Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 07 - Ghost in the Ashes Page 10

  But she liked wearing the gown, in a way she had not liked wearing the armor of a caravan guard.

  And she liked that Corvalis could see her like this.

  She pushed aside the thought and went join Corvalis.

  He awaited her in the entry hall, sword in hand as he worked through a number of thrusts. Like Muravin, he moved with the brutal efficiency of the trained killer. Unlike Muravin, he looked good doing it. It was odd that she had fallen in love with an assassin, a former member of the Kindred. Yet he had left the Kindred, had risked everything to save his sister’s life. And now he helped the Ghosts to fight against the magi and the corrupt lords, the men who had turned Corvalis into what he was.

  She descended the stairs and kissed him.

  “Well.” Corvalis grinned, sliding his sword back into its sheath. “You are glad to see me.”

  “If you brought a book with you,” said Caina, “you could read while you waited.”

  He laughed. “Books are your amusement, not mine. Reading is…a tool, like a whetstone or a hammer. You use it when you need it, and then set it aside. Like when I receive a letter from Claudia at Caer Magia. I read it to learn what she says, not for the pleasure of the act itself. I will never fathom how you can do it for amusement.”

  “It would give you something to occupy your time while you wait for me to prepare,” said Caina.

  He grinned. “You could prepare more quickly.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “It takes more work for a woman to make herself ready for a gathering than a man. You need only put on a coat, shine your boots, and make certain you don’t have any cheese stuck in your teeth.”

  “Well,” said Corvalis. “You do look lovely.”

  “Thank you,” said Caina.

  His hands slid down her hips and tugged her closer. “Though you would look lovelier with nothing on at all.”

  She smiled. “Bold man. Later.” Her smile faded. “After we’ve kept Tanzir alive for another day. Thank you for coming along.”

  “He is visiting my coffee house,” said Corvalis. He barked his harsh laugh. “Though it is actually your coffee house. I just playact as the owner. Theodosia would be proud.”

  “I hope that does not trouble you,” said Caina.

  “Why would it?” said Corvalis. “Certainly it is an improvement over murdering my father’s enemies.”

  “And thank you for coming along to the book shops later,” said Caina. “I confess I would not enjoy fending off Tanzir’s advances all afternoon, but I doubt he would have the nerve with you nearby.”

  “I doubt he would have the nerve if you were alone with him in a locked room,” said Corvalis. “Our emir does not seem the bold sort.”

  “No,” said Caina. “With a brother like Rezir, can you blame him? And if his mother is anything like Rezir…little wonder Tanzir prefers not to put himself forward.”

  “You sound sympathetic,” said Corvalis.

  “I am,” said Caina. “His mother reminds me of mine.”

  “He is besotted with you, that is plain,” said Corvalis. He made a show of looking her up and down. “Not that I could blame him.”

  “Flatterer,” said Caina. “Come. Let us welcome the Lord Ambassador to the House of Kularus.”

  She turned to go.

  “Caina,” said Corvalis, voice quiet.

  She looked back at him. She remembered the first time she had met him in Cyrioch, when he had been hunting the master magus Ranarius to save his sister Claudia from her prison of living stone.

  “Be careful,” said Corvalis. “I would be…upset if anything happened to you.”

  She felt a pang.

  Something would happen to her, sooner or later. Caina had taken tremendous risks as a Ghost, had gambled her life again and again. So far, she had won out in the end. But someday she would be a half-step too slow, and then she would die.

  Or the same thing would happen to Corvalis.

  She shivered, and suddenly understood the deeper allure of the gowns and the jewelry.

  Because she did not want to give up the life she now shared with Corvalis. Not for any reason.

  “I love you,” said Caina.

  He smiled. “I love you, too.” He extended his arm. “Shall we?”

  ###

  Tanzir Shahan arrived an hour and a half late, which was earlier than Caina had expected.

  Merchants and nobles packed the House of Kularus, filling every booth and table. Caina suspected most of them wanted to speak with the Lord Ambassador to gain some advantage in trade or prestige. Shaizid’s team of servants and maids hurried back and forth, carrying trays of coffee and food, and the smell of roasting coffee and baking cakes filled the air.

