Free Ghost in the Inferno (Ghost Exile #5) by Jonathan Moeller

incompetence will immediately proclaim it a fake.” He speared a bit of lamb upon his fork, swallowed it with a sigh of pleasure, and then pointed the utensil at Caina. “Just as you, my dear, are obviously fake.”
    “Oh?” said Caina. 
    This ought to be amusing. 
    “Our mutual acquaintance,” Moryzai nodded at Agabyzus, “does not share the details of his business, but it is quite clearly illegal, and I have no wish to speculate upon it further, lest I be overburdened with knowledge and become a liability to your organization. But an organization such as yours, whatever it is, is almost always governed by a hard and ruthless man. The thought of a pretty young woman in her twenties ruling a criminal organization is, frankly, too ludicrous to believe. You ought to be on the arm of some fat merchant or dancing for the pleasure of an emir.”
    “That’s very sweet,” said Caina. She glanced at Agabyzus. “You didn’t tell me he was a charmer.” 
    “It is indeed tragic my manhood was taken as a child,” said Moryzai, taking another bite of rice. “Truly, my wits would have made me one of the greatest seducers in history. Ah, well.” 
    “Alas, I can conceal nothing from your keen wit, master Moryzai,” said Caina. “Suffice it to say, I represent my employer, and he wishes me to ask some questions of you.”
    Agabyzus was too practiced a spy to smile, but she caught the faint twitch of amusement near his eyes.
    “Fair enough,” said Moryzai. “Say on, then.” He stabbed another bit of lamb on his fork.
    “What do you know,” said Caina, “about the Inferno?” 
    The bit of lamb froze halfway to Moryzai’s mouth.
    “I know that you once worked there,” said Caina. “I know that soon after you were trained as a scribe, you were sold to a new owner, and you accompanied him to the Inferno. I also know that you escaped at some point, made your way to Istarinmul, and established yourself as a forger here.” 
    “Mmm,” said Moryzai. He put down his fork and glared at Agabyzus. “You know far too much about me.”
    Agabyzus shrugged. “I merely observe. One cannot fault a man for that.”
    “No,” said Moryzai.
    “All that is true,” said Caina, “yet fails to answer my question.” 
    “Clever as well as pretty,” said Moryzai. “Where did your employer find you? One can buy pretty women easily enough on the block – at least until the Balarigar destroyed the market for slaves – but they usually have nothing but hot air between their ears.”
    “That is very flattering,” said Caina, “but still does not answer the question.”
    “No,” said Moryzai. “Very well. I shall tell you what I know about the Inferno. But you will first tell your employer one thing.”
    “What is that?” said Caina.
    “That he is an utter fool,” said Moryzai. “I do not know if you are thieves or foreign spies or something else, but if your employer is wise he shall stay far away from the Inferno. All that awaits you within its walls are torment and death if you are fortunate…and torment and unending death if you are not.” 
    Caina’s unease grew. Not for the first time she wished Annarah had picked somewhere else to hide. Yet her stratagem had worked. Callatas had searched for a hundred and fifty years and still had not found the Staff and Seal of Iramis. 
    “I will convey that message to him,” said Caina. “Please, continue.”
    Moryzai scoffed, but kept speaking. “You must understand something first.” He considered for a moment, and Caina waited. “I was born a slave upon an estate in Istarish Cyrica, and I thought I would spend my life toiling in my master’s fields. But I was clever, and I taught myself to read. So as a boy I was made a eunuch and trained as a scribe, yet I do not regret that in the slightest. Do you know why?”
    Caina shook her head, fascinated by the strange fear on Moryzai’s face. 
    “Because,” he said, “I saw what happened to the slaves who were