Ghost, Kaliel, and Zanka gathered in the spacious sitting room that was shared by the rooms that had been set aside for them by the palace staff. A light breakfast was laid out for them. After the initial morning pleasantries, they began to discuss the problem of capturing Tearful Mountain.
“I am not certain how to proceed,” Kaliel admitted. “Pursuing a murderer, not to mention an Exalted murderer, is outside of my experience.”
“We now know who he is, and places he frequents,” Ghost said. “Unfortunately, he has no reason to go to those places. He has all the supplies he needs for the time being, and he will not visit the House of a Thousand Delights until after he has made a kill. Unless he is presented with a target soon, and knowing he is now pursued, I fear he may choose to simply move on.”
“Then we require bait,” Zanka surmised.
The outer door to the suite opened, and Ayama walked inside. Though surprised to see that she was not emerging from her own room, they nonetheless greeted her warmly. As she walked past Ghost to take a seat, the Nightbringer thought he detected the lingering odor of inexpensive perfume and musk. A scent he was not unaccustomed to, but one he did not expect to find on Ayama. For a moment, he began to wonder, but then realized that most likely Ayama had returned to the brothel to administer more healing to the prostitutes. She would have little other reason to visit such a place.
“What are we speaking about?” Ayama asked.
“The necessity to provide Tearful Mountain with a target in order to capture him,” Kaliel said.
“You may not use my son,” Ayama said calmly.
“We have no intention of doing that,” Zanka said. “He is far too handsome; it would be a waste. Even if his tastes in partners are questionable.”
“He did bed Ghost,” Kaliel agreed.
“I would think that was a sign he has excellent taste,” Ghost countered.
Ayama’s brow rose. They had been embroiled in the matter of the assassinations since she had arrived in Lynnisbrook; this was the first she had heard of this liaison.
“He denied me,” Zanka said, affecting a pout. “That is the questionable part.”
“His tastes do not incline toward you,” Ghost pointed out.
“I understand, but it is still a grave oversight on his part.”
“Perhaps I could fill in for him,” Ghost suggested.
Zanka smiled. “I will take the offer under consideration.”
Now Ghost’s brow’s arched in surprise. Normally Zanka responded to his playful banter with much less… ambiguity.
“I believe we are losing focus,” Ayama said, making a mental note to follow up on these rumors later. “And though I realize the irony of my next question, I was interested in knowing how your dinner with Lady Rinalta went, Kaliel.”
“Ah, yes. Dinner.” Kaliel set down the slice of sweetbread in his hand. “It involved food, I believe.”
“Not the evening you had anticipated, I take it,” Ayama said.
“Not at all. Lady Rinalta finds it necessary to distance Lagan politically from Chrysanthemum. She requires a catalyst for this to occur. Unless we are able to provide her with a viable event explaining the sudden shift in relations, it appears that their plan is to blame the four of us for the Dragon-Blooded assassinations.”
“Why us?” Zanka cried.
“We are Solars,” Kaliel said. “It is easy.”
There was a sudden knock at the outer door. Without waiting for a response, the door opened, and Captain Gaius Rho entered the chamber.
“Forgive the intrusion,” Captain Rho said, “but we have urgent need for the Divine Gift to End Suffering in the queen’s chambers. Complications have arisen.”
Ayama rose. “I will come now.” As she walked across the room, she said to her companions, “I will return when I can, but I may be occupied for some time.” As she walked out and the door began to swing closed, she called back, “and you may not use my son.”
“So,” Ghost said as the door closed, “we need to come up with a way for Lagan not to like us that does not involve being framed for murder.”
“Can we blame the Immaculate Order?” Zanka asked.
“No. Lady Rinalta must try and foster relations with the Realm right now,” Kaliel said. “And many of the people of this nation follow the Immaculate teachings to some extent. I was considering staging some sort of argument between Lady Rinalta and myself.”
“That would explain a rift in your personal relationship, but not a diplomatic severing,” Ghost said. “Lady Rinalta is too well known as someone who does not allow her personal feelings to interfere with the management of her kingdom.”
“I am certain that Storyteller and I could craft a tale that would suffice,” Zanka said.
Ghost frowned. “I would advise against involving Storyteller in this case. By his very nature, he would be compelled to speak were someone to come looking into the truth behind the parting of Lagan and Chrysanthemum.”
“Perhaps exposing Tearful Mountain as a Solar might be enough,” Kaliel suggested. “Guilt by association can be enough of an excuse, if presented properly. All it would take is to force him into a confrontation where his anima is exposed. It would also have the advantage of being quick to implement, which is a good thing – it would be best if my face were being forgotten by the time Rinalta’s child is born.”
