Ghost in the Throne (Ghost Exile #7) by Jonathan Moeller Page A

within, waiting to be called forth. 
    For a moment her skin crawled at the thought. She had hated sorcery for more than half her life, yet it was now a part of her more than ever before. Now that she was a valikarion, it had been woven the fiber of her being. 
    Her hands tightened against the reins, the knuckles shining white beneath her skin. 
    “How goes the practice?”
    Nasser’s sonorous voice cut into Caina’s dark musings, and she rebuked herself for inattention. Nasser dropped back to ride next to her, the disguised Staff laid across his saddle like a lance. Annarah had ridden ahead to join Laertes, and from the sound of the conversation, Laertes was explaining his difficulty finding suitable husbands for all his daughters. 
    “Well enough,” said Caina. “I think I can see sorcerous auras for a mile in all directions, regardless of any obstacles.” She reached over and tapped the leather-wrapped Staff with one finger, and her hair all but stood on end in reaction to the mighty power within the ancient relic. “I haven’t lost my old sensitivity to sorcery, either.”
    “A rare gift,” said Nasser. “Most people are completely unaware of the presence of a spell until it does them harm.” 
    “I wish you knew more about the abilities of the valikarion,” said Caina. “Or that Annarah did. Any advice would be helpful.”
    “The valikarion were quite secretive about their abilities,” said Nasser. “Their task was to guard the loremasters, yes, but they had responsibilities beyond that. Sorcerers who abused their powers or turned to the forbidden sciences might find the valikarion arriving upon the doorsteps. It often caused problems with neighboring nations. The Magisterium, in particular, was not at all fond of the valikarion or of Iramis.” 
    “I can imagine,” said Caina. She considered for a moment. “You said the valikarion guarded the loremasters. Did their responsibilities include…policing the loremasters?” 
    “Yes,” said Nasser. “It was rare for a loremaster to abuse his power. But all mortals are fallible, are they not? The valikarion kept an eye upon the loremasters as well.”
    “How did they miss Callatas, then?” said Caina.
    They rode in silence for a little while. 
    “I do not know,” said Nasser. “Nor do I know what happened to…change him so. Not even Annarah knows, and she was perhaps closer to him than anyone, but that was not very close.”
    “What does that mean?” said Caina. 
    “Callatas was not close to anyone,” said Nasser. “He had a towering reputation, true, and was renowned as the greatest healer and loremaster of Iramis. Certainly his skill had earned him the title of Callatas the Wise. Yet he had no family, no close friends. Only influential admirers and students.”
    “What did you think of him?” said Caina. “Before he destroyed your homeland, I mean?”
    “He had already been a loremaster for decades when I ascended the Prince’s throne,” said Nasser. “To be honest, I thought him pompous and rather full of himself. And…brittle, too.”
    “Brittle?” said Caina.
    “Brittle,” repeated Nasser. “He had a vision of how the world ought to be, a world of perfect justice and fairness. I need not tell a circlemaster of the Ghosts that such a world is simply not possible.”
    “No,” said Caina. Halfdan had been fond of saying that from the crooked timber of humanity no straight thing could be made, quoting some long-dead philosopher or another. Caina had not yet seen anything to disprove that. 
    “Then one day he left Iramis,” said Nasser. “We knew not where he had gone. A few years later he took command of the College of Alchemists of Istarinmul and proclaimed himself the Grand Master. Later, of course, we learned that he had gone to the Tomb of Kharnaces and learned dark secrets there. He had stolen the Star of Iramis, and demanded the Staff and the Seal. I refused him…and, well, you know what happened