Ghost Keeper (2 page)

“All right,” said Caina at last. She put her hand in his, and Aydin led her into the banquet hall. He threaded his right arm through hers, and they revolved around each other, the opening of the traditional Istarish dance. Then he took her right hand, and led her into the next steps. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Azarma,” said Aydin. He was smiling, but his eyes were distant. 

“And you, Master Aydin,” said Caina. “You dance well.”

“As do you,” said Aydin. 

“You are too kind,” said Caina. “I fear I am out of practice.”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Then you used to dance frequently?”

“More so than I did now,” said Caina. “When we still lived in Cyrioch, my father frequently brought me as a guest to banquets. Since he has come to Istarinmul on business, I have had far fewer opportunities for social outings.”

“A pity, indeed,” said Aydin. “So lovely a woman should not have to sit alone in her father’s house.”

Now it was Caina’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Flattery, sir? You should know that I am not susceptible to it.”

He laughed at that. “Would you prefer insults, then?” 

“Only if they are entertaining,” said Caina. 

“I fear that I must disappoint you,” said Aydin. They reached the next stage of the dance, and he spun her. She moved into the crook of his arm, and then he turned her about, his hand closing about hers once more. “I am neither a poet nor a storyteller, merely an honest merchant.”

“An honest merchant who has seen some fighting,” said Caina. 

“I am a man of peace,” said Aydin.

“Who has the calluses of a swordsman upon his right hand,” said Caina, her fingers pressing tighter against his to accentuate the point. “And you haven’t used those blades at your belt very often, but they look like they’re made of real steel. Not ornamental, then, and I’d wager you’ve kept them sharp. Just in case you need them.” 

For an instant a blank mask fell over his features. She had caught him off guard. Then his smile returned. “What an observant woman you are. I wonder if you have divined any of my other secrets.”

“Have you discerned any of mine, sir?” said Caina.

“You’re actually the bride of the Padishah, here in disguise,” said Aydin.

Caina laughed aloud at that. “And what led you to that conclusion?” 

“Your grip is very strong, stronger than usual for a woman,” said Aydin, “and I’m not the only one with calluses. Also, that dagger on your belt has sweat stains upon the leather of the hilt.” Caina rebuked herself for overlooking that. “If I were to make a wager, I would bet that you have used it a time or two in anger.”

“I practice with it,” said Caina, which was the truth. “One never knows when thieves will appear.”

“You see, then?” said Aydin. “You needn’t fear my flattery. If I were to attempt anything inappropriate, I’m sure you would gut me on the spot. And your father hasn’t stopped watching us from the moment I asked you to dance.”

“My father is very protective,” said Caina.

“A sensible fellow,” said Aydin. “Might I offer you a word of advice?”

“You may,” said Caina, “though I cannot promise that I shall listen.”

“Stay away from the Curator,” said Aydin, and this time there was no hint of levity in his voice. “Above all, do not let him get you alone.”

“I doubt my father would permit it,” said Caina. 

“Good,” said Aydin. “The Curator is extremely dangerous.” He lowered his voice and glanced around the hall. “He plays the part of the eccentric collector, but he is as ruthless and murderous as the worst magus of the Umbarian Order. If his eye falls upon you…well, suffice it to say, you would not enjoy his attention.”

“He is hardly the sort of man to respect a young woman’s virtue?” said Caina. She had thought that Aydin might have come here to kill her. It had not occurred to her that he might have come here to spy upon the Curator.

“Or anything else,” said Aydin. The music finished, and they stepped apart and bowed. “Thank you for the dance, Azarma Kolarzu.”

“And you, Aydin Kirshar,” said Caina. 

Aydin smiled and walked back into the crowd, and Caina returned to Agabyzus.

“What did he want?” said Agabyzus. 

“I’m not sure,” said Caina. “He seems to have a grudge against the Curator.”

“Peculiar,” said Agabyzus. “The Curator goes out of his way to avoid making enemies.” He thought for a moment. “He didn’t recognize you?” 

“I don’t think so,” said Caina. “We exchanged small talk, he warned me against the Curator, and then the dance was over.” She shrugged. “If he makes trouble for the Curator, well and good. I can use it as a distraction.” 

###

Caina waited, and her opportunity came a few hours later.

The dancing had continued for some time, and a dozen men had asked Caina to dance. Some of them had been pleasant, and a few of them had offered seduction attempts ranging from charming to regrettably inept, but she danced with them all nonetheless. She was a little annoyed by how much she enjoyed it. She was the Ghost circlemaster of Istarinmul, and she had dire matters on her mind and a sorcerous catastrophe to prevent. 

