Ghost Keeper Read Free

pyrikon bracelet around her left wrist. It was just as well the sleeve of her dress concealed it. Fortunately, they would not be able to sense its sorcerous aura. She did not know the extent of the pyrikon’s abilities, but she suspected the thing had a mind of its own. It seemed able to conceal itself from sorcerous detection. 
    Suddenly her skin crawled, and Caina felt the presence of sorcery nearby.
    “Ah,” said a deep, resonant voice. “You must be Master Tamirzid Kolarzu, merchant of Cyrican marble.”
    Caina turned her head towards the source of the sorcerous aura, and one of the strangest figures she had even seen walked towards her. 
    The man was over six feet tall, with brown skin and a hooked nose. His head had been shaved hairless, even his eyebrows, his eyes encircled with lines of black makeup in the fashion of the priests of ancient Maat. A dozen rings glittered in each of his ears. He wore the black coat, gleaming white shirt, black trousers, and polished black boots common among the nobles of the Empire, but no nobleman of the Empire wore as much jewelry as this man. A ring glittered upon every finger, some gold, some silver, some bronze, each set with different jewels. She glimpsed bracelets upon his wrists, and around his neck he wore a golden chain adorned with a stylized solar disc. It was another symbol of Old Maat, the long-destroyed Kingdom of the Rising Sun, an ancient empire that had been ruled by necromancer-priests of great power and greater cruelty. 
    Caina felt the aura of necromantic sorcery around this man. At least one of the gems upon his rings was a bloodcrystal, a reservoir of necromantic power.
    “I am, sir,” said Agabyzus with a bow, and Caina quickly followed suit, gripping the edges of her skirts. “I presume you are…ah, our host?”
    The strange sorcerer offered a thin smile. “There is no need to worry over my name.” He spread his hands, his rings flashing. “You may simply call me the Curator.”
    “The Curator, sir?” said Agabyzus. “That seems…peculiarly informal.”
    “Not at all, Master Tamirzid,” said the Curator. He offered Caina a perfunctory smile, but he turned his attention from her. Perhaps she should have worn a dress with a lower neckline after all. Still, if he saw her as a merchant’s empty-headed daughter, that would make it all the easier to have a discreet look around his palace. “I am a collector of the rare and the exotic, a student of all that is strange and beautiful. I gather items of power and beauty, and find them for others in exchange for a modest fee.” He clapped his hands together, his bracelets jangling. “In short, I am the Curator.” 
    “It is a pleasure to meet you…Master Curator, sir,” said Agabyzus. 
    “Master Curator, then?” said the sorcerer, pleased by the compliment. “I am glad to make your acquaintance.” He gestured at the gleaming white bulk of his palace. “I am, as you can see, quite fond of Cyrican marble. The Kyracians like to boast of the quality of their marble, but it simply not the equal of the Cyrican stone.”
    “I should be most glad to discuss it with you, Master Curator,” said Agabyzus.
    “I look forward to it,” said the Curator. “Later, I fear. One must attend to business before pleasure, and I must greet my other guests.”
    “Of course,” said Agabyzus with another bow, and Caina followed suit. The Curator offered another thin smile and strolled away, his hands tucked into the small of his back, his long coat swirling around him. 
    “Be careful around him,” said Caina in a low voice.
    “Those rings and bracelets are enspelled?” said Agabyzus.
    “All of them,” said Caina.
    “What sort of spells?” said Agabyzus.
    “Wards, sensing spells,” said Caina. “Necromantic, too.”
    “Necromantic?” said Agabyzus. “Necromancy is forbidden in Istarinmul.”
    “I think the Curator has enough powerful friends that it doesn’t matter,” said Caina, watching the