(eng) Jonathan Moeller - Ghost Exile 4.5 by Ghost Lock

Author:Ghost Lock [Lock, Ghost]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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GHOST IN THE COWL Chapter 1 - Istarinmul

Two weeks after she lost everything, Caina Amalas stood on the ship’s deck and threw knives at the mast.

It was a way to pass the time and keep herself from thinking too much. To distract herself from the memories that flooded her mind if she was idle for too long. Sometimes she locked herself in her cabin for hours and performed the exercises of open-handed combat she had learned at the Vineyard long ago, working through the unarmed forms over and over again until every muscle in her body throbbed and spots danced before her eyes.

But if she stayed alone too long, her thoughts went to the dark places. To New Kyre and the blaze of golden fire above the Pyramid of Storm. To Sicarion laughing as he drove his dagger into the back of the man who had raised Caina. To the Moroaica, weeping as the white fire blazed behind her.

To Corvalis, lying dead upon the ground of the netherworld.

And when her thoughts went there, Caina found herself gazing at the veins in her arm, thinking of the knives she carried.

She retained enough of her right mind to realize that she was not thinking clearly, that her mood was dangerous.

So when that mood came, she went to the deck and threw knives at the mast.

At first the sailors were alarmed, but they soon grew accustomed to it. They had been told that she was a mercenary named Marius, a courier for the Imperial Collegium of Jewelers, delivering contracts now that trade between Istarinmul and the Empire had opened up again. An important passenger could be forgiven an eccentricity or two.

That, and she never missed the mast.

Soon the sailors ignored her, even without Captain Qalim’s orders. Caina suspected that the sailors would have reacted rather differently if they knew that beneath the disguise “Marius” was actually a twenty-two year old woman, but she did not care.

She could not bring herself to care about very much.

So she threw knives at the mast, the blades sinking into the wood. Compensating for the motion of the waves and the wind kept her mind busy. Pulling the knives out of the mast and sharpening the blades anew kept her hands occupied.

The sailors ignored her, but Caina nonetheless attracted an audience.

When the Emperor had sent her on a ship from New Kyre’s harbor, she had expected to share the vessel with cargo. Kyracian olive oil, most likely, or perhaps Anshani silk. The Starfall Straits had been closed to trade for nearly a year, and cargoes had piled 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

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