Free Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 07 - Ghost in the Ashes by Jonathan Moeller

away, not entirely. 
    “It’s just as well we are so close to the quay,” said Caina, hoping to change the subject. 
    Corvalis snorted. “Anton Kularus has friends. Specifically, Master Basil Callenius of the Imperial Collegium of jewelers. Master Basil is friends with Lord Titus Iconias after our little adventure in Catekharon. Since Lord Titus is greeting the emir at the quay, we get to stand and watch.”
    And, hopefully, they would keep any assassins from reaching the Lord Ambassador. 
    Corvalis and Caina walked onto the quay, past the more powerful lords surrounding Lord Titus himself. A few of the lords gave Corvalis irritated looks, which he ignored with blithe indifference. The nobles regarded Anton Kularus as an upstart, as a peddler of coffee who had no place among the councils of the mighty. Yet nonetheless Corvalis looked like a gaunt wolf among the plump nobles in their robes and finery. 
    Caina could only imagine what they thought of her. No doubt they believed her a scheming whore drawn to Anton for his sudden rise in wealth and status. 
    But that made it all the easier to steal their secrets.
    She spotted Halfdan standing next to Lord Titus Iconias and a knot of black-armored Imperial Guards. Lord Titus was a stout man in his middle forties with a perpetually disgruntled expression. He was a strong supporter of the Emperor and  one of the most powerful men in the Empire. 
    “Master Basil,” said Corvalis. “Thank you for inviting me.”
    “Master Anton,” said Halfdan. “Good of you to come.”
    “Eh?” said Titus, looking away from the Istarish ship. “Who’s this, Basil?” 
    “Anton Kularus,” said Halfdan, “our rising young master of the coffee trade.”
    Titus looked at Corvalis, at Caina, took a longer look at Caina’s neckline, and then back at Corvalis. Caina stifled a laugh. Titus had seen them both a dozen times in Catekharon, but he did not recall either of them. 
    “Yes, of course,” said Titus. “My seneschal is buying some of your wares. A pity I didn’t think of starting the coffee trade in Malarae myself. I could have made a fortune.”
    “Business favors the bold, my lord,” said Corvalis.
    “Indeed, Master Anton,” said Titus. “I may bring the emir to your establishment. The protocols of diplomacy require that I entertain him for a few days, and I understand they are fond of coffee in Istarinmul.” 
    “I should be honored, my lord,” said Corvalis. “All men of good will desire peace between our noble Emperor and the Padishah.”
    Titus snorted. “And peace will make it all the easier to ship coffee from the plantations of Anshan and Cyrica?”
    “Well, yes, that too.”
    The Istarish warship pulled up to the quay, and Titus fell silent. The Istarish ship was a huge wooden galley, propelled by three masts and two banks of oars, its decks lined with ballistae and Istarish soldiers in spike-topped helmets. The ship came to a stop, and dockhands rushed forward with mooring lines. The crew lowered a gangplank, the soldiers stirring.
    The Immortals came ashore.
    Caina kept her face calm. The Immortals wore black chain mail and plate armor, their face-concealing helmets worked in the shape of grinning skulls so that the Padishah’s enemies might know death came for them. A pale blue glow shone in the depths of the skulls’ eye holes, a result of the sorcerous elixirs the Immortals consumed. Caina remembered running from the Immortals in the streets of Marsis, remembered fighting them…
    She wondered again why Nalazar had brought Immortals in pursuit of Muravin and Mahdriva. 
    A score of Immortals assembled upon the quay, carrying lances with the Padishah’s banner, a crimson field with a black sword and crown. An Istarish soldier stepped forward, clad in the cloak of a khalmir, an Istarish officer. He took a deep breath and began to shout.
    “Hearken!” he yelled in Istarish, his voice rolling over the docks. “He comes! He who is the Emir of the