Ghost in the Seal (Ghost Exile #6) (34 page)

She closed her eyes, and Kylon thought that she had fallen asleep, or lapsed back into unconsciousness. Yet her eyes opened again. 

“Kylon,” she said. Her left hand twitched toward him, and he reached out and took it. It felt very hot, the fingers thin and callused. 

“What is it?” said Kylon.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Caina. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” said Kylon.

“That it couldn’t be different for us,” said Caina. She closed her eyes and opened them again. “That it’s going to end like this for us. I wish…I wish it could have been different.” 

“It’s not over yet,” said Kylon, but she slumped against the bed, her eyes closed, her breath coming slower. 

He stared at her, the Knight of Wind and Air’s words churning through his mind. If she died, the world would be saved. If she lived, the world was doomed. 

His mouth hardened into a bitter scowl.

It seemed the world was going to be saved. 

He would not give up. He would find a way to save her.

Kylon could just not think of one.

###

Kalgri stood at the edge of the pier, watching the ships come and go.

At last, she spotted the ship she wanted. 

The
Sandstorm
maneuvered to an empty pier, the ship of Sanjar Murat. 

The ship that Caina and her allies had hired to carry them to the Tomb of Kharnaces. 

Kalgri left the pier and raced back to the Umbarian galley. She descended to her cabin and prepared for the triumph to come, donning her black clothing, crimson armor and mask, and her shadow-cloak. Her ghostsilver short sword went on her belt, and the Voice hissed and crooned with anticipation within her skull. 

At last. The moment of her feast had come at last. 

She crossed to the stern, where Cassander stood with the centurions of his Adamant Guards. The Umbarian magus turned at her approach, his blue eyes narrowing. Then he regarded her armor and her cloak, and he smiled. 

“They have returned?” said Cassander, stepping towards her. 

“They have,” said Kalgri. “They will likely return to the Corsair’s Rest before departing for Istarinmul.”

“Well,” said Cassander, still smiling as he looked at the dome of the Corsair’s Rest in the distance. “We have some preparations to make, do we not?”

Chapter 19: We Meet Again

“Caina.”

Kylon’s voice sank into her ears, and Caina’s eyes fluttered open. 

She was still in her bunk in the
Sandstorm
. Caina could not have said how long she had lain there. Days? Weeks? Perhaps months? Surely not that long. 

She forced her wandering mind to focus, and sat up. 

Kylon sat on a stool next to the bunk, his face unshaven and drawn. He caught her shoulder as she sat up, helping her to keep her balance. 

“How do you feel?” said Kylon. 

“Not well,” said Caina. “But no worse. I think…I think I can walk. We’re in port, aren’t we?” 

“Rumarah,” said Kylon. “We just docked. Nasser is paying Murat, and Morgant is making sure that the corsairs don’t kill us.” 

Caina coughed out a laugh. “Looks like Murat loses his bet. I get to keep Malcolm’s knives after all.” 

“Then Malcolm did make them,” said Kylon. “I thought so.” 

“Parting gift,” said Caina. “Maybe more final than he thought.”

“No,” said Kylon. “Laertes took Annarah ahead to the Corsair’s Rest. Nasser knows some jewel brokers, and Annarah can purchase the necessary gems she needs to focus her spell. If she can find the right gems, she could be ready to cast the spell by sundown.” 

“All right,” said Caina, pushing the lank hair from her face. Gods, but she needed a bath. “Would…you help me into my armor?” She tugged at her shirt. “I shouldn’t walk around Rumarah like this.”

Kylon’s eyes flicked down as she did so, and Caina hid a smile at that. “No, you shouldn’t.” He helped her pull on her leather armor, her sword belt going around her waist. She tucked her shadow-cloak into her satchel and tugged on her pack. For a moment she feared the weight would overbalance her, but she kept her feet. 

“Ready?” said Caina.

“Are you?” said Kylon.

“I think so,” said Caina. “Annarah must have cast her spell on me before she left. That seems to clear my head for at least a few hours.”

“With luck,” said Kylon, “she’ll be able to clear it permanently.” 

“The Staff and the Seal?” said Caina.

“Nasser has them,” said Kylon. “He’s done a good job of disguising the Staff as a spear. I think he’s wearing the Seal around his neck. Like that ring you always wear under your shirt.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You were looking under my shirt?” 

