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

Alchemist wore a ceremonial white cloak with a gold-trimmed cowl. This man only wore a gold-trimmed white robe without a cloak. A full Alchemist, then, but not a Master. 
    Odd, that.
    “My lord Titus,” said Tanzir, regaining some of his poise, “this is my advisor, Ibrahmus Sinan, a full brother and Alchemist of the College.”
    Sinan bowed. “An honor, my lord.” His High Nighmarian was flawless. “I hope that your wisdom shall help bring an end to this senseless war.”
    “That is my Emperor’s hope as well,” said Titus. 
    Several minor Istarish nobles disembarked from the ship, and Tanzir introduced them to Lord Titus. Titus in turn introduced his advisors and minor lords, and Halfdan as Master Basil Callenius. Tanzir listened with a distracted expression, while Sinan watched with cold black eyes. 
    “And this,” said Titus, “is Master Anton Kularus, a merchant of coffee, and his, ah, companion…”
    “Sonya Tornesti,” said Halfdan.
    “Yes, Sania Tornost,” said Titus.
    Tanzir had not been paying attention, but his eyes brightened at the mention of coffee. “Coffee? You have coffee in Malarae? I was under the impression that the noble drink was unknown in Istarinmul.”
    A brief flicker of irritation went over Sinan’s face. 
    “It was until recently, my lord emir,” said Corvalis with a bow, “but I completed a journey into the lands beyond Anshan and did a favor for Lord Titus, and obtained exclusive license to import coffee into Malarae.”
    “Splendid!” said Tanzir. “I wish to visit your establishment, Master Anton. I thought I would have to make this miserable trip without any coffee. And do you have bookshops in Malarae? I am a bit of a collector, you see, and…”
    “My lord emir,” said Sinan with a tight smile, “we have duties.”
    “What?” said Tanzir. “Yes, yes, of course. Until later, Master Anton.” He looked at Caina once, opened his mouth, closed it, and turned back to Titus. The lord and the emir turned from the quay and began the long walk to the Imperial Citadel and the Lord Ambassador’s residence, trailed by their followers. On the ship men in gray tunics began to unload chests from the hold. Slaves, Caina realized, her lips pressing into a hard line. Tanzir Shahan had brought his slaves with him to Malarae. 
    “Well,” murmured Halfdan, moving alongside Caina and Corvalis. “What do you think of the Padishah’s new Lord Ambassador?” 
    “My heart almost stopped when he fell,” said Caina. “I thought someone had decided to assassinate him by pushing him off the damned ship.”
    Corvalis laughed. “Clumsy of him.”
    “He’s no Rezir Shahan,” said Caina, “that’s plain.” 
    Halfdan shrugged. “From all reports, Rezir’s and Tanzir’s mother Ashria dominates their family. Rezir ruled while he lived, but since Rezir met an untimely end at the Balarigar’s hands,” Caina scowled, “I believe the dowager amirja rules the family.”
    “Tanzir doesn’t seem the sort to defy his mother,” said Corvalis.
    “Or anyone, really,” said Halfdan. “I suspect most of the actual negotiating will fall to one of the other nobles.” 
    “Or that Alchemist,” said Caina. “Ibrahmus Sinan. Do you know anything about him?”
    Halfdan shrugged. “Little enough. The College is a like our Magisterium, in that the Alchemists renounce their previous affiliations when they join the College. In theory, anyway. Sinan is no one of particular note, but he’s apparently associated with House Shahan. Rezir relied on him as an advisor, as does Ashria, but that’s all the Ghost circle in Istarinmul knows about him.” 
    “He’s not a Master Alchemist,” said Caina.
    “From what I understand,” said Halfdan, “it’s rather difficult to become a Master Alchemist. The Masters of the College can live decades, even centuries, longer than most men. You remember Callatas? He was at least two hundred years old. The Master Alchemists have some method of