Ghost Omens (2 page)

“Thank you,” said Mordecai. “I would not want the towns of the bay to rise in revolt against the Emperor during my watch. If you need anything, I shall provide it if it is within my power.”

“Good,” said Halfdan. “Anna, Irene, Cormark. I have a task for you. Go rent a room from our lovestruck innkeeper...and see what sort of man he is.”

###

A few moments later Corvalis pushed the door open, and we stepped into the common room of the Emperor’s Helm Inn. 

Despite its shabby exterior, the common room looked comfortable enough, with a bright, cheery fire in the hearth and polished wooden tables. I had thought the Inn built of wood, but the first floor’s interior walls were of massive, rusticated stones, weathered and old, supporting the planks of the upper floors.

Caina looked at them with fascination.

“What is it?” I said, puzzled. There were just stones. 

“This Inn is built on a ruin,” she murmured. “Those walls? They were constructed in the Second Empire, I’m sure of it. It must have been part of the mortuary temple complex…”

“Welcome!” 

A man in his late fifties stepped around the bar at the far end of the common room, walking with a pronounced limp. Despite the limp, he looked healthy, with the arms and chest of a man accustomed to heavy work. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and he did not look as if he had gotten much sleep lately. 

“I am Levinius, master of the Emperor’s Helm Inn,” he said, smiling at us in a paternal sort of way, “and I bid you welcome. What can I do for you?” 

“Good morning, fellow,” said Caina, her voice and posture that of a merchant’s haughty, spoiled daughter, so different from the cool, efficient killer I had seen in Catekharon. It always amazed me how thoroughly she could transform herself. “I seek lodgings for the night. Our ship was forced to dock for repairs, and we are in need of rooms.”

“Of course, mistress, of course,” said Levinius. 

“My father is Basil Callenius,” said Caina, “master merchant of the Imperial Collegium of Jewelers, and so naturally we require your finest rooms.”

“I would not have it otherwise,” said Levinius, though I thought I saw a flicker of worry in his eyes. “You shall have a suite on the top floor, with a separate bedroom for the ladies,” he bowed again, “and even a metal bathtub. My porters can bring up hot water for you.” 

“That will be pleasant,” said Caina. “My father shall see to payment when he arrives.”

“Though I have a question, master innkeeper,” said Corvalis, speaking in the gruff voice of a caravan guard. “There was a mob out front when our ship docked, with this woman shouting at them. What was that all about? Does Mors Septimus have problems with rioting?”

“No, nothing of the sort,” said Levinius, but I saw the worried flicker in his eyes again. “It is...the woman was my wife.”

Caina gave a polite little laugh. “Was she drumming up custom for your inn?”

“She is a prophet,” said Levinius. “The spirit of the Emperor Septimus speaks through her.” 

Caina raised an eyebrow in polite interest. “Indeed?”

“Truly,” said Levinius. “The spirit of the Emperor offers Tonia wisdom to...to guide us through these difficult times. That is all.”

“I hope she does not advocate overthrowing the Emperor,” said Corvalis with a scowl. “My master is a man of standing in the Imperial capital, and he would not wish to associate with such...seditious persons.”

“No!” said Levinius. “Tonia is a...a good woman. A kindly woman. The Emperor’s spirit gives her wisdom, that is all.” He brightened. “Would you like to meet her? Then you will see her wisdom for yourself.”

“Master innkeeper,” said Caina, “I would enjoy nothing more.” 

###

One of Levinius’s servants showed us to the rooms. They were modest, if comfortable. I started to complain, and made myself stop. I had lived in far greater luxury as a sister of the Magisterium...all while my father had tortured and killed anyone who opposed him.

How did the old proverb go? Better an honest hovel than a palace gained through wickedness? 

I had never seen the point of that until I abandoned the Magisterium.

Caina looked out the windows. “Corvalis. Come look at this.”

He came to her side. I wasn’t invited, but I took a deep breath and came anyway. 

The window overlooked a wide yard behind the Emperor’s Helm. Like many provincial inns, a garden occupied most of the yard, freeing the innkeeper from some of his reliance on the local farmers for crops and herbs. I saw more of the massive, rusticated stonework fencing the yard.

“You were right,” I said. “Look at those stones. This was once part of the mortuary temple complex.” 

“And look at that dirt,” said Caina.