Kylon blinked, and to her amusement he seemed at an utter loss for words. “No. It…” He gestured vaguely. “I’ve seen you take it on and off, that’s all.” 

She grinned. “Then you’ve been watching me get dressed?” 

“For the gods’ sake,” muttered Kylon. “You’re as a bad as Morgant.” 

Caina laughed at that and touched his arm. “I’m sorry. You’ve looked after me. I shouldn’t tease you.” She hesitated. “Thank you. For everything.” 

“Don’t thank me yet,” said Kylon. “And if you’re teasing me, it means you’re feeling a little better. We should go.”

Caina nodded and followed him onto the deck, taking slow steps to keep her balance. Her head spun and her limbs ached, but for the moment she could walk. In a few hours she would be incoherent again, but at least she could be in a proper bed for that. With enough money, she might even be able to buy a proper bath in the Corsair’s Rest.

Nasser stood speaking with Murat near the gangplank, Morgant watching them with his hands near his weapons. Beyond them rose the docks of Rumarah, and then the ramshackle town itself, spreading like a fungus beneath the half-ruined Iramisian towers. The sun was setting over the Desert of Candles to the west, throwing long black shadows across the town. Morgant saw Caina hobbling towards them and grinned. 

“You look terrible,” he said. Something glinted in his hand. He had the chain of the wedjet-dahn wrapped around his left hand. Caina wondered why he was showing the thing in public, and then realized Morgant intended it as a weapon – he could swing the short chain and strike someone in the face with the jade scarab before they could react. 

Jade scarab…

That seemed important for some reason, but she could not remember why. 

“I feel terrible, so it’s only fair,” said Caina. “Captain! Sorry to win our bet.”

Murat laughed. “Given that you are alive, I suspect you are lying to me.” He grunted. “If you live, we shall have a rematch.”

“I look forward to it,” said Caina. 

“This knifesmith of yours,” said Murat. “You must give me his name.” 

“Well,” said Caina, “you were willing to let me die of plague in the middle of nowhere. If you win our next match, I’ll hire him for you myself.” 

“Very well,” said Murat. “Now get off my ship before I have to charge you more.” 

Caina made a rude gesture in his direction, and Murat and the other corsairs laughed. She descended the gangplank to the pier, and a wave of dizziness went through her. Caina paused for a moment, got her balance back, and kept going. 

“You know,” said Morgant, “I think Murat likes you.” 

“Good for him,” said Caina, concentrating on staying upright. As before, the streets of Rumarah crawled with armed men, all of them keeping close watch on each other. They seemed more watchful than they had been before, though, as if seeing enemies in every shadow. Caina wondered if something had happened in Rumarah. Perhaps some of the slaver bands had gotten into a fight. Had Caina been alone, as sick and exhausted as she was, she would have made an obvious target. Kylon and Morgant and Nasser proved more than sufficient to deter any attacks. Though perhaps the slavers would have been reluctant to take Caina, fearing that she might spread disease to their inventory. That was an amusing thought. When she took the Staff and the Seal and presented them to Callatas, perhaps she could frighten him into thinking he had contracted a plague…

Caina shook her head, looking at the disguised Staff in Nasser’s hand. He had done an admirable job of transforming it into a spear with a leather-wrapped haft, and had she not known any better, Caina would not have realized that she was looking at one of the most powerful artifacts in the world.

So why did she want to give it to Callatas? 

It made no sense. She knew giving Callatas the Staff and the Seal would destroy the world, yet she felt a strong compulsion to do so. It was almost like the urge to scratch an itch. Perhaps the necromantic poison in her veins was driving her to do irrational things. Certainly it was making her see irrational things.

For an instant, Caina was sure she saw her mother striding among the crowds. 

“What is it?” said Kylon.

Caina shook her head, and the image of her mother vanished. 

“Let’s get to the Rest,” she said. “Given what we’re carrying, we should get off the street.” 

“The residents do seem a bit warier,” said Morgant. 

“Agreed,” said Nasser. “As soon as Annarah obtains the necessary gems, I shall charter a ship for Istarinmul.”

“Why not just hire Murat again?” said Morgant. “He seems like an obliging fellow.” 

“Murat is a wanted pirate,” said Nasser. “He won’t go anywhere near Istarinmul so long as a bounty is upon his head.”

