Ghost in the Winds (Ghost Exile #9) (8 page)

After Caina had shown up and brought chaos to the Brotherhood of Slavers and the Umbarians, there had probably been quite a bit more improvising.

To Kylon’s mild surprise, the commanders greeted him with enthusiasm as well. Then again, they had seen him kill the nagataaru-possessed Rhataban in single combat. Evidently, the late Master Alchemist had possessed a fearsome reputation. 

At the other end of the ring, a little away from the others, the Emissary of the Living Flame leaned upon her cane, flanked by a pair of monks in flame-colored robes. She looked like an unremarkable Istarish woman of middle years, her black hair going to gray, but her black eyes met Kylon’s, and he felt the power within them. The Istarish revered her as the Emissary of the Living Flame, the voice of the Living Flame’s will in the world, but Kylon met her gaze without blinking. She had promised to aid him, though he did not trust oracles. 

“My lords,” said Prince Sulaman as grooms led away the horses. “We have arrived. Istarinmul lies before us. We must decide how best to take the city with the least loss of life to its people.” 

“I do not think it is feasible to storm the walls in a direct assault,” said Tanzir. “At least not at the moment.”

“I doubt more than three or four thousand of Erghulan’s dogs escaped to the city,” said Kazravid. Over his armor, he wore the patterned red and black robes of an Anshani anjar, a minor nobleman of the Shahenshah’s domain. “If we strike hard and at once, we might overwhelm the defense and storm into the city.”

“We might not,” said Strabane. “They have Hellfire engines upon the walls, and the engineers have the leisure to range their shots properly. Even the Immortals broke under the storm of Hellfire at the battle. Could you expect normal men to do otherwise?” 

“My lords,” said Nasser, “it may not be necessary to assault the city at all.”

They all looked at him.

“How so?” said Tanzir.

“Consider,” said Nasser. “Erghulan’s standing was already damaged when Cassander Nilas and the Umbarians betrayed him and tried to destroy the city. Now he has been decisively defeated, and a lord who loses a battle rarely keeps his hold upon power for long. It is entirely possible that Erghulan realizes that he is finished, especially since Grand Master Callatas has vanished.”

Strabane snorted. “Is Erghulan smart enough to realize that?” 

“No one will say the Grand Wazir has a subtle mind,” said Tanzir, “but his sense of self-preservation is quite well-honed. One cannot survive otherwise in the politics of Istarinmul.” 

“Then you wish to leave him an escape route,” said Lord Martin.

“You see keenly,” said Nasser. “My lords, we all know that our real enemy is Grand Master Callatas, who has departed the city on some task for his insane Apotheosis. Erghulan is but his servant, however much he might believe otherwise. If we give him a chance to flee, he shall likely take it. Mercy would serve us better than vengefulness here, I think. Let Erghulan and his supporters flee, and permit any of the common soldiers who wish to surrender to do so. That way we can take Istarinmul with a minimum of death on all sides,” he glanced at Kylon, “and if Grand Master Callatas returns from his errand, he shall find an Istarinmul unified against him with his work undone and his wraithblood laboratories destroyed. That would be a heavy stroke against his work.”

Kylon said nothing. If Grand Master Callatas returned…that meant that Caina was dead. Either Callatas had killed her, or the Red Huntress had done so. Again Kylon felt the overwhelming regret that he had not accompanied her to Pyramid Isle, that he had not insisted he go with her to face Callatas. At the time, her logic had made perfect sense, but her damned logic always made sense, even when it was wrong. 

He should have gone with her. 

On the other hand, if he had gone with her, it was likely everyone around him would have died in the battle.

He still wished he had gone with her. 

Kylon felt the Emissary’s eyes upon him, and he kept himself from grimacing. She had called him the man defined by the women he had lost, and that had more truth to it than he liked. He did not want to consider losing Caina. They hadn’t even had all that much time together. If Callatas or Kalgri killed her…

He shoved aside the thoughts, forcing himself to pay attention. There were far greater problems in the world than the woes of one exiled Kyracian nobleman, though he knew none of those problems mattered to him as much as Caina’s life. 

“This counsel seems good to me,” said Sulaman, which more or less ended the discussion. “At the very least, we risk nothing by attempting it. Erghulan is alone and without support, and the longer the siege draws on the further his prestige falls. Letting him flee into exile seems the wisest course. If it fails, we can always assault the city later.”

