Ghost in the Throne (Ghost Exile #7) (17 page)

“So make the circle twice as big and it takes four times as much arcane power,” said Martin.

Claudia nodded. “That’s right. Four times as big, and it takes sixteen times as much sorcerous power to function. For a circle this big…if Cassander possessed that kind of power, he would have become the High Provost and conquered the entire Empire by now. He wouldn’t need to bother with Istarinmul.” 

“Could he have used the circle in the casting of some other spell?” said Agabyzus.

“Probably,” said Claudia. “But the same problems would apply. A circle of that size would require staggering amounts of sorcerous power. It would be like the day of the golden dead all over again.” 

“It is likely that Cassander knows something that we do not,” said Martin. “Before the day of the golden dead, most of the nobles of the Empire and the brothers of the Magisterium assumed that the arcane sciences of pyromancy and necromancy and others had been lost. Then the Umbarian Order emerged from the shadows, and we were proven wrong.”

“We would be fools to assume otherwise,” said Claudia.

“May I ask a question, my lord?” said Agabyzus.

“By all means,” said Martin. “Please, speak freely. We are entering unknown dangers, and we need counsel.”

“What exactly happened when Cassander met with the Grand Wazir?” said Agabyzus.

“Cassander said that he had slain Caina Amalas,” said Martin. “He offered both the shadow-cloak and the ghostsilver dagger as proof, and demanded that Erghulan open the Straits to the Umbarian fleet. When Erghulan refused, Cassander insulted both him and the Grand Master, so severely that Erghulan expelled the Umbarian embassy from the city. “

“He seemed…pleased,” said Claudia. “As if he expected that Callatas would renege on their deal.” 

“As if he had planned for it,” said Martin.

Agabyzus nodded. “My lord, my lady, I believe this is Cassander’s plan.” He gestured at the table. “We just do not know what it is.”

“It will be something to force open the Starfall Straits,” said Martin. “That was Cassander’s entire reason for coming to Istarinmul.”  

“And it will have to be soon,” said Claudia. “He only has a week to do it.” She looked at Martin. “Could you go to Erghulan, warn him of this?”

Martin hesitated, and then shook his head. “I doubt it. Cassander might have made an ass of himself, but Erghulan and Callatas know that the Order shall send another Lord Ambassador. The Grand Wazir will think I am just angling for an advantage. He will do nothing without proof.”

“Then let us find proof,” said Claudia, gesturing at Agabyzus’s papers. “If we can find something in here that proves he intends to harm Istarinmul, that will force Erghulan to act.”

Agabyzus shook his head. “This alone is not enough. If pressed, Cassander will claim some innocuous reason for purchasing these houses. Gifts to bestow upon his followers, perhaps. Yet the houses themselves may contain the evidence we need.”

“You suggest we break in and look around?” said Martin. 

“Yes. An opportunity to do so has presented itself,” said Agabyzus. “Do you know the name Fariz Terdagan?” 

“It is familiar,” said Martin. “A minor emir, I believe?” 

“He holds some small lands south of Rumarah, near the border with the Alqaarin sultanates,” said Agabyzus. “He has been a loyal supporter of Erghulan for many years, but lately has grown disenchanted with the Grand Wazir’s leadership.”

“An awakening of conscience?” said Claudia. 

Agabyzus offered a thin smile. “An awakening of avarice, let us say. The emir Fariz feels that Erghulan has not appreciated his years of loyal support. Lord Cassander, by contrast, has been most appreciative…and quite liberal with gifts of coin.” 

“A traitor, then,” said Martin.

“I suspect the emir Fariz thinks of himself as a friend of the Umbarians,” said Agabyzus. “Before he left the city, Cassander gave Fariz a gift of money, and Fariz used it to purchase himself once of the smaller palaces in the Emirs’ Quarter. He just moved in this week, and the palace is undergoing extensive remodeling.” 

He tapped the map. The palace was in the northeastern portion of the Emirs’ Quarter, which would make it part of Cassander’s giant circle. Whatever Cassander was planning, Fariz Terdagan’s new residence was likely part of it.  

“Then you suggest,” said Martin, “that we infiltrate the palace, perhaps disguised as masons or carpenters, and learn what we might.”

