Ghost in the Winds (Ghost Exile #9) by Jonathan Moeller Read Free Book Online

He looked fifty years younger than he had when he had departed Istarinmul a few weeks ago, but he was still unmistakably the Grand Master of the College of Alchemists, the most powerful sorcerer in Istarinmul.
    Who else could appear out of thin air in the Court of the Fountain? 
    The slaves and the scribes and the functionaries went to their knees.
    “Grand Master,” said one of the scribes, a doughy middle-aged man with a look of terror on his thick face. Come to think of it, all of them looked more frightened than Kalgri would have expected. Granted, Callatas inspired fear in the common vermin, but she thought they were afraid of something else. 
    No matter. 
    “You,” said Callatas, pointing at the scribe. “What news? Have the Grand Wazir and Master Rhataban returned to the city yet?”
    The scribe opened his mouth, closed it again. “Grand Master, I…” 
    Kalgri stepped forward, swung her sword of dark power, and beheaded the scribe. His head rolled away in a spurt of blood, his flabby body sagging to the flagstones of the Court of the Fountain. Kalgri felt the surge of power from his death, the Voice moaning and gibbering as it gorged itself upon the release of life force, and Kalgri felt some of her own strength returning, the skin on her face and arms crawling and twitching as the burns began healing.
    That felt pleasant, so she charged forward, raising the sword again.
    She had killed nine slaves and four scribes by the time Callatas put a stop to it.
    “Enough!” he said, his voice ringing over the Court, louder even than the waters of the ornate fountain at its center. 
    Kalgri shrugged, rolling her shoulders, new strength flowing through her, the Voice moaning with ecstasy. “You were going to kill them all anyway.” 
    “That is not the point,” Callatas bit out. She almost laughed at the frustrated expression on his face but decided against pushing him too far. 
    “As you wish,” said Kalgri. “Though I may wish to dine again later.” 
    Callatas ignored her and jabbed a finger at a quaking slave woman. “You. Where is the Grand Wazir? Has he returned to the city?”
    “He has, Grand Master,” said the woman, cringing in terror. “A few hours ago.” 
    She saw Callatas’s surprise, and he looked at the gate to the street, where he finally noted a fact that Kalgri had grasped at once.
    There were always supposed to be Immortals on guard at the gates of the Golden Palace, but there were none. For that matter, there were more people in the Court of the Fountain than there should have been at this time of day. Kalgri suspected they were fleeing for their lives. 
    “Where is his army?” said Callatas.
    The slave woman blinked. “You…you do not know, Grand Master?”
    “If I knew, would I ask you?” snapped Callatas. “Speak!”
    “I do not know what happened, Grand Master,” said the slave woman. “Not exactly. It…”
    “The rebels defeated the Grand Wazir!” said a scribe. “What remains of his army has been trickling into the city for days. The Grand Wazir returned with a few horsemen and went to the Court of Justice at once.”
    “Defeated?” said Callatas, incredulous. “How could Erghulan have let himself get defeated by the likes of Tanzir Shahan?” 
    “We…we do not know, great lord,” said the slave woman. “There have been many rumors from the south, but all of them agree that the Grand Wazir’s host was defeated. Bands of defeated soldiers have been fleeing into the city for days. And they say the Grand Wazir is…”
    Callatas’s gray eyes narrowed. “What? What do they say about the Grand Wazir?”
    The slave woman swallowed, her fear washing over Kalgri like a delicious spice. “They say he is planning to take the treasury and flee the Padishah’s realm, Grand Master.” 
    Kalgri laughed, which earned her an astonished look from the slave woman and an irritated glare from Callatas. 
    Erghulan’s actions made sense, of course. Callatas had