Ghost in the Pact (17 page)

“If you say so. Thank you,” said Caina.

They lapsed into silence, watching the
Sandstorm
cut its way through the waves. Caina wondered what it would have been like to have a child, to carry Kylon’s child within her. 

She would never know.

At the moment, she would settle for simply seeing Kylon alive again.

###

That night Caina lay in her bunk and dreamed.

It was a dream she had experienced before.

The knocking thundered through her head. 

Caina turned, skirt swirling around her ankles.

She stood in the House of Kularus, the coffee house she had owned in the Imperial capital of Malarae. Tables and chairs stood scattered around the main floor, while five levels of balconies climbed the walls, offering booths where patrons could converse in private. The air smelled of roasting coffee and baking bread. Of course, since this was not the real House of Kularus and her dream, bookshelves lined the walls, holding the books from her father’s library that Maglarion’s men had burned so long ago. 

This place somehow represented her mind. After she had become a valikarion, spirits could no longer access her sleeping mind. Given how often that had happened in the past, it was something of a relief. Yet sometimes spirits still wished to speak with her, but they needed an invitation to enter.

Hence the knocking.

Caina crossed the floor, her high-heeled boots clicking against the polished marble, and looked down at herself. She wore the blue gown with black trim that she had worn on the day she had spoken with Kylon in Catekharon, low-cut and close-fitting, jewels glinting upon her fingers and in her ears. She wasn’t sure why she always wore this dress in these dreams, and knew that with an effort of will she could have changed her appearance. 

But there was no reason. She liked this dress.

Caina reached the double doors and pulled them open. 

Outside she should have seen the Imperial Market, the richest and most prestigious market in Malarae and possible the Empire. Instead she saw the bleak, dead plain of the Desert of Candles, the low wind moaning past the blue-glowing crystalline pillars that gave the desert its name. In the distance she saw the dry fountain of white stone with its crystalline statues – the mortal remains of Nasser’s wife and children. They had died long ago, but Nasser lingered on, his crystalline hand keeping him from dying. 

Samnirdamnus, djinni of the Court of the Azure Sovereign and the Knight of Wind and Air, stood outside the doors. 

As he often did, the spirit wore the form of the Emperor Alexius Naerius, a thin, white-bearded old man in a black robe of office. His eyes burned with the smokeless flame of the djinn, and a sardonic smile played on his bearded lips. The Emperor had never smirked like that. 

“Samnirdamnus,” said Caina. 

“My darling demonslayer,” said Samnirdamnus. “I do hope you can spare a moment to chat with me. Quality conversation is such a rarity in this barren age.” 

Caina stared at him. She still did not know quite what to make of the spirit. Certainly Samnirdamnus was not her enemy. He had gone to great lengths to manipulate Caina and Morgant and Kylon so Kylon would have a chance to save Caina’s life at Rumarah. Samnirdamnus had appeared in Caina’s dreams during her first night in Istarinmul, and he had given her cryptic advice ever since. At first Caina thought he was plotting to free himself from Callatas, to escape from the binding that compelled him to watch over the Maze. That was part of it, surely, but she had also learned that the djinn of the Court of the Azure Sovereign were the ancient enemies of the nagataaru, and that Samnirdamnus’s title of the Knight of Wind and Air meant he was something like a spy or a shadow agent for the Azure Sovereign. 

Which meant his aid to Caina was part of a larger plan. 

“Have you decided,” said Caina, “if I am the one you have been looking for?”

“Almost,” said Samnirdamnus. “I will know very soon.” 

“What do you want to talk about, then?” said Caina. 

“Why,” said Samnirdamnus, “interesting things.” 

She stared at him for another moment, and then nodded. “All right. Come inside and we’ll talk.” 

Caina turned and walked to a nearby table, Samnirdamnus following her. A pitcher of coffee and a pair of cups appeared on the table. As Samnirdamnus seated himself, Caina poured the coffee and passed him one of the cups. 

“You know those are imaginary,” said Caina, sitting down and taking a sip. It tasted exactly like the coffee Damla served at the House of Agabyzus. 

“Just because something is imaginary,” said Samnirdamnus, “does not mean it is not real.”

“I believe that is the definition of unreal,” said Caina. 

Imaginary or not, she took another sip of the coffee. 

“You asked,” said Samnirdamnus, “if you are the one I have been looking for. I am almost certain that you are. You see, I have been looking for you, or for someone like you, for a very long time now. And the moment is almost at hand.” 