“Dirt?” Corvalis and I said in unison.

But I saw that Caina was right. There had been a great deal of digging in the garden recently, and I saw no plants. 

“I don’t think all that came from the garden,” I said.

“Perhaps Levinius is planning an expansion,” said Corvalis.

“Why?” said Caina. “He cannot possibly have that many guests.” 

Halfdan arrived from the ship, and we went to the common room to meet the prophet of the dead Emperor.

###

Caina stared at the floor, a distracted expression on her face.

I wondered what was so interesting. The floor looked perfectly normal. There was, perhaps, a bit more dirt than one wanted to see in an inn, but the excavations could explain that. The workmen must have tracked it inside. 

Levinius’s maids brought us food and drink, and few moments later, Tonia herself arrived.

She was indeed pretty, and I could see how she had captured the old innkeeper’s heart. She had long, gleaming brown hair and flashing black eyes, her body trim while her bosom swelled against the front of her gown. She was younger than me, younger than even Caina, and could have been no more than twenty or twenty-one. 

So why had she wed Levinius? If she wanted to find a man to claim his property for herself, she could have set her sights far higher than an innkeeper in a minor town. 

“Husband,” she said, her eyes sweeping over us, “we have guests? Why did you not tell me?” 

“I’m sorry, my love,” said Levinius, kissing her cheek. I noticed the faint cringe on Tonia’s face as he did. “This is Basil Callenius, master merchant of the Imperial Collegium of Jewelers, his daughters Anna and Irene, and their bodyguard Cormark.” 

“I see,” said Tonia, regarding us. Then she smiled. “Have you come to hear the word of the reborn Emperor?”

“No,” said Halfdan with his most charming smile, “but I am most curious. The Empire already has an Emperor.” 

“One who has led us into war with Istarinmul and New Kyre,” said Tonia. She drew herself up, gesturing with the flourishes of a street magician. “But the great Emperor Septimus himself has spoken to me through dreams. He will return, and guide the Empire with wisdom and justice.”

“Will he?” said Halfdan. “That is remarkable, since Emperor Septimus has been dead for several thousand years.”

“Nevertheless,” said Tonia with a grand gesture. “The great Emperor Septimus will return to the mortal world, and he shall rule the Empire with wisdom and strength for all eternity. All nations will bow before him, and those who have supported him shall be repaid with wealth and honor.” Her dark eyes fixed on Halfdan. “And those who opposed him shall bitterly regret it.”

“Tonia, Tonia,” said Levinius, taking her arm. “You worry our guests with such talk.”

“Then they are fools,” said Tonia, “for failing to recognize the truth when they see it.”

She shook her arm free of Levinius’s grasp and stalked off, vanishing through the inn’s front door.

“Charming woman,” said Halfdan.

“She is...only spirited, that is all,” said Levinius. “She truly believes the spirit of the dead Emperor has been speaking to her.”

“And do you?” said Halfdan.

Levinius’s face wavered halfway between an innkeeper’s ingratiating smile and a grimace. “I...I do not know what to think, master merchant. The ways of the gods are beyond the mind of a simple innkeeper. Pardon, I must check on my cooks.”

He bowed and hurried off to the kitchens.

“Well?” said Halfdan, once we were alone.

“If an artist in Malarae,” said Caina, “wanted to capture in paint or marble the very essence of denial, he could use Levinius as his model.”

Corvalis snorted a laugh and reached for a piece of bread. 

“And Tonia?” said Halfdan.

“A fraud,” Caina and I said in unison.

We looked at each other, and then back at Halfdan. 

“I didn’t sense any sorcery from her,” said Caina.

“I would have recognized it,” I said, “if she had cast a spell.”

“If you two are in agreement,” said Halfdan, “then it must be so. Then it seems clear she is a common swindler.”

“Though that makes me wonder,” said Corvalis, “what she is trying to swindle. Levinius doesn’t have much worth stealing, other than the inn. And if she wanted that, she could simply pour poison in his wine or push him down the stairs.” 

“And those followers of hers,” said Caina, “claim to have seen visions. Either they are part of her gang, or she is very persuasive, or…”

“Or there is more going on here,” I said, “than a simple swindle.”

