Ghost Mimic by Jonathan Moeller Read Free Book Online

dropped the thing and the Hellfire containers shattered…no, better to have two men carrying it. 
    Nerina stood at the narrow back door, muttering numbers to herself as she worked with her lock picks. I glanced at the narrow windows overhead. All of them had closed shutters, but I wondered if the Teskilati watched us even now. Perhaps Turlagon’s diatribe had drawn the attention of every Teskilati agent in the tavern. Of course, sending someone through the back during a distraction was an obvious tactic. 
    Still, maybe the Teskilati were surprised that the man they had planned to kill had turned up on their doorstep. 
    I looked back at Nerina, resisting the urge to tell her to hurry. The woman might be mad, but she wasn’t stupid, and she knew that we had very little time…
    The lock clicked, and Nerina pushed the door open. Behind I saw a dusty, disused kitchen, a little larger than the kitchen in the House of Agabyzus. 
    “Inside,” I whispered. “Quickly!”  
    We hastened into the kitchen. I tried to walk as quietly as I could, but I winced with every sound we made. I had seen Caina move in utter silence, but I didn’t have her skill. I looked back at Azaces and Malcolm, intending to tell them to set the trapbox down here, but I thought better of it. The kitchen had been built of brick, and it was at the back of the building. The ceiling beams would catch fire, but that might take some time, and even with Hellfire the fire might not spread through the entire tavern. 
    “The cellar,” I whispered, pointing at a door. Nerina nodded and tried the cellar door. It swung open on silent hinges, and I saw that they had been oiled. Perhaps the Teskilati used the cellar often. We headed down the stairs into the gloom, and I saw the glow from scattered lanterns. Nerina produced a small crossbow from somewhere beneath her robe, and I drew my dagger from my belt, though it would be a feeble weapon against Teskilati killers. 
    Heavy wooden pillars supported the cellar, and to my disquiet one corner had been set up as a torture chamber, with a steel rack and chains and pincers and the other tools of the torturer’s ghastly art. Another corner had been closed off with a brick wall and a steel door, creating a strong room. Except the door to the strong room stood open, light spilling into the cellar, and with a shock I recognized Sankar’s voice coming from within the room.
    “This is not my doing,” said Sankar. “I followed the plan to the letter.”
    “Have you?” said another man’s voice, cold and hard. “It was your plan, Sankar, and we chose to follow it at your suggestion. I am not pleased, and I suspect those who hold authority over us will not be pleased as well.”
    “I could not have foreseen these difficulties!” said Sankar, a hint of fear entering his voice. “How was I to know that the thieves would trace me? And how was I to know that oaf Turlagon might actually be clever enough to catch the Cyrican woman?” 
    I gestured, and Azaces and Malcolm set the trapbox on the dusty floor. 
    “Are you that stupid?” said the cold voice. “Obviously the thieves followed you and seized the trapbox. This Atagaria bitch thought to play a double game with you and Turlagon, and likely went to him to sell you out. She bit off more than she could chew…and it seems that Turlagon saw through her lies when you could not!” 
    “I came here to set a trap for her,” said Sankar. “Both Turlagon and Atagaria are in the street. We can kill them both, we…”
    “We cannot,” said the cold voice, growing angry. “There are too many witnesses, and one cannot kill an emir of Istarinmul in broad daylight without severe repercussions! No, there is only one way out of the mess you have created for us, Sankar.”
    I mouthed the word “keys” to Nerina, and she nodded and knelt before the trapbox while Azaces and Malcolm drew their swords. Nerina put a key into the first lock and turned, and it released with a