Child of the Ghosts (6 page)

“The hills,” said Caina. “We’re in the hills above Aretia.”

Halfdan nodded, heading towards a stand of trees. Three horses stood tethered there. 

“Where are you talking me?” said Caina. “Are you…”

She started to ask if Halfdan would take her home. But that didn’t matter any more, did it? Home was where her father was. And her father was dead.

“We’ll talk later,” said Halfdan, untying the horses. “First, we need to flee. We need to be well away from here by the time Maglarion returns.” 

Halfdan swung into the saddle, and Riogan passed Caina up to him. She clutched as the saddle’s pommel, just barely keeping her balance, and Halfdan’s hand settled upon her shoulder. Riogan and Komnene climbed into their own saddles, Riogan with considerably more grace.

“Where?” said Riogan.

“South of Aretia, I think,” said Halfdan. “Somewhere along the Imperial Highway. Maglarion is probably in Aretia. We’ll want to be well away by nightfall.”

“Agreed,” said Riogan.

They rode along a narrow, weedy track winding its way back and forth down the hill, shaded by stubby trees and piles of boulders. The constant jouncing rhythm of the horse’s stride made Caina’s legs hurt, but she didn’t care. At least she was in the sunlight again. At least she was leaving that horrible vault behind. 

The horses rounded a stand of trees, and Caina saw the blue expanse of the Bay of Empire, the town of Aretia standing at its edge. She also saw her father’s villa, standing on its hill overlooking the town.

Or, rather, the burned ruins of her father’s villa.

The roof was gone, the remaining walls blackened with soot. Caina stared at it in horror. It was all gone. Her bedroom, Azaia’s kitchen, the garden with the fountains, the courtyard and the dining hall, all gone in ashes and smoke.

Her father’s library. All his books. Gone. 

“They burned our home,” said Caina. “Why?”

“To cover their tracks,” said Halfdan. “Maglarion doesn’t like attention. So he burned your father’s villa to throw us off the trial. It worked, too. We only found his hiding place when we saw those slavers buying supplies in Aretia.” 

Caina said nothing. But the tears trickled down her face, and her fists squeezed against the pommel, so hard that the leather started to crackle. 

###

They stopped well after dark, maybe twelve miles south of Aretia. Komnene tended to the horses, Riogan walked about, sweeping everything with his cold green eyes, while Halfdan started cooking supper.

Caina watched them in silence.

“What are you going to do with me?” she said at last.

Halfdan looked at her. “I don’t know. We can’t take you anywhere near Aretia. Maglarion may not care that you’re still alive. Or he might come after you.” He shook his head. “And it’s certainly not safe for us to remain near Aretia. Once Maglarion realizes we killed his students, he will try to kill us, if he can find us. And if he finds you with us, well…he’ll either kill you or take you captive once more.”

Caina shivered. “I can’t go back to Aretia, then.” Not that she had any reason to, with her father dead and his house burned.

“Do you have any other family?” said Halfdan. “Elsewhere in the Empire?”

Caina shrugged. “I don’t know. My father’s parents died when he was a boy. My mother’s parents, perhaps. Not that I want anything to do with them.”

Halfdan nodded. “Once we reach safety, we’ll decide what to do with you. Until then, you’ll stay with us. You should eat something.”

Caina shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“You should eat anyway, child,” said Komnene. “And let me find you some better clothes, and treat some of those cuts.”

Caina did not care, but she let Komnene give her clean clothes, and bandage the cuts and scrapes she had acquired. Komnene sucked in her breath at the sight of the scars across Caina’s hips and belly, but said nothing. 

Afterwards, Caina wrapped herself in a blanket and fell asleep by the fire. 

###

Halfdan volunteered to take the first watch, ordered Komnene and Riogan to get some sleep. Komnene made some effort to protest, but Riogan rolled himself in his cloak and fell asleep at once. He knew how to take his rest when he could.

Not surprising, given his background. 

Halfdan sat by the fire, thinking. Nearby Caina thrashed and muttered in her sleep. Of course the girl had nightmares. Probably she would have nightmares every night for the rest of her life. 

No surprise there. 

What did surprise him was how the girl had responded to her pain. Halfdan had been with the Ghosts a long time, and he had seen people endure every kind of pain and loss and tragedy. Very often they went numb, stunned into catatonia. 

Caina had not. He doubted that she cared if she lived or died. But she had rage. He had seen it in her face, as she gazed at the ruins of Count Sebastian’s home.

