Ghost in the Flames by Jonathan Moeller Read Free Book Online

the Saddai hold them in great reverence,” said Caina. “The cost of keeping those fires lit must be enormous.”
    Ark shook his head.
    “Ah…no, my lady,” said Rendower. “Those are no natural fires. They require no fuel.”
    “No fuel?” said Caina. “Explain.”
    “He means,” said Ark, “that those tombs house dead Ashbringers, and the Ashbringers’ sorcery lit those fires. Some of those fires have been burning for thousands of years.”
    “And the Magisterium let those fires burn?” said Caina. “I know little of the magi, you understand, but my father said that they hate rival sorcerers.”
    Ark looked at Rendower.
    “Well,” said Rendower, “the official story is that the Magisterium let the flames stand as a gesture of respect to the Saddai people.”
    It took Caina every bit of self-control she had to keep from laughing aloud.  
    “But I’ve heard,” said Rendower, dropping his voice, “that the Magisterium can’t put the fires out. They’re not strong enough. Those old-time Ashbringers, they were mighty sorcerers, or so the stories say, and no living magus as the power to undo the spell.” He looked around with sudden anxiety. “And don’t go repeating that, mind. I don’t have any truck with sorcery, and the magi…the magi are not kindly.” He reddened. “Forgive me if I have spoken too bluntly.”
    “Not at all,” said Caina with a gracious wave of her hand. “I have heard much the same from others.” Rendower bowed and hastened away to take charge of his teamsters. “Ark. Was he telling the truth?”
    Ark shrugged. “As far I know. All the tales and rumors I’ve heard say the same thing.”
    Caina stared at the pyramids.
    Sorcerous fire.
    And charred corpses kept appearing in Rasadda. 
    “Could this murderer…be dragging the corpses to the fire?” said Caina. “Throwing them into the flames, and then abandoning them?”
    “We thought of it,” said Ark. “But the bodies never show signs of having been moved.”
    “And that wouldn’t explain Publius Vanio, besides,” muttered Caina. Everlasting sorcerous fires and a charred corpse lying upon an untouched bed. Too much of a coincidence, and Caina detested coincidences. They were usually signs of a pattern she could not yet see. 
    “The fires hardly matter,” said Ark. “They have burned for a thousand years. Yet it is only in the last year that people have burned to death.”
    “Yes,” said Caina. “Perhaps you’re right.” But it still it troubled her. She shook her head and walked back to the coach. She needed to act like a noblewoman of the Empire, and no Imperial noblewoman would walk through the gates of a provincial city. 
    “Open the windows,” said Caina, settling into her seat. 
    “My lady?” said Cornelia, sounding affronted, while Anya and Julia stared at her.
    “Do it,” said Caina. “I’ve come all this way to see Rasadda, and I can’t see it if the windows are closed and the curtains drawn.”
    She watched as the Imperial highway rolled up to Rasadda’s gates. The walls stood at least sixty feet high, built of basalt and fronted with gleaming black marble. The coach clattered through the gates and an expansive square below the walls, at the foot of one of the smaller pyramids. Looking closer, Caina saw that it was not so much a pyramid as it was a ziggurat, its terraced sides linked by stairs and steep ramps. The flames burned at its crown, bright even in the daylight.
    “We part ways here, my lady,” said Rendower, looking through the coach’s window. “I’m for the East Bazaar, to meet with the brokers. Will you be joining us?”
    “No,” said Caina, “I sent on a man ahead, to prepare rooms at the Inn of Mirrors. But I wish you good business, master merchant, and I thank you for your hospitality.”
    “It was our honor, Countess,” said Rendower. His face brightened when Caina passed him a few coins for his trouble. After he left, she slid open the front window and