“Thank you,” said Caina. “Given that we all probably should be dead, I suppose we are looking well.”

Azaces snorted. 

“Are Nerina and Malcolm in?” said Caina. “I would like to speak with them.”

Azaces led her up to the third floor to Nerina’s cluttered workshop. It had not changed since Caina’s last visit, with the same tables laden with tools and half-completed locks, the same blackboards covered with scrawled equations. Nerina herself stood at one of the tables, humming to herself as she worked upon a set of metal gears. She had the usual distant, focused expression she did while working, but this time it was different. She seemed…

Cana blinked.

She seemed happy. 

“Ciara!” said Nerina with a smile, straightening up. “It is good to see you. Malcolm should return within the next one to nine minutes. He went to speak with the owner of the building next door. With the money Nasser paid us for the last venture, we’re going to buy the building and Malcolm will set up shop as an armorer.”

“Locks and armor both?” said Caina. “It sounds like a lucrative venture.” 

“I calculate so,” said Nerina. She rocked back a little on her heels, still humming to herself. 

“You seem rather cheerful,” said Caina. 

“Yes, I am,” said Nerina. She smiled. “Seven hundred and seventy-eight.”

“I’m sorry?” said Caina.

“Last night,” said Nerina.

“Since some of us are not mathematical geniuses,” said Caina, “I do hope you will deign to explain.”

“Seven hundred and seventy-eight,” said Nerina, “is how many thrusts it took Malcolm to bring me to climax during…”

“No,” said Caina. “No. Stop. No. I am very happy for you, and I am glad that we found your husband, but that is a topic I absolutely refuse to discuss with you, Nerina Strake.”

“Oh,” said Nerina. “Yes, I forgot. Social mores.” She sighed. “They are difficult to remember, aren’t they? They simply do not map to proper mathematical models.” She smiled. “It…doesn’t seem very important right now, though.”

“A brush with death has a way of bringing things into focus,” said Caina. 

The door opened, and Caina turned, her hand moving towards her weapons. Malcolm strode into the room, wearing new clothes, boots and trousers and a shirt and vest in the style of Caeria Ulterior. With his beard shaved and his hair trimmed, Caina had to admit that he cleaned up nicely. A bit shorter than she would have preferred, true, but with his muscular build Caina understood Nerina’s attraction to him. 

“Husband,” said Nerina.

Malcolm smiled, gave his wife a quick kiss, and turned, his arm around Nerina’s waist. “Master Ciaran. It is good to see you again.” He frowned. “Or is it Mistress Ciara? I am still unclear if you are a man pretending to be a woman or a woman pretending to a man.”

“What do you think?” said Caina.

“You are obviously a man,” said Malcolm.

Nerina laughed. “She’s not, husband.”

“Truly?” said Malcolm. “I would never have guessed otherwise.” He scrutinized Caina, blinking. “No, I do not see it at all. I was quite certain you were a short man with a slight frame. You have narrow hips, so I imagine childbirth would prove a challenge…”

“Malcolm,” said Nerina, sticking her elbow into his side. “Social mores.”

“What? Oh, right,” said Malcolm. “Do forgive me. Social mores require so much lying.” 

Caina laughed. “You two. You really are suited for each other, aren’t you? It is not something one often sees. Anyway, I came here to see if you needed any documents forged. If you are supposed to be dead or imprisoned in the Inferno, it might be a good idea to fake an identity. Especially if the Brotherhood kept a record of your sale to Rolukhan. I happen to know a very good forger.” 

She would be amused to see Moryzai’s reaction to the destruction of the Inferno. 

“That will be useful,” said Malcolm. “Thank you. Also, I wish to inform you that I am joining the Ghosts as well.”

“Just like that?” said Caina. 

“My wife is already a Ghost, and it seems inappropriate to keep secrets from each other,” said Malcolm. “Additionally, you did free me and the others from the Inferno. Finally, Nerina has told me of some the things she had seen, and it is clear that Callatas plans something that all men of good conscience must oppose. You shall have my help, however I can provide it.”

“Thank you,” said Caina. “You are aware you shall have to follow my commands? And that this may involve a considerable amount of danger?”

Malcolm shrugged. “I spent years in the Inferno, and then I saw it destroyed by an army of corpses and an explosion of Hellfire. My sense of danger has been dulled. I would recommend that you avoid entrusting me with any unnecessary secrets, though. I am unable to lie when necessary.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Caina. “Thank you, Malcolm. I shall be glad of your help, and Nerina has already helped me a great deal.”

“No,” said Malcolm, his arm tightening around Nerina. “Thank you.” 

Caina looked at them, an odd pang going through her, and came to a decision. 

Maybe it was a decision she should have come to some time ago. 

“I have to take care of something tonight,” said Caina. “I’ll be back with the forged documents when they’re ready. If something comes up, Nerina knows how to get into contact with me.”

“Of course,” said Malcolm. 

“Be careful,” said Nerina.

“Why start now?” said Caina, and she headed back down the stairs to the front door, Azaces following her. She reached for the handle, and Azaces tapped her shoulder. Caina turned, and Azaces held out a folded piece of paper.

“What’s this?” said Caina. 

Azaces handed her the paper. Caina shrugged and opened the note, seeing lines of precise characters on the sheet. 

It was Annarah’s handwriting.

