Free Ghost in the Winds (Ghost Exile #9) by Jonathan Moeller Page A

her. 
    Kylon felt the Emissary’s eyes upon him, and he kept himself from grimacing. She had called him the man defined by the women he had lost, and that had more truth to it than he liked. He did not want to consider losing Caina. They hadn’t even had all that much time together. If Callatas or Kalgri killed her…
    He shoved aside the thoughts, forcing himself to pay attention. There were far greater problems in the world than the woes of one exiled Kyracian nobleman, though he knew none of those problems mattered to him as much as Caina’s life. 
    “This counsel seems good to me,” said Sulaman, which more or less ended the discussion. “At the very least, we risk nothing by attempting it. Erghulan is alone and without support, and the longer the siege draws on the further his prestige falls. Letting him flee into exile seems the wisest course. If it fails, we can always assault the city later.”
    “Lord Prince.”
    The Emissary’s voice was soft, but it commanded instant attention. Most of the nobles and commoners and slaves of Istarinmul held her in respect and those who did not respect her knew better than to question her authority in front of the devout. 
    “Yes, Emissary?” said Sulaman.
    “Your plan is sound,” said the Emissary, “and normally it would grant victory, but something has changed.”
    “What has changed?” said Sulaman.
    “Callatas returned to the city this day,” said the Emissary. 
    Kylon stared at her, something clenching in his gut. If Callatas had returned to the city…that almost certainly meant that Caina was dead. It almost certainly meant that Callatas had killed her, taken the Staff and the Seal, and escaped the undead grasp of Kharnaces.
    He felt Claudia staring at him and sensed her sudden concern. Out of everyone here, she knew him the best, had known him before Thalastre had been killed and he had been banished from New Kyre. 
    She understood what this meant. 
    “Then we may assume,” said Sulaman, “that Callatas is beginning the final spells of the Apotheosis?” 
    “He is,” said the Emissary. “At this very moment. He has several days of work before him. Yet the Apotheosis is coming, and our time is almost out.”
    “Then that settles the matter,” said Kazravid. “We have to assault the city at once and stop him before he can finish that spell. If he does, that madman will kill us all.”
    “But Callatas’s return will stiffen Erghulan’s spine,” said Martin. “He won’t dare flee with Callatas’s eye upon him…and it might give him new resolve. If he believes that Callatas is about to wave his hand and sweep all his enemies away, he won’t stop fighting.”
    “No,” said Sulaman, his voice grim. “But Strabane is also correct.” His eyes grew distant, and Kylon felt the faint surge of arcane force as Sulaman used his peculiar ability to see into the future. “If we attack the wall with a full assault, many thousands shall die. Men from our army, men among the defenders…and men, women, and children among the people of Istarinmul when errant amphorae of Hellfire land among the slums of the Anshani Quarter. And our attack may well fail.” 
    “Yet we must break into the city and stop the Apotheosis,” said Martin. “My lords and emirs and captains, you have all seen the evil that Callatas has authored within Istarinmul. The Apotheosis will surpass all his previous crimes. It is up to us to stop him…even if the cost is appalling.”
    Silence answered him. Kylon said nothing, part of his mind wrestling with the problem.
    The rest of his mind wondered what had happened to Caina. 
    “Lord Martin is entirely correct,” said Nasser, “but I suggest we approach this problem from a different angle.” 
    “What do you mean?” said Tanzir. 
    “Perhaps we are confusing our goals and our methods,” said Nasser. “Our goal is to get the army inside of the city. Attacking the wall is simply one method of doing so…”
    Tanzir