It had been a long time since she had been dancing. 

Later, the Curator stood up and addressed his guests, urging them to follow him into the inner courtyard of his palace. There he had gathered a collection of statuary from a score of different nations, and would be pleased to offer a tour. Food and drink would be served as well.

The guests moved forward, murmuring among themselves, and Caina nodded to Agabyzus. He nodded back, and they drew to the rear of the crowd as it proceeded through the high, wide corridors of the Curator’s palace. Caina walked slowly, the heels of her sandals clicking against the gleaming marble floor, and they drew further from the crowd. 

The crowd went around a corner, and Caina slipped out of her sandals and passed them to Agabyzus. He hid them within the loose pockets of his robe, and Caina turned and glided away from him, her bare feet making no sound against the cool stone of the floor.

She returned to the banquet hall and made for the stairwell she had found earlier. There were no guards left in the banquet hall, and Caina slid the door open in silence. Beyond was a small round room, with a spiral stairwell of iron ascending to the palace’s higher levels. She saw no guards, and Caina could not sense any sorcerous wards upon the stairs.

Caina took one cautious step forward, and then froze.

A man in a white coat stood motionless upon the stairs. Before she could react, he whirled, a short sword in his right hand and a peculiar silvery rod in his left. It was about eighteen inches long, its side inscribed with Maatish hieroglyphs. 

Caina had seen a rod like that before.

More to the point, she had seen the man holding the rod before.

“Master Aydin,” said Caina. “How pleasant to see you again.”

Aydin advanced on her in silence, the sword and the rod leveled at her.

Chapter 3: An Arrangement

“Mistress Azarma,” said Aydin, keeping his weapons leveled at her. “How surprising to find you here.”

“I could say the same,” said Caina. 

“Why are you following me?” said Aydin.

“I wasn’t,” said Caina. “But if it makes you feel better, maybe I just wanted another dance.”

He didn’t laugh at the joke, but stopped a few paces from her. Caina’s hand hovered near the hilt of the dagger at her belt. If he decided to kill her, she wasn’t entirely sure that she could stop him. 

“I thought,” he said at last, “that you seemed a little too clever for a merchant’s daughter.”

“Maybe I read a lot,” said Caina. “You can put your sword down, you know. You’re not going to kill me.”

“Just why not?” said Aydin. “You could be working for the Curator.”

“I’m not,” said Caina, nodding at the rod in his left hand, “but I know what that is, and more importantly, I know what you are.” 

“And what am I?” said Aydin.

“You,” said Caina, voice soft, “are one of the Order of the Venatorii.”

Aydin blinked. 

“The Order founded by the Sage Talekhris of Catekharon eight centuries ago,” said Caina, “to combat the evil of the Moroaica. Over the years your Order has fought dark spirits and elementals and renegade sorcerers.”

“You are surprisingly knowledgeable,” said Aydin.

Caina shrugged. “I’ve visited a few places and seen some things.” 

“How did you know?” said Aydin. He shook his head in dismay. “Yes, of course, my silver rod.”

“It lets you dispel any sorcerous spell,” said Caina. “Well, almost any spell. Talekhris created them.”

“Plainly you did not come here so your father could sell marble to the Curator,” said Aydin. 

“Nor are you here to buy relics from the Curator,” said Caina. “Unless I miss my guess…you’re either here to steal some sorcerous relic from him, or to kill him.” 

“I would prefer not to kill him at all,” said Aydin.

Caina frowned. “Then the Venatorii did not dispatch you here to kill them?”

“The Venatorii,” said Aydin with a sigh. “We…are not what we once were. The Sage perished in New Kyre on the day of golden dead.”

“I’d heard that,” said Caina.

“After that, the Umbarian Order came out of the shadows in the eastern Empire and declared itself openly,” said Aydin. “My Order has fought the Umbarians for centuries, and the High Provost herself decreed our deaths.” He shook his head, his eyes haunted. “They wiped out most of the Order in the first few weeks after the chaos of the golden dead. Some of us fled to the western Empire…but most of us did not escape.” 

“So why are you in the Curator’s palace?” said Caina. “The Umbarian Order’s embassy is in the Alqaarin Quarter. You’re a bit lost.”

“No,” said Aydin. “I have told you too much already, and my mission is too important to jeopardize. Tell me why you are here.”

“And if my task jeopardizes yours?” said Caina.

“Then we shall have to settle our differences,” said Aydin.