“Lord Prince.”

The Emissary’s voice was soft, but it commanded instant attention. Most of the nobles and commoners and slaves of Istarinmul held her in respect and those who did not respect her knew better than to question her authority in front of the devout. 

“Yes, Emissary?” said Sulaman.

“Your plan is sound,” said the Emissary, “and normally it would grant victory, but something has changed.”

“What has changed?” said Sulaman.

“Callatas returned to the city this day,” said the Emissary. 

Kylon stared at her, something clenching in his gut. If Callatas had returned to the city…that almost certainly meant that Caina was dead. It almost certainly meant that Callatas had killed her, taken the Staff and the Seal, and escaped the undead grasp of Kharnaces.

He felt Claudia staring at him and sensed her sudden concern. Out of everyone here, she knew him the best, had known him before Thalastre had been killed and he had been banished from New Kyre. 

She understood what this meant. 

“Then we may assume,” said Sulaman, “that Callatas is beginning the final spells of the Apotheosis?” 

“He is,” said the Emissary. “At this very moment. He has several days of work before him. Yet the Apotheosis is coming, and our time is almost out.”

“Then that settles the matter,” said Kazravid. “We have to assault the city at once and stop him before he can finish that spell. If he does, that madman will kill us all.”

“But Callatas’s return will stiffen Erghulan’s spine,” said Martin. “He won’t dare flee with Callatas’s eye upon him…and it might give him new resolve. If he believes that Callatas is about to wave his hand and sweep all his enemies away, he won’t stop fighting.”

“No,” said Sulaman, his voice grim. “But Strabane is also correct.” His eyes grew distant, and Kylon felt the faint surge of arcane force as Sulaman used his peculiar ability to see into the future. “If we attack the wall with a full assault, many thousands shall die. Men from our army, men among the defenders…and men, women, and children among the people of Istarinmul when errant amphorae of Hellfire land among the slums of the Anshani Quarter. And our attack may well fail.” 

“Yet we must break into the city and stop the Apotheosis,” said Martin. “My lords and emirs and captains, you have all seen the evil that Callatas has authored within Istarinmul. The Apotheosis will surpass all his previous crimes. It is up to us to stop him…even if the cost is appalling.”

Silence answered him. Kylon said nothing, part of his mind wrestling with the problem.

The rest of his mind wondered what had happened to Caina. 

“Lord Martin is entirely correct,” said Nasser, “but I suggest we approach this problem from a different angle.” 

“What do you mean?” said Tanzir. 

“Perhaps we are confusing our goals and our methods,” said Nasser. “Our goal is to get the army inside of the city. Attacking the wall is simply one method of doing so…”

Tanzir nodded and scratched his thick beard. “And there are other methods.” 

He leaned over and whispered in Sulaman’s ear. 

“My lords and emirs, I beg your indulgence a moment,” said Sulaman. “I will confer with emir Tanzir, Lord Martin, Lady Claudia, Nasser Glasshand, and Lord Kylon for a moment.”

Kylon blinked. What did Sulaman want with him? 

He adjusted the valikon in its sheath over his shoulder and followed Sulaman, Tanzir, Martin, Claudia, and Nasser into a nearby tent. The tent’s only furnishing was a long table supporting some maps of Istarinmul. Mazyan had not been invited, but the Oath Shadow planted himself before the flap of the tent, his perpetual scowl unwavering.

The Emissary had not been invited, either, but she came nonetheless. 

“What is this about?” said Martin.

“It is simple, husband,” said Claudia. “We need to get into the city. We can either take the gate by storm…”

Martin nodded, understanding pulsing through his aura. “Or someone inside the city can open the gate for us.” 

“But we have no one inside the city…” said Tanzir.

“The Ghost circle does,” said Kylon, understanding their plan. 

“Yes,” said Sulaman. “I wish to speak of it among ourselves, among only those of us who know Caina Amalas for who she is. She would not wish her secrets shared so readily.” 

“She would not,” said Kylon. 

“I fear it is too late for that,” said Nasser. “The bounty of two million bezants for the death of Caina Amalas, otherwise known as the Balarigar, has been posted for over a year. And by now half of Istarinmul claims they saw her challenge Cassander on the day he nearly destroyed the city.” 

