Ghost Ascension – Episode 8

“All right,” you tell Sophia, “follow us.”

She beams at you, and grasps the tails of her red coat to do an elaborate curtsy. “Splendid! Oh, but I suspect you create art wherever you go, my lady. Songs and tales and stories. I look forward to seeing some of them. Truly, I do.”

Your mother’s voice suddenly thunders in your head, so loud that your temples begin to throb.

“Kill her,” the voice hisses, “kill her now, you know she’s a spy, you know she’ll betray you, kill her, you miserable coward, kill her if you’re strong enough, you useless weakling child, cut her throat and laugh as she chokes in her blood, kill her kill her killherkillherkillherkillher…”

You shiver, and after a moment force the voice to silence.

Both Lucan and Sophia stare at you. Sophia with curiosity, Lucan with concern.

“Let’s go,” you say.

You hustle Lucan forward a dozen steps and murmur in his ear.

“If she tries anything…” you say.

“Subdue her,” he says, nodding.

You manage to nod. You were going to say “kill her”. But Lucan has more of a conscience than you do. It’s one of the things you admire about him.

Substantially more of a conscience, to judge from the voices welling up out of your damaged mind.

You lead the way, and a short walk takes you to the Imperial Foundry, built at the base of the high crag supporting the Emperor’s Citadel. A massive building with thick white walls, high windows, and a tiled roof, the Foundry churns out the arms and armor of the Legions and the Imperial Guard. Armorer’s Square sits before the Foundry, and Malarae’s blacksmiths and ironmongers do business here, selling everything from cuirasses to cutlery.

Your most trusted agent, “Blacksmith”, sits on a bench outside the Foundry, whittling.

“Blacksmith’s” name is actually Ark. He’s a man in his middle forties with arms and legs like tree trunks, his balding hair close-cropped in a Legionary’s cut. You’ve been in some very dangerous situations together, and about five years ago you rescued Ark’s wife Tanya and oldest son from slave traders. Ever since then the retired Legionary considers your word to be law. Ark knows you better than anyone, these days, and you trust him more than anyone else in Malarae.

After a moment, you realize that you trust Lucan more than Ark. You never shared a bed with Ark, after all.

“Countess,” says Ark, rising, his voice rough and gravelly. He glances over Lucan and Sophia, briefly.

“Lucan,” you say, “keep an eye on Sophia.”

Lucan nods, and Sophia frowns, but doesn’t move.

Ark leads you closer to the Foundry’s doors, where the sound of constant hammering will shield your conversation.

“What happened?” says Ark. “You told me to meet you by the Imperial Hippodrome by noon yesterday. Six years I’ve worked for you, and you’ve never been late. I was sure you were dead.”

“I don’t remember,” you say.

Ark frowns, and your father’s voice whispers in his ears.

“You’re going to get him killed,” he murmurs. “His son is…twelve, now, isn’t he? Old enough to apprentice. His daughters are even younger. You’ll leave his wife a widow, leave his children to starve in the streets…”

“The magi?” says Ark. “They caught up with you?”

“They must have,” you say. “I…can’t remember anything that happened the last three days, Ark. I remember heading out to meet with an informant about Nikaedes. This morning I woke up at the Black Cuirass Inn. I can’t remember anything between leaving and waking up in….at the Black Cuirass Inn.”

Ark grunts. “You told me Lord Lucan is staying at the Inn.” Then his eyes widen in such utter astonishment that you look over your shoulder, fearing an attack. “You and Lord Lucan…”

You sigh. You trained Ark too well; six years ago he wouldn’t have made that connection.

“Countess,” says Ark, “I am…surprised.” He frowns. “Should I kill him for you?”

“Of course not,” you say.

For instant Ark looks even more astonished.

“Then you’re in love?” he says.

“A matter of greater concern,” you say, “is what else happened during those three days. Such as why the magi simply didn’t kill me, if they caught up to me.”

“Of course,” says Ark, astonishment vanishing into his usual grim expression.

“What did I tell you to do?” you say.

“Two days ago,” says Ark, “you told me to follow a man. You didn’t know his name. A tall fellow. He must have been sick – he had gray skin, with black veins, and yellow eyes.”

You remember what Sophia said, and the assassin’s orders.

“Fellow only came out at night,” says Ark. “The Kindred were after him, as well, because he took care to avoid them.”

“Where did he go?” you say.

“The Valley of the Emperors,” he says, referring to the mountain vale behind the Imperial Citadel that houses the tombs of long-dead Emperors. “He stopped before one of the tombs…Emperor Anacepheon’s, I think.”

You recognize the name – the last magus-emperor of the Fourth Empire, killed in whatever mysterious plague destroyed Caer Magia.

“I thought he was a tomb robber,” says Ark. “But he paced back and forth before the tomb’s entrance for three hours, maybe four. Like he was frustrated. Then he came back to the city.”

“Do you know where he’s hiding?” you say.

“Aye,” says Ark. “He vanished into the catacombs near the western end of the Via Triumphalis. And the only place to hide in that part of the catacombs is…”

“Skullyard Court,” you say, remembering.

You think it over. It seems unlikely that the yellow-eyed man is Nikaedes. Yet the magi want him dead, and apparently you wanted to find him badly…at least before you lost the last three days of your memory.

But why did you want to find him?

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