Read Online Ghost in the Inferno (Ghost Exile #5) by Jonathan Moeller - Free Book Online

Damla’s sons that day, saving them and hundreds of others from a grisly death in Callatas’s wraithblood laboratories. Perhaps Morgant was wrong. Perhaps Caina had indeed done some good since coming to Istarinmul.
    She nodded to the robed footmen at the door and made her way into the common room. Each table had its own gleaming brass lantern, with more hanging from the high ceiling. A balcony of polished wood encircled the room, and the floor had been worked in an elaborate mosaic showing a pair of Istarish noblemen hunting tigers through the Kaltari Highlands. A score of foreign merchants sat throughout the room, eating their breakfasts while grim-faced bodyguards stood watch.
    A man in late middle age sat at one of the booths, wearing the turban and ornate robe of a minor magistrate of the Padishah’s government. He was thin, far thinner than a man of his age should have been, his cheekbones stark against the seamed bronze skin of his face. A close-cropped graying beard marked his jaw and chin, and he sorted through a pile of letters before him, his bony fingers twitching like the legs of a giant spider. 
    Caina sat across from the robed magistrate, who looked up at her and nodded.
    “It is good to see you,” said Agabyzus, the current nightkeeper of the Ghost circle of Istarinmul. 
    “And you,” said Caina. Agabyzus had once been the circlemaster of Istarinmul’s Ghosts, but after Tanzir Shahan negotiated peace with the Empire, the Teskilati had wiped out the circle in one bloody strike. Agabyzus had been taken prisoner, and had languished in the Widow’s Tower until Caina rescued him. The ordeal had ruined his health, but Agabyzus was still a master of disguise, and he had a head full of secrets and a network of contacts scattered throughout Istarinmul and the Padishah’s domains. 
    He could no longer wield a weapon, but Caina knew firsthand that a secret was often more dangerous than any blade. 
    “This is a pleasant enough inn,” said Agabyzus, taking a sip from the coffee cup at his side. “Not as good as the coffee my family makes, of course, but I cannot complain.”
    “That is good to know,” said Caina. She took a deep breath. “I am leaving the city in two days, and I do not know when I shall be back. Until then, you will oversee the circle.”
    Agabyzus nodded. “I will do what I can. Is it the…business you have mentioned?”
    “It is,” said Caina.
    “A risky venture,” said Agabyzus, “but since your recklessness saved my life, I cannot object. I do have some business related to your proposed venture.”
    “The gold,” said Caina. “You gave it to him?” 
    “The Kyracian?” said Agabyzus. “Yes. He met me at the lamp seller’s booth in the Cyrican Bazaar and gave me the code phrase. Just as you said, he proved his identity to me by freezing a cup of wine solid.” He snorted. “A useful skill when the days are hot. I haven’t had chilled wine in years.”
    “He is a useful man to have around,” said Caina. With that gold, Kylon would make his way to the Alqaarin Quarter and hire the Black Wolves. Caina had dealt with the mercenary company in Rasadda, and their captain Dio was a ruthless and clever man. Given the enormous bounty upon her head, Caina would prefer that he not remember the black-cloaked shadow that he had met in Rasadda. 
    “I shall ask no more upon the matter,” said Agabyzus. “What else would you have of me?”
    “Kuldan Cimak,” said Caina. “What do you know of him?” 
    “A minor emir,” said Agabyzus at once. “His ancestral lands are along the northern edge of the Trabazon steppes, a bit south of the Alqaarin Road. The estates are poor and support little more than subsistence farming, so Cimak himself is on the edge of impoverishment.”
    “What is he like?” said Caina. “Cimak himself, I mean?”
    “A wastrel and a drunkard with literary pretensions,” said Agabyzus. “His tastes in wine and women aggravate his perpetual poverty. I