Tanzir became emir in his place, and Tanzir was a bookish, quiet sort. Though I have heard he found his backbone of late, and is most angry with the Brotherhood of Slavers.”
“Thank you,” said Caina. “I know it was not pleasant to revisit those memories, but your help is appreciated.”
Moryzai’s account of the undead troubled her. Of all the tales she had heard of the Inferno, none of them had mentioned the undead. Of course, Samnirdamnus had hinted at it with his talk of ancient Maatish necromancy. Caina suspected that there was a Maatish relic buried somewhere in the Inferno, something that raised the undead and commanded them to defend the fortress. Though if that was true, she wondered why Callatas hadn’t claimed the relic or destroyed it.
Maybe he didn’t care.
No – even if he didn’t care, he would have destroyed the relic or claimed it to prevent his enemies from using it against him.
Maybe the relic was too powerful for him to control or destroy.
Or, worse yet, perhaps the relic was under the control of something else. Maybe one of the undead Great Necromancers of ancient Maat still lurked in the depths of the Inferno. The priest Rhames had been one of the Undying, and his sorcery had been so terrifyingly powerful that he had defeated the Moroaica in a battle of spells. If another sorcerer of Rhames’s potency waited beneath the Inferno…
Moryzai was speaking. Caina rebuked herself and turned her thoughts back towards him.
“It is no trouble,” said Moryzai with an airy wave of his thick hand. “Your employer is paying for my fine dinner, after all.”
“A sum that could have bought food for five grown men,” said Agabyzus, eyeing the table.
Moryzai grinned and slapped his belly. “A sum that could have brought food for five lesser men, sir. I am may be a eunuch, but no man has a stomach as strong as mine.” His smile faded. “Tell your employer to take care, madam. I would not return to the Inferno for any reason. Not if you offered me every golden bezant in the Padishah’s treasury.”
“I shall,” said Caina. “Thank you.” She turned and left the private dining room, Agabyzus following her.
“He is right, you know,” murmured Agabyzus. “To warn you against going to the Inferno.”
Caina nodded.
“Is it truly vital that you do this?” said Agabyzus, glancing towards the common room. “To go to the Inferno?”
“It is,” said Caina. “If we survive it, I shall tell you more. But…it is vital. It is absolutely vital. The fate of Istarinmul and maybe the rest of the world depends on it.”
“I see,” said Agabyzus, his gaunt face hardening with understanding. He had seen the wraithblood laboratory in the Widow’s Tower, had seen the nagataaru possess Ricimer’s corpse. “Then may the Living Flame be with you.”
“May the Living Flame be with us all,” said Caina. “For I fear we shall surely need all the help we can find.”
Chapter 5: Instructions
Kylon walked through the Cyrican Bazaar, watching the crowds.
No one noticed him.
He felt a faint sense of wonder at that. In another few weeks it would be two years since the Red Huntress had murdered Thalastre and he had been exiled from New Kyre. Sometimes it felt like an eternity. Sometimes it felt like had just happened yesterday, and he could still hear the screams, feel the hot blood spattering across his face, see the harsh purple flame of the blade the Red Huntress had conjured.
Just now, though, it seemed distant.
He was still not used to the sensation of walking unnoticed through a crowd.
Kylon supposed it was a common thing, but he still marveled at it. He had been born to one of the most powerful noble Houses of New Kyre, and after his mother and father had been killed, his public role had increased. He had been at his sister Andromache’s side as she performed the duties of a High Seat and later Archon of the Assembly. He had trained as a stormdancer and served upon the war vessels of New Kyre, fighting pirates and privateers. When Andromache died in Marsis, Kylon became High Seat and later an Archon in turn. He had been one of the most powerful men in New Kyre. Everyone he had gone, he had been attended by slaves and retainers, and a large portion of New Kyre’s population knew him on sight. Kylon had rarely been alone, and he had never been anonymous.
Now he was.
The anonymity, at least, was…refreshing.
He found he enjoyed it. All his