And they had found her wandering through the chamber of dead men.

Which mean that, somehow, she had gotten herself out of her cell.

Halfdan thought about that for a long time. 

Chapter 6 - A Keen Eye

The next day, the Ghosts disguised themselves.

A wagon had been hidden near their campsite, concealed beneath loose branches and piled leaves, the bed empty save for a few empty wine barrels. Halfdan cleared it off, dressed himself in an old cloak and a worn cap, and hitched the horses to the wagon. Komnene dressed herself in a plain gray dress. Riogan kept his armor and weapons, though he concealed them beneath an old cloak. 

They looked, Caina thought, like a common-born farmer and his wife, accompanied by a caravan guard chance-met on the road. Which Caina supposed was the point. 

No doubt people would think that she was Halfdan’s daughter. That made her think of Sebastian, and she wept a little.

Still, she did not mind the wagon. Sitting in the wagon’s bed was an improvement over the horse’s jouncing back. 

Halfdan drove the wagon south along the paved stones of the Imperial Highway, while Riogan walked besides it, hand beneath his cloak, eyes cold and suspicious. Komnene rode in the bed with Caina, attempting to talk to her from time to time.

Caina didn’t care. She sat slumped, swaying with the wagon’s motion, lost in her own grief.

The nightmares came again when she slept, worse than before.

###

The next morning, though, she was curious.

“Where are we going?” said Caina. 

Not that she cared. But perhaps asking questions would keep her mind from dwelling on the nightmares.

On what she had endured. 

Komnene looked at her in surprise, and then at Halfdan.

“Mors Anaxis,” said Halfdan. “It’s a town…”

“About forty miles south of Aretia, along the Imperial Highway,” said Caina. 

Komnene smiled. “How did you know that?”

“I read it in one of my father’s books,” said Caina.

“Do you know why it’s called Mors Anaxis?” said Komnene.

“The Emperor Anaxis,” said Caina, remembering. “His tomb is there, along with his funerary cult. He was buried there in ancient times, during the Second Empire.” 

“Very good,” said Halfdan.

“I didn’t even know that,” said Komnene.

Riogan snorted. “Not that it matters. The bones of one dead Emperor are much the same as another.” 

“Why are we going there?” said Caina. She looked at Riogan. “Do you want to pray to the Emperor’s bones?”

Riogan scoffed and looked away. 

“Mors Anaxis is a port,” said Halfdan. “We’ll hire a ship, and sail to the eastern side of the Bay of Empire. Maglarion would expect us to flee north, towards Malarae. Hopefully this will throw him off our trail.” 

Caina nodded. 

“How are you feeling?” said Komnene.

Riogan snorted. “A foolish question.”

Komnene gave him a withering glance. “I meant physically. She took some terrible wounds.”

Caina shrugged. “They hurt. But not as bad as they did.” She closed her eyes. “Maglarion always healed them when he finished.” 

“Hardly from charity,” said Riogan. “He only wanted to keep you alive so he could drain more blood from you.”

“I know that,” said Caina. 

“It’s well that he did,” said Komnene. “You would have died from infection, had he not.”

“Maybe that would have been better,” said Caina. 

They rode in silence for a moment.

“After Mors Anaxis,” said Caina. “Where then?”

“Then, I think,” said Halfdan, looking back at her, “we will take you to Malarae. The Ghosts have many friends in the Imperial capital. One of them will take you in.”

Caina didn’t care. But Halfdan had been kind to her, and her father had always said to thank those who did you kindnesses. “Thank you.”

Halfdan nodded.

“And thank you,” said Caina, “for taking me out of that…that place.”

“I would leave no one in Maglarion’s clutches,” said Halfdan. 

“You should eat something,” said Komnene.

“I’m not hungry,” said Caina.

“You should eat something anyway,” said Komnene. “You were starved for all those weeks. You need to keep your strength.”

Caina looked at her, looked at her for so long that Komnene started to frown.

“What is it, Caina?” said Komnene.

“You used to be a priestess of Minaerys,” said Caina, “didn’t you?”

Halfdan snorted in surprise and half-turned in his seat. Riogan looked at Caina with cold eyes, reappraising her.

“How did you know that?” said Komnene.

“Did you read her mind?” said Riogan. “Perhaps you learned a spell or two from Maglarion?” 

“What?” said Caina. “No. I don’t have any arcane talent. My mother said so. Maglarion said so.”

Halfdan watched her for a moment. “Then how did you know Komnene used to be a priestess of Minaerys?”

