Ghost in the Tower, Page 2

  “Ah,” said Seb, glancing at Caina. “It seems we have an audience.” He grinned. “It will be all the more embarrassing when I knock you on your backside in front of your wife.”

  “You have to do it first,” said Kylon, calm as he almost always was. The longer she knew Kylon, the more impressed Caina was by his normal state of calm. Given how his ability with water sorcery meant he constantly sensed the emotions of those around him, it must have cost him great pain to learn the necessary self-control. “Though would it be more embarrassing to be knocked on your backside in front of your younger sister?”

  Caina laughed. “Perhaps I should be the one who’s embarrassed. My husband and brother are fighting a sword duel in front of me. It’s like the plot of a High Nighmarian opera.” Come to think of it, that was the plot of several Nighmarian operas, most of which Caina had heard Theodosia sing.

  “A pity Theodosia isn’t here,” said Seb, picking up on the line of Caina’s thought. He often did. “She would offer to sing the parts for us.”

  “Gods of the brine, no,” said Kylon. “I’ll never understand the appeal of Nighmarian opera.”

  Caina shrugged. “Don’t tell Theodosia I said this, but it’s mostly an excuse for the nobles and wealthy merchants of Malarae to be seen looking cultured and lordly. And to give them an opportunity to scheme. But don’t let me interrupt you.” She grinned. “Weren’t you about to knock each other over?”

  “Who are we to deny a lady?” said Seb, and he attacked.

  He was fast, his movements quick and fluid, and his sword swept for Kylon’s chest. But Kylon was just as fast, and his sword snapped up, the hilt grasped in both his hands. The blades came to together with a resounding crack, and Kylon retreated several steps, letting Seb’s momentum play out, and then went on the attack.

  Caina watched as they shifted back and forth across the hold. Neither man used sorcery to augment his speed and strength. Both Kylon and Seb were wise enough to know that they couldn’t always rely on their powers to enhance their battle prowess. Seb was good, very good, but Caina thought that Kylon was better. Kylon fought with the fluid, sweeping moves of Kyracian swordsmanship, but he had spent enough time as a gladiator to know when to abandon the rules, and sometimes he discarded subtlety for force and directness. She saw the marks of Seb’s early training. He fought like a battle magus of the Magisterium, defensively and trusting in his armor to protect him, with sudden lunges and attacks. But like Kylon, Seb had spent a lot of time fighting for his life, most recently in the battles of the civil war, and he knew when to ignore his training.

  They fought three bouts. Kylon won the first, Seb the second, and the third went on long enough that they called it off in the end.

  “I suppose that’s one way to keep the cold at bay,” said Seb, wiping sweat from his forehead.

  “Real fights don’t usually last so long,” said Kylon.

  “No,” said Caina. A real fight, where the options were victory or death, seemed to last forever at the time but was often over in seconds.

  She had been in quite a few of those.

  “Well,” said Seb, “that’s one way to pass the time on a ship.” He grinned at her. “No doubt you and Lord Kylon could think of a few others.”

  “Don’t be snide,” said Caina.

  “I think,” said Seb, “I’m going to the galley and spend some time training Sophia. Her mental discipline has improved considerably since Kostiv. She’ll be well-prepared when she arrives at the Towers of Lore.”

  Caina smiled. “And I’m sure the fact that Ilona is there will have nothing to do with it.”

  “Don’t be snide,” said Seb in the exact tone of voice Caina had used.

  The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Night fell, and Caina and Kylon retreated to their cabin.

  Then it was time to use the most enjoyable way to stay warm on the cold ship.

  The Harpoon did not have many cabins, and most of the crew slept in hammocks in the galley. The cabin Caina shared with Kylon was little more than a wooden box with a bed bolted to the floor. It had no windows, which was just as well since that would have let in more of the freezing air from the Inner Sea. The only light and heat came from a small iron stove set in the floor.

  The bed was just large enough to hold Caina and Kylon at once.

