Read Online Ghost in the Storm (The Ghosts) by Jonathan Moeller - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jonathan Moeller
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steal Nicolai away and retreat to Zorgi's Inn. Then she could return Nicolai to Ark and Tanya, and inform Halfdan of what she had found. Caina hoped he would know what to do. The Ghosts were spies and assassins, not soldiers. Yet as spies, they had failed miserably. Rezir had somehow smuggled thousands of his soldiers into the city, using them in his treacherous attack. And the Kyracian fleet had stormed into the harbor unawares.
She turned a corner and ran into a patrol.
Four Istarish soldiers watched the alley with narrowed eyes, hands on their sword hilts. A man with the knots of an Istarish officer, a khalmir, on his shoulder looked Caina over. For an agonized half-second Caina wondered if the khalmir would see through her disguise. She had rubbed dirt across her face, and hidden her hair beneath the spiked helmet, but if he realized she was a woman...
"You," he said in Istarish. "What are you doing?"
Caina understood Istarish, but she had never managed to speak it without a noticeable Caerish accent. Hopefully the officer would not notice.
"Orders," she said, keeping her voice gruff. "A courier. Taking the emir's commands to the men holding the warehouses."
The khalmir frowned. "Your orders are out of date. The emir has commanded his men to gather in the Great Market as soon as possible. His eyes narrowed. "Unless you were planning to desert, hmm? The emir takes a dim opinion of deserters."
"No, sir," said Caina. "No, I'm loyal. But my orders..."
"Are no longer relevant," said the khalmir. "The emir has commanded, and we shall obey." His hand tightened around his scimitar's hilt. "Unless you intend to disobey?"
"No, sir," said Caina, keeping her voice calm, but she cursed herself. This had not been in the plan. But she would attract less notice among a group than she would on her own. And marching with these men would give her a good look at the Istarish force.
She could always slip away later.
"Come," said the khalmir. "The emir commands haste."
He strode up the alley, two of his men in front of Caina, and two of them behind. Clearly, he still thought she was a deserter. Caina kept her expression bored, her eyes roving over the other soldiers. They looked tense and wary, but they were in an enemy city. They paid her no particular attention.
The officer led them into the Great Market.
And Caina realized she had much bigger problems than just finding Nicolai.
Istarish troops filled the Great Market. She saw thousands of infantry in their scale armor and spiked helms. With them marched hundreds of Immortals, the blue light of their eyes glimmering beneath their skull helms. Behind them waited soldiers in gleaming cuirasses and helms, gray-green cloaks flowing from their shoulders. Kyracian ashtairoi, the soldiers of New Kyre.
The Kyracians had landed their troops.
And among the soldiers sat thousands of captives.
Women and children, mostly. No doubt the Istarish had killed any man who resisted. The newly captured slaves sat in rows, their necks and wrists bound with chains or ropes, each captive linked to the next. Many of the captives wept, and some simply screamed, filling the Market with a hellish cacophony.
Hot fury filled Caina, and she wanted to draw her daggers and plunge them into the nearest Istarish soldiers. She loathed slavers, hated them almost as much as she hated sorcerers, and if she had the power, she would have slain every last slave trader in the world.
But she did not have the power. And her wits were her only defense here. So she kept quiet and kept walking with the soldiers, but her eyes swept the lines of captives, seeking for Nicolai.
So many weeping children. Gods, how could she even find Nicolai among such a throng? For that matter, once she found him, how could she get him back to Ark and Tanya? Picking the locks on the chains would be easy enough, but once she did, the other slaves would see what was happening. The commotion would draw the attention of the
She turned a corner and ran into a patrol.
Four Istarish soldiers watched the alley with narrowed eyes, hands on their sword hilts. A man with the knots of an Istarish officer, a khalmir, on his shoulder looked Caina over. For an agonized half-second Caina wondered if the khalmir would see through her disguise. She had rubbed dirt across her face, and hidden her hair beneath the spiked helmet, but if he realized she was a woman...
"You," he said in Istarish. "What are you doing?"
Caina understood Istarish, but she had never managed to speak it without a noticeable Caerish accent. Hopefully the officer would not notice.
"Orders," she said, keeping her voice gruff. "A courier. Taking the emir's commands to the men holding the warehouses."
The khalmir frowned. "Your orders are out of date. The emir has commanded his men to gather in the Great Market as soon as possible. His eyes narrowed. "Unless you were planning to desert, hmm? The emir takes a dim opinion of deserters."
"No, sir," said Caina. "No, I'm loyal. But my orders..."
"Are no longer relevant," said the khalmir. "The emir has commanded, and we shall obey." His hand tightened around his scimitar's hilt. "Unless you intend to disobey?"
"No, sir," said Caina, keeping her voice calm, but she cursed herself. This had not been in the plan. But she would attract less notice among a group than she would on her own. And marching with these men would give her a good look at the Istarish force.
She could always slip away later.
"Come," said the khalmir. "The emir commands haste."
He strode up the alley, two of his men in front of Caina, and two of them behind. Clearly, he still thought she was a deserter. Caina kept her expression bored, her eyes roving over the other soldiers. They looked tense and wary, but they were in an enemy city. They paid her no particular attention.
The officer led them into the Great Market.
And Caina realized she had much bigger problems than just finding Nicolai.
Istarish troops filled the Great Market. She saw thousands of infantry in their scale armor and spiked helms. With them marched hundreds of Immortals, the blue light of their eyes glimmering beneath their skull helms. Behind them waited soldiers in gleaming cuirasses and helms, gray-green cloaks flowing from their shoulders. Kyracian ashtairoi, the soldiers of New Kyre.
The Kyracians had landed their troops.
And among the soldiers sat thousands of captives.
Women and children, mostly. No doubt the Istarish had killed any man who resisted. The newly captured slaves sat in rows, their necks and wrists bound with chains or ropes, each captive linked to the next. Many of the captives wept, and some simply screamed, filling the Market with a hellish cacophony.
Hot fury filled Caina, and she wanted to draw her daggers and plunge them into the nearest Istarish soldiers. She loathed slavers, hated them almost as much as she hated sorcerers, and if she had the power, she would have slain every last slave trader in the world.
But she did not have the power. And her wits were her only defense here. So she kept quiet and kept walking with the soldiers, but her eyes swept the lines of captives, seeking for Nicolai.
So many weeping children. Gods, how could she even find Nicolai among such a throng? For that matter, once she found him, how could she get him back to Ark and Tanya? Picking the locks on the chains would be easy enough, but once she did, the other slaves would see what was happening. The commotion would draw the attention of the
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