Ghost Claws by Jonathan Moeller

Author:Jonathan Moeller
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3, epub
Tags: Horror
Publisher: Jonathan Moeller
Published: 2013-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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I had dealt with dozens of men like Cardiz over the decades.

Cardiz was a peddler, a seller of trinkets…and of secrets and stolen goods. He had attached himself to Lord Titus’s column soon after we left Cyrica Urbana, offering his wares to the Imperial Guards, and had traveled with us to Catekharon. I suspected he had offended someone powerful in Cyrica and wanted out of the Empire for a time.

We found him with his wagon, humming to himself as he packed up his goods. He wore a florid robe of bright color, topped with a turban he had won playing at dice. He had a pointed black beard in the Mardonish style and beady black eyes that reminded me of a ferret.

“Master Basil!” said Cardiz with a bow. “So good of you to come! Do you wish to purchase some wine? I have many fine vintages for the discerning palate. Or some silks for your lovely daughters? Such lovely jewels ought to be displayed in the finest settings.” He smiled. “Where are your daughters?”

“Alas,” I said, “Irene has a headache. Some woman’s concern, so Anna is tending her.” It gave an explanation for their absence, though Cardiz would never know that “Anna” stood behind me, disguised as a guard.

“Ah,” said Cardiz. “Do give the dear lady my regards. I have an unguent guaranteed to ease the cramps of the woman’s time of the month, if you wish to purchase some.”

“I am certain she shall be delighted to know that,” I said with a straight face. “Though I have other business. Have you heard about the anjar Kamahd?”

“Yes,” said Cardiz. “A tragic business. Torn apart by a grass lion.”

“You know I am friends with Lord Titus,” I said. That got his attention. “And Lord Titus believes that the anjar was murdered. He has tasked me with finding the killer, lest this cause a rift in the Emperor’s friendship with the Shahenshah.”

Cardiz blinked, several times. At once I realized he knew at least something about Kamahd’s fate.

“So,” said Cardiz, licking his lips. “You know he was murdered over the white lion?”

“White lion?” I said.

“Yesterday, before dawn,” said Cardiz, lowering his voice. “Kamahd left the camp and went hunting with another anjar named Masud. They found a white lion, and Kamahd slew it. A white grass lion, you see, is very rare, and the Anshani believe that good fortune graces the man who slays one.”

“How do you know all this?” I said.

“Kamahd wished it kept secret,” said Cardiz, “lest the other anjars try to take credit for his kill, or steal the lion’s pelt.”

“Which,” I said, “is what happened, is it not?”

Cardiz bobbed his head. “I believe that Masud murdered Kamahd and left his body outside the camp. He will claim that the white lion slew Kamahd, and he then avenged Kamahd by slaying the lion.”

“Allowing him to keep the pelt,” I said, “and credit for the kill.”

“Precisely,” said Cardiz. “Nobles are a treacherous lot.”

“Thank you for your information,” I said. “Lord Titus will be grateful.

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