"You are correct," said Helena. "It speaks ill of me, I know, but my lumbering boor of a husband has caused me no end of pain. Yes, I laughed at his grief. And, yes, I hate...I hated Maelana. But, gods of the Empire, to die like that...no, I would not wish that on her. I would not wish such a death on anyone."
"Nor would I," said Caina, voice quiet.
Helena recovered her poise. "But that doesn't answer the question. Why are you prowling around here? Wait, I can guess. Your father has visited my husband a dozen times in the last few years. He's probably one of the Emperor's spies. Which I suppose means you're one of the Emperor's spies."
"There are no Ghosts," said Caina, "only rumors and tales."
"So," said Helena, "what is a rumor and a tale doing in my storeroom?"
Caina decided to take a chance. "Do you want anyone else to die like Maelana did? Like Tormalus did?"
"Of course not," said Helena.
"Then help me," said Caina. "Help me keep it from happening again."
Helena leaned forward. "Then...you know how they died?"
"I suspect so. You invited Tormalus here?" said Caina.
"Of course," said Helena. "When the workmen broke into those tombs, I knew they were sorcerous. I had to call the magi. The Magisterium governs the practice of sorcery in the Empire. They would destroy anything dangerous in the crypts, anything fashioned of forbidden sorcery."
"Tormalus didn't," said Caina. "He found something in the crypts, some weapon of old Ashbringer sorcery. He tried to use it, and it killed him. But the weapon stayed active, and it killed Maelana. And unless I can find destroy it, it's going to keep killing people."
"And you think it's here," said Helena.
"I know it's here," said Caina.
She crossed the room and opened the chest. Inside she saw stacks of folded linens and old cloaks.
And on top of the cloaks rested a dagger unlike anything she had ever seen.
The curved blade was a foot long, carved with deep-cut runes, and fashioned of the same strange silvery metal as the door from her dreams. A fiery orange light shone in the depths of the runes.
And Caina felt waves of sorcerous power rolling off the thing, like the heat radiating from an inferno.
"There," she said. "That's it. That..."
Something cold and wet slapped over her nose.
Caina fell to her knees, the room spinning around her. She looked up and saw Helena holding a thick cloth pad.
Caina tried to stand, but Helena moved too fast. She shoved the pad against Caina's nose. White light flashed through Caina's vision, and then everything went dark.
Chapter 7 - Disposal
Caina awoke with a splitting headache.
She was lying on her side, her hands behind her back, ankles pressed together. She turned her head, the cold stone of the floor scraping against her cheek, and saw shelves of dusty jars and boxes.
She was still in the storeroom. Caina tried to stand, but felt rough, scratchy rope around her wrists. Looking down, she saw rope tied around her boots, binding her ankles together. She remembered searching for the dagger, remembered Helena slamming that pad over her face...
Helena.
Caina twisted around, saw the noblewoman staring at her.
Helena held that strange silver dagger in her right hand.
"You're awake," said Helena. She smiled. "That potion I stole from Tormalus’s baggage proved effective, didn’t it? Though now I have to decide what to do with you."
Caina licked her dry lips. Helena hadn't gagged at her. If she shouted...
"If you want to scream, do it," said Helena, pointing at the door. "That's two inches thick, and all the servants fled, remember? Scream all you want, but no one will hear."
"So you're going to kill me," said Caina, "the way you killed Tormalus and Maelana."
She needed to dig for information. And though her ankles were bound, she could still swing her legs. If she lured Helena close enough…
Helena scowled. "Those were accidents!"
"So you accidentally made the blood pour out their ears?" said Caina.
"Yes," muttered Helena, staring at the silver dagger. "I was justified, though. I thought it would work the way that Tormalus said it would."
"And how did Tormalus say it would work?" said Caina.
"He thought our workmen had found the tomb of the Master of Dreams," said Helena. "The Saddai Ashbringers practiced pyromancy, but some of them indulged in...other arcane sciences. Specifically, oneiromancy. Sorcery to manipulate dreams."
"And what good would that do you?" said Caina. "You wanted to give Reorn bad dreams?"