Caina shrugged. “I just did.”

“How?”

Caina thought it over. “She was the one who looked at my cuts. And I saw all the drugs and potions she has in her bags. You said she brewed up the poison that killed the magi. So that means she’s a physician. And the only women who become physicians are priestesses of Minaerys.”

“So?” said Riogan. “Practically every village from here to Marsis has a shriveled old crone who knows a thing or two about herbs.” 

“She also swore by Minaerys,” said Caina. “In the vault. ‘Wisdom of Minaerys’, that’s what she said. Only the priests and priestesses of Minaerys talk like that.” 

“Maybe she’s still a priestess of Minaerys,” said Halfdan.

“No,” said Caina. “She’s not. Physicians in the service of Minaerys are not allowed to brew any drug to cause harm. So if she made that poison, she’s not a priestess of Minaerys any more.”

Komnene looked away, as if in sudden pain, and Caina felt a brief twinge of guilt. 

“You are,” said Riogan, “a clever little thing, aren’t you?” 

“Indeed,” said Halfdan. “What kind you see about me?” 

Caina shrugged. “You’re…harder. It’s like…it’s like you went out of your way to disguise yourself, to hide things about yourself. Riogan, too, except he’s better at it.” 

Riogan guffawed. 

“Well, you’re right,” said Halfdan. “We did go out of our way to disguise ourselves.”

“I think…I think you used to be a farmer,” said Caina, frowning. Thinking about the puzzle kept her from thinking about the grief. “Or…a vintner? Yes, a vintner. Your arms…you look like you’re used to lifting things.”

“True,” said Halfdan. “But why a vintner?”

“Wine barrels,” said Caina, kicking one of the empty barrels. “I watched you move them around when we started. You looked like you had done it before.” 

“So I have,” said Halfdan. “And I was indeed a vintner, long ago. What do you see about Riogan?”

Caina shrugged. “Not very much. I think he’s spent a lot of time practicing with weapons.”

“Why?” said Halfdan.

“Because he’s been carrying that spear for days,” said Caina, “and I’ve never once seen him trip over it. And he doesn’t make any noise when he walks.”

Riogan’s face went blank as he looked at her. 

“You’re very observant,” said Halfdan. “Who taught you to do that?”

“I don’t know,” said Caina. “I used to watch my mother. She’d get angry for anything, start hitting me, or start hitting the servants. Or casting spells on us. So I’d have to watch her, in case she got angry.”

“You’re very clever,” said Halfdan. 

“My mother always said I was stupid,” said Caina.

Halfdan gave sharp shake of his head. “Then your mother was a fool, not to see a treasure when it was before her eyes.” 

Caina blinked, wondering what he meant by that. 

###

They arrived at Mors Anaxis later that afternoon. 

The town held perhaps five thousand people, and did not look very different from Aretia. The same houses with white-plastered walls and red-tiled roofs, the same wooden warehouses, the same stone wharves cluttered with fishing boats and the occasional merchantman. The half-ruined tomb and mortuary temple of the long-dead Emperor Anaxis stood on a hill over the town, looking desolate. Evidently very few pilgrims came to pray to Anaxis’s bones. 

“To the docks, I assume?” said Riogan as Halfdan steered the wagon through the town’s narrow streets.

“Almost,” said Halfdan, bringing the cart to a halt. He swung down from the driver’s seat and passed the reins to Riogan. “You and Komnene go to the docks, find us a ship. One heading to Craton, preferably, but Mors Nicoron or Kratekon will do. Hire a fishing boat, if necessary. I’d like to put on tomorrow’s tide.”

Riogan frowned, but took the reins. “Where are you going?”

“Caina and I will be visiting the market square,” said Halfdan.

“Why?” said Caina and Riogan in unison.

“Indulge me,” said Halfdan. 

Caina shrugged, climbed out of the wagon, and followed Halfdan. In truth, she did not mind. Other than Aretia, she had been to only a few other towns, and never to Mors Anaxis. She rather enjoyed looking at the people going about their business, the men with tools and wagons, the women carrying jars of water or bundles of laundry. 

It made her think of her father’s promise to visit Malarae and the Imperial Library. 

Tears came to her eyes, but she blinked them back and followed Halfdan. 

They came to town’s market square, a broad space ringed with merchant shops and stalls, a fountain bubbling in the center. A magistrates’ hall stood on one end of the square. No doubt ten decimvirs judged in Mors Anaxis, as in Aretia. On the other end of the square stood a high building of timbered stone, and Caina supposed it was an inn or a drinking house. 

