Ghost in the Winds (Ghost Exile #9) (50 page)

“Ah…of course,” said Rhamphias, and he felt a flicker of genuine sympathy in the man’s aura. “We shall leave with the tide tomorrow. I shall have your baggage carried to our trireme.” He clapped his hands. 

“There isn’t much,” said Kylon, turning, “just some…”

He fell silent. 

For burly porters in the gray tunics of slaves approached Rhamphias.

Slaves. Slaves would carry Kylon’s baggage to the ship. Slaves would attend to him on the trireme. Slaves would wait upon him in New Kyre.

Slaves just like the ones Kylon had seen dead in the wraithblood laboratories.

Slaves just like the ones the Brotherhood had kidnapped. 

Kylon wanted to go home.

Except…he had changed. New Kyre hadn’t changed. 

Thalastre had once said that Caina had changed Kylon, and she had been right. And now Caina had changed him even further. Or perhaps the horrors he had seen in Istarinmul had changed him. More likely it was both.

Kylon only knew that he found the thought of slaves waiting upon him revolting beyond measure. 

“We should attend the banquet first, cousin,” said Rhamphias. “Then we should…cousin? Cousin?”

Kylon of House Kardamnos strode from the Court of Justice and did not look back.

Chapter 33: The Last Answer

The next day, Caina walked with Nasser through the Cyrican Bazaar. 

The Bazaar had come to life once more, the merchants reopening and rebuilding their stalls, calling out of their prices. It reminded Caina of the months she had spent waging her campaign of theft against the cowled masters, of the long talks she had shared with Nasser as they plotted the downfall of their enemies. 

Of course, things were a little different now. 

A dozen men of the Prince’s Guard trailed them, spears in hand and shields upon their arms. The metal of their cuirasses and weapons looked like bronze, but it was actually a high-quality steel. Caina herself wore the bright dress of an Iramisian noblewoman, her pyrikon shifted to its diadem form and resting upon her brow. 

And she had walked unseen through the Bazaar a thousand times, but now the merchants bowed as she passed, while a few simply stared with wide eyes. She was now the Liberator of Iramis and an amirja of House Tarshahzon, the Balarigar, and the Padishah’s adopted sister, and some of them had even seen her fight Callatas in the sky over the city. Their bows were discomforting. 

At least, they should have been discomforting. They didn’t disturb her, but neither did they bring her any pleasure.

Instead, she simply felt…gray. Numb. A little tired. 

She had felt that way after she had killed Maglarion, after she had avenged her father at last. Caina knew that she and her allies had saved Istarinmul and countless millions of lives. A lot of people had been killed, but far, far more had been saved. She should have taken joy in that, she knew. 

But she felt nothing, save weariness. 

“Lord Rhamphias departed this morning,” observed Nasser. 

“I know,” said Caina. She sighed. “Do you see right through me now, Prince Nasser?” 

He smiled that white smile at her. “We have been through some very dangerous times together, have we not?” 

They walked in silence for a moment.

“I couldn’t have kept Kylon here,” said Caina. “It wouldn’t have been fair. If I had insisted, he would have stayed. But I couldn’t have done that to him. Not when he had a chance to go home. Not…when he could have a family, a real family of his own.” 

“You loved him,” said Nasser, “and so you let him go.”

“Yes,” said Caina.

“A noble thing to do,” said Nasser.

Caina let out a humorless laugh. “Why does the noble thing always bring pain?”

“Alas, my dear Balarigar,” said Nasser, “the men of Iramis have been asking that question ever since our city was built. Thousands of years later, we still do not know the answer.”

“I suppose not,” said Caina. 

“Lord Kylon went home,” said Nasser. “You could go home as well. You might be banished from the Empire, but both Istarinmul and Iramis will aid the Emperor in his war against the Umbarian Order. If the Padishah and the Prince of Iramis insist that Caina Amalas Tarshahzon is allowed to return home, the Emperor will relent.”

“I know,” said Caina. “Perhaps I will ask that of you. Malarae is the home of my heart. But…I’ve done too much here, Nasser. I have too many friends here now. Malarae might be the home of my heart…but so are Istarinmul and Iramis.”

“If you wish to reside in Iramis,” said Nasser, “you will be more than welcome to do so. You are a Liberator and a valikarion, and you will always have a place among us. More, the valikarion and the loremasters are preparing to aid the Emperor against the Umbarians. The Umbarian Order is a cancer that has spread out of control, and the Emperor will need the aid of the valikarion and the loremasters to bring the Umbarians to bay.” 

“I know,” said Caina. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do now.”

“Well. Perhaps it is best to start simply. A cup of coffee, perhaps,” said Nasser, nodding towards the House of Agabyzus. “That always assists clear thought. And Mistress Damla has the finest coffee in Istarinmul…and surely a visit from the Liberator would greatly increase the popularity of the House of Agabyzus.” 

“Is that why we walked here?” said Caina. “So you could buy me a cup of coffee?”

Nasser smiled. “Would I do something so duplicitous?” 

Caina snorted. “Certainly not. Lead on.” 

They crossed the rest of the Cyrican Bazaar and went into the House of Agabyzus. Caina looked around the familiar common room, at the low tables and the booths, and she took a deep breath, the smell of coffee filling her nostrils. She did feel better here. It had all begun in the House of Agabyzus, hadn’t it? It had all begun here, and unlike so many things in life, it had ended well. Callatas had been defeated, his monstrous plots undone, and countless lives had been saved.

Countless lives, and if Caina was as alone as she had been when she had come to Istarinmul…well, that was a small price to pay, was it not? At least Kylon was still alive. At least he had not died as Corvalis and Halfdan had.

She hoped that he would find peace in New Kyre with his Kyracian wife and children. 