“I assume then that the child will look nothing like Mnemon Lyrik?” Zanka asked. Kaliel nodded.
“Mnemon Lyrik…” Ghost said. “That is a possibility.”
“What is?” Zanka asked.
“The news of Lyrik’s assassination has not been spread beyond the palace guard, correct?”
“This is true,” Kaliel said. “They are hoping not to spread too many rumors before they inform the Realm.”
Ghost smiled. “Then I think it is time for him to make a miraculous recovery.”
۞
Mnemon Lyrik settled back into his bed, itching at the heavy bandages covering his torso. The light of dozens of lamps filled the room with yellowish light, which was somewhat disconcerting in the middle of the day. But his room had been moved to the palace interior, away from any windows.
There was a knock, and the door opened to admit one of his nursemaids. His only nursemaid, in fact; for security reasons, they only allowed one person to attend him. He watched as she moved about the room, checking to make certain that nothing had been disturbed. She then came and sat on the edge of his bed.
“And how are we enjoying life as a wounded Realm diplomat?” she asked.
Ghost smiled. “I could get used to it.”
His disguise was marginal at best. Ghost had never met Lyrik, and so only had descriptions to work from. It would fool someone at a distance for a few minutes, up close for only a few moments. They hoped that a few moments would be all they needed.
“How go the arrangements?” Ghost asked his ‘nursemaid’.
“As we planned,” Zanka replied, as she dipped lengths of clean linen into the warm water and wrung them out. The water had been infused with herbs and oils, the scent of which quickly filled the room. “The palace guards are spreading the news that Mnemon Lyrik was attacked by the assassin and believed dead, but that the Divine Gift to End Suffering was able to restore the sliver of life remaining in him. Kaliel is assisting with palace security, Ayama is still attending the queen, and you and I are in the city, still hunting the assassin.”
“And how is the security around me?” Ghost asked.
“Almost impenetrable. Kaliel has done his best to ensure the ‘almost’ part. The gap should be enough to tempt Tearful Mountain without making him suspicious. At least, Kaliel has done his best to ensure this is so. He came very close to admitting that he could have used your advice.”
“Alas, I must play my part here. This disguise is poor enough as is; if I am seen walking about and talking to others, I will fool no one.”
“But we do not expect Tearful Mountain for some time, correct?”
Ghost nodded. “It will be several hours before word reaches him that Lyrik still lives, and he can plan his entry into the palace.”
“If that is the case,” Zanka said, “Perhaps you might indulge me? Simply sitting here for hours will be dreadfully boring.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I have wanted to practice some of the techniques that I learned from Pearlescent Lotus Whispers while I was in Great Forks,” the Crowned Sun said.
“I will make a poor sparring partner,” Ghost admitted. “I have no training in unarmed combat beyond a handful of tavern brawls.”
“I do not need you to spar with me,” Zanka said. “Only hold still. Many of the techniques I learned make use of certain sensitive points on the body – I wish to refine my ability to find and utilize these points.”
“As long as you do not incapacitate me,” Ghost joked. “I would prefer to be able to respond when Tearful Mountain arrives.”
She smiled. “I will not be applying enough force to cause pain, but if I am doing this right, you will definitely feel… something.”
She helped Ghost to remove the bandages that were part of his disguise, and then led him across the room to an open area covered by a thick carpet. She then discarded the maid’s uniform she had borrowed for her own disguise, leaving her wearing only a form-fitting silk wrap across her torso and hips. Zanka circled slowly around Ghost, studying him closely.
“Tell me how this feels,” she said, as she pressed a fingertip into a spot near the small of his back.
“Uncomfortable. My legs feel somewhat numb.”
“Excellent. And this?” A spot just below the left shoulder blade.
“My left arm tingles.”
“Very good.” Her finger traced gently down the length of his spine, then circled around his waist as she came around to face him. Both hands rose, and Zanka’s fingertips pressed gently into Ghost’s sides just below the ribcage. “What about these?”
“That… feels good,” Ghost said, somewhat surprised. “No pain.”
“I thought it might.” She took a step closer, reaching up with both hands and bringing them around his neck. She began gently rubbing a pair of spots just below the base of his skull. “And tell me how this feels.”
Ghost suddenly became very aware of Zanka’s proximity, feeling the fine silk covering her breasts brushing against his chest. The gentle pressure of Zanka’s hands on the back of his neck was producing an unexpected reaction – not one of pain or discomfort, but warm waves of arousal.