“I will undertake this task, my lord,” said Agabyzus. “I have some practice at disguise. In addition, there are many people with talents of questionable legality who owe the circlemaster favors. She entrusted me with their contact information before she died, and I think it is time to call in those favors.”

“Very good,” said Martin. “Proceed, and return to me as soon as you know more.” He hesitated. “And if you need more…direct methods, let me know. If necessary, I will take my Imperial Guards and seize the palace.” 

Claudia frowned. “Won’t that enrage Erghulan?”

“It will,” said Martin, “but he will forgive us if we find proof of what Cassander plans. The matter is too grave for half-measures, my wife. If Cassander succeeds, the Empire will fall, and he will kill thousands of people in Istarinmul in the process.”

Agabyzus bowed and began gathering up his papers. “I will return as soon as I know more.”

“One question, though,” said Martin. “You are Istarish.”

“I am, my lord,” said Agabyzus, tucking away his documents.

“Why are you a Ghost, then?” said Martin. 

“Because I fear for my countrymen,” said Agabyzus. “I started upon this path because my brother was a Ghost, as our father had been before him. Later, as Nahas Tarshahzon’s health declined and ambitious men did as they pleased, only the Ghosts stood up to them. And I have seen the interior of a wraithblood laboratory, my lord. Callatas shall spread the evils of his wraithblood laboratories across all of Istarinmul, maybe even all of the world. That is why I remain a Ghost. No one else is fighting Callatas. No one else even knows. The Teskilati, the emirs…all those who should have been defending the Istarish people instead serve Callatas. Only the circlemaster opposed him, and now she has been slain. So we must carry on her work in her stead.” 

“Very well,” said Martin. “Good fortune, Agabyzus.” 

“If the Living Flame wills it,” said Agabyzus, “I hope to return soon with news.” 

He bowed and left the study. The Imperial Guards let him pass, and Claudia watched through the window as he crossed the grounds and disappeared into the street. 

“Do you think we can trust him?” said Claudia.

“I believe so,” said Martin. “The loyalty in his voice when he spoke of Caina…either it was authentic, or he was an actor of superb skill. And she did have the ability to inspire that kind of loyalty.”

“Aye,” said Claudia. “Look at us, after all.”

She sighed and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing in her ankles and lower back. 

“How are you feeling?” said Martin.

“Not well,” said Claudia. “My back hurts, my ankles hurt, and…the baby, Martin. The child is going to come any day.” She shook her head, her eyes stinging as she opened them. “Any day. This city is a pile of dry kindling, and Cassander is running towards it with a torch. And I am about to have a child in the middle of this war.” 

“I wish,” said Martin, “that I had left you in Malarae.” 

Claudia laughed a little and took his hand. “Then I would spend all my time worrying about you. That would not be an improvement, husband.”

“I suppose not,” said Martin. He lifted her hand and kissed it. “Still, the mansion is well-stocked and well-fortified. If Cassander attacks the city or unleashes some spell, we should be secure enough here.”

“I hope so,” said Claudia. “I wish we did not have to put it to the test.”

She looked out the window at the splendid domes and soaring towers of the Emirs’ Quarter. The sun was setting to the west, and the white marble of the palaces seemed to absorb the harsh light. 

For an instant, it seemed as if the towers and spires burned.

Claudia shivered. She hoped it was not a premonition. 

Chapter 9: Pyromancy

Cassander sat at the head of the table in the embassy’s dining hall, tapping the fingers of his right hand against the gleaming wood of the table. The metal of his black gauntlet clicked against the table, again and again, like the drumbeat of a marching Legion.

There was so much work to be done.

Slaves and soldiers alike hurried through the dining hall, carrying out their tasks. Cassander had executed a few of the slaves since his return, burning them alive as the others watched, and he found it had inspired a marvelous new diligence in the survivors. 

The fact that he had enjoyed the deaths had been a bonus. Or it might have been the main point. Before Rumarah, before he had used necromancy upon himself, he would have considered such deaths wasteful. Slaves were not cheap. 

Now he wished to kill more.

The metal fingers of his gauntlet tapped his impatience against the table.

Soon. Very soon. He would kill until he was sated. 

Maria Nicephorus approached his chair and bowed, the golden medallion of the Umbarian Order sliding against the black leather of her greatcoat. 

“Well?” said Cassander, lifting his eyebrows. Or his remaining eyebrow, anyway. 