  One of the things Caina had learned since coming to Ulkaar was that it was possible to make love while still mostly dressed. It wasn’t quite as enjoyable, true, but it was warmer, and in the harsh weather of an Ulkaari winter that was almost as good. They had done this every night and a few mornings since they had left Risiviri aboard the Harpoon. Caina supposed that was a bit excessive, but she couldn’t think of a better way to get warm.

  After they finished, she lay against Kylon, wrapped in layers of blankets. Caina felt warm and relaxed and a little sleepy. Her mind was almost content. She wasn’t thinking about what had happened in Risiviri, about the two skulls Talmania had on her table, hidden beneath that white cloth…

  No. She didn’t want to think about that. She couldn’t think about that. Tomorrow they would arrive in Artifel, and a thousand different things could go wrong. Caina needed to keep her wits clear, lest she blunder into disaster. Her meeting with Talmania in Risiviri had twisted her emotions around, and if Caina had been thinking a little more clearly, she might have avoided the near-disastrous trap at Risiviri’s theatre.

  Which had burned down. But, for once, she hadn’t started the fire.

  “You’re troubled,” murmured Kylon.

  “Troubled?” said Caina. She smiled, stretched up, and kissed him. “I’m satisfied and warm. There’s nothing to be troubled about in this bed.”

  But that wasn’t entirely true, was it?

  She knew it, and Kylon would know it. His abilities meant that he could sense her emotions when he touched her skin, and he was touching quite a lot of her skin at the moment, their legs tangled together, his hands resting on her back beneath her shirt and jacket.

  “You’re worried about Artifel,” said Kylon.

  “Yes,” said Caina. She took a deep breath. “I want to get out of Artifel as soon as possible. If any magi realize Sophia has arcane talent, they will try to forcibly enroll her as an initiate in the Motherhouse. And you might not be welcome there if anyone recognizes Kylon Shipbreaker.”

  “Perhaps,” said Kylon, “but if anyone recognizes you, that would be far worse. Half the Magisterium wants you dead, and Lord Corbould still has that bounty on your head.”

  “I wish we could simply take a ship from Artifel,” said Caina. “But any ship sailing from Artifel to Iramis would have to pass Arzaxia, and Arzaxia is still in the hands of the Umbarians. No, we’ll reach Artifel, buy whatever supplies we need for an overland journey to Malarae, and then get the hell out of there.”

  “That’s a good plan,” said Kylon. “Artifel is a large city, and with the war against the Umbarians, there are thousands of people moving through it every day.” He hesitated. “But that’s not what I’m worried about.”

  “What do you mean?” said Caina.

  Kylon met her gaze. “There’s something wrong with you.”

  Caina didn’t say anything. She knew what he meant, and she didn’t want to talk about it. But he knew her well enough that it was nearly impossible to conceal things from him, even without his ability to sense her emotions when they were in physical contact. And she was relieved that he cared. There had been times in her life when her heart had been torn in half and her mind choked with sorrow, and she had been utterly alone, keeping herself going only through sheer stubbornness.

  “Kylon,” she said. She closed her eyes. “I don’t…I didn’t deal with it well, meeting Talmania. I almost got us all killed. I don’t always deal with things well. Morgant and Claudia both said that I handled Corvalis’s death by overthrowing the government of Istarinmul. That was a joke, but there was a lot of truth in it…”

  “That’s not it,” said Kylon. He frow
ned. “I’ve told you before what your emotional aura feels like to me.” Caina nodded. “It’s like ice wrapped over fire.”

  “Yes,” said Caina. She hadn’t liked that description the first time he had told her of it, but she was (grudgingly) willing to concede that it made sense. Caina had been angry for much of her life, and that rage had driven her on, had pushed her farther than she might otherwise have gone.

  Anger for what had happened to her as a child, and a wish to spare others from suffering as she had.

  Yet the Ghosts had taught her not to be ruled by the rage, to let cold reason control her actions rather anger. Reacting to emotion was a great way to get killed.

  Ice wrapped around fire. Caina supposed that it made sense.

  “But since we’ve left Risiviri,” said Kylon, “it’s like there's a shadow in your emotions.”