“Zanka,” he began, as he tried to take a step back. She hooked her leg behind his, sending him sprawling to the floor. In the next heartbeat, she moved on top of him, straddling his hips.
“I am not finished with you yet,” she said. Her fingernails scraped gently down his chest.
“You play a dangerous game,” Ghost said. His hands moved up to caress her arms, her shoulders.
Zanka reached up and pulled out her ivory hairpins; her long, platinum hair spilled down her shoulders and back. She leaned forward, pressing against Ghost. “You should be flattered,” she whispered, her lips grazing his ear. “My first lover was a god. I wish to do better.” The tip of her tongue traced the outer edge of his earlobe.
Ghost had already unlaced the cords that fastened Zanka’s silk wrap. As she rose again, the garment fell away as water flows down a mountain stream. “I thought you had no interest in sharing my bed,” he said to her, even as his hands caressed her flesh.
“My opinion of such matters has matured.” She gasped as Ghost suddenly sat up, meeting her lips with his own. When they parted, Zanka smiled.
“Thank you for assisting me with my training,” she said coyly.
Ghost mirrored the smile. “Your lessons have only just begun.”
۞
It was late in the afternoon. Ghost lay in the bed, feigning sleep, while Zanka, back in her nursemaid’s uniform, sat in a chair nearby, busying herself with some embroidery work.
The door to the room drifted open, no more than a foot. Zanka looked up, waiting to see what else would happen, but the room and the hallway beyond remained conspicuously silent. With no signs of disturbance, Zanka returned to her work, trying to maintain the guise of an unsuspecting servant.
Ghost’s senses, however, were more highly attuned than those of the Eclipse, and he could hear the sound of gentle footfalls as they entered the room and made their way across the ceiling. Ghost followed the sound for a while, and when he had pinpointed it, risked a glance. Hidden in the deep shadows of the ceiling, he saw Tearful Mountain, suspended upside down, as he drew a frog-crotch arrow and placed it on the string of his golden bow. A wild, fanatical look filled the assassin’s eyes as he took aim at his target’s throat.
Ghost leapt out of bed in a flash, somersaulting in midair toward the door. It slammed shut with a resounding boom, as Ghost then twisted around, rebounding off the door, and hurled his own orichalcum weapon at Tearful Mountain. He twisted away, narrowly avoiding the typhoon wheel. Outside the room, alarms were being raised throughout the palace.
The Left Eye of Mars arced back toward Ghost, who caught it one-handed and simply spun around in a tight circle, hurling it straight back at Tearful Mountain as he dropped down to the floor. Not expecting such a rapid assault, the assassin mistimed his drop, and the chakram sheared off a large chunk of his thigh. He screamed as he landed on the ground, blood pouring down his wounded leg.
“You are not Lyrik,” he growled at Ghost.
“And you are not worthy of the gifts you have been given,” he replied.
Tearful Mountain did not respond, but instead began darting about the room at incredible speed, flitting through light and shadow so rapidly that Ghost lost track of him, even though he tried to focus on the sound of the archer’s feet. An arrow flew across the room, scoring Ghost deeply across the ribcage. Tearful Mountain ran into the center of the room, leaping up and perching on the side of the bedpost, drawing back for a point blank shot on Ghost.
The door crashed open, the space being filled by Kaliel’s massive armored frame. Tearful Mountain turned his head to take in this new threat, which was Zanka’s opening. She leapt up on her chair and sprang into the air, delivering a solid kick to the assassin’s head as she flew past and landed on the opposite bedpost. Tearful Mountain’s head snapped back, and he suddenly dropped to the floor, his orichalcum bow clattering on the stone tiles.
For a few moments, no one moved. Then Kaliel strode forward and placed a hand to their foe’s chest. “I feel no heartbeat,” Kaliel said. “We may have killed him. That was easier than I expected.”
“I did not think I kicked him that hard,” Zanka said.
Ayama arrived a few minutes later, and after carefully examining the body, confirmed that he was dead, despite the suspicions they all held. Kaliel, meanwhile, had gone to confirm that Rutendo and the three remaining Silver Guard were all alive and well.
“The fact that a Chosen of the Sun was so easily defeated is almost… insulting,” Ghost commented.
“I still say that I was not striking with enough force to do this,” Zanka said.
“And yet his neck appears broken,” Ayama said. “Perhaps the man was simply more poorly prepared for close combat than we expected. Note that he wears no armor.”