“The Brotherhood of Slavers has responded to your invitation, my lord,” said Maria. She kept a calm face and voice, but he saw the muscles twitching near her eye. “They will gather at their dockside compound this evening and await your arrival.”

“Indeed?” said Cassander. “They do not fear to be seen with a man banished from the city?”

Maria shrugged. “They wish to stay on good terms with the Umbarian Order, for we are both a supplier and a purchaser of slaves. They…ah, likely they know the Provosts will dispatch another ambassador to the city once you depart.” 

“Oh, of course,” said Cassander. “How very prudent of them. I’m sure they will want to maintain good relations with the Padishah, wherever his bloated carcass might be hiding.”

Maria shifted, her face a bloodless mask. Cassander wondered how she would react if she knew the truth, if she knew that within a few days the Umbarian Order would never need to send another ambassador to Istarinmul again. 

Well, she would find out soon enough.

“Of course, my lord,” said Maria at last. 

“What of the other preparations?” said Cassander.

“Underway,” said Maria. “The additional Adamant Guards have been quartered throughout the circle, and undead forces and cataphracti have been housed with them. We shall be ready whenever you give the command.”

“Good,” said Cassander, watching her.

She met his gaze, trembling only a little. He could tell his new scars unsettled her, but she did her best not to show her fear. Maria Nicephorus was a lovely young woman. Cassander had forced her to sleep with him more than once, though she never complained, of course. Complaining about one’s superiors in the Umbarian Order was not a route to advancement. Cassander still found her attractive, and yet…

He found the thought of killing her more exciting than the thought of sleeping with her. 

Death excited him more than the carnal appetites of the flesh.

Perhaps that should have worried him. 

“Tell me,” said Cassander. “Have you figured out what the plan is yet?”

“Obviously,” said Maria. “We have gathered a force to seize the Towers of the Sea. Once we do, we can use the Hellfire stocks within the Towers to keep the Istarish at bay long enough for the fleet to traverse the Straits.”

“I see,” said Cassander. That wasn’t a bad plan. He had considered it himself before deciding upon his current course. 

The door to the dining hall boomed open. Cassander looked away from Maria and saw a ripple of fear go through the soldiers and the slaves. A red-masked form moved through them, a shadow-cloak hanging from her shoulders, a scimitar slung over her back and a ghostsilver short sword and a dagger at her belt. 

The Red Huntress had returned. 

“Leave us,” said Cassander, raising his voice. “All of you. I shall speak with our guest alone.” 

Maria bowed and withdrew, and the others followed suit. After a moment Cassander was alone with Kalgri. She drew back her cowl and tossed her steel mask upon the table. It left a little scratch in the wood, which would have annoyed Cassander, but since the table was going to be destroyed in a few days, it hardly mattered. She stared down at him with cold blue eyes, so similar to the eyes of Caina Amalas, and Cassander smiled and stared right back. 

The grafted skin upon the left side of his face felt tight and cold. 

“I am surprised,” said Kalgri at last, “that you are still alive.”

“An Umbarian magus is difficult to kill,” said Cassander. 

“Very few people have spoken that rudely to Callatas and lived to tell the tale,” said Kalgri. “Most of them are standing in this room.” 

“Callatas,” said Cassander, “has his hands full. Half of Istarinmul is rising in rebellion, if you hadn’t noticed. Killing me would earn a reprisal from the Order. It would be difficult to make his wraithblood and work on his precious Apotheosis while fighting off both the rebels and the Order.” 

“He summoned me,” said Kalgri, “soon after you provoked Erghulan Amirasku to that little tantrum. I suspect he’s rather displeased with you, and would prefer it if you suffered a fatal accident of some kind.” The purple fire and shadow twisted behind her eyes. 

“Have you come to arrange that accident?” said Cassander. The prospect of fighting her no longer daunted him, now that he had seen the extent of her abilities. Still, she was dangerously clever, and he wasn’t sure he could win a fight with her. 

“Perhaps,” said Kalgri. “I haven’t yet decided.” 

Cassander smiled. “And on what basis will you make your decision?” 

She sat at the edge of the table and leaned closer to him, her eyes glittering like chips of ice. “Death.”

“Any death?” said Cassander. “I could kill one of the slaves, if that would entertain you.”