Helena gave her a chilly smile. "Of a sort. A skilled oneiromancer could use dreams to plant commands in the mind of a victim. A way to control a man without him ever realizing it."
"So you were trying to control Tormalus and Maelana?" said Caina. "Why? What would you...ah, I understand."
"You understand nothing," said Helena.
"You were going to use the dagger to make them kill Reorn," said Caina. "To command them to murder your husband."
"I just want to go home!" said Helena, face flushed with rage. "I hate this place! I hate Reorn. I hate this leaky, drafty ruin of a hall. And I hate the Disali. I cannot stand the jabbering of their stupid language, their uncouth customs, their vile bitter wine. And they stink! Gods, they all stink!"
"If Reorn is murdered," said Caina, "do you really think your father will take you back? You're his sixth daughter. You're no good to him, save as a bargaining chip in a business negotiation."
"If Reorn dies, my dowry reverts to me," said Helena. "And I never bore the panting brute a son, I made sure of that. When he dies, all his property will go to me as well. Then I can live in the Imperial capital. I could only afford a modest household, to be sure, but better to live on the periphery of Malarae than among the barbarous Disali."
"That's a good plan," said Caina.
Helena's lip curled in a sneer. "Your approval means so very much to me."
"Except," said Caina, "you can't figure out how to make the dagger work properly. Can you?"
Helena said nothing.
The pieces fell into place in Caina's mind. "You stole it out of Tormalus's room as he slept. You were going to use it to make him kill Reorn. No one would blame the poor grieving widow." Helena's sneer deepened. "Except you made a botch of it and killed Tormalus."
Helena shrugged. "The dagger is harder to use than it looks. And it may not work properly at all. From what Tormalus said, the Master of Dreams was insane even by the standards of the Saddai Ashbringers."
"When that failed, you tried to use it on me," said Caina. "That would have made another good story. The lecherous donnarch tries to ravish the merchant's daughter, she panics and kills him, and the poor widow inherits his money. But the dagger didn't work on me." Her eyes narrowed. "That silver door in my dreams. That's what it was, wasn't it? If I had gone through it, you would have been able to control me."
"Or you would have died like Tormalus," said Helen with a shrug. "It probably would have been easier if you had died."
"Since you didn't kill me or control me," said Caina, "you tried to take over Maelana instead."
Helena grinned. "You are correct, Ghost. That would have been sweet. Reorn murdered by his own whore. I could have played the wronged woman at every ball in Malarae, and used his money to attract a husband of noble Nighmarian lineage. Not some Disali thug."
"After that," said Caina, "I figured out the truth. And here we are."
Helena nodded, tapping the flat of the blade against her palm. "And here we are."
"Are you going to kill me?" If Helena attacked, and Caina reacted fast enough, she might be able to land a disabling kick.
Or Helena would cut her throat.
"Of course I'm going to kill you," said Helena, brow furrowed. "You've figured out everything, and I've told you the rest. I can't have you running to Reorn. Or, worse, the other Ghosts. I doubt they'll be kinder to me than Reorn. The fool still has a soft spot for me."
"Then why didn't you do it already?" said Caina. "While I was unconscious?"
"Perhaps I decided to be merciful," said Helena.
"Or," said Caina, "you knew that cutting my throat would be suspicious. The townsmen think a curse has fallen on Reorn's hall, some supernatural killer. Having a merchant's daughter die of something as mundane as a slit throat would put the lie to that."
"Damn it!" hissed Helena. "Why did you have to interfere? I was so close. A little more practice with the dagger, and I could have mastered it. Then I could have forced someone to kill Reorn, and I would have gotten everything I wanted. "
"You could throw down that dagger and run," said Caina. "If you move quickly, you might be able to get away."
"Or I could cut out your damned heart with this," said Helena, taking a step closer.
Another few inches, and Caina could hit her.
"A bad idea," said Caina. "If you kill me, it will look suspicious. And my father is a clever man, and he knows most of what I know. If I disappear, or he finds my corpse, he will know what happened. And then you will pay for the innocent lives you have taken."
"Maelana was hardly innocent," muttered Helena, her voice sullen. Caina saw the growing fear on the other woman's face. Any moment now, Helena would panic and do something rash. And Caina would have her chance...