  “A shadow?” said Caina.

  “It’s like you’re in mourning for something,” said Kylon. “Ever since you met Talmania.”

  “Mourning?” said Caina. “No, I’m not in mourning. I was almost in mourning because Talmania and Crailov nearly killed you. But I’m not. I wish I had never met Talmania, that I had never found out that my mother had so many sisters.” She was talking faster than she intended, but sometimes the giddiness after she lay with Kylon loosened her tongue. “I’m glad I met Seb, but I wish I hadn’t met Talmania, and I wish I hadn’t learned about House Scorneus. Because…because…”

  She lay in silence for a while, Kylon’s arms around her.

  “Because it made me feel sorry for my mother,” said Caina, her voice quiet. “I hated her. I hate her. You have a better heart than I do, Kylon. You’ve never hated anyone the way I hate her. And…Talmania’s story made me feel sorry for my mother. And I hated that I felt sorry for her. And I hate…”

  She fell silent, Kylon’s hand stroking her back beneath her shirt and coat. It made her feel better.

  “I hate that it made me realize,” she said at last, “that it might be for the best that I cannot have children.”

  Kylon frowned. “Why is that?”

  “Look at my mother’s family,” said Caina. “People like Talmania and Rania and my mother. And my grandfather was apparently the one who twisted them into monsters. All my life, I wanted children. I wanted to be a better mother to them than my mother ever was. But maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. Maybe the blood would tell, and any children I had would have been just like Laeria and Talmania.” She felt the loathing fill her voice. “Perhaps it was for the best what Maglarion did to me, that I cannot have children.”

  “No,” said Kylon.

  “Kylon,” said Caina. “I’m the daughter of a monster and a coward. What would my children be like?”

  “Stop that,” said Kylon, and his voice hardened. “For one, you do your father a disservice. You told me he tried to stop your mother. It might have taken him some time to find his nerve, but he found it at the end.”

  Caina hesitated, then nodded. She felt a flicker of shame. Her mouth had gotten away with her. “You’re right.”

  “And you’re not a monster,” said Kylon. “Any children you had wouldn’t be, either. You wouldn’t try to twist them into extensions of your will the way that Hyraekon Scorneus did with your aunts.”

  “I wouldn’t try to do it,” said Caina, “but maybe there’s something in the blood…”

  “If that were true,” said Kylon, “you would be either a sister of the Magisterium or a member of the Umbarian Order. You’re neither. Or Seb would have been Talmania’s enforcer the way she wanted. He isn’t.”

  Caina sighed. “You’re right. But maybe it’s just as well I’ll never have the chance to find out.”

  “We could always adopt children,” said Kylon.

  Caina blinked a few times. “You keep saying that. But I don’t think…I don’t think it would be the same.”

  “No, it wouldn’t be,” said Kylon. “It would be different, but that doesn’t mean it would be worse, either. We’re both orphans, Caina. The world is full of them. And an orphan would be fortunate to have you as an adoptive mother.”

  Caina let out a long sigh. “You make me feel better. I might cry.”

  “You only cry when you’re really upset or really happy,” said Kylon, “so I hope it’s the second.”

  “It would be the second,” said Caina.

  It was mostly true. She loved Kylon and was glad he was with her…but the darkness would not quite leave her mind.

  Maybe it was better she would never have any children of her body. And maybe it would be foolish to adopt a child as Kylon suggested. Perhaps any child of hers would become another Talmania Scorneus or Laeria Amalas.

  Her heart’s desire had been for children for a long time, but maybe it was for the best that desire would be denied.

  The world had enough monsters. Caina did not need to add to their number.

  Chapter 2: The City Of A Thousand Towers

  The next morning Caina stood on the bow and watched the approach of land.

  Captain Karzov’s navigation had been mostly accurate, and he said they had come within sight of land no more than six or seven miles west of Artifel’s Northern Harbor. For a straight voyage across the Inner Sea, that was reasonably accurate.