  “Here they come,” murmured Corvalis.

  Caina stood with Corvalis and Halfdan on the main floor, near the table they had reserved for the emir and his companions. The footmen pulled open the main doors, and a pair of black-armored Immortals strode into the House of Kularus, the eerie blue glow shining from deep within their black skull helms.

  A hush fell over the coffee house.

  Shaizid hurried forward and bowed. “Master Anton, I wish to present Lord Titus of House Iconias and the Lord Ambassador of Istarinmul, the emir Tanzir Shahan.”

  Lord Titus walked through the doors, followed by a pair of Imperial Guards. Tanzir walked at his side, breathing heavily, sweat glistening on his face. The day was growing hot, and Caina suspected the walk had not been pleasant for him.

  Corvalis bowed. “My lords, I welcome you to the House of Kularus.”

  “Master Anton,” said Titus, looking around. “So this is where my seneschal has been buying all that marvelous coffee.”

  “Indeed, my lord,” said Corvalis. “Your patronage honors us.”

  Tanzir’s expression brightened as he took in the coffee house. “That smells…yes, that smells delightful. Master Basil. I am surprised to see you here. I thought you sold jewels.”

  Halfdan shrugged. “Master Anton is a friend of mine. And I do enjoy coffee. Though I much prefer wine.”

  Titus laughed. “A man of taste!”

  “Wine has its place,” said Tanzir, “but there is nothing better than coffee in the morning.”

  He looked at Caina, started to say something, and then closed his mouth.

  “I cannot disagree,” said Corvalis. “My lords, we have a table waiting for you.”

  Tanzir and Lord Titus seated themselves first, while Halfdan and Corvalis followed, and then Caina sat next to Corvalis. Shaizid clapped his hands, and a small army of maids and servants issued from the kitchens, bearing trays laden with food and drink.

  “For you, my lord emir,” said Shaizid with a bow, “Istarish coffee, grown on the plantations in the Vale of Fallen Stars.”

  Tanzir blinked, and for the first time, Caina saw a genuine smile on the young emir’s face. “Truly? How did you obtain this? Trade between Istarinmul and the Empire has stopped since the war began.”

  “I have my sources,” said Corvalis. “It did cost a small fortune.”

  “Superb,” said Tanzir, taking a sip. “I did not think to find proper coffee so far from civilized lands.”

  “Among us northern barbarians?” said Titus.

  Tanzir flinched. “I…I did not mean any offense, my lord. I…”

  Titus laughed. “Forgive my small joke. I suppose we are all uncivilized barbarians to our neighbors.”

  “Perhaps,” said Tanzir, some of his nervousness fading. “But that was a brilliant idea, Master Anton. Opening Malarae’s first coffee house, I mean. We of Istarinmul have enjoyed coffee for centuries, as have the men of Anshan…but it never made its way north. You were clever to think of it.”

  “Thank you, my lord emir,” said Corvalis. “The person to think it up was clever indeed.”

  He squeezed Caina’s hand under the table.

  “Indeed,” said Tanzir. He waved a hand at the crowds. “I imagine…well, I suppose all sorts of plotti
ng and intrigue goes on here. The coffee houses of Istarinmul are rife with such things.”

  That was a more astute observation than Caina had expected.

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t know about such things,” said Corvalis. “I am only a simple merchant of coffee.”

  Titus snorted.

  “A gift for you, my lord,” said Corvalis, sliding something across the table. “A book, since you seemed fond of them. A history of the emperors of Nighmar, written in High Nighmarian.”

  Again Tanzir smiled. “A thoughtful gift, master merchant. Thank you. I shall read it with great pleasure and remember your kindness.”

  “Sonya picked it out,” said Corvalis.

  “Indeed?” said Tanzir, picking up the book. “I am grateful. Yes. Grateful.” He took a deep breath and looked at Caina. “A question. I would like to ask you a question. About the book. If you please?”

  “Of course,” said Caina. “What do you wish to know?”

  “Um,” said Tanzir. “I would like to ask you a question out of earshot of the others.” He looked at Corvalis. “It is…nothing untoward, nothing forward. But it is improper for an Istarish emir to show too much interest in Imperial history. So just a brief question.”

