Ghost in the Veils

1

COUNSELS

Caina gazed at the wrapped bundle in the back of the wagon.

Thankfully, no blood had leaked from it.

Though perhaps she shouldn’t have worried.

Only a few people in Malarae would have recognized the dark green liquid as blood.

The wagon itself was nothing remarkable. A bit old and worn, though none of the planks had rotted and the wheels were in mostly good shape. A pair of placid draft horses pulled the vehicle, the animals well-accustomed to the noises and smells of the Imperial capital.

The only thing unusual was the bundle resting in the back.

It was almost the precise size and shape of the corpse of a grown man.

To be fair, it was a corpse.

Just not of a grown man. Or a grown woman.

Or indeed anything human.

Caina didn’t know what it was, but she intended to find out.

Will there be anything else, Countess? said her seneschal, a Saddaic man named Talzain. He wore the formal black clothes of a Nighmarian servant. Combined with his wan complexion, the outfit always made him look a bit corpselike.

No, thank you, said Caina. I should be back in time for dinner with Lord Kylon and Lady Kalliope.

Yes, said Talzain. He cleared his throat. That ought to be…interesting.

You have a gift for understatement, said Caina.

Kylon and Kalliope had their own errands in the city. When Kalliope had fled New Kyre with her children ahead of the Cult of Rhadamathar, she had taken some money and baggage with them, but she had been forced to leave it behind at the Wrecked Warship near the ocean harbor of Malarae. Fortunately, the innkeeper had kept all of Kalliope’s baggage on hand. Partly because Anastasios was an honest man and partly because he feared the vengeance of Kalliope’s father.

Lysikas Stormblade had a formidable reputation, even among the Kyracians living in Malarae.

So Kalliope had gone with some of Caina’s servants to retrieve her baggage and buy such things as Nikarion and Zoe might need. Kylon himself was keeping watch over the twins. Caina suggested that he take them riding to see the city, and he agreed. The children, in awe of the father they had never known they had, had made no protest.

Ardakh, Sethroza, and the other Cultists were still out there, but if they tried to attack the children in Kylon’s presence, they would regret it bitterly.

If briefly.

And that left Caina free to deal with the thing in the bed of the wagon.

Are you certain you don’t wish for some of the porters to accompany you, my lady? said Talzain as Caina climbed into the wagon’s seat and grasped the reins.

No, thank you, said Caina.

Talzain had worked for her long enough not to ask questions. He had figured out long ago there were things in Caina's life that he would be better off not knowing.

Caina snapped the reins and eased the wagon into motion.

Caina mulled over her current challenges as she drove the wagon towards Malarae’s foundries.

She had numerous problems, and she needed advice on how to deal with them.

The biggest problem had come wrapped in a mystery that she had been so far unable to unravel.

An outsider contemplating Caina’s life might decide her present difficulties were related to her family. While this was not an unreasonable conclusion, it was nonetheless wrong. She had been married to her husband Kylon for two years now, and recently they had learned that Kylon had a six-year-old son and daughter with a Kyracian noblewoman named Kalliope Agramemnos, children that Kalliope had kept secret from Kylon at the order of the highest religious authority of the Kyracian people.

To say that Kylon had been angry and betrayed at this revelation would have been an understatement.

Caina had managed to keep the peace between her husband and the mother of her husband’s children, at least so far. It helped that Caina had saved Kalliope’s life on the night they met. It helped a great deal that while Kalliope might not have liked Kylon all that much, she was devoted to Nikarion and Zoe and was clearly a good mother. The welfare of her son and daughter had to come first, and that meant asking for Caina’s and Kylon’s help.

Which led to the other, more serious problem, the one that required advice.

Someone had gone to a great deal of trouble attempting to kill Nikarion and Zoe.

Caina knew who wanted to kill the children. The Cult of Rhadamathar was an obscure religion from southern Anshan that had existed for centuries, and various rumors told conflicting tales of their beliefs. Caina had never heard of them until a member of the Cult had tried to kill her, and she had backtracked her failed assassin’s trail just in time to save Kalliope and the twins. Caina didn’t know why the Cult wanted to kill the children, but she doubted they would give up.

But why? The twins were both six years old and while they both had latent arcane talents that were just starting to awaken, they were no threat to anyone. A logical motive was the succession to House Kardamnos, but Kylon’s cousin Rhamphias was currently the High Seat of House Kardamnos and until the Assembly of New Kyre voted to lifted his banishment, his children could not inherit the leadership of House Kardamnos.