“Ciara,” said the note. “I have asked Mistress Annarah to use her spell one final time, so that she might write this for me. I wish to thank you for saving my life in the Inferno. Master Malcolm and the others would have been within their rights to kill me, and I would not have blamed them. Thank you. Like Mistress Strake, I am a Ghost, and I am yours to command. Though I will also fulfill my debt by guarding Mistress Strake and Master Malcolm.” 

Caina blinked several times, closed the note, and met Azaces’s gaze. 

“You saved our lives too, you know,” she said. “If you hadn’t found that amphora of Hellfire, Rolukhan and the Immortals would have killed us all. Thank you.”

Azaces nodded once. 

“The Ghosts are glad to have you,” said Caina. She handed him the note. “Now go and burn this. If you’re going to be a spy, you have to learn not to leave a paper trail.”

Azaces snorted, nodded again, and went to burn the note.

###

Her mind made up, Caina retreated to her room in the House of Agabyzus to prepare herself. 

She bathed herself properly for the first time in weeks, and put on a bit of perfume. Her hair was still too short for her to really do anything with it, so it was just as well she had to wear a headscarf. Then she chose a blue dress with black trim. Unlike most of the clothes in her various safe houses, it was neither too loose nor dusty, and it fit her just right. 

If anything, it was too tight. 

That was all right.

She applied her makeup carefully, reddening her lips and cheeks, lining her eyes to make them look larger. Silver earrings went in her ears, and a matching necklace around her neck. Caina wished the dress had a lower neckline, but the Istarish were more conservative in their dress than the people of the Empire or New Kyre. When Caina finished, she stepped back, examined herself in the mirror, and nodded. 

Kylon was staying at one of the more respectable inns within the Old Quarter, disguised as a Kyracian merchant. Caina would go to the inn, and she would find an excuse to go someplace alone with him. 

And then…

And then she would see what happened. Perhaps nothing. Maybe they would simply talk and share a meal, and that would be that. 

Caina was pretty sure that would not be the only thing that happened if they were alone together. 

She put down her hairbrush, her hand trembling a little, partly from fear, partly from excitement. Perhaps this was folly, but she did not care. There would be dark days ahead, she knew, full of pain and loss. Right now, though…right now she wanted to go to Kylon.

She wanted that very badly, and she thought he felt the same way.

There was only one way to find out. 

Caina took a deep breath, checked her reflection one more time, and donned a pair of high-heeled sandals. It would be unpleasant to walk in the damned things, but it was not far to the inn in the Old Quarter. She slipped out of her room, went down the back stairs of the House of Agabyzus, and pushed open the door to the old courtyard behind the coffee house. The fountain with its entrance to the Sanctuary of the Ghosts remained unchanged. The courtyard was deserted, and she stepped out, closing the door behind her.

She turned as she did so…and froze in alarm as a gleam of metal caught her eye.

A curved, slender knife lay upon the ground a few paces away. The blade was smooth and unmarked, its edge razor-sharp, and it was identical to the ones that she had found earlier. Caina had come in through this door an hour ago, and she had been certain, absolutely certain, that the knife had not been there then. 

An icy flutter of fear settled in her stomach. 

She looked around the courtyard. There was no sign of anyone. No trace of anyone watching from the rooftops. For that matter, there were no footprints in the hard-packed earth of the courtyard. It was as if the damned knife had appeared out of nowhere. 

It hadn’t, though.

Someone was following her. Someone had followed her through Istarinmul, even to Korundush in the Vale of Fallen Stars. The knives were a message, and Caina was certain it was not a friendly one.

She picked up the knife and looked down at herself as she did so, at the dress and jewelry and high-heeled sandals, and suddenly felt like an enormous fool. 

What the hell was she thinking?

Dark days were indeed coming, and they were aimed right at her. The most powerful men in Istarinmul wanted her dead. Sooner or later they would catch up to her. When that happened she was going to die.

Along with anyone around her. Anyone close to her.

She remembered Kotuluk Iblis’s horrible voice thundering inside her head, the nagataaru prince’s utter certainty that Caina would die in defeat and despair. 

What would happen to Kylon if she was too close to him when her enemies caught up with her?

Caina closed her eyes, let out a long breath. 

She went back to her room in the House of Agabyzus and spent the night alone.

Perhaps that was for the best.

Chapter 23: Does The World Deserve To Die?

Morgant sat at his usual place in Nasser’s room, his feet propped on Nasser’s table as he ate Nasser’s food and sipped at Nasser’s wine. Despite what he had told Kylon, Morgant did sometimes drink coffee, just to be polite. 

It amused him not to be polite around the last Prince of Iramis. 

“There is no need to provoke him so,” said Annarah.

Morgant lifted an eyebrow. Annarah sat at the other end of the table, wearing an unremarkable tan dress and headscarf. It had taken every scrap of Morgant’s considerable persuasive powers to get her to lay aside the white robes of a loremaster. Otherwise she would have proclaimed herself openly and walked the streets, healing diseases and tending the wraithblood addicts. 

Given that this morning the Grand Wazir had published a bounty of a million bezants upon the head of the outlaw sorceress Annarah who falsely claimed the title of loremaster of Iramis, that would have been an extraordinarily bad idea. So far Morgant had managed to convince Annarah to limit herself to volunteering at one of the hospitals the Sisterhood of the Living Flame. He really had to convince Annarah to dye that distinctive platinum hair of hers, though.