Then Helena grinned.
"If you disappear," said Helena, "or if Master Antali finds your corpse, he will figure out that I killed you, yes. But if he finds you lying on the floor with your blood dripping from your ears...he will assume you are another victim of the sorcerous relic."
Caina said nothing.
"Oh, I should have thought of this sooner!" said Helena, gesturing with the dagger. "You'll die, and I'll kill your father with the dagger's power, as well. Then I'll kill my husband and flee to Malarae. Reorn will be remembered as on object lesson against the dangers of meddling in ancient sorcery. I will live in comfort in the Imperial capital. And no one will remember you at all."
"That's assuming you can figure how to use the dagger," said Caina. "You haven't done very well."
Helena shrugged. "I'll have plenty of time to practice with you, my dear." Her smile was cold. "And I don't need to use the dagger well enough to control your mind. I only need to kill you."
Caina tensed, ready to strike as soon as Helena drew close enough.
But Helena was clever enough to see the danger. She put down the dagger, took a massive sack of flour from the shelves, and dropped it one Caina. It slammed into her legs, pinning them to the ground, and a shock of pain went up her hips. Helena stooped, the cloth pad in her hands, and slapped it against Caina's face.
Again that chemical smell flooded her nostrils.
"Sleep well, Ghost," said Helena, smiling. "Because when you wake up, you'll be in a lot of pain. Though not for very long."
Caina tried to stay awake, but everything went black.
Chapter 8 - Never Have Been
Caina spun over the gleaming marble floor, skirt flaring around her.
Alastair Corus's free hand caught her, and they whirled around each other, moving with speed and grace through the ballroom. Alastair danced just as well as she did, and together their performance drew scattered applause from the other nobles. Caina loved to dance, found it as relaxing as performing the unarmed forms Akragas had taught her. Yet there had not been much time for dancing, not with...with...
Memories of blood and fire flickered across her mind.
Then Alastair spun her again, and Caina laughed, her doubts disappearing into giddy delight.
"You dance well, my lord Alastair," said Caina, trying to catch her breath.
Alastair grinned. "And you as well, my lady."
The music ended, and Alastair bent over her hand and planted a kiss upon her fingers.
"Another dance?" said Alastair.
Caina laughed. "And shall I monopolize your time, my lord? There are other ladies here."
"But none," said Alastair, taking her hand in both of his and lifting it to his lips, "so lovely as you."
"You flatter me," said Caina.
"Since when," said Alastair, "is telling the truth flattery?"
He smiled at her, and Caina felt a wave of warmth flow through her skin. It had been such a long time since someone had touched her, and she had forgotten how much she enjoyed it.
How much she needed it.
"Do you have the boldness, my lord," said Caina, grinning at him, "to back up your words with deeds?"
His hands slid down her sides to rest upon her hips.
"You tell me," murmured Alastair, and he tugged her close and kissed her upon the lips, long and hard.
The warmth in her skin flushed through her entire body.
Her breathing came hard and fast when he released her.
"Another dance?" said Alastair, stroking her cheek.
"Yes," whispered Caina.
"Come with me," said Alastair, taking her hand.
He led her through the gleaming ballroom, past the crowds of nobles in their finery. High balconies ringed the ballroom, and lords and ladies chatted upon them, while servants circulated with trays of delicacies. Suddenly Caina remembered this place. It was the ballroom of Lord Haeron Icaraeus, a powerful and cruel lord who had made his fortune in slave trading.
He had also supported Maglarion's work. Caina had tried to kill Maglarion here, and Maglarion’s sorcery had leveled the ballroom in the resultant confrontation. Had Lord Haeron rebuilt it?
No. That was impossible.
Maglarion had killed Lord Haeron. Caina had seen the corpse lying in the shadow of Maglarion's terrible bloodcrystal.
"Alastair," said Caina, hesitating. "Something's wrong."
"Yes," said Alastair. "We're still here. Come with me, and we'll go somewhere quiet."
Caina wanted to do that. To slip away with Alastair, to lose herself in his arms. All those strange memories that flittered through her mind were only bad dreams. Surely all those images of blood and death could not have happened to her.