Child of the Ghosts

  The place stank of rotting fish, salt, and tar. The villagers gave them furtive looks as Halfdan drove the wagon to the tavern. Many of the women wore mourning black, and the few men that Caina saw looked sullen and unfriendly.

  "I think they want to rob us," whispered Caina.

  "Undoubtedly," said Halfdan. "And they would, too, if Riogan were not here."

  Riogan grinned, drew one of his daggers, tossed it to himself.

  "All the women are wearing black," said Caina. "Like they're in mourning."

  "She's right," said Komnene.

  "I passed through here a year past," said Halfdan, frowning, "and there were not so many women in mourning."

  "The black looks new," said Caina.

  "Some plague, perhaps?" said Komnene.

  "Let's find out," said Halfdan, halting the wagon before the tavern. "Riogan, Komnene, stay here. Caina, come with me."

  Caina blinked, but followed Halfdan to the tavern's door.

  "Two things," said Halfdan. "First, don't speak unless I tell you."

  Caina started to say "yes", but nodded instead.

  Halfdan grinned. "You learn quickly. Good. Second, as you might expect, it behooves me to take different identities from time to time. Here, I am known as Paulus, a broker for the grain merchants in the Imperial capital."

  Caina nodded again, and followed Halfdan inside.

  The interior had a dirt floor, rough wooden benches, and a crumbling fieldstone fireplace. A lean man in a greasy leather apron approached, squinting beneath a shock of unkempt gray hair.

  "Aye?" said the man in the apron. "Paulus, you scoundrel, is that you?"

  "It is," said Halfdan, "Baccan, you old dog." Caina blinked in surprise. Halfdan's accent had changed, and he now spoke Caerish with a heavy Disali accent. "I see you haven't choked on your own filth."

  Baccan snorted, and spat upon the floor. "Not yet. What brings you here? You've picked a bad time to come."

  "Why?" said Halfdan. "What's happened? Your womenfolk are wearing mourning black. Did a storm take half the fishermen?"

  "No," said Baccan. "No storm. Sorcery."

  Caina flinched.

  "Sorcery?" said Halfdan, fear entering his own voice. "Did you offend the Magisterium?"

  "I don't know," said Baccan. "You remember Wyfarne and his lads? Did a bit of smuggling?"

  Halfdan nodded.

  "Well, they had some big cargo from the south," said Baccan. "All these old scrolls, looted from some tomb in the desert."

  Old scrolls? Like the one her father had found?

  "They were the sort of things a sorcerer would want," said Baccan. "Well, Wyfarne's ship ran ashore near Aretia - the fool never could navigate at night. The Count of Aretia seized the scrolls, and that was that. Then two days ago this old man comes to the village. A cane and a patch over his eye, and he's got this woman with him. Pale thing, looks like she's dead herself."

  The scars on Caina's belly clenched, painfully.

  So that was where Maglarion had gone.

  "He says he knows about the scrolls, and asks if we have any more," said Baccan. "Wyfarne says he doesn't, told the old man to go to hell."

  Caina saw where this was going.

  "So the old man...he killed them," said Baccan, shaking his head. "All of them. Wyfarne's entire family. And anyone else who got in his way. Thirty-four dead."

  "Wyfarne's own fault," said Halfdan. "The idiot bought something dug up from an old tomb. Anyone with a lick of sense stays away from old tombs. Nasty things in there...the sort of things sorcerers and magi like."

  Baccan spat again. "We're lucky the old fool didn't bring destruction down upon the entire village. Now. Why are you here?"

  "I need passage across the Bay," said Halfdan. "To Craton, as quickly as can be found."

  "Well," said Baccan, "my son Racus, he's got a fishing boat, and the catch has been slim of late. Scared off by all the sorcery, I'll warrant."

  "I also have a wagon and a team I need to sell," said Halfdan. "Doubt they'll fit on the fishing boat, after all. I'll sell them to you in exchange for passage and say...oh, two hundred denarii."

  "Two hundred?" said Baccan, incredulous. "You're little better than a thief, Paulus..."

  Halfdan and Baccan launched into a convoluted negotiation, and Caina listened with fascination, the news about Maglarion temporarily forgotten. After numerous insults, emphatic gestures, and occasional threats, Halfdan and Baccan settled on one hundred sixty-eight denarii and passage across the Bay in exchange for the wagon and team.

  They shook hands, and Caina followed Halfdan back to the wagon.

  "Maglarion was here," she said, her voice low.

  "Aye," said Halfdan. "Your mother lured him here with the scroll. It only makes sense that he would come here to look for more."

  "He might return," said Caina.

  "No," said Halfdan. "I doubt he'll bother. One day the Ghosts will bring him to account for his crimes. But not today, I fear."

  ###

  They spent the night at Baccan's tavern, in his guest rooms.

  Caina took one look at