Ghost in the Serpent

By Jonathan Moeller

A deadly poison. A hidden cult of sorcerers. Only Caina can find the truth.

Caina is a Countess of the Empire, an advisor and friend to three powerful monarchs.

But she was once a nightfighter of the Ghosts, the spies and assassins of the Emperor, and faced lethal sorcerers and corrupt lords.

And when a hidden cult of malevolent sorcerers emerges from the shadows, Caina will show them that she has forgotten none of her old skills...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jonathan Moeller
• Release date: Oct 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215302224

Jonathan Moeller

Standing over six feet tall, Jonathan Moeller has the piercing blue eyes of a Conan of Cimmeria, the bronze-colored hair of a Visigothic warrior-king, and the stern visage of a captain of men, none of which are useful in his career as a computer repairman, alas.He has written the "Demonsouled" trilogy of sword-and-sorcery novels, and continues to write the "Ghosts" sequence about assassin and spy Caina Amalas, the "$0.99 Beginner's Guide" series of computer books, and numerous other works.Visit his website at:http://www.jonathanmoeller.comVisit his technology blog at:http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/screed

Book preview

GHOST IN THE SERPENT

Jonathan Moeller

***

Description

A deadly poison. A hidden cult of sorcerers. Only Caina can find the truth.

Caina is a Countess of the Empire, an advisor and friend to three powerful monarchs.

But she was once a nightfighter of the Ghosts, the spies and assassins of the Emperor, and faced lethal sorcerers and corrupt lords.

And when a hidden cult of malevolent sorcerers emerges from the shadows, Caina will show them that she has forgotten none of her old skills...

***

Ghost in the Serpent

Copyright 2023 by Jonathan Moeller.

Published by Azure Flame Media.

Cover design by Jonathan Moeller.

Ebook edition published October 2023.

All Rights Reserved.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law.

***

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***

Chapter 1: I’ve Never Heard Of You

Caina still did not feel well, but better than she had for the last few days.

She never got sick, which was why her sudden illness had come as a surprise. Events earlier in her life had left Caina with remarkable good health and vigor, which she had used to good effect since. Still, she was flesh and blood, as frail as any other mortal.

Despite all the stories about her, which ranged from somewhat accurate to completely ludicrous.

I should stay, said Kylon on the first day she fell ill.

No, no, it’s just a bad cold, said Caina.

She sat propped up in bed in their house in Malarae, a book open on her lap. The doors to the balcony were thrown open, letting in the cool breeze. The air in Malarae ranged from bracing to almost poisonous, depending where you were in the great city, but the house that she and Kylon had bought was close enough to the Imperial Citadel and the foot of the Great Mountains that the wind coming down from the peaks was sharp and clear. Hardly fair to those who had to live near the stink of the harbor and the River Megaros, but Caina had paid a lot for this house, and the cool air was refreshing.

Are you sure? said Kylon, sitting on the edge of her bed. He took her hand, which felt cool and hard against her feverish skin, and she felt the faint prickle of his water sorcery. Kylon’s power permitted him to sense the emotions of anyone around him, save for her. It only worked if he was in physical contact with her.

Caina gazed at her husband of almost two years. He was a big man, wide-shouldered, but muscled in such a way that gave an impression of leanness. His hair and eyes were brown, his skin several shades darker than hers. Kylon looked like what he was – a Kyracian noble exiled from his homeland who had married an Imperial noblewoman.

Granted, while he was an exiled Kyracian noble and she was an Imperial noblewoman, there was quite a bit more to the story.

Entirely, said Caina. Usually, if she looked at him or touched him long enough, she started running her hands through his hair and down his back, which sent her thoughts to more sensual directions. Now she just wanted her headache to abate long enough to sleep, which was indeed proof that she was ill. It’s just a cold, and I’ll be better in a few days. Besides, you should be there. The Emperor appreciates your advice.

