Free Ghost in the Hunt by Jonathan Moeller

Istarinmul as well,” said Caina. “You saw those wraithblood addicts upon the street, I assume?”
    Some of Claudia’s scorn faded. “Aye. They have a mild sorcerous aura.”
    “Every last one of them,” said Caina. “The wraithblood. Do you know how it is made?”
    Claudia shook her head. “Some sort of sorcerous elixir, I suppose.”
    “The blood of murdered slaves,” said Caina. “Callatas makes it from the blood of murdered slaves. Thousands upon thousands of slaves, bought from the Slavers’ Brotherhood and herded into Callatas’s laboratories, murdered upon his steel tables, their blood transformed into wraithblood and given to the population of the city.”
    “Why?” said Claudia. “Why would he do that?”
    “I don’t know,” said Caina. “But…”
    The door opened, and two Imperial Guards marched into the study, followed by Martin Dorius, the Emperor’s Lord Ambassador to the Padishah of Istarinmul. 
    He had not changed much since Caina had last seem him in New Kyre on the day of the golden dead. He was in his late thirties, tall and strong with gray-streaked black hair and deep gray eyes. There were more lines upon his face than Caina remembered. When she had first met him in Calvarium, he had struck Caina as a man who had seen things he wished to forget.
    Apparently he had seen a few more things he wished to forget. 
    But relief flooded his tired face as he saw Claudia. 
    “You’re safe, thank all the gods of the Empire,” said Martin. “I came as soon as I received the message from Tylas and Dromio. I…”
    He saw Caina and blinked. 
    “Leave us, please,” said Martin to his Guards. “I wish to have words alone with my wife.” He looked back at Caina. “And her guest.”
    The Guards bowed and withdrew, and Martin crossed the room and took Claudia in his arms. There was such concern in his face that Caina found herself moved. Martin was a good man, and it pleased Caina that he had found some joy in his life. 
    There was little enough of it in the world. 
    After a moment Martin released his wife.
    “Caina Amalas,” said Martin. “I expected to see you again. Especially after all the tales and rumors of the Balarigar we have heard. It seems I owe you my wife’s life.” 
    “I killed the second Silent Hunter,” said Claudia. “But…yes. If the circlemaster had not arrived when she had, the Hunters might have taken me unawares.” 
    “They might have come here for me,” said Caina. “A message arrived from the high circlemasters ten days ago, carrying news of your arrival and commanding me to aid you. Two Silent Hunters followed the courier, killed him, and almost killed me and one of my nightkeepers.”
    “How did you escape?” said Martin. “If the Silent Hunters get close enough to their targets to use their invisibility, they often claim their victims’ lives.”
    “I could sense their presence,” said Caina.
    “Yes, that’s right,” said Martin. “Your ability.” He shook his head. “That would have been useful in Malarae over the last year.” 
    “I hope it shall be useful here,” said Caina. She considered for a moment. “Let us say the Silent Hunters were after you, not me. Why would the Umbarians kill an ambassador in the capital of a foreign nation? It would be an insult to the Padishah.”
    Martin shrugged. “Who can say? The Umbarians represent the worst of the magi, power and intelligence mated to utter ruthlessness and lack of scruple. It is entirely possible they were here to kill Claudia. Losing my wife just as I assume my duties as Lord Ambassador would be a severe blow to my confidence and morale.”
    “The Umbarians,” said Claudia, her face tight with fear as she looked at her husband, “have employed such tactics before.”
    “They are without scruple,” said Martin, “and have disregarded every law and custom of war. Killing an ambassador’s wife is nowhere near the blackest deed they have wrought.” 
    “Then let us