Ghost Wounds, Episode 7

Rycurgus leaps at you, and you stab with your ghostsilver dagger, intending to drive him towards Moresti.

Rycurgus makes no effort to dodge. Indeed, why should he? Instead he blurs into wraith form, no doubt expecting your dagger to pass harmlessly through him.

The ghostsilver blade passes through him without leaving a mark.

But the handle grows hot, painfully hot, beneath your gloved hand, and Rycurgus shudders, stumbling back. You hear a tinny noise, like an echo from the bottom of the well, and realize that he is screaming. Again you stab him with the ghostsilver dagger, the handle even hotter in your grip, and Rycurgus flinches away from you.

The dagger might not hurt him, but it certainly seems to cause him pain.

Rycurgus shimmers back into solid form, just in time to catch Moresti’s heavy shield in the face. He falls backwards, blurring into wraith form, and leaps to the windowsill. You approach, ghostsilver dagger ready, and Rycurgus becomes solid again.

He glares at you, eyes filled with rage and hate, blood dripping from his lip.

“This isn’t finished. Tell the Ghost Countess,” says Rycurgus, “that I’ll send Lucan Maraeus back to her! In pieces!”

You snarl and fling a knife, but Rycurgus goes wraith once more and leaps through the wall, vanishing. You see him fleeing along the street, his wraith form granting supernatural speed. No friction, you suppose.

“Sorcery,” mutters Moresti. “The first thing we do, Moresti thinks, let’s kill all the sorcerers. Sorcerers are…” He uses a Szaldic term for a man who enjoys acts of unnatural congress with sheep.

“Ah…pungently put, good sir. I know who Rycurgus really is,” says Noraster.

You blink, turn to face Noraster. “How?”

“I could not say so in front of him, of course,” says Noraster. “But ‘Rycurgus’ is only an alias. His real name is Niall Anabas. He always hated Lord Lucan, considered himself the superior swordsman. Niall was friendly with Morneus, and had flee the Empire after Lucan killed him. He swore vengeance against Lord Lucan, I’m afraid.”

Your fingers tighten against the dagger’s hilt. That would explain how Rycurgus knows Croanna. But it explains nothing else. Why this elaborate game? If Croanna and Rycurgus merely wanted vengeance on Lucan, surely there are easier ways to take it.

Fortunately, answers are close at hand.

You cross the room, stand over Lysander, who stares at you in terror.

“Where,” you say, “is Lucan Maraeus?”

“I…I don’t know,” says Lysander.

“Tell me now,” you say.

“I don’t know!” says Lysander. “You have to understand. You know who Croanna is? Do you know what she’ll do to me if I talk? She has all kinds of toys, not just bracelets to turn men into wraiths. And she’ll use those toys on me if I talk.” A crafty light comes into his eyes. “Unless, of course…you can offer me protection. And proper payment, of course.”

I’ll send Lucan Maraeus back to her! In pieces!

You can’t recall ever having been so angry.

And all at once your patience for games ends.

You punch Lysander twice, once in the face, and then in the gut. He’s bigger than you, and probably stronger, but he is fat and out of shape and you are not. He sags, and you twist his arm, slam his face into the wall. He lands hard on the floor, and you tangle one hand in his hair, and rest the tip of the ghostsilver dagger against his lower left eyelid.

Both Moresti and Noraster gape at you in astonishment.

“Are you listening to me, Lysander?” you say, your voice cold, toneless, dead. “Are you listening?”

Lysander stares at you, rigid with fear.

“You don’t need your eyes to answer me. Or your nose, or your fingers, or your teeth, or even your manhood. All you need is your tongue. Tell me what I want to know. Now.”

You see the terror fill his eyes, even as the smell of his emptying bladder reaches your nose. He will tell you whatever you want.

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