Ghost in the Storm (The Ghosts) (12 page)

Sicarion smiled. "Appearances can be deceiving."

For the first time a hint of irritation appeared on Andromache's face. "Do not play word games with me. I have studied at the Moroaica's feet, and that is not her."

###

Caina managed to keep her astonishment hidden.

Sicarion thought she was the Moroaica? Had Sicarion's necromantic self-mutilation driven him mad? Caina looked nothing like Jadriga. Caina had no sorcerous ability whatsoever, thank the gods. Why would Sicarion mistake her for Jadriga?

Unless...

A disturbing thought occurred to Caina.

She had killed Jadriga. And Jadriga had been inside of her mind at the time, trying to twist Caina into her willing disciple. What if Jadriga's death had left an imprint upon Caina’s mind? A mark that would lead Sicarion to misidentify her as the Moroaica? She did not look like Jadriga, true, but a sorceress of Jadriga’s power could have altered her appearance with ease. 

Another disturbing thought occurred to Caina.

Sicarion claimed to serve a mistress. Had that been Jadriga? That would explain where he had learned the necromancy that allowed him to claim a severed hand as his own. Yet he was reporting to this stormsinger. And that meant...

Caina forced her expression to remain calm.

That meant the stormsinger was one of Jadriga's disciples. Caina had fought some of Jadriga's students in the vaults below Black Angel Tower. But Agria Palaegus and her friends had been vain noblewomen, more interested in eternal youth and beauty than sorcerous secrets. But this stormsinger was obviously a sorceress of power, and if Jadriga's necromantic teachings had enhanced that arcane strength...

Caina was in trouble. 

###

Kylon sensed Andromache’s anger.

"That is the Moroaica," said Sicarion. "She doesn't know it yet, but she is."

"You are mistaken," said Andromache, her voice glassy smooth. "Dispose of this woman, and then locate the Moroaica. I came to Marsis to find the Moroaica and receive what she promised me." 

Sicarion shook his head. "I will not lift my hand against my mistress. She would remember."

"Then," said Andromache, "I will do it myself." She gestured, and Kylon felt her arcane force.

He grabbed her arm. "Wait."

"Yes, Kylon?" said Andromache, annoyed. 

"There is something...odd about her," said Kylon. "She has been marked by potent sorcery." He hesitated, remembering the bits and pieces his sister had told him about the “Moroaica.” What sort of woman claimed to be an ancient horror out of Szaldic legend? "Perhaps this is a test of some sort?"

Andromache's expression did not change, but Kylon knew her well enough to see the faint hint of chagrin in her eyes.

Slowly, she lowered her hand. 

###

Caina kept her face calm.

Somehow, both Sicarion and Kylon had convinced themselves that Caina was really Jadriga. But what had Kylon meant by a test? Had Jadriga presented tests to her students often? And if the stormsinger assumed that this was a test of some kind, then Caina could use that to her advantage.

Though if she made one mistake, the stormsinger would kill her.

"A test," said the woman.

"A test," said Caina in Kyracian, doing her best to imitate Jadriga's cold tones. "Is not life itself a test, in the end?" 

"You do not know what your own teacher looks like, honored Archon?" said Rezir, scowling at Caina. 

"I know what the Moroaica looks like," said the stormsinger, the Archon. "Yet she can change her form."

"And flesh," said Sicarion with a yellow grin, "is only a passing thing."

"Devils of the dry wastes, Andromache," hissed Rezir, his anger plain. So that was the stormsinger's name. "This is a battle, not a school. We do not have time to dally with such foolish..."

"Silence," said Andromache. "Remember our bargain, my lord emir. I care nothing for the city, only for what it contains. Stay true to our pact, and you shall have wealth and power beyond your wildest dreams. But I will have what I came to claim." 

Kylon frowned, just for a moment.

"As you say, honored Archon," said Rezir, though his scowl did not fade. 

"And you, child," Caina said to Rezir, still imitating Jadriga’s imperious manner. "You would do well to listen to those wiser than yourself. For a fool may see wisdom and think it only foolishness."

The older stormdancer snickered, and thunderous fury passed over Rezir's face. His hands tightened on the reins of his horse, the green bloodcrystal flashing in his black ring. 

"Release her," said Andromache.

The mercenaries let go of Caina's arms. She stepped forward, ignoring them as Jadriga would have. For a moment she considered bolting, but dismissed the idea. Andromache would simply blast her dead. Or the stormsingers would use their supernatural speed to run her down. Rezir's eyes narrowed, and Caina gazed at him, her face blank and icy, until he looked away.

That convinced Andromache.

"Honored Moroaica," she said, bowing from the waist. "Forgive my lack of vision. I should have realized the truth sooner."

"Fear not, Andromache, Archon of New Kyre," said Caina, her heart hammering in her temples. If she was going to escape from this, she would have to talk her way free. "I expect I look rather different."

"Truly," said Andromache. "May I ask why you changed your form?"

Caina shrugged. "Some of my enemies found me. This woman tried to slay me. I slew her instead, and it pleased me to take her form."

"The Ghosts," said Andromache, and Caina cursed herself. She had given too much away. "I warned you that Naelon Icaraeus was an incautious fool."

"You showed wisdom," said Caina. "Alas, he was a fool. And he has paid for it with his life. Still," she gave an indifferent glance to Rezir, "one works with the tools that are at hand."

Rezir's eyes narrowed. The insult had not gone over his head. 

"Now," said Caina, "you have done as I asked, I trust?"

###

Kylon watched the woman who claimed to be the Moroaica.

He was not convinced. He had never seen the mysterious woman who visited the Tower of Kardamnos from time to time. Yet he had observed how Andromache's powers had blossomed under the Moroaica's tutelage, until she was the most powerful stormsinger in New Kyre. Kylon doubted the "Moroaica" was actually the Szaldic legend of old, but she was unquestionably a sorceress of overmastering power.

