Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 09 - Ghost in the Surge by Jonathan Moeller

said Tanya. “What…”
    “The children,” said Ark, “where are the children?”
    “They are with the maids at the House of Kularus, I left them there when I went to the market,” said Tanya. 
    “Wait here,” said Ark, striding forward.
    Caina lay sprawled in the courtyard just beyond the doors, blood pooling on the ground beneath her. Still the blood did not stain her gown, and her makeup and hair remained perfect. 
    An illusion. 
    Muravin joined Ark, his scimitar in hand.
    “Good throw,” said Muravin. 
    “You, too,” said Ark. “Kill her. We can search the corpse and…”
    Caina snarled and flung out her hands, green flame blazing around her fingertips. 
    A spell.
    A wall of invisible force slammed into Ark and flung him to the floor of the foundry. The sword bounced from his hand and clattered away. He tried to stand, but the room kept spinning around him.
    A moment later Tanya shouted his name and grabbed his shoulder.
    He sat up with a groan, shaking his head. “My sword…damn it! Where is Caina?” A surge of fear went through him. She would kill Tanya, would find Nicolai and Natasha and kill them both…
    “She’s gone,” said Tanya. “Caina…no, I will not say that creature was Caina, whatever she was. She got up and ran off, even with that javelin in her back. Arcion, that was…that was an amazing throw.”
    He squeezed her hand. “I had motivation.”
    A tremulous smile went over her face, and Ark felt a wave of crushing guilt. Again and again she had been exposed to danger because of him. The Moroaica had taken her captive for five years, and the Istarish had almost killed her in Marsis. 
    And now that creature wearing Caina’s face had nearly slain her simply to spite Ark.
    No, not because of Ark. Because of Caina. 
    But why? The attacker had used Caina’s appearance. But why attack Ark’s family and workers to get at Caina? 
    Muravin sat up with a groan. “Damned sorcerers.” 
    “Are you injured?” said Ark.  
    “No,” said Muravin, “though my head hurts. Damned sorcerers!” 
    Ark climbed to his feet, retrieved his sword, and went into the courtyard. A pool of blood marked the ground, but there was no trace of the false Caina.
    “What is this about, husband?” said Tanya. “What is happening?”
    “I do not know,” said Ark. “Muravin, go summon the civic militia. After I have spoken with them, I will need to speak with the other Ghosts at once.”
     
    ###
     
    The next morning Ark went to the Grand Imperial Opera. 
    He had spent the rest of the last day speaking with Tomard, a tribune of the civic militia. He was a friend of the Ghosts, and had accepted Ark’s account of what had happened without question. Ark had gone himself to bear the grim news to the wives of the dead men. He would look after the widows, he vowed, make sure they were fed and that their children would not grow up on the street.
    The Ghosts looked after their own. 
    The Grand Imperial Opera was a magnificent domed edifice, built of gleaming marble and fronted with rows of ornate columns. Ark passed the main entrance and went to the side door. The watchman knew him on sight, and he made his way through the workshops beneath the stage to a dressing room. 
    A tall woman in her middle forties stood in the dressing room, her long blond hair pulled back, her face grim as she read letters spread across her table. The table held hundreds upon hundreds of vials of cosmetics and powders, but the woman’s attention was upon the letters. 
    “Theodosia,” said Ark.
    She looked up from the letters and smiled. She was the leading lady of the Grand Imperial Opera, a singer renowned for the power and range of her voice, and she had sung before half the high lords of the Empire, even the Emperor himself. 
    And she was also one of the Ghost circlemasters of Malarae, and had arranged the downfall of many of the Emperor’s enemies. 
    “Arcion,” she said. “Thank the gods you are alive.” Her