Morgant laughed. “Coward. You two have far larger bounties, and you stroll about Istarinmul as if you own the place.”

“We have rather more urgent need to do so than Sanjar Murat,” said Nasser. “Besides, the sooner we are gone from Rumarah, the better. We left Istarinmul in a rather spectacular fashion…”

Morgant laughed again.

“A rather spectacular fashion,” continued Nasser, “and depending upon how badly Cassander Nilas wishes to find us, he may have already sent agents to Rumarah.” 

“He won’t give up,” said Kylon, his face hard. “The man is ruthless and without scruple, and he has the tenacity of a glacier. So long as it is necessary to his goals to find and kill us, he will not stop hunting for us.”

“Then it seems prudent,” said Morgant, “to find and kill him first. Though I am but a humble artist. What would I know of such matters?” 

Caina started to answer, and another wave of dizziness went through her, cold pain spreading through her arms and legs. 

“I think that’s a question for another day,” said Caina. “I think…we should get to the Corsair’s Rest.”

“Agreed,” said Nasser, and they walked in silence through the streets, Kylon waiting close at Caina’s side. Soon they came to the bazaar at the foot of the ruined Iramisian tower, the stalls and the booths starting to close for the night, though the taverns remained open. The Corsair’s Rest still rose at the far end of the bazaar, gaudy as ever, its painted dome glinting in the setting sun. 

Nasser led the way to the common room. It was far emptier than Caina would have expected. Perhaps the strange tension she had noticed in the street had extended here, had made the residents of Rumarah unwilling to visit a tavern without the company of armed friends. Annarah and Laertes waited at a table beneath one of the balconies, and rose as they approached. 

“Quieter than I would like,” said Morgant. “Something is amiss.”

“It appears there was some fighting in Rumarah,” said Annarah. “Someone slaughtered an entire slaving gang, along with all their slaves, and burned their warehouse around them. No one knows who did it, and all the slaver chiefs and corsair captains are blaming each other. The entire town is on edge, and the slaver gangs might start fighting each other in the streets.” 

“We had best be gone by then,” said Nasser. “Any news on a jewel merchant?” 

“Aye,” said Laertes. “Old Quartius still lives here.”

“Quartius?” said Caina. It was a common enough Nighmarian name.

“A fence,” said Nasser, “specializing in small, portable, and valuable items. Specifically, jewelry. I’ve done business with him on multiple occasions.”

“He’s agreed to meet us here with some items that match Lady Annarah’s specifications,” said Laertes. “He’ll bring a dozen guards with him. This isn’t going to be cheap, Nasser. Quartius has a nose for profit, and he’ll smell that we need those gems right now.”

“The cost is irrelevant,” said Nasser. He gestured at the disguised Staff. “Ciaran’s help has gone a long way toward hindering the designs of our enemies. I do not forget my debts.” 

Morgant grinned. “And if you do forget, the Exile is liable to take exception.” 

“As I said, I do not forget my debts,” said Nasser.

“Ciaran,” said Annarah. “I’ve arranged a room for you on the top floor. I think it would be best for you to rest until we’ve obtained the necessary gems. The less active you are, the slower the poison shall spread.” 

Caina nodded. “Lying down sounds pleasant. Thank you.”

“The ninth room on the south wing,” said Annarah, handing her a key. 

“I’ll make sure you get up there,” said Kylon.

Caina nodded, and she headed towards the stairs, Kylon following. 

###

Cassander Nilas watched the bazaar, his Adamant Guards moving into position around the Corsair’s Rest. He had brought two hundred Guards from Istarinmul, and they proved more than sufficient to block all the entrances to the gaudy inn. It was a damned ugly building. Cassander might burn it down once his business in Rumarah was concluded. He would be doing the owner a favor, really. 

Victory was at hand. He had been in many fights, and could feel that this one was in his favor. All the advantages were his. He had just seen Caina and Kylon walk into the Rest, accompanied by the gaunt old Caerish man with the peculiar dagger and an Istarish man with a spear. 

They would not come out again. 

“When I give the word,” said Cassander in a quiet voice, “storm the inn. Kill everyone you find. The owner and his slaves have been bribed to unlock the doors, and they will flee once you arrive. One of our enemies will have a staff and a ring made from a silvery metal you will not recognize. The man who brings it to me will receive a thousand bezants as my thanks.”