atop the plinth, the woman and the children.
But why? Why were they important? Just what was this fountain?
Caina didn’t know. It was more than a little frustrating.
A voice cut into her thoughts.
“The Moroaica.”
It was Kylon’s voice, but the words had a sardonic, mocking drawl to them, a tone Kylon had never taken with her. Caina turned and saw Kylon of House Kardamnos walking towards her. He looked a little younger and far less grim, the way he had looked before Thalastre’s death and the battle of Marsis. The way he had looked, she realized, on the day they had met and they had tried to kill each other. He wore the gray leather armor of a Kyracian stormdancer, a cloak the green-blue of the western sea streaming from his shoulders, a sword of storm-forged steel on his left hip.
His eyes were smokeless flame, hot and bright, painting the skin of his face with fiery light.
The image standing before her was not really Kylon. The spirit wore Kylon’s form because it reflected her subconscious thoughts. Or, more likely, the djinni had chosen to wear Kylon’s form simply to rattle her.
“Samnirdamnus,” said Caina.
Samnirdamnus, Knight of Wind and Air and djinni of the Court of the Azure Sovereign, stopped a dozen paces away, the sea-colored cloak rippling in the wind. He had spoken in Caina’s dreams ever since she had come to Istarinmul, and she was still not sure why. Callatas had bound the djinni to guard his Maze, the labyrinth protecting the entrance to his private laboratory, so Caina supposed Samnirdamnus wanted to be free of Callatas and take vengeance upon the Grand Master.
But the djinni wanted something else, she was sure. Something that he thought that she had, though Caina did not know what. Samnirdamnus liked to speak in cryptic riddles, but his counsel and warnings had saved her life more than once.
“The Moroaica,” said Samnirdamnus, a mocking smile on Kylon’s face.
Caina felt a chill. “Why do you call me that? The Moroaica is dead.”
“You have the right to the title,” said Samnirdamnus. “Or would you prefer another one, perhaps? She had many names. The Szalds called her Jadriga, the Sword-Queen of War. The Anshani named her the Bloodmaiden, and the Kyracians called her the Bringer of Dust and Ashes. The Iramisians called her the Herald of Ruin, and I am not sure what the solmonari of the Szalds called her because she killed them all. But the priests of ancient Maat, the priests of the Kingdom of the Rising Sun that she burned…they called her the Abomination, the Destroyer. So many names, and all of them yours by right.”
“I am not the Moroaica,” said Caina, puzzled. The Sage Talekhris had made the same error, mistaking Caina for Jadriga, but Jadriga’s spirit had been trapped within Caina’s flesh at the time. A strange idea occurred to her. “You said I was the one you were looking for…but were you really looking for the Moroaica the entire time?” She laughed. “If so, you are too late. She is dead.”
Samnirdamnus made Kylon’s mouth move in a lazy smile. “I am not so sloppy, my darling demonslayer. You are not the Moroaica, and I have not sought for her. But, ah….it is such a pity you cannot see your own aura. So dark, so scarred, so heavy with the shadows cast by both your past and your future. If you could see yourself with the eyes of the spirit, then perhaps you could understand why someone might mistake you for the Moroaica.”
“The Sifter,” said Caina. “It said something similar when it tried to consume me.”
“The Sifter failed to understand you as I do, dark child,” said Samnirdamnus. “Consequently you defeated the ifrit.” He scoffed with disdain. “The ifriti were never all that clever. When one’s attention is focused entirely upon one’s next meal, I suppose that is inevitable.”
“What is this about?” said Caina.
“About?” said the djinni. “Must it be about something? Can one not simply enjoy a pleasant conversation?”
“Not you,” said Caina. “There’s always a reason, always a purpose. Your counsel has aided me before. The daevagoths in the Widow’s Tower, or against the Red Huntress at Silent Ash Temple. So you have a reason for talking to me now.”
“The stormdancer,” said Samnirdamnus, the burning eyes brightening in Kylon’s face. “What do you think of him?”
“You’re in my head,” said Caina. “You can find out for yourself.”
“Interesting,” said Samnirdamnus. “You cannot even admit the truth to yourself.”
Caina start to bite out an angry response,