“My thoughts exactly,” said Halfdan. “I think that before we return to Malarae, we ought to follow Mistress Tonia. I would be most interested to see where…”

The inn’s door banged open, and six men stormed inside, clad in the rough clothes of farmers and laborers.

And all of them carried clubs and axes.

“Levinius!” roared one of the men. “Levinius, damn you, show your hide!”

I saw Caina reach into her sleeve for one of her throwing knives, saw Corvalis’s hand curl around the hilt of his sword.

The innkeeper emerged from the kitchen and frowned. “Yes? What is this? Why do you have weapons?”

“The great Emperor Septimus has issued a decree!” said the lead man, brandishing his club. “You must die! You are an enemy of the Empire, a traitor! You will perish for your misdeeds!” 

“What?” said Levinius. “But...but that is absurd. Why would…”

“Men,” said Halfdan, rising to his feet. “There is no need for bloodshed. Why don’t we ask the innkeeper to pour us some beer, and we can sit and discuss the matter like civilized men?”

“And kill them, too!” shrieked the lead man. “Kill them all in the name of noble Septimus!” 

There was something...wrong with the man. Even as alarmed fear churned through me, I saw his glassy, dilated eyes, saw his flaring nostrils, saw the faint line of drool leaking from his lips. The other men showed the same strange symptoms, too.

They rushed forward, and I had no more time for speculation.

I hate fighting, hate everything about it, and the others reacted first. Caina reached into a sleeve, drew out a throwing knife, and whipped it at the charging men, her entire body snapping forward like a bowstring. The blade whirled from her hand and buried itself in the thigh of a charging farmer. The man screamed and went to the floor as his leg buckled beneath him. Corvalis moved forward with the smooth, deadly grace of a Kindred assassin, his sword flashing in his right hand, his dagger in his left. He knocked one man unconscious, drove a second back.

Three of the men closed on Levinius, who backed against his bar, holding up a wooden tray as a shield. As useless as I was in a fight, I could see that he was even worse. 

The men were going to kill him,

I lifted my hands and summoned arcane power, my mind forcing the raw force into the ordered pattern of a spell. My thoughts transmuted into fists, and I shoved them at the charging men. Psychokinetic force sent two of them tumbling to the floor, while the third stumbled and looked at me with wide eyes.

“Sorceress!” he screamed, pointing at me. 

As if that would help. 

He snatched a leather pouch from his belt and threw it at me. I dodged to the side, but his aim was so bad that it came nowhere near striking me.

Instead, it hit Caina on the side of the head and burst open, gray powder falling over her face and shoulders. She stumbled and coughed, wiping the stuff from her eyes. The last man bolted from the door, only to run into Corvalis’s fist.

He joined his comrades upon the floor.

“Get some rope,” said Halfdan, pointing at Levinius. “I’ll want to question our friends here.”

“But…” said the innkeeper.

“Go!” said Halfdan, and Levinius scurried off. No doubt he was used to his wife barking commands at him.

“What is that powder?” said Corvalis, crossing to Caina’s side. He looked grim as ever, but I knew him well enough to see the hint of fear there. 

He loved her. This strange, terrifying, cold woman, and he loved her.

“I don’t know,” said Caina. She had brushed most of it from her face. “Hope it isn’t poisonous. Some of it got in my mouth. Doesn’t smell like anything.” She spat, rubbed some of the powder between her fingers, and shrugged. “It reminds me of some of the herbs Komnene used to prepare. Maybe it was a smoke bomb.” She shook her head. “Or maybe he was so drugged out of his mind that he thought it was a smoke bomb.”

“Drugged?” I said. That explained the glassy eyes, the dilated pupils...and the frothing madness that made them think a dead Emperor had commanded them to kill us. 

Levinius returned with a length of rope, and Halfdan and Corvalis went to work, binding the stunned captives before they regained their wits. Caina occupied herself by moving from man to man, examining them and smelling their breath. I had seen firsthand how she deduced secrets from the smallest details, and I wondered if she would find anything on the men.

“Not drunk, then,” she muttered. “Would smell it on their breath, otherwise. They’ve been near the mortuary temple, though, recently.”

“How did you know?” I said.

She pointed at their feet. “The dust on the boots. The temple’s hill is granite, but most of the town is built on sand.” She grinned. “I suppose it is just like a magus not to notice the obvious.”

“If you say so,” I said, stung.