Ghost Lock
Jonathan Moeller
GHOST LOCK
Jonathan Moeller
***
Description
Caina Amalas is the Ghost circlemaster of Istarinmul, the leader of the Emperor's spies in the city.
When desperate refugees uncover a lost relic of deadly sorcery, Caina must keep the relic out of the hands of the cruel Umbarian Order.
Otherwise the Umbarians will use the relic to destroy the Empire...
***
Ghost Lock
Copyright 2015 by Jonathan Moeller.
Smashwords Edition.
Cover image copyright Cammeraydave | Dreamstime.com - Gears Cogs Retro Industrial Background Photo & Captblack76 | Dreamstime.com - Beautiful Dark Woman And Magic Powers Photo.
Ebook edition published April 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law.
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Ghost Lock
My name is Claudia Aberon Dorius. I am not yet thirty, but I feel as if I have lived a dozen different lives. Once I was the daughter of Decius Aberon, First Magus of the Imperial Magisterium. I dreamed of following in my father’s footsteps, of using my sorcery to improve the lives of the people of the Empire. Then I learned that my father was a tyrant and a murderer, that all his pretty words were a justification for monstrous cruelty…and that I had no right to use my power to rule the lives of others.
That was a hard lesson.
I joined the Ghosts, the spies of the Emperor of Nighmar, and trained as a physician. That was how I expected to spend the rest of my life. Not as a magus of the Magisterium, not as the bastard daughter of a nobleman, but as a physician, albeit one who happened to pass reports to the Ghosts.
Then I met Martin Dorius.
Everything changed after that. We went into great danger together, and helped to save the Empire from an ancient necromancer of the fallen Kingdom of the Rising Sun. After that, we fell in love and became husband and wife. I did not hesitate for a moment.
What I did not consider was how my life would change.
My husband is now the Emperor’s Lord Ambassador to the court of the Padishah of Istarinmul, which means I am both a Ghost of the Empire and the Lord Ambassador’s wife. The Empire is in the grips of a civil war as the cruel Umbarian Order wages war against the Emperor. So Martin’s task is to keep the Padishah from allying with the Order against the Empire.
It is a dangerous game with high stakes, and the Umbarians have tried to have us killed more than once. I fear for my husband’s life, and I fear for the child growing within me.
My family’s life is on the line, so I will play this deadly game, and I will win.
It helps to have dangerous allies.
###
I knew that something was wrong the minute I came down the stairs.
I did not feel well that morning. I was over five months into my pregnancy, and my belly seemed to get larger with every passing day. Consequently, the muscles of my back and calves felt tight and painful, and my ankles kept swelling. The nausea had passed a few weeks ago, thank the gods, but my appetite had not returned and I could not eat very much without stomach cramps. Given how much I detested Istarish food (why did they put cumin and onions in everything?) perhaps that was for the best. My moods veered from wild elation to abject despondency.
Still, I couldn’t complain. When I had been studying under Komnene in Calvarium, I had seen the many, many ways a pregnancy could go wrong. So far everything was going well.
So far.
Dromio, my husband’s seneschal, waited in the mansion’s entry hall. He was a stout Nighmarian man in middle age, clad in sober servant’s black, his remaining fringe of graying hair trimmed to razor perfection. The man had no sense of humor, but managed the Lord Ambassador’s household with unflappable equanimity, and regarded everything from kitchen mishaps to Umbarian assassins with the same solemnity.
“Good morning, my lady,” rumbled Dromio.
“Good morning, Dromio,” I said. I managed not to wince as I descended the last step. If my legs hurt this much now, how would they feel in four months? “Is something amiss?”
“I fear so, my lady,” said Dromio. “Lord Martin asked me to bring you as soon as you came down.”
Martin would not ask for my help unless it was important. He was solicitous of me to the point of impracticality, which could send me into a weeping fit if it caught me in the right mood. Yet he still needed my help. I had left the Magisterium, but I still possessed the skills of a magus. Given the array of sorcerous powers the Umbarians and their servants commanded, he often required my knowledge.
“Where is he?” I said.
“In the study, my lady,” said Dromio, bowing and leading the way.
A blessedly short walk brought us to the mansion’s study, a room lined in mostly empty wooden shelves. Martin did not have much spare time for idle reading, but letters weighed down his desk, missives from the Emperor’s magistrates and from the various emirs and prominent merchants of Istarinmul. My husband stood before the desk, his arms folded over his chest. He was a tall, strong man in his late thirties, with deep gray eyes and black hair prematurely shot through with gray. A short distance from him stood an older man in the sober black of a merchant. To my surprise, he was Saddaic. He had the gaunt features and pale, almost grayish skin common among the people of the former Saddaic provinces of the Empire. He turned as I approached, and offered a hasty, nervous bow.
On the floor before the desk sat a rusted block of metal. It was about three feet square, and so rusty that I feared it would stain the floor. The damned thing looked heavy, and I wondered what it was doing here.
“Lady Claudia, my lord,” announced Dromio.
