Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 07 - Ghost in the Ashes (16 page)

Corvalis shrugged, set down his cup, and followed her into the street.

They walked in silence for a moment, waiting until they were out of earshot and sight of the Serpents’ Nest. 

“I did get a job,” said Corvalis. “It seems our landlord has a lucrative sideline in stolen goods, and wished to hire me to steal items from his rival. I trust your time was as profitably spent?”

“It was,” said Caina. “I overheard Nalazar and Tasca. They’re both here, Corvalis, the Bostaji and the Kindred. They’re here, and they don’t know that we know they’re here. We’ve got them caught like rats in a trap.”

“Or snakes in a nest,” said Corvalis.

“Droll,” said Caina. “If we move at once, we can take them all. Both Mahdriva and Tanzir will be safe. And perhaps we can find who hired the Kindred to murder Muravin’s daughters and their husbands.”

“I don’t suppose Nalazar gave a name?” said Corvalis.

“No,” said Caina. “But they mentioned him. Some kind of sorcerer. Apparently he wants all three unborn children for some sort of spell. Though it sounds like the spell, whatever it is, will only work if the child is unborn. So if we can keep this sorcerer away from Mahdriva for a little while longer, she should be safe once the baby is born.” 

“A sorcerer,” said Corvalis. “Sounds like the work of a necromancer.”

“Aye,” said Caina, her voice full of loathing. “Maybe one of Maglarion’s old students. Or another disciple of the Moroaica.”

“Like Ranarius,” said Corvalis, his voice distant. 

“Like Ranarius,” said Caina. “We stopped Ranarius, and we’ll stop this sorcerer, too.”

“Once Nalazar tells you who he is,” said Corvalis.

“Or we find out,” said Caina, “from his papers.” She looked back at the receding shape of the ramshackle tavern.

“I suspect,” said Corvalis, “that Nalazar might not live out the night.”

“I’d prefer not to kill him,” said Caina. She had grown weary of killing. “I’d prefer that he tells me whatever he knows.” She shrugged. “But if he doesn’t…if he doesn’t, he killed two innocent women and their husbands, along with their unborn children. He killed Mahdriva’s husband and tried to kill her. I wouldn’t shed any tears for his death.”

“Then,” said Corvalis, “let’s get started.”

They walked back to the townhouse.

Chapter 16 - Paths

“Well done,” said Halfdan. “Well done, indeed.” 

Caina smiled.

They stood in the solar of the Lord Ambassador’s residence. Like every other room in the mansion, it was furnished lavishly in Istarish style, with pillows encircling a low round table. A brazier sat on the center of the table for burning incense. Caina again wore the gown and jewels of Sonya Tornesti, while Corvalis had returned to his fine black coat and trousers and boots. 

She would, she suspected, wear more utilitarian clothes tonight.

“And they suspected nothing?” said Halfdan.

“I don’t think so,” said Corvalis. “In fact, the landlord of the Serpents’ Nest thinks I’m meeting him tonight to help rob a rival.”

“Yes, I know him,” said Halfdan. “Cornan Bascaii, petty thief, fence, and trader. I suspect he ran slaves for Haeron Icaraeus a few years ago, but he was clever enough not to get caught. And now with Lord Haeron dead, it seems he has found a new patron with the Kindred.” He nodded. “Renting his tavern to the Kindred is exactly the sort of thing he would do.” 

“And the Bostaji,” said Caina. “The amirja Ashria might have sent Sinan to make sure that Tanzir dies, but I’m certain he has something to do with the Kindred as well.” Perhaps he had hired the Kindred himself. Or perhaps he was the student of another, more powerful sorcerer, and had been sent to seize Mahdriva at his master’s bidding. 

“Either way,” said Halfdan, “we shall end it tonight. I’ve sent word to our friend Tomard in the civic militia. He will send a cohort of the militia to surround the Serpents’ Nest. When they do, we’ll flush out both the Kindred and the Bostaji.”

“And send them running into Tomard’s waiting arms,” said Caina. 

“That is the plan,” said Halfdan. “I would prefer to take as many of them alive as possible. They may know useful things – the location of the Kindred Sanctuary in Malarae, for one, or who hired the Kindred to go after Mahdriva.” He shook his head. “But I suspect most of them will fight to the death. The Kindred will not want to face the wrath of their Elder. And the Bostaji are glad to die in the service of the Shahenshah.” 

Caina nodded. “How are the negotiations?”

“Proceeding well, from what I understand,” said Halfdan. “Most of it is a formality at this point…a river there, a hill there. But a necessary formality. Neither the Emperor nor the Padishah want to lose face, and this treaty is the way to accomplish it. It will be finished in a few days, and then the war with Istarinmul will be over.”

“And no one will have any more reason to kill Tanzir,” said Corvalis.

“His mother might,” said Caina, “mostly out of spite.” 

“Once he returns to Istarinmul, that is his responsibility, not ours,” said Halfdan. “Incidentally, Tanya is here, if you want to speak with her.”

“What is she doing here?” said Caina.

