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

easily you can pass as a magus.”
    “Give how I despise them, you mean?” said Caina. “People hate and fear the magi. Inspiring that reaction is not hard.”
    They walked to the stables together.
     
    ###
     
    The fastest way to travel through the Empire was by water, whether by sea or river or canal. Unfortunately, Caer Magia was landlocked.
    Fortunately, the Via Caeria was one of the best roads in the Empire. It had been built during the Second Empire to support the Emperors’ endless wars against the Caerish tribes. As the Empire expanded west, so did the Via Caeria, and now the road stretched from Malarae to the gates of Marsis. Broad and wide and smooth from the labor of millennia of Legionaries, the road wound its way along the western shores of the Bay of Empire, and then turned southwest, leaving ancient Nighmaria and making its way into the hills of the Caerish provinces. Caina felt barely a bump as the horses pulled the carriage, and she could have slept in comfort inside.
    Instead, she sat cross-legged on the roof. The light was better for reading. 
    A book rested on her lap, and she paged through it as they rode west. Corvalis and Muravin and the dozen fake Magisterial Guards Halfdan had recruited walked alongside the carriage. Caina read the book, keeping a frown on her face.
    The weapons of sorcery described upon its pages made it easy to maintain her frown.
    It was a history of the Fourth Empire, the time the Magisterium ruled the Empire. The Empire had been larger than it was now, but the magi had been cruel leaders. Slavery had been accepted in every province and city of the Empire. And the magi had used tens of thousands of slaves as raw material for their spells. They had worked sorcery of terrible destruction, shattering the walls of cities and reducing their inhabitants to empty husks. They had conjured vast hosts of elemental spirits, unleashing firestorms and rains of burning acid. 
    Such feats were beyond the grasp of the contemporary magi, thank the gods. 
    Yet Maglarion, Caina remembered, had been a survivor of the Fourth Empire, and he had been capable of spells far beyond the grasp of the Magisterium. The knowledge of such sorcery had been lost with the destruction of Caer Magia and the transformation of the Fourth Empire into the Fifth Empire. 
    But the secrets of all those terrible things lay within the ruins of Caer Magia.
    And if Jurius had managed to bring a Dustblade out of Caer Magia…then others might find a way. 
    All the horrors of the Fourth Empire might walk under the sun once more. 
    Caina closed the book, a deep feeling of unease settling within her. The war with New Kyre was a waste, and Halfdan was right to focus the attention of the Ghosts upon ending it. 
    But this…this had the potential to become far worse.
     
    ###
     
    “Twelve more days,” said Caina the next morning. She was walking behind the carriage to stretch her legs, the black robe billowing around her. Should any other traffic appear, she would climb into the carriage and resume her role of aloof, arrogant magus, but for the moment the road was deserted. “Thirteen to fifteen days on foot to Caer Magia, depending upon the weather.”
    Corvalis snorted. “Amusing, is it not, that Marsis is five hundred miles further west, yet it only takes nine days to travel there from Malarae.”
    “Aye,” said Caina, “but you can travel by ship.” 
    Muravin shook his head. “There is so much water here.” His Caerish was improving, but he would never speak it without an accent as thick as Shaizid’s cakes. “Istarinmul has sufficient water, as does the Vale of Fallen Stars, but in the Argamaz…water is more valuable than gold or jewels.”
    “Unsurprising,” said Caina. “A man cannot drink gold and jewels.”
    “They cannot,” said Muravin. “The tribes of the Argamaz…if a man betrays his kin, the tribesmen leave him in a waterless pit in the desert, surrounded by his wealth. More merciful, I