Ghost in the Pact (31 page)

He wished he could have heard it.

Next to the Grand Wazir waited Rhataban, helmet resting upon the horn of his saddle. It seemed the nagataaru had healed the damage Kylon had inflicted upon him. Rhataban’s black eyes fell upon Kylon, and for a moment a flicker of purple fire went through his gaze, the fury and rage of the nagataaru pulsing against Kylon’s senses.

He wondered if the Grand Wazir knew of Callatas’s plans. He wondered if Erghulan would have cared if he knew. 

The two embassies stared at each other, waiting for the other to speak first. 

At last Tanzir cleared his throat. “We are here at your invitation, Grand Wazir. I assume you have something you wish to say?” 

“Well, well,” said Erghulan. “It is quite the collection of rabble you convinced to join your little ill-advised rebellion, Tanzir. Anshani mercenaries, Kaltari hillmen,” his eyes flicked over Kylon and Nasser, “along with an exiled Kyracian failure and a wanted criminal. Such powerful allies. And…” 

Erghulan saw Sulaman, and he fell silent. 

“Grand Wazir Erghulan,” said Sulaman, his voice calm and clear. “It has been a long time.”

“What are you doing here?” said Erghulan. “Callatas said…” He drew himself up. “Prince Kutal Sulaman Tarshahzon. You honor us with your presence.” He glared at Tanzir. “It seems you have fallen in with liars and rebels, my lord prince. Please, come with us, and we shall return you to Istarinmul and your rightful place in the Golden Palace.” 

“There is no need,” said Sulaman. “Rather, I extend an invitation to you in turn.”

“Oh?” said Erghulan. “And what invitation is that?”

“Turn from this madness,” said Sulaman. “Abandon the Grand Master and join us. You have seen the ruin Callatas wrought upon Istarinmul. He murdered our subjects in his laboratories to produce his wraithblood…”

“Lies,” said Erghulan. “Tanzir has been telling you falsehoods.” 

“He set the Slavers’ Brotherhood to kidnap the innocent and sell them illegally into slavery,” said Sulaman.

“More lies,” said Erghulan.

“And he allied with dark powers, selling Istarinmul to devils in exchange for a false dream of power,” said Sulaman. “You have aided him in his work, I know, and have been rewarded with power and prestige. Yet you are a noble of Istarinmul. You have seen firsthand Callatas’s evil, again and again and again. It is not too late. You can turn back.”

Erghulan snorted. “You think to defeat the Grand Master? He has given his support to your father the Padishah, and you rebel against the Most Divine Padishah Nahas Tarshahzon…”

“My father is either dead or a prisoner,” said Sulaman. “Callatas murdered my brothers, and only I remained free. You helped his crimes, but you can be free of him. Yes, I mean to defeat the Grand Master. I mean to kill him or drive him from Istarinmul. I mean to smash his wraithblood laboratories and undo every evil he has done. I mean to restore sound government and justice to Istarinmul so that our nation may flourish once more. It is not too late for you, Erghulan. Whatever hold Callatas has over you, whatever threats he has made, you can escape them and you can be free of him.”

Erghulan said nothing for a while.

“You truly think that you can defeat him?” said Erghulan. “You don’t know his power.”

“Grand Wazir,” said Rhataban, but Erghulan raised a hand, and the Master Alchemist fell silent. 

“I mean to try,” said Sulaman. “No man can see the future. Not even I, with the gift of the Tarshahzon blood, can see the outcome of this battle. But it must be done. Istarinmul has bled in the Grand Master’s corrupt grip long enough. It is time for his misrule to end, and I mean to see his evil stopped. Your help would be welcome, Erghulan.”

For a long moment Erghulan said nothing, his emotional sense unsettled, and Kylon wondered if the Grand Wazir would actually do it.

Then scorn flooded his sense, and Erghulan laughed. 

“Enough!” said Erghulan, sneering. “I have had enough of lies!” 

“I agree,” said Sulaman calmly. 

“You think I do not know the truth?” said Erghulan. “You think I am a mindless dupe of the Grand Master? Fool!” He struck his armored fist against his saddle horn, and his horse whinnied in distress. “I know everything! Who do you think forced the Brotherhood to sell him slaves? Who do you think hired the Kindred to work for him? Who do you think let him build wraithblood laboratories in the Widow’s Tower and the Craven’s Tower and a dozen other fortresses of the realm? Who do you think instructed the Teskilati to hunt down the Grand Master’s enemies and purge the Ghost circle form Istarinmul? I, Erghulan Amirasku, did these things, freely and of my own will!”