  That was perhaps the single clumsiest seduction attempt Caina had ever heard.

  “Of course, my lord emir,” said Corvalis. “If you do not object, Sonya?”

  “I would be honored,” said Caina, rising and smoothing her skirts. Her mind worked, trying to find a way to turn him down in a way that would spare his pride. If he took offense at her rejection, that would make it all the harder to keep him alive. “We can speak quietly over here.”

  Tanzir rose, grunting with the effort, and followed her to a corner of the House near the kitchen doors. If they spoke quietly, no one would overhear them. Yet they were within sight of Corvalis and the others.

  “What did you wish to ask, my lord emir?” said Caina, bracing herself.

  Tanzir looked at her, licked his lips, and Caina saw dread, utter dread, in his black eyes.

  “Help me,” he whispered.

  “My lord?” said Caina.

  “Help me find the Ghosts,” said Tanzir.

  Of all the things he could have said, Caina had not expected that. For an irrational instant she was annoyed that he had not tried to seduce her, and then dismissed the thought as absurd.

  “I’m sorry?” she said at last.

  “The Ghosts,” said Tanzir, clutching his book to his chest like a shield, “the spies and assassins of the Emperor of Nighmar.”

  “The Ghosts are just a story,” said Caina.

  “They’re not!” said Tanzir, his tone urgent. “I know they’re not. And I know they’re here.” For a terrible instant Caina wondered how she had given herself away, but Tanzir kept talking. “In Istarinmul spies frequent the coffee houses. Everyone in Istarinmul has their spies. The emirs have spies, the Alchemists, the slavers’ brotherhood, everyone, and they all come to the coffee houses. Why else would the Emperor allow a coffee house to open in Malarae? So the Ghosts can spy.” He lifted a finger. “I know the Ghosts are real. Rezir was so sure he would conquer Marsis…but instead the Balarigar appeared and freed the slaves and slew Rezir. Who else could the Balarigar be but a Ghost nightfighter?”

  Caina realized she had underestimated him. “Even if you are right,” she said, “why are you talking to me? Do you think I am a Ghost?”

  “Are you? I don’t know,” said Tanzir. “I don’t even know if there are women among the Ghosts. But I am certain that Master Basil knows some of the Emperor’s spies. Or, at least, Master Anton does. I dared…I dared not approach them, nor Lord Titus. They might betray me, or spread rumors about me. But if I approached you and you were not a Ghost …I could say that you tried to seduce me, and I rebuffed you as beneath me.”

  “How flattering,” said Caina.

  “But…please, tell me,” said Tanzir, still clutching his book. “Can…can you contact the Ghosts for me?”

  “Let us say, for the sake of argument, that I can,” said Caina, dropping her Szaldic accent. Tanzir’s eyes widened at that. “If you could contact the Ghosts…what would you say to them?”

  “That my mother,” said Tanzir, “is going to kill me.”

  “Your mother,” said Caina. “Why?”

  “Because she rules House Shahan,” said Tanzir. “She never questioned Rezir. He was a strong man, a man who made House Shahan respected and feared. But now that he is dead, the dowager amirja does as she wishes…and I am only still alive because she needs a public figurehead.”

  “So if she needs you as a public figurehead,” said Caina, “why is she trying to kill you?”

  “Because she wants the war to continue,” said Tanzir. “Our foes among the nobles of Istarinmul held wide lands near the Argamaz Desert, lands your Empire has now seized. The Emperor might grant those lands to the Padishah in exchange for peace…which will strengthen the enemies of our House.”

  “If your mother kills you, won’t she need a new figurehead?” said Caina.

  Tanzir sighed. “She already has one. My younger brother Morazir. He’s like Rezir, but crueler and stupider. He will do whatever Mother tells him, so long as he has enemies to kill and slaves to torture.”

  “So your mother sent assassins after you,” said Caina.

  “It is much worse than that,” said Tanzir. “Mother is Anshani, a cousin of the Shahenshah himself, and since the Shahenshah wishes for the war to continue, he has given my mother the aid of the Bostaji.” His fingers tightened against the book’s leather cover. “I do not know if you have heard of them, but they are the Shahenshah’s personal assassins, the most lethal killers in the world. They will come after me any day.”

