Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 08 - Ghost in the Mask by Jonathan Moeller Page A

the town?
    Halfdan had told her a lord named Martin Dorius was Lord Governor of Caeria Ulterior. He was a competent commander, but had annoyed Lord Corbould, and so had found himself given the Lord Governorship of a backwater province.
    Perhaps that was just as well. Given what was happening here, Calvarium needed a competent Lord Governor. 
    The carriage climbed closer, and Caina saw men running near the gate. They had been spotted…and more, the sigil upon the carriage’s doors and the cuirasses of the Magisterial Guards had been recognized.
    “Hold!” A centurion of the militia stood within the gate, hand on his sword hilt. “Identify yourself!”
    “We are the Magisterial Guards,” said Corvalis, “of Rania Scorneus, a sister of the Imperial Magisterium. By the authority of the First Magus and the council of the high magi, she has been dispatched to investigate the sorcerous disturbances near Calvarium.” 
    The centurion conferred with his men for a moment. 
    “Please wait here,” said the centurion. “The Lord Governor will want to speak with your mistress at once.”
    “Inform him quickly,” said Corvalis, his voice full of sneering arrogance. “The time of a sister of the Magisterium is precious.” 
    Caina came to a decision, and left the carriage as the centurion hurried away.
    Corvalis glanced at her. “Will you not make him come to you? That is the sort of thing a magus would do.”
    “I know,” she said, “but we may need his help. With the cult of Anubankh and those mercenaries outside the town, he will be looking for any aid. If I can convince him that I have come to help rather than to terrorize him in the name of the First Magus, he might aid us willingly.”
    “Will you tell him the truth?” said Corvalis.
    “Of course not,” said Caina.
    A few moments later Lord Martin Dorius arrived at the gate, flanked by a guard of militiamen. He was in his mid-thirties, strong and fit with black hair and gray eyes, though dark circles ringed his eyes. He dressed simply in stark black boots and trousers and shirt, his only concession to his rank the crimson coat he wore. A sword hung at his belt, and Caina saw from the worn leather of its grip that he knew how to use it. 
    He stopped a few paces away and offered the shallow bow his rank required, his face the calm mask of a veteran entering battle. “Welcome. I am Martin of House Dorius, Lord Governor of Calvarium and Caeria Ulterior.”
    Caina offered the same bow back. “And I am Rania of House Scorneus, a sister of the Imperial Magisterium.”
    “You honor us with your presence,” said Martin, “though I am curious why you have chosen to visit at such an unsettled time.” 
    “Certain disturbances have come to light,” said Caina, “and the First Magus and the high magi wished them investigated. They entrusted this task to me.” 
    “I see,” said Martin. “Will you forgive my bluntness, mistress? We need fighting men. The cultists of Anubankh are attacking travelers. I am surprised you did not encounter them on your journey.”
    “We did,” said Caina, “though they dispersed, once they realized that I was a magus.”
    “Wise of them,” said Martin, “though I was unaware of any…sorcerous disturbances. Our problems have been with the cultists and the rabble of treasure hunters outside our wall.”
    “My lord,” said Caina. “May we speak in private?”
    She saw the calculation flash over his face. She was a magus – she could use her spells to read his thoughts, or perhaps to influence his will. Better to speak with her before witnesses.
    “Of course,” he said. “We may make use of the guardroom.”
    A brave man, then. 
    Caina followed him to a guardroom in the gatehouse. The room was stark, empty save for a long table, a pair of benches, and a rack of weapons along the wall. A crackling fire in a hearth kept the moors’ chill at bay. 
    “You spoke bluntly,” said Caina, “and I shall return the favor, my