Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 08 - Ghost in the Mask by Jonathan Moeller Page B

lord. There was an attack in Malarae two weeks ago.”
    Martin frowned. “Unleashed by a worshipper of Anubankh, I assume?”
    “Yes.” He was clever. “A former magus named Jurius, banished from the Magisterium years ago. Do you know him?”
    Martin shook his head. “Odd that a former brother of the Magisterium should worship a foreign god. And one from a long-dead nation, at that.”
    “That was unusual, but his weapon was even stranger,” said Caina. “He had a Dustblade.”
    “A Dustblade?” said Martin, puzzled, and then recognition came. “One of the weapons of sorcery from the Fourth Empire?”
    “You are correct,” said Caina. “All the Dustblades were destroyed long ago, and the only surviving blades are in Caer Magia. You see how this would catch the attention of the First Magus.” 
    “Then you are here,” said Martin, “to ensure that these weapons are returned to the Magisterium.”
    “You mistake me,” said Caina. “I am here to ensure that those weapons remain untouched in Caer Magia.”
    “I thought,” said Martin, frowning again, “that the Magisterium would wish to reclaim the relics of the Fourth Empire.”
    “Some within the Magisterium do,” said Caina, “but the risk is too great. What man could be trusted with such power? The First Magus fears his rivals might claim the weapons and use them to depose him.” She shrugged. “And the Empire is at war with New Kyre. Suppose a Dustblade or something worse falls into the hands of the Archons? What might they do then? No, better to leave the weapons within Caer Magia, where they threaten no one…and where they do not threaten the First Magus’s position.”
    “Ah,” said Martin with a grim smile. “That sounds like Decius Aberon.”
    Caina returned his smile with a chilly one of her own. “Then you see our interests are in alignment. You do not trust me, my lord, and you have no reason to do so. But we both wish Caeria Ulterior returned to peace and the secrets of Caer Magia to lie undisturbed. Will you cooperate with me?”
    Martin stared at her, and Caina met his gaze without blinking. She was impressed. Not many lords would stand up to a magus of the Magisterium as he had. Of course, she was no magus, merely a woman in a black robe.
    But he did not know that.
    “Very well,” said Martin. “I have never found the magi to be trustworthy, and the magus assigned to advise the Lord Governor of Caeria Ulterior, Oberon Ryther, is utterly useless. But the good of the Empire requires that we work together.” 
    “It does,” said Caina. “I have some questions for you, if you do not mind.”
    “Ask,” said Martin. “I have no secrets.”
    Caina doubted that. “The two camps outside of the Henge. Who are they?”
    Martin scowled. “Our resident troublemakers. The camp to the west of town belongs to Anashir, an Anshani occultist.”
    “What is an Anshani occultist doing inside the Empire?” said Caina. She remembered Yaramzod the Black from Catekharon. The man had been ruthless, brutal, and tremendously powerful. She shuddered to think of what he would do with a Dustblade. 
    “The occultist claims to seek Anshani relics from the Seventh Battle of Calvarium,” said Martin. “One of the Shahenshah’s armies penetrated this far north during the Third Empire, and was defeated here before Caer Magia was built. Anashir claims to have a license from the Emperor granting him permission to dig.”
    “That license is forged,” said Caina. She doubted that the Emperor had been foolish enough to grant an Anshani occultist leave to search for ancient relics near Caer Magia, and even if he had, Halfdan would have told her. “Perhaps if we prove it we can force him to leave.”
    “Perhaps,” said Martin, “but he may not wish to leave. I hope your skill in the arcane sciences are a match for his.”
    “We may see,” said Caina. “What of the eastern camp?”
    “That belongs to Lady Maena Tulvius,” said Martin, “and