For that matter, Kalliope said the Cult had killed other members of House Kardamnos within New Kyre. Caina could envision the Cult assassinating a few members to raise one of their own followers to the High Seat of House Kardamnos, but the wholesale slaughter of the extended family would not accomplish that. Yet why attack House Kardamnos in the first place?

Why go to such lengths to kill two children who were no threat to anyone?

Caina had tried to find the answer and had failed so far. Her investigation had borne other fruit – she discovered the Cult had built an alchemical weapon that would have killed the Emperor and the Padishah and triggered a war between the Empire and Istarinmul. The weapon would have killed thousands, not least among them Caina’s husband and many of her friends.

She had stopped the weapon before the Cult could use it.

A worthwhile result, though it had left Caina with far more questions than answers. She didn’t know what the Cult wanted, why they wanted to kill the blood of House Kardamnos, why they had tried to start a war between the Empire and Istarinmul, and nor did she know the identity of the mysterious green-clad archer who had helped Caina and Kalliope escape from the Cult’s agents.

Far more questions than answers.

Veils of mystery surrounded the truth, and she hadn’t yet found a path through them.

The thing lying in the back of the wagon, the mostly human-shaped corpse that wasn’t at all human, was perhaps the biggest question of all.

Caina had fought and killed the High Priest of the Cult in Malarae, and her first impression was that he had been a man wearing a helmet wrought in the shape of a serpent’s head. She had swiftly discovered that he actually did have a serpent’s head, that his skin was scaly, and he even had a short tail concealed beneath his heavy robes.

In all her extensive travels, she had never seen a creature like that before. Had the High Priest been a human twisted into a serpent man? Caina had encountered such things before, but that didn’t seem right. The twisted creatures that Caina had faced, the Temnoti priests and the kadrataagu and the mavrokhi shapeshifters and others, had been warped, corrupted things, creatures obviously distorted by the dark powers they had served or summoned. While the High Priest was a strange and alien creature, he lacked the ghastly unnatural appearance of a thing like a kadrataagu or a mavrokhi.

Like he had always been that way.

Like he had been born a serpent man.

Were there such creatures as serpent men?

Caina didn’t know. She didn’t know why the Cult of Rhadamathar wanted to kill her husband’s children, but finding out what the High Priest really was seemed like a good place to start.

And she knew just who to ask.

A short time later, she brought the horses to a stop in front of a house.

It was one of the larger townhouses on the street, large enough to have been a mansion in the provinces, though by the standards of the lords and merchants of Malarae, it was a mere townhouse. It was big enough to have both a courtyard in the front and an inner courtyard within the house itself. A heavyset man stood outside the gate. He had the rough look of a former Legionary, with dark eyes and a receding hairline turning gray. The man’s eyes narrowed as she brought the wagon to a halt.

Aye, what’s your business here? said the former Legionary.

Good morning, Ventrius, said Caina, speaking with her normal voice.

She felt a bit of satisfaction as Ventrius did a double-take. Caina was wearing one of her disguises – a mercenary soldier with a chain mail hauberk and a leather jerkin, sword and dagger on her belt. She had raked her hair forward so that it hung in greasy curtains alongside her face, and a bit of light makeup created the illusion of stubble.

Best not to let anyone know that Countess Caina Kardamnos was driving the corpse of a serpent man through the streets of Malarae.

Ventrius let out an exasperated groan. For the gods’ sake! Every time. You fool me every time. Countess. How might I serve?

Is Lord Arcion here? said Caina.

Aye, in the study, said Ventrius. Muravin and some of the others took Lady Tanya to the market. Don’t reckon they’ll be back until dinner.

That’s good, said Caina. I may need to borrow Lord Arcion until then. Can you keep an eye on the wagon until I get back?

I can, said Ventrius. He glanced at the bed of the wagon. What’s in that bundle?

Carpets, said Caina.

Ventrius had been in the Imperial Legion for sixteen years, and he had been involved in the occasional fight for the Ghosts since. He knew exactly what a dead body looked like and had no doubt created a number of them himself.

Carpets, said Ventrius. Sure.