“That,” said Claudia, “is because she hired that army of circus performers to impersonate her.”

Tanzir blinked. “Circus performers? Against an Umbarian magus? Truly?” 

“A long story,” said Nasser, “and one for another time.” 

“How extensive is her Ghost circle?” said Sulaman. 

“I do not know,” said Nasser. “Far more extensive than any of us know, I suspect. The woman is as industrious as a hive of bees and the most gifted liar I have ever encountered. She had me convinced that she was a man for nearly a year, and I never suspected the truth. I have no doubt she has informers and agents scattered throughout the city.”

“Would you know how to contact them?” said Sulaman.

“I would,” said Kylon. Caina hadn’t told him all the details of her Ghost circle. He suspected she had kept most of those secrets to herself. Yet she had introduced him to Agabyzus, her nightkeeper, and Agabyzus had been the one to puzzle out the essential nature of Cassander’s plan to destroy the city. Kylon had no doubt that Caina had entrusted Agabyzus with authority to act in her absence. 

“Then you must find your way into the city,” said Sulaman, “and make contact with the Balarigar’s allies.”

“How will we get him into the city?” said Claudia. “I heard Nasser talk about a secret tunnel once…”

“It would have been watched by the Teskilati,” said Nasser, “but the Teskilati are no more. Nevertheless, I have no doubt that Callatas has sent someone to guard the tunnel.”

Kylon laughed despite himself. “You forget. Walls are no obstacle to a stormdancer. I will wait until nightfall, find a quiet section of seaward wall, and go over it. From there I will contact the circle and return by dawn with news.” 

“Very well,” said Sulaman. “If you are willing to undertake this danger, Lord Kylon, then go with my thanks. Already you have saved my life several times, and if you find a way to open the city’s southern gate, you may well save the lives of thousands of men.”

“Let us hope,” said Kylon, and he turned to go.

“Lord Kylon,” said the Emissary.

Kylon sighed and came to a stop by the flap. 

“If you would permit, lord Prince,” said Emissary, “I wish a word alone with Lord Kylon before he undertakes his task.”

“Of course,” said Sulaman. He hesitated, no doubt sensing Kylon’s dark mood. “If Lord Kylon consents.”

“Why would Lord Kylon not consent?” said Kylon. “I’m sure all of this was foreordained and predestined centuries before any of us were born.”

“There’s no need to be snide,” said the Emissary in the tone of an irritated older woman rebuking an impudent younger man. Kylon snorted once at that. Usually, the Emissary spoke in the forbidding tones of an oracle or in a quiet, conversational voice. The irritation made her seemed more human. 

“Fine,” said Kylon. “I’ll talk with the Emissary, and then I’ll go.” 

Sulaman and the others left the tent, leaving Kylon alone with the Emissary.

“Do not yet despair,” said Emissary.

“Despair?” said Kylon, more anger in his voice than he intended. “Caina is almost certainly dead. If Callatas has the Staff and the Seal, that means he escaped from Kharnaces, and he likely killed her in the process.”

“No,” said the Emissary. “I cannot see her thread of destiny, for she is a valikarion. Yet I can see the pull she has upon the threads around her, and it is immense. Her decisions have altered the lives of countless thousands…and I fear that decisions of even greater consequence lie before her.” 

Kylon said nothing. Her words cheered him, but only a little. Caina might still be alive…but perhaps she was trapped on Pyramid Isle. Perhaps Callatas had brought her back as a prisoner. Or maybe the Emissary was simply mistaken.

Or the colossal decisions before Caina would kill her. 

“And what do you see in the future?” said Kylon.

“Her decisions warp the pattern of all destiny threads,” said the Emissary, “unless another thread crosses her path first.”

“The Red Huntress,” said Kylon. He had killed the architects of Thalastre’s death, Cassander Nilas and Malik Rolukhan, but the Huntress had dealt the killing blow and the Huntress yet lived. 

And she was more cunning and more dangerous than any other enemy Kylon had ever faced by far, and she had come within a hair’s breadth of killing Caina already. 

“The Huntress has not forgotten you,” said the Emissary. “She will come for you, and for Caina. Callatas will kill the world, but only once the Huntress has cleared his path. And if the Huntress kills the Balarigar, the world is doomed.”

“Then I will kill the Huntress first,” said Kylon.

Come nightfall he left the camp, making for the walls of Istarinmul.