“Why?” said Sulaman, still calm. “Why did you commit such appalling crimes?” 

Erghulan smiled. “For something no Padishah can provide. Immortality and power beyond imagination! When the Grand Master finishes his spell, he shall summon Kotuluk Iblis himself to this world. Those of us who have been the Grand Master’s loyal friends shall receive nagataaru spirits into our flesh,” he waved a hand at Rhataban, “and we shall rule over the rabble of mankind for all eternity as…”

Kylon burst out laughing. He could not stop himself.

“Do you find something amusing, Kyracian?” snapped Erghulan. 

“You are a fool,” said Kylon. “Callatas will discard you the moment he has what he wants. Even if he is telling the truth, his plan will fail. You won’t become the immortal lords of mankind. The nagataaru will rampage across the face of the earth. Even if you survive, you’ll have nothing left to rule but ruins and bones.”

“Bah,” said Erghulan. “As if I would heed the counsel of a fool exiled from his own nation. And a fool who chose skullduggery and treachery instead of honorable exile! Aye, Cassander Nilas told us about you, Kylon of House Kardamnos! You could have taken the traditional path of an exile and become a privateer in the service of the Padishah or a captain of mercenaries. Instead you threw your lot in with the murderous spy Caina Amalas, and you shall share her fate.” 

Kylon glanced at Nasser, and an idea came to him.

“I am not surprised that you would praise Lord Cassander,” said Kylon, “given that you sold Istarinmul to him.”

Erghulan scowled. “That is a lie!”

“A voice thundering from the skies proclaimed it,” said Kylon. “A million people in Istarinmul heard it. You and Callatas betrayed Istarinmul to the Umbarian Order…”

“Lies!” said Erghulan. “Cassander betrayed us.”

“Which is it, Erghulan?” said Tanzir. “You betrayed Istarinmul to the Umbarians, or Cassander tricked you and almost destroyed the city under your watch? Either way, your skill at governance seems as lacking as your prowess as a hunter…”

That did it. 

Lord Martin had said nothing irritated Erghulan Amirasku like having his abilities as a hunter questioned. The Grand Wazir stiffened in his saddle, his eyes blazing, and pointed at Tanzir. 

“You will be silent, you bloated bag of suet,” snarled Erghulan. “What do you know of ruling? What do you know of war? Perhaps you learned wisdom with your nose buried in a book, but I doubt it.” He glared at them. “Today you will receive an education in war unlike any you have ever seen before!”

“Grand Wazir…” started Rhataban. 

Erghulan kept ranting. “I give you once chance to surrender…”

“I am the lawful heir to my father’s throne,” said Sulaman. His voice stayed calm, but it somehow cut through Erghulan’s shouting. “Perhaps you ought to surrender to us.”

“Grand Master Callatas rules Istarinmul, not you, and not your fat slug of a father,” said Erghulan. “I will give you once chance to surrender. Tanzir Shahan will be allowed to disband his armies and return peacefully to the Vale of Fallen Stars, and Prince Sulaman shall accompany us to the Golden Palace.”

“And if we do not?” said Tanzir.

“Then run back to your books and epic poems, boy,” said Erghulan. “See if they will save you from the storm to come. I will rain Hellfire down upon you, and I shall slaughter your rebels and line the roads with their corpses. I will leave you impaled upon the walls of Istarinmul, screaming out your last as the ravens eat your eyes, and you,” he pointed at Sulaman, “will return to the Golden Palace and whatever fate the Grand Master plans for you.” 

“Truly, a compelling offer,” said Tanzir, “but I believe I speak for the Prince and the emirs of the south when I decline. We trusted to your good judgment before, Erghulan, and what did it bring us? The Brotherhood terrorized the farmers of the southern emirates. Cassander Nilas almost destroyed Istarinmul, and Callatas’s experiments have filled the streets with wraithblood addicts. No, we are done trusting you, and we shall demonstrate our resolve with sword and spear.” 

“Bold words,” said Erghulan. “Rejoice that I gave you my word, Tanzir Shahan, else I would cut your fat head from your neck here and now.” He turned his horse. “Your safe conduct lasts until you return to your lines. Get out of my sight.”

“Lord Kylon,” said Rhataban.

Kylon looked at the Master Alchemist. Rhataban sat motionless atop his horse, but the shadow and purple fire of the nagataaru seemed to flicker within his dark eyes. 