Caina thanked him, crossed the courtyard, strode through the house’s entry hall, and came to the second floor. The door to Ark’s study stood open, and she knocked on the frame and stepped inside. The study was a simple room with a wooden writing table, a chair, an armor stand that currently held a gambeson and a mail shirt, and a chest of drawers for holding records. Ark might have risen to become the Lord of House Arcion, but he had been a Legion centurion before Caina had met him and retained a centurion’s distaste for extravagance and luxury.

Ark sat at the writing table. He was a big, hard-faced man with receding hair and the arms of a blacksmith. His face had the perpetual stern look of a man who had once been the first spear centurion of an Imperial Legion, though it always softened in the presence of his wife and children.

He looked at her, his frown sharpening. Yes? But he knew her better than Ventrius, and the frown relaxed as he recognized her. Caina. I thought you were a messenger about to bring bad news. He rose to his feet. Are you bringing bad news?

Not yet, said Caina. How’s Tanya?

Better than I am, said Ark, casting a rueful glance at his desk. She went to the market with Muravin and his daughter. Meanwhile, I must answer all these thrice-damned letters.

I thought all centurions of the Imperial Legions knew how to read and write, said Caina.

We do. Doesn’t mean I bloody enjoy it. Tanya’s right, I should just hire a bloody scribe and dictate my letters said Ark. How are matters with the new stepchildren?

Caina hesitated, uncertain of herself for a second. People tended to talk about their children a great deal. It wasn’t surprising, given all the effort and worry children required. This was, however, perhaps the first time Caina had been involved in such a conversation, not counting the times she had used it as a conversational ploy while disguised and trying to coax information out of someone.

Well. All things considered, said Caina.

Given that these snake-worshippers were trying to kill them, said Ark.

Yes, said Caina. Kylon’s watching them. Kalliope went to the market to buy some things that they need.

Think she’ll be safe? said Ark.

Most likely, said Caina. I sent some of the footmen with her. Kalliope is a stormsinger and can keep her head in a fight. I expect she would be very dangerous without the liability of needing to defend two small children. Besides, she’s not of the blood of House Kardamnos, so the Cult doesn’t want her dead. Just Nikarion and Zoe.

Ark grunted. Have Kylon and Kalliope tried to kill each other yet?

What do you mean? Though she knew what he meant.

I saw them talking in Tanya’s garden, said Ark. They were polite for the sake of the children, but any fool could see they don’t like each other very much.

No, said Caina. They don’t. But they won’t try to kill each other. That would mean leaving the children without a mother or a father. They dislike each other, but they’re both still Kyracian.

Ark frowned. What does that have to do with anything?

They might argue, but they’ll work together in the face of a common foe, said Caina. Such as whoever is trying to kill their children.

Alongside the Emperor and the Padishah, said Ark.

Aye, said Caina. Which is why I’m here. I need your help for a few hours.

You have it, said Ark. She felt a wave of warmth at how quickly he had agreed. Should I bring my sword?

It’s a good idea, said Caina, but you shouldn’t need it.

Have you ever regretted bringing a weapon with you? said Ark. He crossed to the corner of the room, pulled on his gambeson and mail coat, and then his sword belt with its sheathed Kyracian sword. It was a sword of storm-forged steel, sharper and stronger than normal metal. Ark had taken it from the stormdancer he had killed during the battle of Marsis.

I haven’t, said Caina, and for all I know, we’ll be attacked in the street. But it shouldn’t be that kind of danger.

Ark adjusted his sword belt. What kind of danger, then?

I need you to help me carry a corpse.

He considered this and then shrugged. Wouldn’t be the first time.

They descended to the courtyard and came to the wagon.

No one’s been watching? said Caina to Ventrius.

Not as far as I can tell, he responded.

Ark looked at the bundle in the wagon’s bed and then turned back to Ventrius. If Lady Tanya comes home early, tell her where I’ve gone. I should be back before dark.

Ventrius nodded, and Caina climbed into the wagon’s seat and took the reins. Ark settled next to her, adjusting his sword so he could draw it in a hurry if necessary.

When did you learn how to drive a wagon? he said.

Some of it in Istarinmul, said Caina. The rest in Ulkaar during the last year of the Umbarian war. We met Theodosia’s theatre company in Vagraastrad and traveled with them to Risiviri. It was a long journey and there wasn’t much else to do. Though compared to driving a wagon in the Ulkaari winter, steering one through the streets of Malarae is easy.