Kylon snorted. It’s your advice the Emperor appreciates. He prefers to rant to me about the problems of governing the Empire.

That’s because you were a soldier, said Caina. He can talk to you as one soldier to another. I’m a woman, and it would be beneath the Imperial dignity of the Emperor of Nighmar to complain to a woman.

He frowned. Caina had no sorcerous ability whatsoever and couldn’t sense emotions the way that Kylon could, but she could tell what he was thinking plainly enough. He was worried about her…but he also wanted to go.

Because he was bored, and Caina knew why. On the day they had become betrothed, she had told him that home was wherever he would be, and she meant it. But the bald fact remained that Kylon was exiled from his homeland and she was not. They split their time between Malarae and Istarinmul, and Kylon would never be at home in either city the way Caina was.

Are you sure? he said again, his conscience clearly at war with his desire to go.

I’ll be fine, said Caina. I have Talzain and Cornelia to look after me, and if anything goes wrong, I can ask Ark or Theodosia for help. Besides, you should go keep an eye on the Emperor.

Kylon frowned. You expect trouble?

No, said Caina. The civil war is over. But Valerius Hadrazon is still the Emperor of Nighmar. There are a lot of people who want him dead. Especially while he is meeting with the Padishah of Istarinmul. She patted his hand. You, my love, make a formidable shield against trouble.

High praise, murmured Kylon. All right, I’ll go to the Imperial Citadel and ride with the Emperor. He sighed and got to his feet. I’ll see you in a few days.

Be careful, said Caina. And don’t kiss me, you’ll catch whatever I have.

Kylon laughed and kissed her anyway. He started to straighten up, and then frowned.

What? said Caina. I know I don’t smell very good, I’ve been sweating all day.

No, it’s not that, said Kylon. He leaned down and sniffed. You smell…odd.

Nothing I like to hear, said Caina.

Like right after a lightning strike, said Kylon.

Well, said Caina, adjusting her pillows. Maybe I ate something that disagreed with me.

Perhaps, said Kylon, still frowning.

Go, said Caina. If you stay here, I’ll be fine in a few days, and you’ll be bored and wish you had ridden with the Emperor.

All right, said Kylon. You’re likely correct. I suppose it would be better for you to rest now. The Padishah will want to see you.

Yes, said Caina. Best not to make the ruler of Istarinmul come to my bedside.

With that, Kylon kissed her again, told her that he loved her, and left. Caina hoped that riding with the Emperor would ease his mind somewhat. Would distract him from the gnawing feeling that Kylon himself absolutely refused to acknowledge, that he missed New Kyre and wanted to return to his city.

A few more years, Caina thought. A few more years of work and preparation, and she could compel the Assembly of New Kyre to lift Kylon’s exile and allow him back home.

But that was further down the road, and right now, she was too tired to do anything but rest.

Caina spent the day alternating between a feverish doze and paging through the book on her lap. When she was awake, reading helped her forget the ache in her head and joints. The book was a history of the Ulkaari people, dating back to their ancient wars against the Kagari khans and the rise of Rasarion Yagar. Caina thought it was mostly accurate, but she had the unfair advantage of having met several of the key figures in Ulkaari history.

It was an unpleasant night. She slept fitfully, the fever waking her several times. When she did sleep, her dreams were twisted, haunted. Caina saw Maglarion and the Moroaica, Grand Master Callatas and the mad smile of the Red Huntress. When she awoke from the nightmares, she reached for Kylon and cursed herself for convincing him to go with the Emperor’s party.

But when morning came, she felt better.

The headache and the fever had subsided, though the joint pain remained. Caina often preferred to banish the memory of nightmares with vigorous exercise, though she didn’t quite feel up to it.

Instead, she donned a robe and a pair of sandals and took a walk around the garden.

Her seneschal and her chief maid trailed after her.