Caina decided to take a gamble.

“I’m here to rob the Curator,” she said. 

“Anything in particular?” said Aydin. “He has many valuable artifacts and relics.”

“Specifically,” said Caina, “I am here to steal a sword that once belonged to the assassin Morgant the Razor.”

“The Razor?” said Aydin. “He was only a myth.”

“He wasn’t,” said Caina. “Suffice it to say, I was hired by a…rival collector. He wants Morgant’s sword for his collection.”

“That’s it?” said Aydin. “You’re just here to steal some damned old sword?”

“That’s right,” said Caina. “Though it’s a damned old sword that someone is willing to pay a lot of money to obtain. I really hope you’re not here to steal it as well.”

“No,” said Aydin. “I have no interest in the sword of some long-dead mythical assassin.” 

“Then what are you here to do?” said Caina.

Aydin considered for a moment. “To steal a different relic.”

“That’s it?” said Caina, repeating his earlier question.

“It is,” said Aydin.

“Is this a task for the Venatorii?” said Caina. 

“No,” said Aydin. “One of my own. You’ll forgive me if I am not forthcoming. For all I know you could be a Teskilati agent, sent to beguile me with your charm.”

“While I am flattered that you find my charms beguiling,” said Caina, “perhaps we can work together.”

“Oh?” said Aydin. 

“We want different things,” said Caina, “but we can help each other get to them.” A member of the Venatorii would be useful, and his spell-breaking rod might prove even more useful. “I take the sword, you take the object you want, and we both go on our merry way.”

“Along with as many other treasures as we can carry?” said Aydin.

Caina shrugged. “A woman has expenses.” 

Aydin stared at her for a long moment, and she could see the gears turning behind his eyes as he considered the possibilities before him. 

“All right,” he said at last. “Why not? I’ve come this far, so what’s one more risk?” He sheathed his sword and started to tuck the silver rod into his coat. 

“Keep that out,” said Caina. “We might need it sooner rather than later.”

“True,” said Aydin. “There’s something you should know before we proceed.”

“What is it?” said Caina.

“The Curator is a necromancer of the Red Circle,” said Aydin. 

Caina blinked several times. “Oh.”

“I see you are familiar with the name,” said Aydin. “What do you know about them?”

“After the Kingdom of the Rising Sun burned,” said Caina, “some of the surviving necromancer-priests fled north, settled at Black Angel Tower and built the Citadel of Marsis. They ruled their own realm from Marsis until the Kyracians destroyed them. Then the Empire conquered Marsis and Old Kyrace was destroyed…” She shook her head. “That was five hundred years ago, though.” 

“The arcane science of necromancy can extend a man’s years far beyond their natural span,” said Aydin.

“So I’ve heard,” said Caina, thinking of the scars across her belly, of a bloodcrystal shining with ghostly green light atop the highest tower of Haeron Icaraeus’s mansion. 

“How do you know so much about them?” said Aydin.

“I told you,” said Caina. “I’ve been some places and seen some things.” Specifically, she had seen Scorikhon, a disciple of the Moroaica and a necromancer of the Red Circle, possess the archon Andromache of New Kyre. Sometimes she still heard Andromache’s desperate screams in her dreams. “I thought the Red Circle had been wiped out.” 

“The Curator fled the defeat of the Red Circle,” said Aydin. “Eventually, he ended up here. Since then he established himself as a dealer in antiquities and sorcerous relics, though you knew that already.”

“How has he extended his life for all these centuries?” said Caina. 

Aydin shrugged. “Necromancy, presumably.” 

“But which specific kind of necromancy?” said Caina. “There are several different methods. His bloodcrystals could rejuvenate him as he recharges them with the stolen life force of his victims. He could replace his damaged flesh with flesh and organs stolen from others. He could move his spirit from body to body. Or he could have his preserved organs in an enspelled canopic jar, and use that as an anchor for his soul until he seizes a new body.”

“You’ve quite knowledgeable about necromancy,” said Aydin.

“Everything I know, I’m afraid I learned the hard way,” said Caina. “Do you happen to know which method the Curator uses?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Aydin. 

He was lying. She was sure of it. But that was all right. She hadn’t told him the entire truth, either.

“Well, then,” said Caina. “I want the sword of Morgant the Razor, and you want some other relic. I think that is the basis for a sound business partnership.” 

“Very well,” said Aydin. “I suggest we hasten. The tour of his relics will occupy the Curator for a few hours, and we can put those hours to good use.”

Caina nodded and followed him up the stairs.