“What do you think?” said Halfdan.

“It seems busy,” said Caina. 

Halfdan snorted. “Not quite. The Great Market in Malarae, that is busy. Or the Plaza of the Tower in Marsis, or perhaps the Grand Bazaar in Istarinmul. This is a quiet little town in the heart of the Empire.” 

“If you say so,” said Caina.

“Your father,” said Halfdan, “he never took you to the capital? Or to any of the Empire’s great cities?”

“No,” said Caina, blinking back tears again. “We…were going to go to Malarae soon. But…other things happened.” 

“Yes,” said Halfdan. “So you’ve had no…schooling? Your father never took you to the Temple of Minaerys, for instance, for a course of study?”

“No. Why does it matter?”

“I am just curious,” said Halfdan, “how you became so observant.”

“I read a lot of books in my father’s library,” said Caina. 

“So I see,” said Halfdan. He stood in silence for a moment, then gestured towards a man walking across the square. “That man. What can you tell me about him?”

Caina squinted at the man. He was tall and rangy, with skin like old leather, his hair pale. He walked with a rolling gait, and had a knife at his belt.

“He’s a fisherman,” said Caina.

“How do you know?” 

“He’s been in the sun a lot,” said Caina. “You can tell, from his skin and hair.” Halfdan nodded. “And he…walks funny. Like he spends a lot of time on a boat. The fishermen in Aretia always walked that way. And that’s a scaling knife on his belt.” 

“Good,” said Halfdan, gesturing again. “That man, the one leaving the inn. Tell me about him.” 

Caina watched the man descend the inn’s stairs. He moved with a heavy stride, sweat dripping down his forehead, his gut straining against his belt and fine coat. He wore a short sword, but the weapon looked ornamental. Not like the simple, deadly blades that Riogan carried.

“He’s a merchant,” said Caina. “I think he sells…spices. Yes, that’s it. Spices. Also, his money pouch is in the inside pocket of his coat.”

Halfdan lifted his gray eyebrows. “Now, how did you know all that?” 

“He’s fat and sweaty,” said Caina. “So, he doesn’t labor for a living. His clothes are too nice. And there’s black powder on the sleeves of his coat. Probably pepper, I think. And he keeps reaching into his coat and looking around, making sure his money pouch is still there.”

“Very good,” said Halfdan. “That fellow, there?”

“A courier. He’s wearing spurs, has mud on his boots, and he’s got the sigil of a noble House on his coat. House…Basilicus?”

“Yes,” said Halfdan. “And that woman?”

“A shopkeeper’s wife,” said Caina. “She squints and has a stoop, so she must do his account books.” She blinked again. “Like my mother always said reading would do to me.” 

“You have a gift for observation,” said Halfdan. “And for deducing facts from those things you observe.” 

Caina shrugged. “What good is that?”

A smile flickered over Halfdan’s face. “You’d be surprised, I think.” He gestured again. “What about that woman, the one in the blue cloak?”

“She’s the wife of a linen broker,” said Caina, “and she has four children.”

Halfdan frowned. “Now how did you work that out?”

“Because my father’s seneschal would buy linen from her husband. He came up to Aretia sometimes,” said Caina.

Halfdan burst out laughing. 

Caina almost smiled. It had so long since she had smiled, or laughed, that the motion felt strange on her face. 

“An eye for observation, and a knack for remembering detail,” said Halfdan. He smiled at her. “Truly, Caina, you are a remarkable child.” 

“I…thank you,” said Caina, unsure of how to respond. 

“I wonder,” said Halfdan, “do you…”

Caina froze.

A man stepped down from the magistrates’ hall, a man in a black robe with a red sash about the waist.

A magus, a brother of the Magisterium. Caina remembered the men and women in black robes staring at her, watching as Maglarion had cut deeper and deeper into her flesh…

“Get on the ground,” said Halfdan. His voice was hard, but his face remained calm. “Act like you tripped. Do it now.”

His voice cut through Caina’s fear, and she let herself fall to the flagstones. Halfdan knelt besides her, took her arm. The magus glanced once in their direction and kept walking. 

“Do you recognize him?” said Halfdan. “Was he with Maglarion?”

“I…I don’t know,” said Caina. “It was dark. I couldn’t see their faces. He looks like them. But…I don’t know.” Hatred boiled up inside her, like a pot threatening to overflow. “But they’re all villains, they’re all murderers, every last one of the magi…”