Perhaps you should return to bed, my lady, said Cornelia. She was middle-aged, with gray hair bound in a rigid bun, her face locked in a mask of perpetual disapproval. Caina had met her the better part of eight years ago when she had been disguised as Countess Marianna Nereide and had gone to Rasadda to investigate troubles in the Saddaic provinces.

A lot had happened since then.

When Caina returned to Malarae after the end of the civil war, she found and hired Cornelia again. The older woman had been stunned to learn that the young noblewoman she had worked for before the civil war had been in fact Caina Kardamnos, the Amirja of Istarinmul, the Liberator of Iramis, and friend of the Emperor. Cornelia had been happy to rejoin Caina’s surface. Some of her relatives had fallen to the depredations of the Umbarians and Cornelia was pleased that Caina had played some part in the Umbarians’ downfall.

I will, eventually, said Caina. But I’ve been abed for the last day and a half, and a short walk will do me good. I won’t leave the grounds.

The mistress knows what she is about, Cornelia, said Talzain. He was a few years older than Cornelia, with only a fringe of gray hair remaining. His black livery combined with his wan Saddaic complexion had the unfortunate side effect of making him look rather corpselike, which she noted he used as a subtle intimidation tactic while haggling with merchants. I have never known her to be rash.

Thank you, Talzain, said Caina. He had been the seneschal of her household when she had been masquerading as Sonya Tornesti, mistress of the coffee merchant Anton Kularus. That had been the false identity of Corvalis Aberon, former Kindred assassin turned Ghost nightfighter, the man with whom Caina had thought she would spend the rest of her life.

But he had died in New Kyre along with a lot of other people.

Sometimes it felt as if Caina had lived a dozen lives, each one more dangerous than the last.

At least the air is fresh, conceded Cornelia.

It is at that, said Caina, looking around the garden.

After her return to Malarae, Caina had sold the townhouse where she had lived with Corvalis. Partly because it held too many memories of him, and she wanted to make new ones with Kylon. Mostly it was because the townhouse was no longer suited to her needs. It had been fine for Sonya Tornesti, the mistress of a minor coffee merchant. Despite her best efforts, Caina had become famous, or perhaps notorious, known as the friend of three different monarchs. The townhouse simply wasn’t secure enough.

In its place, she had purchased a mansion once owned by a magus of the Magisterium. The magus in question had joined the Umbarian Order and perished during the final stand of the Order outside the walls of Iramis. The Emperor had seized the property of all Umbarian magi and their allied nobles, and Caina had bought the mansion for a fraction of its actual worth.

By the standards of the great Houses of the Empire, it was small, though Caina thought it was ridiculously large. It was two stories tall, with a high tower where the magus had once practiced his spells. The magi liked to build towers, partly because the position of the stars could alter spells and it was easier to observe the constellations from a tower, but mostly because of the monstrous pride of the magi.

Or so Caina had always thought.

A stone wall surrounded the grounds, and a small garden grew between the wall and the mansion. It was pleasant to take short walks there, though Caina hadn’t bought the house for that reason. Fear of any lingering Umbarian spells had driven the price down, though with the vision of the valikarion, Caina confirmed that there had been no spells left in place by the previous occupant. The stone wall provided greater security, the tower would make for a good stronghold in the event of an attack in force, and the house had several other features Caina had discovered that she had found useful.

Though it felt incongruous to live here when she and Kylon stayed in Malarae. When Caina had been a Ghost nightfighter, she had frequently disguised herself as a caravan guard and slept in the cheapest of inns or on the hard-packed ground of a caravanserai.

Now she lived in a mansion in the Imperial capital.

The change in her fortunes sometimes baffled her. Especially since Caina had survived numerous situations that really ought to have killed her.

Well, said Cornelia, perhaps a brisk morning walk will be good for your health, my lady.

We can certainly hope so, said Caina. Watch out for that stone.

Stone? said Cornelia, and she looked down at the path beneath her sandals. Oh! Yes, of course. I didn’t see it. You are very observant, my lady.

