Ghost in the Flames by Jonathan Moeller

room, and of course the Decurion had the largest room of all. Caina listened at the door for a moment, picked the lock, and let herself inside. 
    Valgorix’s room had a comfortable bed, a few chairs, and a desk. The Decurion sat at the desk, scowling at a map of the city. Without his plumed helmet, he looked careworn and worried. 
    Caina crossed the room with silent steps, sliding a knife from her belt. In one smooth motion she reached down and leveled the blade across Valgorix’s throat, her gloved hand clamping over his mouth. For an instant Valgorix struggled in sudden panic, but Caina pressed the knife harder against his skin. He went still, breathing hard through his nose.
    “Do not scream,” hissed Caina in her disguised voice. “I have not come to harm you. Cooperate with me, and you will live through this night. Am I understood?”
    Valgorix nodded, carefully. Caina withdrew the knife and stepped into the corner, cloaking hanging about her. Valgorix stood, looked to where his sword lay across his bed, and then looked back at her.
    Caina shook her head.
    “Have you come to kill me?” said Valgorix, voice thick.
    “I have already told you that,” said Caina.
    Valgorix took a tentative step towards her. “Gods,” he whispered. “What…what are you? A demon come to drag me down into hell, or…or some sort of ghost?”
    “A ghost?” repeated Caina. “Yes. You could say that.”
    Valgorix’s face went white, and he dropped back into his chair. “A Ghost. One of the Emperor’s spies.” 
    “The Emperor has no spies.”
    “Oh. Of…of course,” said Valgorix. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. “And should anyone ask me, the Emperor has no spies, is that it?”
    Caina nodded. 
    “What do you want from me?”
    “As I said,” said Caina, “merely to talk.” 
    Valgorix stared at her. “This…is about those murders, isn’t it?”
    “What do you think?” said Caina, hoping to draw him out. 
    “I told the Lord Governor this was going to be a problem,” said Valgorix, raking a hand through his hair, “but he wouldn’t listen.” 
    “Perhaps,” said Caina, “you ought to start from the beginning.” 
    “This business began a year or so ago,” said Valgorix. “Some burned corpses began turning up in the streets. At first we thought nothing of it. Most likely some common criminals threw the bodies into the fires atop the pyramids. It’s happened before. But more and more bodies kept turning up.” He shook his head. “The damnedest thing. You burn a man alive, it makes a hell of a mess. Ash, soot, smoke damage and the like. And it takes a big pile of wood and a lot of oil. But these bodies are always found without any sign of a fire, nor any sign that the bodies have been moved. Just a burned corpse, appearing out of nowhere.”
    “How did you identify the bodies?” said Caina.
    “With difficulty,” said Valgorix. “But the evidence added up. In about half the cases the features were roughly intact, though badly damaged. Often the corpses were found in their beds, yet with no damage to the beds. Sometimes family was able to identify the dead men.” He shrugged. “Six, though, we simply could not identify.” 
    “The peasants say that sorcery burned those men to death,” said Caina.
    “Sorcery?” said Valgorix, scoffing. “Oh, indeed. Sorcery. Never mind that the Ashbringers have been extinct since before my grandfather’s grandfather was born.” A touch of doubt came into his voice. “But…the way these burned corpses appear without a trace of a fire…I can see why the peasants might think that, yes.” 
    “Who were the victims?” said Caina. 
    “Merchants, mostly,” said Valgorix. “Some of Saddai birth, some of Caerish. No Nighmarians. And some random people of little importance: a cook, a kettle merchant, and the like.” 
    Like Aulean and Crastia, perhaps, along with the rest of Rasadda’s Ghost circle. 
    “Do you have a list of the names?”