“Thank you, Dromio,” said Martin. Dromio bowed and withdrew, closing the study door behind him. Martin took my hand, his grip warm and strong, and led me towards the desk. “Wife, this is Talazain, a merchant from Istarinmul’s Saddaic Quarter. I believe he has business for us.”
Talazain bowed again. “I am honored to meet you, Lady Claudia.” He spoke High Nighmarian with a thick Saddaic accent.
“A pleasure, Master Talazain,” I said, thinking hard. There were a lot of Saddaic people in Istarinmul. The Umbarian Order had rampaged through the Saddaic provinces, slaughtering thousands, and the Saddai had scattered throughout the lands surrounding the Alqaarin Sea. Many of them had ended up in Istarinmul, banding together in their own Quarter of the city.
After what the Umbarians had done to them, they had proven most willing to aid the Empire…and the Ghosts.
“Lord Ambassador, Lady Claudia, your time is valuable, so I shall be brief,” said Talazain. “I am a merchant of some standing in Istarinmul’s Saddaic Quarter. We have been forced to settle in Istarinmul, but we are still loyal to the Emperor, and we wish to see him prevail against the Umbarian Order.” His gaunt face tightened further. “We wish to see the Umbarian Order defeated, in truth, in payment for our destroyed homes and slaughtered kinsfolk. So we will aid the Emperor’s servants in whatever way we can, and I believe an opportunity for that has come.”
“Please, explain,” said Martin.
“Do you know the name of Keldrius?” said Talazain.
“I do not,” said Martin, but I felt a cold stab of alarm.
“I do,” I said. “Well, I don’t know him personally, but I know the name. He was a brother of the Imperia
l Magisterium about fifty years ago. He fled the Motherhouse in Artifel under suspicion, and spent some time in Istarinmul and then the Saddaic provinces. Evidently he learned something of necromancy in that time, because he reappeared in the Ulkaari provinces, raising undead servants and trying to carve himself a little kingdom in the northeastern Empire. The Magisterium dispatched a troop of battle magi and Magisterial Guards to kill him. They were triumphant, but lost half their number in the fighting.” I shook my head. “I suppose in hindsight he was likely an Umbarian. Before the Order declared itself openly, they killed any Umbarians who made too public of a spectacle of themselves.”
“A pity they didn’t kill themselves all off,” said Martin. “What does a necromancer dead for a half a century have to do with our current problems?”
“This,” said Talazain, gesturing at the rusted block of metal. I saw the faint outline of a door and something that looked like a set of rust-coated dials. I realized that the thing was a massive steel safe. “When we fled to Istarinmul, we purchased homes in the Alqaarin Quarter, for there were many abandoned warehouses there after the Alqaarin Harbor was rebuilt several decades ago. There were a few old mansions there as well, and we purchased one from the Wazir of the Treasury.”
“A mansion,” said Martin as the realization came to me, “that had once been owned by Keldrius?”
“You see keenly, my lord Ambassador,” said Talazain. “At first we thought the history of the mansion simply a curiosity and nothing more. The cellar had been converted to part of the city’s aqueduct, and as we drained it, we found…this.” He gestured at the rusted safe.
“Do you know what is in it?” said Martin.
“We’ve been unable to open it,” said Talazain. “The lock is rusted shut, and we lack the tools to cut through it. My lord, we would not trouble you with this affair, but for two matters.”
“Go on,” said Martin.
“First,” said Talazain, “I believe there is an enspelled object within the safe.”
Martin and I shared a look. I stepped forward, lifting my hand, and whispered a spell as I summoned arcane power. I reached out with my will, focusing my mind upon the safe, and I sensed the flicker of sorcerous power within it. Talazain watched me with a hint of fear on his gaunt face. Once that would have offended me, but now I knew better. Given how much he had likely lost to the Umbarian Order, I could not fault his fear.
“He is right, husband,” I said. “There is an object of sorcerous power inside.”
Martin frowned. “Can you tell what it is?”
I shook my head. “No. I…think there might be a layer of lead inside the safe, one to baffle arcane detection. There is an object of sorcery inside the safe. I just can’t tell what it is. I’m not even sure if it’s necromantic or not.”
“How did you discover this?” said Martin, looking at Talazain.
He hesitated. “One of my cousins was once an initiate of the Magisterium, though he failed in his third year of study and rejoined our family. He knows the basic spells, and alerted me of the danger when we found the safe.” The Saddaic merchant took a deep breath, tugging at his black coat. “We tried to decide what to do with it. Dumping it in the harbor might have been safer, because a Silent Hunter tried to steal the safe last night.”
“I see,” said Martin. That was bad. The Silent Hunters were the Umbarian Order’s spies and assassins. Thanks to spells carved onto the skin of their chests and arms, they had the power to turn invisible for an hour out of every day. It made them highly dangerous. I had placed warding spells over our mansion’s entrances and windows to alert me if any Silent Hunters penetrated the grounds, but the spells only functioned if the Silent Hunters were using their powers. Once inside the mansion, they could strip out of their clothes and turn invisible, and I would not know until an invisible dagger penetrated my ribs.
It made for some sleepless nights.
“How did you know a Silent Hunter came for the safe?” I said.