On occasion, said Caina, adjusting the sash of her robe. She had always possessed a gift for observation and deducing things from what she observed, though sometimes it told her more than she wished to know. Caina knew that Cornelia had eaten flatbread and cheese for breakfast since she had spotted a few of the crumbs on her left sleeve and collar. The cook’s daughter had been trying to seduce Talzain without success and tried to win his heart by bringing him sweetbread, which Caina smelled on his breath. At his age, Caina reflected, Talzain was probably more interested in the sweetbread than the young woman.

But the talent had its uses. She knew that three of the servants she had hired were spies. The gardener passed information about her to the Magisterium while the cook sent reports to Lord Corbould Maraeus. The cook’s daughter, more ambitious than her father, spied for both Lord Corbould and the Magisterium without telling the other, allowing her to get paid twice for the same work. That would get her in trouble if Lord Corbould ever found out, but Caina didn’t mind much. Her notoriety meant that people would spy on her, and once she knew who the spies were, it was easy to pass the information that she wanted them to know.

I am quite fond of this dress, said Cornelia, brushing down her sleeves and dislodging the remaining crumbs from her breakfast, and I would hate to get dirt on it.

I also observe, said Caina, glancing toward the overcast sky, that it’s going to rain soon. Spring in Malarae and along the Bay of Empire was often rainy, and today was going to be no different.

I hope it doesn’t rain upon the Emperor’s and the Padishah’s procession, said Talzain. That would not reflect well upon the honor of the Empire.

Cornelia sniffed. I don’t know why these foreign monarchs do the things they do. Begging your pardon, my lady, I know the Padishah adopted you into his House, but…

It’s perfectly comprehensible, said Caina. During the Third Empire, the Empire had a war with Istarinmul, neither the first nor the last. The Emperor at the time vowed that no Padishah of Istarinmul would ever set foot upon the quays of Malarae. Out of respect, the Padishah is landing at Mors Venerius a few days’ ride south along the Imperial Highway. And as a sign of respect, Emperor Valerius is going to meet the Padishah and escort him to Istarinmul.

She turned towards the front doors to the mansion, intending to get back inside before it started raining.

It still seems like such bother, said Cornelia.

Less bother than another war, I fear, said Caina, and a little bit of bother now will avoid more later.

Very true, my lady, said Talzain.

Caina stopped at the doors to the entry hall. Cornelia, when we get inside, have the footmen draw a bath, please. I’m afraid I don’t smell all that well.

She could smell it now, the strange odor that Kylon had mentioned before he had left. It smelled a bit like the air after a lightning strike, but more and more, it reminded her of hot metal. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell as such, but still not one that should be coming out of her pores. Nevertheless, she felt better than she had yesterday, so perhaps the odor was the illness leaving her body.

Or maybe she had eaten some bad food.

Caina stopped a pace from the door as a thought occurred to her.

Had someone tried to poison her?

The cook spied for Corbould Maraeus, but while Caina might not have been a favorite of the Lord Chancellor, neither were they currently foes, and they had put aside their past enmity to put the Emperor on his throne. Could someone have crept into the kitchen and poisoned the food? That seemed unlikely.

My lady? said Cornelia. Are you well?

Perhaps she really was just sick.

For now, said Caina, though a hot bath will be pleasant.

I shall see to it at once, said Cornelia.

On the ground floor was a room with a recessed stone tub and a drain that would carry the water away. A hot bath did feel pleasant, and it eased the ache in her joints. Caina soaked in comfort for most of an hour until the water began to cool, and then washed and scrubbed thoroughly.

That seemed to take care of the strange metallic smell.

###

The day after that, Caina felt almost like herself again, so she rose, wrapped herself in a robe, and went to the mansion’s library.

She had slept much better, but odd dreams had troubled her rest. Not the feverish nightmares from before, images of foes she had faced.