He doubted that such a sorceress would disguise herself as a ragged, bloodstained Istarish footman. 

And he doubted that a sorceress of power would have so much tension in her emotional aura. Yet tension charged her sense, like a man in the midst of performing a demanding and potentially lethal task. 

Whoever this woman was, she believed herself in mortal danger. 

###

"I have done as you asked," said Andromache, gesturing at the Great Market. "An army, brought to Marsis. The city will be taken, soon enough."

"And I shall receive it," said Rezir, voice sharp, "as you promised."

"And the ships of New Kyre will come and go freely," said the older stormdancer, voice sharp. 

The younger stormdancer, Kylon, said nothing. Yet his eyes did not move from Caina, and his suspicious expression did not change. 

"The Moroaica keeps her word," said Caina. Sicarion's mercenaries had not bothered to take her weapons. If she struck quickly, she might be able to kill Kylon before he reacted.

Only to have the older stormdancer cut her down, or to have Andromache call her lightning. 

"You shall have what I promised...if you do as I have asked you,” said Caina.

Yet what had the Moroaica promised? If Jadriga had succeeded in freeing the fallen angels below Black Angel Tower, she would have killed every living thing in Marsis. Yet Rezir’s invasion must have been planned for months, even years. Why would Jadriga ask Andromache to bring an army to a dead city? 

"As you can see," said Andromache, "I have done as you wished, honored Moroaica." 

"Good," said Caina. "When will you have the city?" 

"Soon," said Rezir. "The Archon's feints worked, and lured the Twentieth and Twenty-First Legions out of Marsis. Only the Nineteenth is left to hold the city, and I have destroyed most of it. Lord Corbould Maraeus is missing, either wounded or slain. Soon my forces will seize the Plaza of the Tower, and I can secure the city's gates. After that we can hold Marsis from the Legions and seize the Citadel for ourselves."

A simple plan. And one that would most likely work.

"You have fought well, Rezir Shahan of Istarinmul," said Caina. She needed more information. "Tell me. Have you a plan for dealing with Marsis's magi? They will prove formidable."

A frown passed over Andromache's serene face. "I shall deal with them myself, honored Moroaica. You always said the Imperial Magisterium was filled with weaklings and fools, children playing at sorcery." 

"And so they are," said Caina, trying to recover. "I do not want you to falter, daughter. Not when you are so near to the prize." 

"And the prize," said Andromache. "I have done all you asked of me. I ask of you the boon you promised me. Where is the Tomb of Scorikhon?" 

Caina had no idea.

She didn't recognize the name, though it did sound Maatish. Millennia ago, the Maatish Kingdom of the Rising Sun had ruled much of the southern world with an iron fist, its sorcerer-priests, the Great Necromancers, wielding necromancy unequalled in the modern era. But the Kingdom of the Rising Sun had collapsed long ago, though Jadriga claimed to have been a student of a Great Necromancer. 

And, if Caina remembered correctly, a group of necromancers from Maat had fled to Black Angel Tower, to what would become Marsis, until the Kyracians wiped them out. 

"The Tomb," said Andromache, voice urgent. “Will you not tell me where it is?" 

Caina tried to think of an answer.

###

Kylon watched the "Moroaica." 

Her face displayed not the slightest flicker of fear, only cold arrogance and some amusement. Yet the tension within her grew tighter and tighter.

And when Andromache mentioned the Tomb of Scorikhon, puzzlement flashed through the woman's aura.

She had absolutely no idea where to find the Tomb, or even what it was.

###

"I will lead you to the Tomb, daughter," said Caina, her mind racing. "Accompany me, and..."

"She doesn't know," said Kylon. 

Dead silence answered his pronouncement. 

"What?" said Andromache. 

“Her emotional sense,” said Kylon. That explained the unpleasant low-level tingling Caina felt. She would know if Kylon tried to break into her mind – she had experienced it before – but if he had a spell that let him passively observe her emotions, she could not block it. “She has never heard the name Scorikhon before, I am certain of it. Nor does she know of the Tomb.” 

Andromache stared at Caina for a moment, face blank.

Then she lifted and hissed a spell.

A gust of wind sprang up from nowhere, tugging at Caina’s bloody clothes and sweat-tangled hair. She stumbled, caught her balance, and started to speak. 

“These games,” she said, “will bring you no closer to…”

“Silence,” said Andromache. “That was a simple spell, easily blocked. It would not have affected the Moroaica. You failed, Sicarion. Or you were duped.”

Sicarion frowned. “This is the Moroaica, I …”

“Enough,” said Andromache, and her gaze returned to Caina. “So, imposter. Who are you?”

“Anything she tells you,” said Kylon, “will almost certainly be a lie.”

“I don’t know what any of this is about,” said Caina, which was mostly true. “I’m only a merchant’s daughter. I was walking in the Market when you attacked. I ran for my life, and an Istarish soldier almost killed me. I managed to trick him and kill him, and I took his clothes and armor. I was trying to get out of the city when this fellow,” she jerked her head at Sicarion, “claimed I was the Moroaica, and grabbed me.” 

“Is she lying?” said Andromache.

Kylon titled his head. “I…am uncertain, sister. She believes what she is saying is true. I suspect it is only partly true, or an incomplete version of what happened.”

“Very well,” said Andromache. “Tell me this, imposter. Why would Sicarion mistake you for the Moroaica?” 

Caina hesitated, and decided to gamble.

“Because I killed her,” she answered.

Sicarion grinned, as if having a private suspicion confirmed. 

“You…killed her?” said Andromache, frowning. “That is not possible. The Moroaica was a sorceress of tremendous strength. One lone woman without arcane skill could not have slain her.”