Doesn’t snow here very often, said Ark. Not compared to the Imperial Pale. Can’t say I miss the snow very much. He paused, glancing back at the bundle in the wagon’s bed. I assume you need me to carry that corpse in the back.

Yes.

Where are we taking it?

To someone, said Caina, who I hope can tell me what it is.

Ark thought that over. What is it? Not who it is?

Yes, said Caina. The serpent-worshippers in the Cult of Rhadamathar apparently include serpent men.

There was a long silence. Caina steered the wagon west and turned onto the Via Triumphalis, the central street of Malarae that led from the ocean quays to the gates of the Imperial Citadel, which loomed on its crag to the north of the city proper. After a few hundred yards, she turned the wagon left off the Via Triumphalis and into the richer districts of Malarae, where the lords and the wealthy merchants built their mansions.

And where the priesthoods of the gods of the Empire kept their grand temples.

You said a serpent man, said Ark at last.

Caina nodded.

When I was a centurion, one of my men claimed snakes talked to him, said Ark. But he had been hit in the head with a sling stone during an ambush and was never quite right after. So the Cult in Malarae was led by an actual serpent man?

I don’t have any good answers for you, said Caina. Which is why we’re going to find some. Hopefully.

The wagon rolled into a forum. Statues of long-dead lords and magi stood in heroic poses upon stone plinths, and temples to four different gods stood on each side of the square. Or, rather, three different gods.

The Prince of Iramis had paid the priesthood of Cursus a handsome sum to move their temple elsewhere.

The Iramisian embassy, said Ark as Caina brought the wagon to a halt in front of the former temple. It was a rectangular building of snowy white marble, ringed in an arcade of columns that supported its triangular roof. Two soldiers in purple and gold stood guard at the front doors. Am I about to learn why the Emperor insisted that the Temple of Cursus give this building to the Iramisians?

You are, said Caina. She dropped down from the wagon and walked to the front door of the former temple, Ark following her. The soldiers watched her warily as she approached and then bowed.

Liberator, said the soldier on the right in the Iramisian language. We greet you.

I greet you in turn, said Caina, also speaking the Iramisian tongue. It came more naturally than it once had, but the words felt strange and alien upon her lips. Caina knew a great many languages, and she had learned most of them in the usual way, but Iramisian had been driven into her skull through the sorcery of a Great Necromancer, like a carpenter hammering nails into a post. It still felt a bit odd to use the language. Are matters well at the embassy?

Peaceful, said the soldier. A welcome change after the last few years.

Indeed, said Caina. Is the loremaster Sophia Zomanek here? I would seek her counsel.

Just within, said the soldier. Shall we keep an eye on your wagon?

Please, said Caina. Let no one disturb the cargo.

She and Ark opened the doors and stepped into the temple.

The main room of the embassy was a large marble chamber with windows of leaded glass. Since Cursus was the Imperial god of oaths, laws, and contracts, the temple had been easily repurposed to serve as the embassy of the Prince of Iramis. The chamber held a dozen scribes’ desks, each one hosting a scribe busily writing letters or checking documents.

A young woman in a white robe was walking past the desks, and she came to a halt as she saw Caina and Ark. The woman was young, no more than eighteen, with dark eyes and dark hair bound back in a severe braid. In her right hand, she carried a slender staff that looked as if it had been fashioned from delicate ghostsilver chains wound together to form a cord.

Greetings, said the woman, speaking Caerish with a strong Ulkaari accent. Do you have a message for the ambassador?

Good morning, Sophia, said Caina, switching to the Ulkaari language. I hope you are well.

Sophia Zomanek blinked a few times, and then her eyes went wide, and a huge smile went over her face. Countess!

She bounded forward and caught Caina in a hug, and Caina hugged her back.

I heard you had been assigned to the Malarae embassy, said Caina. I was going to come see you, but then I’m afraid the last several days have been busy.

Yes, I heard rumors, said Sophia. Someone tried to attack Emperor Valerius and the Padishah as they rode into the city.

They did, said Caina.

Sophia grinned. Since they are still alive and you are standing here, Countess, there is no need to ask what happened.

Ark cleared his throat.

