Ghost Price
Caina had not set out to become a master thief, but she was quite good at it.
She was the Ghost circlemaster of Istarinmul, the leader of the Emperor’s spies in the city. Of course, the Ghosts of Istarinmul had been wiped out a year before Caina had been banished to Istarinmul, so she was the only Ghost in the city.
And there was a great deal of work for her in Istarinmul.
She worked to disrupt the business of the masters of Istarinmul’s Brotherhood of Slavers, and the best way to do that was by robbing them. So Caina robbed them whenever she had the chance, entering their palaces by stealth and carrying off as much jewels and gold as she could carry, freeing their slaves whenever the chance presented itself and when the slaves themselves wanted freedom.
She wound up with a lot of money.
Which was just as well, because she needed the money. Rebuilding the city’s Ghost circle would take time and effort, and Caina could put that money to good use.
Such as by preparing safe houses.
###
“Don’t know why you’d want to rent from me, boy,” said Talisla, squinting at Caina.
The woman was at least seventy, her hair wispy and white beneath her black widow’s headscarf, her frame lean and bent, her face a maze of weathered wrinkles. Yet her black eyes did not waver as she considered at Caina, and she looked capable of swinging her heavy cane with enough force to inflict some damage.
“Because, madam,” said Caina, taking care to speak Istarish with a heavy Cyrican accent. She had disguised herself as a man, since a lone woman would not rent rooms in Istarinmul unless she was a prostitute. Specifically, Caina had disguised herself as a mercenary messenger named Koraz, one who braved the roads between Cyrioch and Istarinmul to carry letters, and wore the leather armor, riding boots, and short sword and dagger that such a man would wear. “Your house is in the Tower Quarter, and not far from the Crows’ Tower itself.” She gestured at the imposing bulk of the fortress in the distance, the headquarters of Istarinmul’s watchmen. “A man need not fear thieves here.”
Talisla spat into the street. “As if the watchmen would lift a finger to help an old widow.”
“The Collegium told me the cheapest lodgings would be found in the Anshani Quarter,” said Caina.
Talisla’s face hardened further. “Aye, you can find cheaper rooms in the Anshani Quarter or the Alqaarin Quarter. But the Anshani Quarter is full of thieves and idle men, and foreigners flood the Alqaarin Quarter. No, boy, you’re better off here. Though I warn you I might not keep the house for long.”
“Why not?” said Caina.
“It belonged to my son Turkaar,” said Talisla. “He and his friends marched off to war with Rezir Shahan. None of them came back from the great battle at Marsis.”
“I’m sorry,” said Caina. She had been at the battle of Marsis.
It was, she reflected with a flash of weary guilt, entirely possible that she had killed Turkaar during the fighting.
The old woman shrugged. “Men live and men die, and my boy was no different. Inherited the house, aye, but I cannot pay the inheritance tax upon it. I have a few months left, but if I don’t make the payment soon, the Wazir of the Treasury will claim the house, and I’ll be out on the street. Along with all my tenants. So I’ll take your money, Koraz. Come have a look at the place.”
Talisla led Caina through the front doors and up to the rooms on the third floor. They were nicer and cleaner than Caina had expected, with an outer room, a closet, and a bedroom. The windows on the bedroom overlooked the narrow alley behind the house. Caina swung the shutters open, testing the hinges, and peered into the alley.
“Gloomy back there,” said Caina, shaking her head. “And not much light in the front room.”
But that pleased her. Very few windows overlooked the back alley, and it would be simplicity itself for her to fasten a rope to