  “Actually,” said Caina, “they’ve come after you twice.”

  Tanzir flinched. “What?”

  “The first time was as you walked along the Via Triumphalis with Lord Titus,” said Caina. “There was a Bostaji upon the roof of an apartment building, preparing to shoot you with an arrow. The second attempt was last night at the Emperor’s banquet. One of the servants was a disguised Bostaji. We don’t know what he planned, but we suspect he intended to poison you.”

  Tanzir looked a bit sickly. “It seems…it seems that I already owe the Ghosts my life.”

  “Why come to us with this?” said Caina. “Why not tell the Immortals, or Sinan?”

  Tanzir scowled. “The Immortals are fierce warriors…but they are none too bright. And Sinan…Sinan is my mother’s creature. He has been loyal to her for years, ever since he settled in the Vale of Fallen Stars.” He snorted. “He is giving the Bostaji every detail about my actions, I expect, but there is nothing I can do about it. So you see why I have come to the Ghosts for aid. And why I had to do it covertly.”

  Caina nodded. “Then you wanted to visit the book shops just to talk to me alone?”

  Tanzir bobbed his head. “Yes. I wanted people to think I would seduce you…then I would be safe to ask you questions.” He hesitated. “Please do not be offended. Not…not that I wouldn’t want to seduce you. Ah. You are very lovely. I mean…”

  “I find it difficult to believe,” said Caina, “that you are Rezir Shahan’s younger brother.”

  Tanzir sighed. “He said the same thing. Often. But…will you speak to the Ghosts for me? Will they help me?”

  “They will,” said Caina. “Lord Titus invited you to the Grand Imperial Opera tonight?” Tanzir nodded. “Then ask him to invite Master Anton with you.”

  “Why?” said Tanzir.

  “Because,” said Caina. “The Ghosts have been watching over you, but it will be all the easier if you cooperate with us. We also want the war between the Emperor and the Padishah to end.”

  “Anton Kularus,” said Tanzir, “is a Ghost?”

  Caina smiled. “Do you truly expect me to answer that? Suffice it to say that Master Anton can help protect you.”

  As Caina could, but sh
e preferred for people to underestimate her.

  “But he is a coffee merchant!” said Tanzir. “If the Bostaji come for me…how will a coffee merchant help?”

  “Master Anton,” said Caina, “was not always a coffee merchant. He has some skills that might surprise you. These are your choices, my lord emir. You may take your chances with the Bostaji…or you can come to the Ghosts for help.”

  Tanzir swallowed. “When you put it that way, it seems I have little choice at all. Very well.”

  “Come, then,” said Caina, resuming her Szaldic accent. “We should return to the table, yes? Otherwise they will think you are trying to seduce me. And Anton is ever so tedious when he is jealous.”

  “How do you do that?” said Tanzir, bewildered. “The accent, I mean. Are you an actress?”

  “Of a sort,” said Caina, and she walked back to the table, Tanzir following.

  “Well,” said Halfdan, looking up from his coffee, “that must have been quite a spirited discussion.”

  “It was,” said Caina. “The emir is quite taken with his book.” She looked at Corvalis. “Anton, the emir has invited us to join him at the Grand Imperial Opera tonight.”

  “Ah. Unless you have…objections, my lord Titus?” said Tanzir, and he looked like a boy asking permission from a stern teacher.

  Titus shrugged. “Certainly not. I have my own box at the Opera, and there is room enough for both Master Anton and his companion.”

  “Splendid,” said Tanzir. “I’m sure it will be a pleasant evening.”

  ###

  “Interesting,” said Halfdan.

  Corvalis had excused himself from the table, and Caina had followed with Halfdan. They had retreated to the cellar to discuss their plans, free from any risk that anyone might overhear.

  “We ought to have Tanzir keep the Immortals around him,” said Corvalis.

  “No,” said Halfdan. “This isn’t commonly known, but the sorcerous elixirs that the Alchemists give the Immortals to enhance their strength and speed also allow the Alchemists to control them. The Immortals might serve the Padishah…but if an Alchemist knows the proper spells, those same Immortals will cut down the Padishah in a heartbeat.”