“I saw him myself,” said Talazain. “He was naked, and I saw the symbols carved across his flesh. I feared he would kill us, but instead his symbols glowed with silver light, and he vanished.”
“Little wonder,” said Martin, tapping the safe with the toe of his boot. “This thing is rusted shut. A Silent Hunter could not carry the kind of tools necessary to open this, not if he wanted to use his power.”
“I decided to come to you, my lord,” said Talazain. “You are the Emperor’s representative in the city…and if the Umbarian Order desires the contents of this safe, perhaps it is something they could use in the war. Perhaps it is some secret they could use to overthrow the Emperor. I thought to dump the safe into the harbor as I had planned…but what if the Umbarian magi retrieved it from the waters? And what if the Emperor could use the contents of the safe? So I brought it to you.”
“You did well,” said Martin. He frowned. “Who else knows about it? I do not believe the Silent Hunters stumbled across it by accident.”
“No,” said Talazain. “I know, as does my cousin and his wife. I do not believe they would pass information to the Umbarians, but I have been wrong before. There is one man I suspect, though, an Ulkaari mercenary named Khardav. He was in our employ when the safe was found, and left immediately thereafter. I fear he may have been a spy for the Umbarian Order.”
“Thank you,” said Martin. “I suggest you leave the safe here. That will draw any spies and Silent Hunters away from your family, and the embassy’s mansion is as well-guarded as any place in Istarinmul. I shall investigate the contents of the safe, and have you reimbursed if we discover anything of value.”
Talazain bowed and offered his thanks. Dromio appeared and escorted him to his porters and sedan chair in the street, leaving me alone with Martin and the safe.
“Well,” I said, “what are we going to do about this?”
“A very good question,” said Martin. “I suppose we could get sledgehammers and pound it open.”
I shook my head. “There’s a chance the item in the safe is an alchemical elixir of some kind. Too much force might cause it to…ah, explode.”
Martin grunted. “I suppose an explosion would get the safe open. Not that it matters. The walls of that safe have to be several inches thick, and the door is locked and rusted shut. If we opened it by force, we’d likely destroy whatever was inside.”
“Maybe it would be best to dump the thing in the harbor,” I said.
“Perhaps,” said Martin. “If the Umbarians want whatever is in that safe, we should deny it to them. Though I would like to know what they want, and whether or not the Empire can use it.”
I nodded. The Empire’s war against the Umbarian Order was not going well. The rebel magi had seized the eastern third of the Empire, and though they had been unable to expand further west than the fortifications of Artifel and the Disali provinces, the Emperor had been unable to dislodge them from their conquered provinces. The war had settled into a bloody, grinding stalemate, and if the Empire could gain any advantage at all…
I sighed. “I had a hoped for a peaceful week until the Grand Wazir returns from his hunting trip.”
Martin laughed and kissed me, and I leaned against him, resting my head against his shoulder. “At least this time we are not fleeing through the Kaltari Highlands with a mad assassin upon our tails.”
“True,” I said.
His logic was sound. Still, I wished Talazain had dropped that damn safe in the harbor.
“I shall order Tylas to extra vigilance,” said Martin. “At least we won’t have to worry about someone sneaking in and spiriting away the safe. It took a dozen of Talazain’s porters to get the thing in here. I suppose I should look into hiring a locksmith, someone with experience opening jammed safes. Though I don’t know where to find such a man.”
I blinked.
“I don’t, either,” I said. “But we both know someone who does.”
###
Caina Amalas answered my summons t
wo days later.
I sat at a table in the solar, answering letters. Most of them were from various merchants or minor nobles who wanted a favor. According to Istarish tradition, a nobleman’s most senior wife answered requests for social engagements. Since Martin was damned well not going to take another wife, the responsibility fell to me. I didn’t mind it very much. It gave me something to do, something to take my mind from my worries.
Plus, the sunlight was nice. I did not care for either Istarish cuisine or the Istarish climate, but the sunshine was nice. When I lived in Artifel at the Magisterium’s Motherhouse, it seemed as if storms came off the Inner Sea every other day.
The door swung open, and Dromio appeared. A short man in a dusty brown coat followed him, a courier’s satchel slung over his shoulder, his black-hair and beard close-cropped.
“A courier for you, my lady,” said Dromio. He seemed to disapprove of the man. “He knew the proper passwords to see you personally.”
I took a closer look at the courier. He seemed familiar, somehow. Then I saw the sharp cheekbones and cold blue eyes behind the beard, and the face suddenly snapped into focus. The courier was not a man, but a superbly disguised woman.
For that matter, the courier was not a courier at all, but Caina Amalas, circlemaster of Istarinmul’s Ghosts.
“Thank you, Dromio,” I said, putting down my pen and rising. “I will need a word alone with the courier. Please ask Lord Martin to join us as soon as he returns.”
“Of course, my lady,” said Dromio, departing with a bow.
Caina and I stared at each other for a moment. I was always amazed at how thoroughly she could disguise herself when she wanted. Caina was capable of turning bluffs and misdirections and disguises into lethal weapons. She could also be quite attractive when she wore a proper gown. Little wonder she had caught my brother’s eye.
