Read Online Ghost in the Throne (Ghost Exile #7) by Jonathan Moeller - Free Book Online
Authors: Jonathan Moeller
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and the thought filled Claudia with fresh dread. Caina had been certain the Huntress would not return for at least a few more years, and if the Huntress had taken Caina off guard…
The fate of the Empire might already have been decided.
It was out of Claudia’s hands. She had to deal with more immediate problems.
“My lady,” said Tylas. “What should we do with him?”
“I answered all your questions,” said the Silent Hunter. “I...I was helpful.”
“Yes,” said Claudia. “You were.”
Her hand settled upon her belly.
She saw the panic flash over the assassin’s face as he realized his fate.
“Centurion,” said Claudia, “please kill that man.”
Tylas was good at his work. The Silent Hunter barely had time to scream. After it was done the Guards dumped his body in an alley, and they continued to the mansion. Claudia walked in silence, her mind upon something other than her aching ankles. She had just ordered the death of a man without blinking, without even looking away. Five years ago that would have been unthinkable for her.
Now she had done it without hesitation…and without the slightest hint of regret.
Her hand stroked the front of her gown.
She hoped the gods would have pity upon anyone who threatened her husband or child, for Claudia would surely not.
###
That night Claudia sat at her desk in the solar, writing letters.
By tradition, the senior wife of an Istarish nobleman handled his social engagements and correspondence. Claudia was damned certain she was going to remain Martin’s one and only wife, so the duty fell to her. Most of the letters came from various minor nobles and wealthy merchants, cautiously wondering whether the Empire would favor Erghulan Amirasku or Tanzir Shahan in the coming civil war. Those she passed off to Martin’s scribes, and they wrote more or less the same reply, that the Emperor wished for friendship and amity with the Padishah of Istarinmul, and that how the Padishah and his nobles chose to govern their realm was no concern of the Emperor of Nighmar. A few the letters dealt with more sensitive matters, and Claudia answered those in her own hand. She could write quickly and accurately when she put her mind to it, and as a child she had begrudged all the hours spent with her handwriting tutor.
Now she was grateful for them.
The door to the solar opened, and Claudia looked up, her hand already starting to work a spell.
But it was Martin Dorius.
“Husband,” said Claudia, getting to her feet, her pained ankles for a moment forgotten.
Martin Dorius was tall and strong, with gray eyes and black hair that seemed to acquire more gray with every passing day. He looked tired. Claudia understood why. The fate of the Empire and millions of lives might depend on what happened in Istarinmul.
“Wife,” said Martin. “You should be sitting.”
“Then I could not do this,” she said, and she hugged him as tightly as her belly would allow.
“I am glad you are well,” said Martin. “Tylas said there had been another attack.”
Claudia nodded. “Just one, this time. The Silent Hunter wasn’t terribly competent. Tylas and the Guard made short work of him.”
“We have killed so many Silent Hunters,” said Martin. “You would think the Order would run out of them sooner or later.”
“It appears the necromantic spell to create them is rather simple,” said Claudia, “and can be worked by even a magus of mediocre skill. I fear as many of the Silent Hunters as we kill, the Umbarians can simply create more of them.”
“Did he know anything useful?” said Martin.
Claudia sighed. “Only things we already suspected. Cassander had indeed set a trap for Caina in the Alqaarin harbor. She must have escaped it, because Cassander left the city in pursuit of her.” Claudia hesitated. “The Silent Hunter claimed there was a woman in red armor with Cassander, advising him.”
Martin frowned. “Red armor?”
Claudia
The fate of the Empire might already have been decided.
It was out of Claudia’s hands. She had to deal with more immediate problems.
“My lady,” said Tylas. “What should we do with him?”
“I answered all your questions,” said the Silent Hunter. “I...I was helpful.”
“Yes,” said Claudia. “You were.”
Her hand settled upon her belly.
She saw the panic flash over the assassin’s face as he realized his fate.
“Centurion,” said Claudia, “please kill that man.”
Tylas was good at his work. The Silent Hunter barely had time to scream. After it was done the Guards dumped his body in an alley, and they continued to the mansion. Claudia walked in silence, her mind upon something other than her aching ankles. She had just ordered the death of a man without blinking, without even looking away. Five years ago that would have been unthinkable for her.
Now she had done it without hesitation…and without the slightest hint of regret.
Her hand stroked the front of her gown.
She hoped the gods would have pity upon anyone who threatened her husband or child, for Claudia would surely not.
###
That night Claudia sat at her desk in the solar, writing letters.
By tradition, the senior wife of an Istarish nobleman handled his social engagements and correspondence. Claudia was damned certain she was going to remain Martin’s one and only wife, so the duty fell to her. Most of the letters came from various minor nobles and wealthy merchants, cautiously wondering whether the Empire would favor Erghulan Amirasku or Tanzir Shahan in the coming civil war. Those she passed off to Martin’s scribes, and they wrote more or less the same reply, that the Emperor wished for friendship and amity with the Padishah of Istarinmul, and that how the Padishah and his nobles chose to govern their realm was no concern of the Emperor of Nighmar. A few the letters dealt with more sensitive matters, and Claudia answered those in her own hand. She could write quickly and accurately when she put her mind to it, and as a child she had begrudged all the hours spent with her handwriting tutor.
Now she was grateful for them.
The door to the solar opened, and Claudia looked up, her hand already starting to work a spell.
But it was Martin Dorius.
“Husband,” said Claudia, getting to her feet, her pained ankles for a moment forgotten.
Martin Dorius was tall and strong, with gray eyes and black hair that seemed to acquire more gray with every passing day. He looked tired. Claudia understood why. The fate of the Empire and millions of lives might depend on what happened in Istarinmul.
“Wife,” said Martin. “You should be sitting.”
“Then I could not do this,” she said, and she hugged him as tightly as her belly would allow.
“I am glad you are well,” said Martin. “Tylas said there had been another attack.”
Claudia nodded. “Just one, this time. The Silent Hunter wasn’t terribly competent. Tylas and the Guard made short work of him.”
“We have killed so many Silent Hunters,” said Martin. “You would think the Order would run out of them sooner or later.”
“It appears the necromantic spell to create them is rather simple,” said Claudia, “and can be worked by even a magus of mediocre skill. I fear as many of the Silent Hunters as we kill, the Umbarians can simply create more of them.”
“Did he know anything useful?” said Martin.
Claudia sighed. “Only things we already suspected. Cassander had indeed set a trap for Caina in the Alqaarin harbor. She must have escaped it, because Cassander left the city in pursuit of her.” Claudia hesitated. “The Silent Hunter claimed there was a woman in red armor with Cassander, advising him.”
Martin frowned. “Red armor?”
Claudia
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