Ghost Wounds, Episode 8

What does Croanna want?” you say. “What is her plan?”

“I…I don’t know!” says Lysander, his voice rising to a shriek. “I swear I don’t know. Do you think she’d be stupid enough to tell someone like me?”

“Then you’d better tell me everything else you know,” you say.

Lysander starts babbling. “She contacted me, said she could make me rich and powerful, if I but did a few errands for her. I didn’t believe her, but she said she could prove it. I…I had a large loan with the moneylenders, and she forced them to cancel it.”

You frown. Malarae’s moneylenders are a grasping lot, and you can never recall them forgiving a loan. Ever.

“So then she would give me errands,” says Lysander. “Rycurgus would deliver them, or soldiers in strange armor. The last one was the note to Lucan Maraeus.”

“What did he do when you gave him the note?” you say.

“He stared at it for a long time,” says Lysander. “His hands shook a little, I remember that. He looked at me, and I thought…I thought he would kill me then and there. Then he threw the note on the floor, took his weapons, and left.”

Something clicks in your mind. “These soldiers in strange armor. What did the armor look like?”

“Like…like a sculpture,” says Lysander, “all covered with swirls and reliefs and faces…”

At all at once you know where Croanna is. Or where she was.

You look at the miserable terror on Lysander’s expression and feel a bit sick. You’re not sure which is worse – that you can inspire such fear in a man, or that the fear is entirely justified. Because if he had refused to tell you about Lucan, you would have started cutting.

“You’re going to stay in your rooms tonight,” you say, shoving Lysander to the floor. “By tomorrow night either Croanna will be dead, or I will. You can do what you please then. But if I see you again, I will kill you.”

Lysander tries to babble something out, but you leave without another word, Moresti and Noraster following.

“I assume you learned something from that?” says Noraster.

“Catekhari,” you say. “That kind of armor is Catekhari.” Lucan told you that Morneus’s surviving apprentice fled to Catekharon, a city-state south of the Empire. The only men wearing Catekhari armor in Malarae are the guards of the Lord Ambassador from Catekharon.

“Which means,” says Noraster, “that Croanna somehow has control over the Catekhari Lord Ambassador.”

Ah, he’s a bright one.

“Catekharon is ruled by sorcerers,” you say, “known for their skill in producing enspelled artifacts. That would explain where Rycurgus got that wraith-bracelet of his.”

“Too much talking!” says Moresti. “If Moresti cannot kill the cringing fat man, then who shall Moresti kill?”

“Follow me,” you say.

You leave the foundry district, and walk to the wealthier districts in the massive shadow the Imperial Citadel. The Catekhari Lord Ambassador and his guards reside in a small mansion off the Via Imperator. A small garden rings the mansion, patrolled by guards in heavy Catekhari armor covered with intricate reliefs, and…

You stop.

A man in a hooded cloak stands in an alleyway across the street, watching the mansion’s gates.

You blink, and then smile in relief.

You know the man. It’s Ark, a Legion veteran and blacksmith turned Ghost. Five years ago, you rescued Ark’s wife and son from slavers, and ever since Ark has been your most trusted agent in Malarae. In fact, other than Lucan, Ark is the man you trust most – you and Ark have gone into some serious dangers together, and come out on the other side. If he’s here, he must have discovered Croanna’s plot. Perhaps he’s learned something useful.

Though you do wonder why he’s just standing there, staring at the mansion’s gates.

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