Read Online Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 06 - Ghost in the Forge by Jonathan Moeller - Free Book Online Page B

outwit. 
    But not today.
    “Let’s not talk about the magi,” said Caina, “or about killing. I am weary of them both.”
    “I’ll have to go,” said Corvalis, “before dawn. Else there will be talk.”
    “Let them talk,” said Caina, smiling. “A mercenary seducing his employer’s daughter? What better disguise do we have?”
    They drifted to sleep.

    ###

    Dreams filled Caina’s mind as she slept. 
    She often had nightmares. She had seen too many terrible things not to have nightmares. Sometimes she saw them over and over again, or her memories blurred together in a scattered haze of twisted images.
    And occasionally she dreamed of the Moroaica.
    Caina stood in a field of gloomy gray mist, wearing a blue gown with black trim. Six paces away stood a Szaldic woman of about twenty, clad in a crimson gown, her hair and eyes black. She looked young, younger even than Caina, but her eyes were heavy with age and power. 
    She called herself Jadriga, but the Szaldic legends named her the Moroaica, the ancient sorceress of terror and might.
    And her spirit was trapped within Caina. 
    “You,” said Caina. 
    “So I am,” said Jadriga. 
    “What is it now?” said Caina. “Trying to convince me to join your great work, whatever it is? Or to warn me about another of your disciples?” She frowned. “The Masked One that attacked me in Cyrioch. He was one of your disciples.”
    “No,” said Jadriga. “He is an old, old enemy of mine. I’m surprised he found you. Still, I should not have underestimated him.”
    “Then what is it?” said Caina.
    The Moroaica stared at her for a long time, and to Caina’s astonishment, sadness flickered over the pale face.
    “Child of the Ghosts,” murmured Jadriga. “You should beware love. Betrayal is a blade that cuts deeper than any other.”
    She gestured, and the dream dissolved into mist.

    ###

    Two days south of Cyrioch, Lord Titus’s column crossed Cyrica’s low mountains and entered the Sarbian desert.
    And for the first time in her twenty-one years, Caina left the Empire of Nighmar. 
    Cyrica had been hot but wet. The desert was dry as a centuries-old bone. The road led southwest, the arid wastes stretching in all directions, bleak and empty. 
    “If this is your homeland,” said Caina to Saddiq, “I understand why your people seek employment elsewhere.” 
    Saddiq chuckled, his voice a basso rumble. “The desert is a harsh mother, mistress, and she raises harsh sons. There are only two things to do in the desert. We can fight each other, or we fight outlanders in exchange for pay. One is more profitable than the other. But when we are bored, we fight each other.”
    “I wonder if the Catekhari sent an ambassador to the Sarbian tribes,” said Caina, “and offered to sell them the weapon.”
    Saddiq’s white teeth flashed in his dark face. “More likely that my kinsmen would agree to purchase the weapon…only to ambush the Masked Ones, steal the weapon, and use it to extort tribute from the Empire, Anshan, and Istarinmul.”
    “Do you think the tribesmen will attack us?” said Caina.
    “I doubt it,” said Saddiq. “There are too many of us, and the tribes prefer easier prey. But if they choose the path of folly, we shall simply have to teach them wisdom.” 
    Saddiq proved correct. From time to time to the scouts saw Sarbian horsemen in the distance, but the tribesmen always moved one. 
    Four days later the caravan crossed the desert and entered the borders of Anshan. 

    ###

    “This is egregious,” grumbled Lord Titus. 
    “Think of it, my lord,” said Halfdan, “not as an escort, but as an honor guard to see you safely through the Shahenshah’s lands.” 
    Caina watched the exchange. Halfdan stood alongside Titus’s horse, and Lord Titus seemed to know that Halfdan was a Ghost. Certainly he seemed more willing to accept a jewel merchant’s advice than Caina would have expected from a lord of high Nighmarian birth. Corvalis stood a