Instead, strangely, she had dreamed of one of her journeys in Istarinmul. Caina thought it was a recollection of the journey that she had made to Silent Ash Temple with Claudia and Martin Dorius. One day, an adder had slithered into the camp, and one of the Imperial Guards traveling with Lord Martin had slain the snake with a single blow from his sword.

Yet in the dream, Caina had been looking for the adder, certain it was nearby, but she had been unable to find it. She had awakened not covered in a cold sweat but a feeling of unease and impending disaster.

Well, her mentor Halfdan had always told her that work was the best cure for sorrow, and it also worked well on a vague feeling of unease.

So she went to the house’s library.

The previous owner of the mansion had left behind a good-sized collection of books when he had fled, both hand-written volumes and books produced by the new block printing machinery that had become increasingly popular in the last few years. Caina loved books, and she had added to the collection, regularly making the rounds of the booksellers in Malarae’s and Istarinmul’s markets. Some part of her mind knew that she was recreating her father’s library from when she had been a child, the library that had been destroyed when Maglarion’s mercenaries had burned the house to cover their tracks.

Well, why should she not?

There were much worse things upon which one could spend money.

A glassed-in solar opened off the library. Since it was on the second floor of the mansion, it had a good view of the garden below, and she could see over the walls to observe the towers and spires of Malarae. A wooden table sat in the solar, with four chairs surrounding it. Some books and papers lay in stacks on the table, along with ink, pens, and sealing wax.

Caina seated herself behind the table so that the light fell upon the papers and wrote letters.

In the year since the destruction of the Umbarian Order and the end of the civil war, she had built up quite an ongoing correspondence. Today, however, she had no new letters to read, but several to write. She started by writing a letter to her half-brother and his wife in Risiviri, congratulating them again on the birth of their first child and promising to visit soon.

Given the options she had for travel, it was a promise she could keep quite easily.

After that Caina wrote several letters to her half-sister.

These were far more detailed than the one she had written to her half-brother, containing information about commodities and prices and suggestions for future plans. Vaguely she wondered what her parents would have thought of the various business ventures. Her mother, with characteristic hypocrisy, had looked down on merchants but had loved money and what it could bring her. Her father had regarded money as a tiresome chore and had preferred the company of his books. With the benefit of hindsight, Caina realized that attitude was foolish, though it was better than her mother’s raw avarice.

She finished the letters and was sealing them with her father’s signet ring when Talzain and Cornelia came into the library. Talzain strode with his usual ponderous dignity while Cornelia swept into the room in a way that made Caina think of the first gust of wind before a storm.

Visitors, my lady, said Talzain.

I shall help you dress and prepare to receive, said Cornelia.

Caina frowned and lifted her ring from the hot wax. Who is it?

Lady Tanya of House Arcion and her guardsman, said Talzain.

Have them come up, said Caina. I’ll see them here. Oh, and have some coffee sent from the kitchen, please.

Cornelia blinked. You don’t wish to change?

Considering the circumstances where Lady Tanya and I first met, said Caina, I doubt I could do much to scandalize her.

Cornelia blinked, frowned in disapproval, and then nodded. As you wish.

A few moments later, Talzain escorted a woman and a man into the library.

From a distance, the woman would have looked a bit like Caina since she also had black hair and blue eyes, though she was wider of shoulder and hip. Like Caina, Tanya was always somewhat taken aback by her rise in station after her husband Ark, blacksmith and former Legion centurion, had become Lord Arcion of House Arcion. Caina thought it suited her well. Tanya had borne two more children since the day Caina had met her in the dark dungeons below the Citadel of Marsis, and she looked fit and healthy.

The man was Istarish, with bronze-colored skin and iron gray hair and beard. His dark eyes glinted as he smiled, and he looked like someone’s kindly grandfather. Which he was, in truth, but like Caina, there was more to his story. Everything about him reminded Caina about the proverb to beware old men in a profession where men died young. Since Caina had once seen him throw a Kindred assassin to his death from the windows of an inn,