Ghost in the Flames by Jonathan Moeller Page B

sorcery?”
    Valgorix shrugged. “Some, like most priests, but nothing significant. None of them could match of a magus of the Magisterium, though. And if they tried any pyromancy, they wouldn’t last a week before the Magisterium got them.”
    “I see,” said Caina. She thought about it for a moment. “One final question. Have you ever met or seen a merchant from Mors Crisius named Publius Vanio? A fat man, of Caerish birth.”
    “Aye, I have,” said Valgorix. “He came to the city every few weeks, usually did business with both the Lord Governor and another merchant named Romarion.”
    “Vanio was found burned to death a week past in his townhouse,” said Caina. 
    Valgorix swallowed.
    “You have answered well,” said Caina, holding out her gloved hand. “I will take that list now.” 
    Valgorix handed over the roll of paper. “Are you going to kill me?”
    “Are you deaf? I already told you that I’m not going to kill you,” said Caina. “Assuming you’re wise enough not to mention our meeting to anyone.” 
    “I won’t,” said Valgorix. “What are you going to do now?”
    “That is none of your concern,” said Caina. “I may, however, contact you in the future for further information or assistance.”
    “Well, you’ll have it,” said Valgorix. He glanced at his door. “If you want to kill Lord Nicephorus, I think you’d better do it soon. Too much…”
    Caina took the opportunity to walk backwards, seize the windowsill, roll over it, and drop down. There was a thin ledge below the sill, and Caina seized it and pressed hard against the wall, pinning her cloak beneath her legs. She hung there and waited.
    And it was not a long wait. A moment later she saw Valgorix lean out the windows, scanning the courtyard, eyes wide with consternation. He stared into the night for a moment, muttered a curse, and disappeared back into his room. Caina waited, counted to a hundred. Her arms began to tremble with the effort, but she saw no sign that Valgorix had raised an alarm. 
    Caina grinned and let go. There were plenty of hand and footholds in the rough wall, and it did not take her very long to get down to the courtyard. Still she saw no sign that anyone had noticed her, so she unhooked her grapnel and started for the wall. 

    ###

    A short time later Caina walked into her sitting room, wearing a nightgown, the roll of names in one hand.
    Ark sat in one of the chairs, dozing. Caina’s bare feet made no sound against the carpet, but nonetheless Ark’s eyes shot open, his hand flying on the hilt of his sword. He stared at her for a moment, face blank, and then relaxed his grip.
    “You’re back sooner than I thought,” he said.
    “I told you I knew what I was doing,” said Caina. She sat at the table, smoothing the paper, and beckoned Ark to join her. 
    “What is that?” said Ark. He crossed to the table and sat down, scowling.
    “A list of those burned to death,” said Caina, read the names. Twenty-six total, all of whom had died in agony. She felt a twinge of anger, and twisted her father’s ring, still on the first finger of her left hand. 
    “How did you get that list?” said Ark.
    “Valgorix.”
    “You stole it from him?”
    “No.” Caina shook her head. She recognized several of the names on the list. “I asked.” 
    Ark stared at her.
    “He was actually quite helpful,” said Caina. “It seems that he hates Lord Nicephorus, and blames him for Rasadda’s recent troubles. So he may be useful in the future.” She pushed the list towards him. “You’d better read this.”
    Ark stared at the list for so long that Caina wondered if she had offended him in some way. Maybe he had never learned to read. Then he pointed at a name, his face grim and hard as a marble mask.
    “Narmer, of the dockside ward,” said Ark. 
    Caina nodded. “That explains why he never met us here.”
    “Crastia, of the north ward,” said Ark, still reading, “Aulean, of the Imperial Basilica…”