This Lord Arcion of Malarae, said Caina, switching back to the Caerish tongue. Ark knew a good number of languages, but Ulkaar was on the northeastern bounds of the Empire, and he had never been there. We have known each other a long time. Ark, this is Sophia Zomanek, formerly of the town of Kostiv in Ulkaar and now a loremaster of Iramis.

My lord, said Sophia.

A pleasure, loremaster, said Ark. Forgive my ignorance, but you seem very young to be a loremaster.

I’m afraid I am the most junior rank of loremaster, Lord Arcion, said Sophia. The high loremasters study the mysteries of the cosmos in the seven Towers of Lore in Iramis. At my rank, I go where I am instructed by the high loremasters.

Loremasters have different ranks? said Ark, nonplussed.

Aye, it’s like a centurion in the Imperial Legion, said Caina. The centurions of the first cohort of a legion outrank those in the tenth, though they all must answer to the tribunes. Though I don’t know why I am telling you that, you know the Legion far better than I do.

That’s true, but I don’t know the loremasters well, said Ark. You’ve known the Countess long?

She saved my life in Ulkaar when we first met, said Sophia.

Ah, said Ark. It seems half the people who know the Countess tell the same tale.

I would like to talk more, said Sophia, but I suspect you are here on business.

We are, I’m afraid, said Caina. I need to use the door. Can you cast the Thought Aegis upon Lord Arcion?

Of course, said Sophia. She extended her pyrikon staff, white light glimmering around its length. With the vision of the valikarion, Caina saw the flows of arcane power glimmering around Sophia as she worked the spell.

What spell is that? said Ark, giving Sophia a wary glance.

A defensive ward devised by the loremasters of Iramis, said Caina. It protects the mind from any arcane intrusions for the next twenty-four hours.

Useful, said Ark. Do you expect intrusions in our thoughts?

No, but it’s a useful protection where we’re going, said Caina.

Ark shook his head. I remember a time when asking a sorcerer for help, any sorcerer, would have been unthinkable to you.

I remember, said Caina. But times change. People change.

And you married Lord Kylon, said Sophia.

That’s right, you wouldn’t have met the Countess before she wed Kylon Shipbreaker, said Ark. Back that, she never stepped out of the shadows, her eyes blazed with lightning, and she only spoke to voice her wrath.

Sophia blinked.

Very droll, said Caina. Sophia, the spell, please. Sophia nodded and cast her spell. White light glimmered around her pyrikon staff and then surrounded Ark, seeming to sink into him like water into a dry sponge. You should cast it on yourself as well. We might need your help beyond the door.

What door is that? said Ark.

Let’s get the bundle from the wagon, and I’ll show you, said Caina.

They went through the temple doors, Sophia following them, and Caina wrestled the bundle to the edge of the wagon’s bed. It took a good bit of effort. The High Priest had been heavier than he looked. Ark took one end of the bundle, Caina the other, and they carried it into the embassy. Sophia led the way to the far side of the chamber and opened the cellar door, next to what had been the dais that had held the altar and statue of Cursus. They descended to the temple’s cellar, which looked far less ornate than the main chamber, with walls of unadorned stone and pillars supporting the ceiling overhead.

The door set in the wall was the exception.

It was a large rectangle of polished black stone, its surface carved with rows of Iramisian glyphs. Thanks to the sight of the valikarion, Caina saw the powerful spells bound within the door, spells of a skill and subtlety that few sorcerers could ever achieve.

That looks like the spell-reinforced stone created by the Magisterium, said Ark, but those are Iramisian symbols carved on it, aren’t they?

Good eye, said Caina. That’s one of the doors to the Tower of the Cataphract.

Isn’t the Tower of the Cataphract in Artifel? said Ark.

It is, said Caina. We’ll be there shortly.

Sophia cast the Thought Aegis over herself, the white glow of the spell surrounding her. Then she touched the stone door with the end of her staff. The pyrikon flashed with white light, and then the massive stone door swung outward without a sound. Beyond Caina saw a corridor of dark stone, its floor made of green marble. More doors of stone carved with Iramisian glyphs lined the hall.

What is this place? said Ark.

The Hall of Gates, said Caina. Brace yourself. This will feel a bit strange.

Sophia went through the door, and Caina and Ark followed, carrying the bundle between them.

As soon as Caina set foot on the other side of the door, she felt the shift. Some of it was the powerful auras she saw bound within the walls and doors. The rest of it was that something beneath her conscious mind knew that she had left the circles of the world, that she