Ghost Light Read Free Page B

up in New Kyre’s warehouses.
    She had not, however, expected to share the ship with
a circus.
    More specifically, Master Cronmer’s Traveling Circus
Of Wonders And Marvels.
    Caina flung another knife, the blade sinking into the
mast, and Master Cronmer himself approached.
    Cronmer was huge, nearly seven feet tall, with the
shoulders and chest of a titan. He was bald, with a graying
mustache cut in Caerish style, and wore a brilliant red coat. She
saw the dust on his sleeves, and knew he had eaten bread and cheese
for breakfast, along with the vile mixed wine the ship carried.
    “Master Marius,” boomed Cronmer in the Caerish
tongue. “You should come work for me.”
    Caina shook her head. “I am already employed.” She
made sure to keep her Caerish accent in place, her voice gruff and
raspy, as Theodosia had taught her to do.
    “Bah,” said Cronmer. “Fetching papers for those dusty
old merchants? You should join my Circus. We’ll use your talent to
create a stupendous knife-throwing show, my boy.” He grinned behind
his bushy mustache. “Aye, you’ll throw knives at some lusty
Istarish lass, your blades will land a half-inch from her skin, and
she’ll melt into your arms in the end…”
    “Working for the Collegium,” said Caina, “pays
better.”
    Spending the voyage throwing knives at the mast and
brooding had likely been a poor idea. A spy needed to remain
inconspicuous, and Caina had not bothered to do so. If she was to
rebuild the Ghost circle of Istarinmul, she would have to take
greater care.
    But she could not bring herself to give a damn.
    “Mere money,” said Cronmer, striking a pose. “What is
that compared to the roar of the crowd, of a woman in your arms,
of…”
    “Cronmer,” said a woman with a heavy Istarish accent.
Cronmer’s wife, a short Istarish woman named Tiri, hurried to his
side. She looked tiny next to her massive husband, and they
bickered constantly, but they had been married for twenty years and
had six children. “Leave the poor man alone. The life of the circus
is not for everyone.”
    Cronmer rumbled. “But the Traveling Circus Of Wonders
And…”
    “Can’t you see?” whispered Tiri into Cronmer’s ear.
Caina heard her anyway. “Can you not see that he has lost someone?
Likely when the golden dead rose. Do not pester him.”
    Caina wondered how Tiri had figured that out. On the
other hand, Caina had spent the last two weeks throwing knives into
the mast and staring into nothing. It was hardly a mystery.
    “Yes, well,” said Cronmer, a hint of chagrin on his
face. “If you ever get tired of working for fat old merchants,
Master Marius, come see me. The Circus shall be at the Inn of the
Crescent Moon for the next week, and then we shall perform before
Master Ulvan of the Brotherhood of Slavers.”
    Caina had no wish to visit the home of an Istarish
slave trader, but it caught her curiosity. “What does a slaver want
with a circus?”
    “A celebration,” said Tiri. “He has been elevated to
a Master of the Brotherhood, endowed with his own cowl and brand.
Traditionally the newly-elevated Masters throw lavish celebrations,
and he has hired the Circus for that purpose.”
    “Just as well,” said Cronmer. “The Kyracian nobles
were humorless folk. Too enamored of their own traditions to enjoy
the Circus. Well, Master Marius, if you change your mind, the Inn
of the Crescent Moon is in the Cyrican Quarter.”
    Caina nodded, barely hearing him.
     
    “We had best gather the others, husband,” said Tiri,
“for we shall put in before noon.”
    Caina blinked and looked over the ship’s rail.
    Istarinmul rose before her.
    She yanked the knives from the mast, returned them to
her belt, and walked to the prow.
    The city was huge, larger than New Kyre and almost as
large as Malarae itself. The Padishah’s capital occupied a jut of
land that almost reached the southern end of the Argamaz Desert.
The resultant Starfall Straits gave the Padishah his power.