Ghost sighed. “We can only hope that his Exaltation is passed to a more worthy recipient.”
Kaliel, in the meanwhile, had returned. “This leaves us with a small problem,” he said. “We had hoped to provoke him long enough to force him to display his anima publicly, thus linking him to us indirectly.”
“Perhaps we can go about this another way,” Zanka suggested. “No one but the four of us know Tearful Mountain is dead. We could say that we have captured him, but refuse to turn him over – tell everyone that this is a matter for Solar justice.”
“I am afraid I must offer a complication,” Ayama said. “I may not be able to leave. Lady Rinalta’s pregnancy is far more delicate than expected, and she will require considerable care.”
“Then we place the blame for taking this man away solely on me,” Kaliel said. “And make your disagreement with my decision public.”
“I will remain here as well,” Ghost said. “Both Ayama and I have some small measure of esteem here already, which it would be good to preserve.” He turned to Zanka with a smile. “That is, if you can tolerate being deprived of both your sparring partners for a few months.” Zanka simply shrugged in reply.
“I should go into town,” Ghost added. “Now that he is dead, I may be able to convince others in the city to tell me where he was living. There may be valuable information there. I should take something in order to convince others he is gone.”
“His head would suffice, I think,” Kaliel said. He drew his blade, Principle of Severity, and raised it to strike off the corpse’s head.
As the blade descended, the corpse suddenly rolled away, and sprang to its feet. Tearful Mountain bolted for the door as the orichalcum sword crashed into the tiled floor.
Swearing oaths to the Unconquered Sun, Kaliel slammed through the door, pulling out his flamepiece as Tearful Mountain bolted toward a window at the far end of the hall. The hall was filled with thunder and fire, as the assassin dove out the window, trailing smoke. A bright golden glow surrounded him as he sailed through the air to the courtyard below, the burning sun of the Dawn caste emblazoned on his forehead. Ghost was hot on his heels, leaping out of the window after him. The others, with no way to follow, raced down the stairs, but by the time they reached the gate the two figures were hundreds of yards away, leaping from roof to roof as they descended the slope. Ghost, though each leap crossed dozens of feet, was losing ground to the faster Solar, but was close enough to continue attacking, hurling the Left Eye of Mars every time he came within sight. Forced to burn more Essence to defend himself and maintain his supernatural speed, Tearful Mountain’s aura grew, until it manifested in a blinding display of golden light that looked like an erupting volcano. Despite his best effort, however, Ghost was eventually forced to cut short his pursuit, and watched from the roof of a small temple as the bright glowing form vanished into the hills east of the city.
۞
The confrontation between Lord Kaliel of Chrysanthemum and Lady Rinalta of Lagan was said to echo through every hallway in the castle.
After informing Rinalta of the near capture and escape of the Solar assassin known as Tearful Mountain, the queen requested that Kaliel and his companions pursue the man and bring him back for justice. What she had not expected was for Kaliel to refuse.
“I have tended to the affairs of your kingdom for long enough,” he told her. “I have my own domain to see to. With none of my men here, and the immediate threat to your people gone, I have no reason to stay.”
When pressed further, Kaliel brusquely reminded Rinalta that he was an ally, not a subject. He further hinted at the fact that even should he eventually find and defeat Tearful Mountain, he was unlikely to return the assassin to Lynnisbrook for justice.
“This is a Solar matter,” he told her.
Rinalta’s tirade lasted a full fifteen minutes. In the end, Kaliel strode out of the room angrily, with venomous looks shot at his back by both Rinalta and Ayama, who had not wanted her patient upset so much.
Zanka was waiting near the outer gates of the palace when Kaliel came out.
“How did it go?” she asked.
A slight smile crossed his face. “Quite well, actually.”
Zanka handed him a scroll case. “The deed to Guild Factor Tunato’s former manor house, and a letter of credit for the balance of what you gave me. The Guildsman who they sent to negotiate on the price was poorly prepared to haggle – I got the house for a very good price.”
“Excellent. We will spend the night there so that I may attune to the manse’s energies, and then we will depart for Chrysanthemum. Ghost has already said that he will collect the hearthstone when it forms and bring it to me when he and Ayama join us after Rinalta has her child. What of Luc and Rutendo?”
“They have decided to come with us. We will meet them in the morning at the western gate.” She looked around at the city surrounding them. “Though this place has treated us well, I admit I look forward to leaving.”
“Why is that?” Kaliel asked.
Zanka smiled. “It will be nice to go somewhere that is properly cold.”