Damla hurried over, wearing her widow’s black, but there was a sparkle in her dark eyes. Caina spotted Tomazain walking into the kitchen, and she thought a baker’s apron suited him better than chain mail. 

“Please don’t bow,” said Caina. 

Damla laughed. “I shouldn’t dream of it.” That smile widened. She looked almost giddy with…anticipation, was it? Did she have a surprise? Caina hoped not. She wasn’t in the mood. “I’m glad you’re here. Lord Prince, all is in readiness.”

“Capital,” said Nasser. “Capital, indeed.” 

Damla turned as the kitchen door opened again, and a bolt of sheer surprise went through Caina. 

Kylon of House Kardamnos walked into the common room.

###

Caina’s face had gone white, her blue eyes wide with surprise. A small part of Kylon felt some satisfaction at that. She was so observant that it was almost impossible for him to surprise her. Then her cool mask fell back into place once more.

“Rhamphias’s ship left a few hours ago,” said Caina. He couldn’t sense her emotions without touching her, but he knew her well enough to detect the faintest quaver in her voice, the tiniest twitch of a muscle below her eye. 

“I know,” said Kylon. “I wasn’t on it.”

He was aware that everyone in the common room was watching them, but Kylon did not care. 

“Why…why not?” said Caina at last. “You wanted to go home…”

“I did,” said Kylon. “But Rhamphias summoned his slaves to take my baggage, and…I couldn’t do it. Not after everything I have seen in the wraithblood laboratories.”

“But the Surge…” said Caina. 

“To hell with the Surge,” said Kylon. “I have something more important to do.”

“What is that?” said Caina. 

“A pact,” said Kylon. “On the day Callatas tried to kill us, we made a pact. We promised we would return to Istarinmul, and that whoever returned first would wait here for the other. So I am waiting here.”

“Waiting for what?” said Caina. 

“To say this,” said Kylon. “Marry me.” 

She didn’t say anything for a few heartbeats. Then a twitch went through her face, her eyes going wide again, and then Kylon saw something that he had never seen before.

Caina Amalas, Ghost circlemaster, the Balarigar, the slayer of the Moroaica and the Grand Master, the bane of sorcerers and slavers, was crying. 

“Well?” said Kylon. “I…”

She all but jumped into his arms and kissed him long and hard, and the pure hot joy of her emotions flooded over him. 

###

Caina at last broke away from Kylon to take a breath, and she was dimly aware of the cheers and laughter from around her, but they didn’t matter. 

“Then it is a yes?” said Kylon, smiling.

Caina laughed as well. “Of course it is a yes. I understand now.”

“Understand what?” said Kylon. 

She grasped his hands. “We’re both exiles, you and I, but that doesn’t matter. Home is wherever you are.” 

Epilogue

The man known at various times as Morgant the Razor or Markaine of Caer Marist, the finest painter in Istarinmul, busied himself in the Tarshahzon Gardens. A crowd had gathered to watch him work, which seemed only proper. He was the finest painter in Istarinmul, after all.

A long time ago Callatas had commissioned Morgant to paint the Fall of Iramis as a vast mural. Morgant had half-expected the new Padishah to order the mural destroyed, but Kutal Sulaman Tarshahzon surprised Morgant. The Padishah had instead commissioned a new mural, and after receiving payment in advance, Morgant had started work, painting on a stone wall facing the Fall of Iramis.

The Return of Iramis, once he completed it, would be a masterpiece. 

Already he saw it stretching half-complete before him. The mural showed the Desert of Candles, grim and solemn, the candles shining like pillars of ice. Nasser and Laertes and Kylon and Annarah stood around the dry fountain. Morgant himself, standing to the side a bit, looked thoughtful and wise, as befit his venerable age and vast wisdom.

Caina Amalas, the Balarigar, placed the Star in the hand of the crystallized Lady Anzima as the sky ripped open in golden fire and Iramis rose forth from the netherworld. Caina stood with one foot upon the plinth, her free arm outstretched as she raised the Staff of Iramis, looking beautiful and stern and dramatic. 

Gods, but she would hate the mural when she saw it.

Morgant hummed to himself as he painted and the crowds stared in amazement. Another hour, he decided, and then he would go give Annarah’s sons their lesson in swordplay for the day. After everything he had survived, it amused him to end up as the eccentric adoptive uncle of a pair of Iramisian boys. 

But why not?

For a long time, Morgant had been unable to decide if the world deserved to live or die. He still didn’t know if it deserved to die, but he had decided that he wasn’t going to be the one to kill it. 

And because he had decided not to kill it…a city and a quarter of a million people he had thought dead had returned to the world living. 

Morgant didn’t know if the world deserved to die or not. Or maybe Annarah was right, and the world deserved to die, and mercy was the only path. Morgant had shown mercy, and because of that, he had seen a sight more wonderful than he had thought possible. 

Iramis returning from the dust of time…in two hundred years, he had never seen anything like that.

“The Balarigar,” he muttered, shaking his head at himself. “Maybe she made even me believe.” 

THE END

Thank you for reading GHOST IN THE WINDS and the GHOST EXILE series. Turn the page for information about Caina’s future adventures.

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A Brief Author’s Note

Nine books later, we have come to the end of the GHOST EXILE series, eighteen books after Caina’s adventures started in CHILD OF THE GHOSTS. (Nineteen if you count BLADE OF THE GHOSTS). Thank you for reading! I hope you have enjoyed the series. 

Caina’s next adventure will be GHOST IN THE RING, the first book of the new GHOST NIGHT series, coming in mid-2017. 

What will GHOST IN THE RING be about? Caina has learned many secrets, but she knows nothing about her hated mother’s family…and that family has many, many skeletons in its closet. 

Thank you for reading GHOST IN THE WINDS, and I hope to see you for GHOST IN THE RING in 2017. 

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