“She’s checking on Mahdriva,” said Halfdan. “Apparently the two of them have become fast friends.”

“I’ll talk to her,” said Caina. 

“I will head back to the townhouse,” said Corvalis, “and get our equipment. I suspect it is going to be another long night.”

###

Caina walked alone through the upper corridor of the Lord Ambassador’s mansion. 

It was, she had to admit, a splendid house. The narrow windows admitted sunlight, illuminating the mosaics upon the floor and the frescoes upon the wall. They showed stylized scenes from nature, or Istarish nobles upon horseback hunting lions and hippopotamuses. 

Though, she noted sourly, the nobles were often attended by their slaves. 

An odd emotion swept over her, and Caina stopped for a moment. 

She had almost died last night. But she had almost died many times, had come within a hair’s breadth of death more times than she could even remember. And if she had died, it would have been in a worthy cause. Caina had risked her life to free slaves before, so often that the ridiculous legend of the Balarigar had grown up around some of her deeds. 

The thought of death did not trouble her. For she would die one day, no matter what she did, and perhaps it was better to die in pursuit of a noble cause than alone in bed decades from now. 

Yet Corvalis had almost died, too.

And that troubled Caina a great deal. The thought of losing him burned like a knife in her flesh. Worse, what would happen to him if she were killed? So many people had betrayed Corvalis. His father had turned him into a brutalized killer. Nairia, the one woman he had loved before her, had tried to kill him. Claudia had led him astray and almost gotten them both killed at Catekharon.

If Caina died tonight, if she left him alone, would that be a betrayal?

She leaned on a windowsill for a moment, surprised at the intensity of the emotion that washed through her.

Perhaps the time had come to stop risking her life so often.

She had become a Ghost nightfighter in rage and pain, determined to avenge her father’s death at Maglarion’s hands, to avenge the children she would never bear, to keep others from suffering as she had. Yet even after Maglarion was dead she had continued to serve the Ghosts as a nightfighter, driven by the fury and the hate that burned in her chest. 

But time had passed, and then she had met Corvalis.

And she no longer felt so angry.

The pain of her father’s murder would never leave her. Yet she had grown accustomed to it, the way a woman could grow accustomed to a missing finger or a constant limp. It would always be part of her, but she could live with it. 

But she wanted to live, and to live with Corvalis. Caina had been a Ghost nightfighter her entire adult life. Could she leave it and do something else?

If she declared herself openly, as Theodosia suggested, she certainly would not leave the Ghosts. She could become a Ghost circlemaster, could command her own circle of eyes and ears and nightfighters. And with the prestige of a Countess’s rank and the wealth of Anton Kularus, she could do great things for the Empire. She could smuggle escaped slaves out of Istarinmul and Anshan, could foil the plots and schemes of the magi, could place bounties upon the heads of renegade sorcerers.

She could wed Corvalis.

The vision of that life floated before her eyes, and she wanted it as badly as anything she had ever wante …

Caina realized she was standing alone in a corridor, lost in her own thoughts while there was work to be done. She rebuked herself and kept walking, pushing aside the dream for now.

But it still lingered. 

She came to the guest room. Mahdriva lay upon the overstuffed bed, propped up with pillows, her face wan but relaxed. Tanya stood next to the bed, wearing a blue dress that matched her eyes, and Muravin stood on the other side, arms folded over his massive chest.

“You are certain she is well?” said Muravin in Istarish. The sight of the hulking gladiator, the brutal killer, hovering over his daughter like a concerned bird was so incongruous that Caina almost laughed. 

But it spoke well of him.

Tanya nodded. “Yes, Master Muravin.” She spoke perfect Istarish. Given that she had spent five years imprisoned by Naelon Icaraeus’s slavers, that was not surprising. “She is as well as can be expected. I think the delivery will go as well, and my friends at the temple of Minaerys will come as soon as we receive word.”

“Will it hurt?” said Mahdriva.

“Quite a lot, I am afraid,” said Tanya, “but it passes.” She shrugged. “Like many things worth doing, there is a lot of pain…but all pain passes, in time.”

Caina walked closer to the bed.

“Sonya,” said Tanya.

“Tanya, it is good to see you,” said Caina, speaking Istarish with her Szaldic accent. “And it is very kind of you to look after Mahdriva.”

Tanya laughed. “Your accent is flawless. Which is astonishing, since you don’t even speak a word of Szaldic.”

Caina shrugged. “More than I used to. I learned most of the profanities from Ark.”

“Arcion should watch his tongue around the children,” said Tanya. 

“It is funny,” said Mahdriva, “how you can change your voice so completely.”

“I had a good teacher,” said Caina. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” said Mahdriva. She yawned. “And sleepy.” She smiled. “I think I stayed up too late last night.”

“We all did,” said Caina. 

“I am frightened, too,” said Mahdriva. 

“We will deal with Nalazar and the Kindred,” said Caina. “We know where they are now, and…”

“Well, I am frightened of that, too,” said Mahdriva, “but right now I am mostly frightened of…the baby. Not the baby, not really, but…”

“Of what is about to happen,” said Tanya. “The pain, the blood. Your life will never be the same again.” 