“What?” said Kylon.

“I’m going to kill you,” said Rhataban.

“Now?” said Kylon. His hand itched to grasp the valikon’s familiar hilt. “You’re welcome to try it and see what happens.”

“I shall honor the Grand Wazir’s given word,” said Rhataban. “But I will still find you during the battle, and I will kill you. And then, after you are dead and the rebels are crushed, I shall find the Balarigar and slay her. Perhaps I shall lay your rotting head before her before she dies, so she knows that you have failed yet again. Perhaps I shall let the Immortals enjoy her for a few days before I finally put her out of her misery.” 

Kylon stared at the Master Alchemist, the rage pulsing through him…and then another idea came to him.

“Assuming that the Huntress does not find her first,” said Kylon.

“The Red Huntress?” said Khabatan. “A madwoman. She does not understand the true purpose of the Grand Master’s great work. She is a wanton harlot who kills for pleasure and nothing more. Once the Apotheosis is finished and the new humanity arises, there will be no further need for her.”

“Are you so sure?” said Kylon. “I fought you, and I fought the Huntress. The Huntress was death made flesh. She carved through the lords of New Kyre and none of them could stop her. You, though…next to her, you’re just an idiot with a hammer.” 

Rhataban remained motionless, but the purple fire all but blazed in his eyes.

“You will regret those words bitterly,” he said, “before you die.”

“I doubt that,” said Kylon, “but you can believe whatever makes you feel better.”

“Enough!” snarled Erghulan, gesturing to his emirs and Immortals. “Beg to the Living Flame to show you mercy, Tanzir and Sulaman, for I shall surely not.”

The embassy rode towards the waiting army, and the drums began to boom out.

“Well,” said Tanzir, signaling for them to return to their own lines, “wasn’t that pleasant?”

Chapter 17: My Motives Were Pure

Caina had done a lot of grim things in her life, but the night march through the jungles of Pyramid Isle was one of the more unpleasant ones. 

The heat and humidity of the jungle did not lessen as the night wore on, and sweat dripped down her face, sticking to her clothes. Insects buzzed and wobbled through the leaves, and Caina had to brush them off her neck every few paces. The terrain was uneven and muddy, but at least there was enough light to see. Caina had shifted her pyrikon to its staff form, a pale white light shining from its tip like an eerie torch. It wasn’t much light, but it did keep them from tripping and breaking their necks…and it gave them a few extra moments of warning when the nagataaru approached.

For the undead baboons and Immortals had not given up their search. 

They moved constantly through the forest. After the first dozen encounters, Caina realized they were sweeping the jungle in a search pattern. The undead creatures were tireless, and they would not stop searching until they found their quarry or Kharnaces destroyed the world and made the search moot. 

Fortunately, the limited understanding of the material world possessed by the nagataaru meant that neither the baboons nor the Immortals made any effort at stealth, smashing through the underbrush and making a great deal of noise. They could hear the undead coming from a long way off, and Caina and the others had no trouble evading them.

The downside was that they didn’t dare stop to rest. A single mistake, and the nagataaru would swarm them. Caina and the others had fought their way free at the beach, but she did not want to risk it again. For that matter, Callatas might decide he had no further need of allies, and abandon them to the nagataaru. Best to avoid the moment of crisis for as long as possible. 

So Caina kept walking towards the white hill, accompanied by two of her friends and two of the most dangerous enemies she had ever faced. 

And perhaps the worst part of the miserable walk was that Kalgri would simply not shut up. 

“You should stay quiet,” said Caina.

“Why?” said the Huntress, and she giggled. “They can’t hear us. They’re dead. Their ears don’t work.” She stepped forward and waved her arms in the direction of an Immortal crashing through the trees. “Hey! Right here! You’re looking for us. Come and get us!” 

The Immortal did not turn, its armor clanking.

“You see?” said Kalgri, glancing back at Caina, her teeth flashing white in the cowl of her shadow-cloak. “They can’t find us. So we can talk all we want. We can catch up! Just us girls, eh?” She glanced at Annarah. “Not that I wish to chat with a loremaster of Iramis, mind.” 

“I fear the feeling is mutual,” said Annarah. 

Caina glanced at Callatas, but the Grand Master said nothing, his face impassive. Likely he didn’t care. Likely he knew Kalgri’s taunts would irritate Caina, perhaps drive her into doing something rash. 

“You know,” said Morgant, “I never thought I would say this, but it’s entire possible you talk too damn much for an assassin.”