Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 09 - Ghost in the Surge by Jonathan Moeller Read Free Book Online

yourself,” said Ark.
    A woman’s laugh answered him. “Why, Master Arcion, don’t you remember me?”
    The figure stepped into the harsh glow from the furnaces, and Ark blinked in surprise.
    Caina Amalas stood before him.
    She wore a rich gown of blue that clung to her hips and torso, her black hair bound in an intricate crown. Jewels glittered on her fingers and ears, and she wore heeled boots that clicked against the floor with every step. Her makeup emphasized her cold blue eyes and the sharp lines of her cheekbones. In her right hand she carried a sword, and in her left an ugly serrated dagger.
    For an instant Ark felt overwhelming relief. She would know what to do. 
    Then his relief vanished into growing alarm.
    There was something wrong.
    Caina’s hair was black, not blond. She had dyed it blond a year past, as part of her disguise as Sonya Tornesti. She never fought with a sword, only daggers or knives. 
    And she had left with Corvalis two weeks ago to attend to Halfdan’s business in the western Empire. 
    “After everything we’ve been through,” said Caina with a sneer, gesturing with the serrated dagger. “You don’t know who I am, Arcion? Tragic, tragic.” 
    “Mistress Sonya?” said Muravin. “What is this?”  
    “The blacksmith and the gladiator,” said Caina with a laugh. “Pathetic. Utterly pathetic. I cannot believe I have allied myself with such useless fools. Little wonder the Empire is locked in war with New Kyre, if I have such wretched outcasts to serve me.” 
    The words stung. 
    Ark knew he had failed, so many times. Naelon Icaraeus’s slavers had taken Tanya and Nicolai, and Caina had rescued them from the Moroaica. Nicolai had fallen into the hands of the Istarish slavers at Marsis, an ordeal that still gave the boy nightmares, and Caina had rescued him, not Ark. 
    But she had taught Ark well, and his mind tried to make sense of the puzzle. Caina had left two weeks ago, and she could not have returned to the capital by now. Certainly she would not don a dress and jewels and makeup to wander about the city with a sword and a dagger.
    That serrated dagger…
    Ark saw drops of blood clinging to its razor edges.
    That weapon had killed his workers.
    She had killed his workers. 
    And all at once his doubt and fear vanished, replaced by cold certainty. 
    “You are not the Countess,” said Ark.
    She raised one eyebrow. “Oh? Then just who am I?”
    “I don’t know,” said Ark. “One of her enemies. One of the enemies of the Ghosts. You’re using a spell to mask your appearance, make yourself appear like her.”
    “Oh, very clever,” said Caina. “But it doesn’t matter. No one will believe you, mighty Champion of Marsis. I left too many witnesses.” She smirked, her eyes full of cruel glee. “And can you prove that I’m not really Caina Amalas?”
    “When we were in Rasadda,” said Ark, “when you left the Magisterium’s chapterhouse after dining with the preceptor, what did we talk about?” 
    “We discussed,” said Caina, “how you should lie down and die.”
    “No,” said Ark, his certainty hardening further. “We didn’t.”
    He glanced to the side, caught Muravin’s eye, and the former gladiator gave a tiny nod. 
    “We didn’t?” said Caina. “Perhaps your conversation is so tedious it simply slipped my mind.”
    “No,” said Ark. “I don’t know who you are or why you murdered my men, but I will not let it pass. Surrender, now.” 
    Her grin was more feral than any he had ever seen from her. “Or?”
    “Or I’ll kill you where you stand,” said Ark, “and I’ll see who is really behind that spell of illusion.” 
    Caina threw back her head and roared with laughter. 
    “This is amusing,” she said. “You little children, so brave, so bold. Do you know what the greatest pleasure is? It isn’t power, or money, or women, or wine. It’s killing. And I shall delight in killing you both. I…”
    “Now!” said Ark, and Muravin