  Though Caina supposed Karzov had excellent motivations for accurate navigation. Too far to the east, and he would have sailed into the Strait of Artifel, right under the watchful eyes of the Imperial fortresses and siege engines guarding the Strait against Umbarian raiders. Or he might have approached the portions of Nova Nighmaria held by the Umbarian Order. The Umbarians did not have many warships left on the Inner Sea, but one of those ships could outrun and destroy the Harpoon. For that matter, they might encounter the flotilla of warships Talmania had used to escape Risiviri with the Ring of Rasarion Yagar. It would have been a grim irony for Caina to have escaped Risiviri with the Sword of the Iron King only to run into Talmania’s waiting arms.

  Still, at least she didn’t have to worry about encountering Talmania in Artifel. The Motherhouse of the Magisterium was likely the last place Talmania would ever go.

  The deck creaked next to her, and she glanced to the side as Seb joined her, stark in his dark armor. He hadn’t shaved for a few days since it was hard to find unfrozen water on the ship, and the dark stubble shaded his sharp jaw. The cold wind tugged at his black hair. Caina thought he looked like a warrior poet, and she suddenly had a vision of Seb in one of Morgant’s paintings, clad in his armor, his foot upon the rail of the ship and a sword in hand.

  By the Divine, maybe Morgant was wearing off on her. Disturbing thought.

  “Brother,” said Caina.

  Seb offered his crooked, sardonic smile. “Sister. Enjoying the morning breeze?”

  “I can say it has one virtue,” said Caina. “It’s not quite as cold as the wind in northern Ulkaar.”

  Seb snorted. “Not even Talmania’s heart is as cold as the wind in northern Ulkaar.” Caina wasn’t sure of that.

  “Are you glad to come back to Artifel?” said Caina.

  Seb shrugged. “I have mixed feelings about it. My twin sister and I had our final falling out here, and I haven’t seen her since.” His face brightened a little. “I met my wife in Artifel. And Artifel is where Aunt Ariadne raised Calvia and me after we escaped from Talmania.”

  Caina nodded. Halfdan’s letter had mentioned Ariadne Scorneus. She was a few years older than Talmania, and one of the daughters of Hyraekon Scorneus who had sided with the Empire instead of the Umbarian Order.

  And yet…

  Ariadne was still a sister of the Imperial Magisterium. Still a sorceress.

  “What’s she like?” said Caina, her voice quiet.

  Seb considered the question. “Somewhat like Talmania. But don’t ever tell her I said that.”

  “High praise,” said Caina.

  “It might be,” said Seb. “Talmania is brilliant, even if she has the heart of a demon. We’re both c
lever enough to get ourselves into trouble, you and I. We have that in common.” Despite her grim mood, Caina laughed at that. “Ariadne has the same genius, the same force of personality. But she’s…mmm, a little eccentric. She’s more interested in engineering and architecture than in sorcery, and she’s designed most of the new buildings that have gone up in Artifel over the last twenty years. She also designed the fortifications on the eastern side of the Strait of Artifel, and those helped keep the Umbarians and their Kagari allies at bay during the worst part of the fighting.”

  Caina nodded.

  “I think you would like her,” said Seb.

  “I don’t want to meet her,” said Caina. “We need to get Sophia and the Sword out of Artifel as soon as possible.” She shifted the baldric that held the Sword’s scabbard against her back. “The sooner we get the Sword to Iramis, the better.”

  Seb hesitated. “Ariadne might be able to…”

  “No,” said Caina, her voice sharper than she intended. She pushed back her anger. “No. If we linger in Artifel too long, someone will realize Sophia has arcane talent, or they might discover what the Sword is. I want to be on the road to the Disali Highlands by this afternoon, as soon as we can purchase supplies and horses.”

  And Caina did not want to meet another of her mother’s sisters. She did not want to look into another face and be reminded of Laeria Amalas. Caina’s dislike of sorcery and her hatred of her mother had mixed in a visceral way when she had met Talmania Scorneus, and she did not want to repeat that experience.

  “I understand,” said Seb. He sighed. “And I fear Artifel is where we shall have to part.”