“No,” said Mahdriva. “I suppose not. I just wish that my husband was here.”

“He should have been,” said Muravin. “But he died bravely, saving you from the Kindred.” 

“I know,” said Mahdriva. “I still wish that he were here, though. Along with my sisters.”

“As do I,” said Muravin. “But we are still alive, daughter, and we must carry on.” He looked at Caina. “And it is thanks to this Ghost.”

Caina shrugged. “I was in the right place at the right time.”

“You are falsely modest,” said Muravin. “If not for your aid, Nalazar would have killed us in the streets of Malarae. He would have slain us in the cellar of your coffee house.” He raised his chin. “I told Master Basil I would serve the Ghosts in exchange for our lives. I assumed it would be no different than serving any other master, whether the masters of the fighting pits or the seneschal of the College. But you, Ghost…your wits and kindness have saved us. And I will serve the Ghosts gladly.”

“Nor is it the first time she has done such deeds,” said Tanya. “She saved my husband while I was still a captive of a wicked sorceress. She rescued my son from the sorceress’s knife, and saved me and hundreds of others from the chains of slavers. When Rezir Shahan and the Istarish attacked Marsis, she snatched my son back from the slavers and slew Rezir Shahan himself. She is the Balarigar…”

“That…” said Caina.

“She is the Balarigar,” said Tanya, “whether she believes it or not. The solmonari of the Szalds once taught that every generation, the gods in their mercy send one to oppose wicked sorcery and cruel lords. The breaker of chains, the slayer of demons, the Balarigar. And the woman who calls herself Sonya Tornesti is the Balarigar, whether she knows it or not.” 

“I could call myself the Queen of Anshan as well,” said Caina, “but that would not make it so.”

But they would not believe it. She had employed Theodosia’s lessons in theatrics entirely too well. They believed in the legend of the Balarigar, and that was that. 

And she had saved their lives.

She did not feel she could take credit for the things she had done, the lives she had saved. Sometimes she had gotten lucky. Other times she had managed to outwit her foes by barely half a second. But she had saved those lives. If she had not acted, Maglarion would have killed everyone in Malarae. Kalastus would have burned the people of Rasadda to ashes. Cyrioch would have drowned beneath the waves. 

All those people dead, if not for the choices she had made. 

She had become a nightfighter in rage and pain, seeking revenge for her father’s death…but she had, indeed, kept so many people from suffering the same pain she had endured.

So many people.

And looking at three of the people she had saved, Caina found that she was not ready to stop being a nightfighter. Not yet. 

“I am glad,” said Caina, “that you are all safe. Even if you give me too much credit for it.”

“Ghost,” said Muravin. “A word with you.”

Caina nodded and stepped into the hallway, leaving Tanya to discuss the mechanics of childbirth with Mahdriva. 

“You are moving against the Kindred tonight?” said Muravin.

Caina frowned. “How did you know that?” If the Kindred and the Bostaji got word of what Halfdan planned, they might well flee. 

“Master Basil told me,” said Muravin. “You have tracked the assassin scum to a tavern near the docks, and they are lurking there like rats in their nest.”

“Or snakes,” said Caina.

“Or snakes,” said Muravin. “I wish to join your attack upon them.” 

Caina frowned. “Mahdriva needs you here. Her child could be born any moment.”

Muravin nodded. “I know. But I am a warrior, Sonya Tornesti. I am a killer, not a physician or a priest. A man like me has no place in the birthing room.” He sighed, his dark eyes heavy with pain. “She needs her husband at her side. Or her sisters. But her husband is dead, and Ardaiza and Ranai are dead with them. Mahdriva has Tanya and the priestesses of Minaerys, and that must be enough.”

Caina nodded.

“But my place is with you, for this,” said Muravin. “Those assassins slew my daughters and my grandchildren before they were born. I will see that blood repaid.”

“The assassins were only the tools of another man, you know,” said Caina. “They killed your daughters because they were paid to do so. Some other man hired them. A renegade sorcerer, I think, a necromancer of some kind.”

“And I would see him dead,” said Muravin.

“It won’t bring your daughters back,” said Caina. “Vengeance never does. I know that well.”

Muravin snorted. “Do you think me a child? Or is this some singer’s tale, where I slay the evil sorcerer and live happily ever after? No, it is too late for that. But I will find this man, this sorcerer who slew my daughters, and I will kill him. To repay him for the blood of Ardaiza and Ranai, and to stop him from shedding any more blood.”

Caina stared at him for a moment. 

“That is as good a reason as any,” said Caina, “and better than most. I will speak to Master Basil, but I don’t think he will disagree.” She pointed at him. “But you will do as I and Anton and Basil command, is that understood? No rushing off to die in glorious battle. Mahdriva needs you to live, and by the gods you’re going to live.”

For a moment Muravin looked almost amused. “For such a short woman, you are…fierce.” 

“Ask the Kindred,” said Caina, “just how fierce I can be.”