Ghost in the Hunt by Jonathan Moeller

ship.”
    “Have the maids attend to it,” said Claudia. They would have a better idea of what to do with all those damned elaborate gowns and cloaks. As a child, she had spent most of her days studying the arcane sciences, which had left little time to learn the various arts expected of a Nighmarian noblewoman.
    “There are a number of invitations from various emirs, Alchemists, and merchants,” said Dromio. “Among the Istarish I understand it is customary for a nobleman’s senior wife to review such invitations, and…”
    “And I am Lord Martin’s senior wife,” said Claudia with a smile, “and I had better remain his only wife. Very well. I will look them over.”
    “And one other thing, my lady,” said Dromio. “A factor from the Imperial Collegium of Jewelers is here.”
    Claudia nodded. “He can wait until Lord Martin returns.”
    “He is here to see you, specifically, my lady,” said Dromio. “He wishes to show his wares to the Lord Ambassador’s wife.”
    Claudia sighed. “Very well.” Her training as a physician had left her with a dislike for jewelry, since it was too easy to get flecks of blood upon a ring and transmit disease from patient to patient, though she did insist upon her wedding ring. “I will…”
    She frowned, a memory coming to the forefront of her thoughts.
    “The Imperial Collegium of Jewelers,” she said. “They don’t have a factor in Istarinmul.” 
    “An impostor, my lady?” said Dromio, his expression darkening.
    “Possibly,” said Claudia. “It could just be an enterprising thief.”
    Or it could be a clever Silent Hunter. Both the Silent Hunters and the Kindred had used such tactics since the civil war began. The Umbarians preferred to remove their enemies via discreet assassination rather than risk battle.
    She wondered if they had learned the tactic from her father. 
    “Fetch the centurion,” said Claudia, “and have him bring three men. We shall see about this factor.”
    Dromio bowed and hastened away, returning with four men in the black plate armor, plumed helms, and purple cloaks of the Imperial Guard. Their leader was a grim-faced centurion, a mirrored shield upon his left arm and a broadsword at his belt. Tylas had been at New Kyre, had stood his ground against the Moroaica’s hordes of golden dead. 
    He was also a Ghost, as was Claudia.
    “Lady Claudia?” said Tylas, his voice a harsh growl. 
    “We have a guest,” said Claudia, “and I want to make sure he is who he says that he is.” 
    “He is in the courtyard, my lady,” said Dromio.
    Claudia nodded and took a deep breath, clearing her mind and summoning arcane power for a spell. If this factor was a simple thief, she would see him off with a warning. Perhaps he could become a useful informant in the future. But if he was a Kindred assassin, or worse, a Silent Hunter, Claudia would kill him. 
    Using her spells in combat had once terrified her, but her experiences in Caer Magia and New Kyre and against the Umbarians had hardened her. 
    “Follow me,” said Claudia.
    She strode from the entry hall and into the courtyard. The courtyard had been laid out in the fashion of an Istarish garden, with paths of white gravel winding past low bushes and trees. A man in a formal black coat and trousers and boots stood staring up at the mansion, a short sword and a leaf-shaped dagger sheathed at his belt. He was shorter than Claudia, and…
    The man’s cold blue eyes met Claudia’s, and a shock of recognition went through her.
    That was not a man.
    Anger came after the recognition, followed by grief. 
    For the first time since the day of the golden dead in New Kyre, Claudia looked upon Caina Amalas. Caina Amalas, who had helped Corvalis save Claudia from Ranarius. Caina Amalas, who had been right in Catekharon when Claudia had been wrong. Caina, who had outwitted and defeated Rhames in Caer Magia. 
    Caina, whom her brother Corvalis had loved.
    At the cost of his life. 
    “Leave us,”