“What moment?” said Caina. 

“The moment of final crisis,” said Samnirdamnus. “When all of Callatas’s plans come to fruition and this world dies, or he is stopped and this world lives. One or the other. If the world is indeed a tapestry of destiny threads, then every thread is warping itself around the decisions that you, Callatas, and a few others shall make in the immediate future.” 

“I see,” said Caina, chilled despite the warmth of the coffee. She knew she played a game with deadly stakes…and it seemed the end of the game was at hand.

One way or another.

“I shall know if you are the one I have been looking for,” said Samnirdamnus, “if you survive the coming conflict.”

“What conflict is that?” said Caina. 

“The conflict between the lords of the nagataaru,” said Samnirdamnus. 

“I don’t understand,” said Caina. “The nagataaru are fighting amongst themselves?” 

“Constantly,” said Samnirdamnus, glancing towards the ceiling. “It’s rather like watching a bucket of serpents. But how to explain in terms you understand? The sovereign of the nagataaru, the creature you know as Kotuluk Iblis…”

“We’ve met,” said Caina. Kotuluk Iblis had prophesied her certain doom. The prophecy had come true in Rumarah, though Kylon had cheated fate and saved her.

“Indeed,” said Samnirdamnus with sardonic amusement. “Kotuluk Iblis cares nothing for methods, only results. When he desires to accomplish something, he gives the task to several of the great lords of the nagataaru. They all loathe each other, of course, and scramble to fulfill their sovereign’s bidding. Sometimes they are at odds with each other, for they know that their sovereign gives great rewards to the successful.” 

“Fine,” said Caina. “What does this have to do with Callatas?”

“The nagataaru inhabiting the Great Necromancer,” said Samnirdamnus. “Do you chance to recall its name?”

“The nagataaru don’t have names as mortals do,” said Caina, “but Kharnaces called it the Harbinger.” 

“The Harbinger is one such lord of the nagataaru,” said Samnirdamnus. “The nagataaru known to you as the Voice is another.” 

Caina shuddered a little. “Kalgri’s nagataaru.” 

“Precisely,” said Samnirdamnus. “Kotuluk Iblis has had his eye upon this world for a very long time. He set his vassals to the task of finding a way for the nagataaru to devour this world. The Harbinger and the Voice proposed different plans, and the Harbinger’s plan gained the favor of Kotuluk Iblis.” 

“Hence Kharnaces,” said Caina. 

“The Harbinger entered his flesh and planned to use him as an instrument to open the way for the nagataaru,” said Samnirdamnus.

“Except the plan didn’t work, did it?” said Caina. “Kharnaces was imprisoned on Pyramid Isle.”

“And for such a long time, too,” said Samnirdamnus. “The Voice was subtler. It recognized that so long as Iramis stood, the loremasters and the valikarion would stop any attempt to enter your world. So the Voice and Kotuluk Iblis found different tools to carry out their plans.”

“Kalgri and Callatas,” said Caina. “Does that mean Kotuluk Iblis himself has possessed Callatas?”

“In a sense,” said Samnirdamnus. “No mortal vessel could contain the power of Kotuluk Iblis. Rather his shadow filled Callatas, and provides him with considerable power. The Voice inhabits the Huntress, and uses her to dispose of obstacles to its plan. It is quite vexed with you, as I understand.”

“Good,” said Caina. “So…what’s happening now…”

“Is the final resolution of the conflict between the Voice and the Harbinger,” said Samnirdamnus. “If Kharnaces is successful, he will fulfill the Harbinger’s plan to dissolve the barrier separating your world from the netherworld, and the nagataaru shall devour your world. If the Voice is successful, Callatas will return to Istarinmul and work the Apotheosis, summoning tens of thousands of nagataaru to inhabit the wraithblood addicts. The nagataaru-possessed mortals shall rampage and slaughter, and the nagataaru will devour this world. Either way, the nagataaru will devour the world. The Harbinger’s plan is quicker, the Voice’s slower. Yet the nagataaru are eternal, and a few years mean nothing to them.”

“No,” said Caina. 

“You disagree?” said Samnirdamnus. 

“No,” said Caina. “Neither plan will succeed. We will kill Callatas, retrieve the relics, and stop Kharnaces from taking Callatas’s blood.” A hard anger blazed in her. If the nagataaru thought to devour the world like a farmer slaughtering his cattle, they would learn otherwise. 

“Ah,” said Samnirdamnus. “The wrath of the Balarigar, lit anew. It is such a remarkable sight. That wrath has changed the course of the world more than once.” He looked at the ceiling again. “Our time grows short. Before I depart, permit me one word of advice.”

“Just one?” said Caina. “Have you learned brevity at last?”

Samnirdamnus laughed. “Trophies.”

“Trophies?” said Caina. 

“Consider the trophies of the Great Necromancer,” said Samnirdamnus.

“I don’t understand,” said Caina. 

“A weakness of Kharnaces,” said Samnirdamnus. “He liked the collect trophies. You recall that the Inferno was once his stronghold? You walked through his hall of trophies, the relics he had collected from his defeated foes.”

“The wedjet-dahn,” said Caina. 

“One such relic saved your life,” said Samnirdamnus. “Perhaps you ought to consider his other trophies.” He glanced at the ceiling again. “Do sleep well, my darling demonslayer. I very strongly suspect we shall meet again soon.”

The dream dissolved into nothingness. 

###

Caina blinked awake in the darkness of the cramped cabin. Faint starlight leaked through the shuttered porthole, and she heard the gentle snoring of Annarah in the other bunk. 

An alarming thought occurred to Caina. 

Had she made a fatal mistake?

She had assumed that Callatas would send Kalgri after Sulaman and Tanzir. But what if Caina had been wrong? What if the Voice influenced Kalgri to accompany him to Pyramid Isle, to help Callatas fight against Kharnaces and the Harbinger? 

If Kalgri was on Pyramid Isle, then Caina had no valikon to use against her.

Chapter 10: The Master Alchemist

Kylon rode with Strabane and forty Kaltari warriors, heading deep into the rugged hills of the Kaltari Highlands.

The Kaltari warriors were displeased about having to ride, but Strabane insisted. The raiders Erghulan and Rhataban had sent into the Highlands were mounted, and even in the hilly terrain, horses made better time than men. The Kaltari preferred to fight on their own feet, and would dismount to fight any foes.

“We’ll cut through the valley,” said Strabane, gesturing at the rocky hills and their patchy coats of short pine trees. “The Emissary will come down the main road that passes near Drynemet. She ought to be no more than a day to the south. If we ride fast enough, we ought to intercept her before any troublemakers find her.”

“Or,” said Kylon, “we’ll find the troublemakers before they find her.”

Strabane grunted. “All the better. Saves us the bother of having to kill the bastards later. Ride!”

His men, despite their obvious lack of enthusiasm for their borrowed mounts, obeyed. They rode for the rest of the day, until the sun finally vanished over the hills to the west and it was too dark to see. Kylon slept until Strabane roused the company before dawn, and they returned to their saddles as the sky brightened to the east. 

“The Emissary,” said Kylon, riding alongside Strabane. “Does she truly wield such influence?”

“Aye,” said Strabane. “I suppose you don’t worship the Living Flame.”

“No,” said Kylon. “The gods of storm and sea, the ancient gods of the Kyracian people.”

Strabane grunted. “I reckon that’s proper. A man ought to follow the gods of his people. Though we Kaltari abandoned our old gods for the Living Flame, so I can’t lecture. But the Emissary has great influence. She rarely intervenes in politics or other practical matters, not unless she’s invited, but when she does, people listen. For her to leave Silent Ash Temple is…”

“Unprecedented,” said Kylon.

“That’s a good word,” said Strabane. “We live in unprecedented times.” He glanced at Kylon. “You think this is a waste of effort?”

Kylon shrugged. “To be blunt, I’m surprised you came yourself. I didn’t think you a pious man. But if the Emissary wields as much influence as you say, then it is worth the effort.” 

“Do the Kyracians have an oracle like the Emissary?” said Strabane. “Lord Tanzir mentioned something about a Flood or a Flow or something…”

“The Surge,” said Kylon. “The oracle of the Kyracian people. She sees the storm of the world, and issues prophecies and decrees, much like the Emissary.” 

Strabane grunted. “Seems like you’ve got a grudge against her.” 

Kylon said nothing, thinking of the warning the Surge had given him about the nagataaru. The Surge had given him the warning, and the ability to sense the nagataaru…but she had not warned him about the Huntress. She had given him no warning that a nightmare like the Red Huntress was about to descend upon the Tower of Kardamnos.