Ghost in the Throne (Ghost Exile #7) Read Online Free Page B

Callatas.” 
    Silence answered him.
    “And then what?” said Morgant. 
    Strabane shrugged. “I am uncertain. The nobles will choose a new Grand Wazir to oversee the government of Istarinmul. Tanzir Shahan, most likely. We will also try to find the Padishah and his sons. They have not been seen in public for years, and likely Callatas has them rotting in a tower somewhere. If they are all slain,” Strabane shrugged, “then I suppose the nobles will have to elect a new Padishah. The men of the Kaltari Highlands do not care who rules Istarinmul, so long as he honors the ancient laws and is not as tyrannical as Callatas and Erghulan. For Callatas’s folly has laid Istarinmul waste. Had he not required so many slaves for his precious Apotheosis, whatever the devil that is, he would not have roused the southern emirs to revolt.” 
    Caina shivered, and took another sip of the hot cider. She had spent two years trying to discover what Callatas intended with his Apotheosis, gathering bits and pieces of knowledge, and the Great Necromancer Kharnaces had told her the final truth. Callatas intended to destroy humanity and replace it with something he considered superior, with possessed humans augmented by the powers of the malevolent nagataaru. The wraithblood he distributed to the poor of Istarinmul had lowered their resistance to possession. The Staff of Iramis would summon countless millions of nagataaru, the Seal of Iramis would bind them, and the Star of Iramis that Callatas carried would provide the power for the colossal spell. The nagataaru would possess the wraithblood addicts, transforming them, and Callatas’s creatures would rampage across the world in an orgy of blood and death. 
    But if they kept the Staff and the Seal away from the Grand Master, none of it would come to pass. 
    “A splendid plan,” said Morgant, “though I do wonder just how you intend to kill Callatas. A sorcerer and a Master Alchemist of his power is not likely to surrender meekly.” 
    Nasser smiled. “With that.”
    He pointed at the valikon slung over Kylon’s shoulder. 
    “Me?” said Kylon, blinking.
    “Or, more precisely, the sword you carry,” said Nasser. “A valikon can pierce a sorcerous ward of any power. It can destroy any nagataaru bound within Callatas. We shall go to Catekharon…but we will return with all haste, and join Tanzir and Strabane and their host as they lay siege to the walls of Istarinmul.”
    “And you really think we can kill Callatas?” said Caina.
    “We must,” said Nasser. “Even if we simply chase him from Istarinmul, he still holds the Star of Iramis. He will travel to a new land and begin his evil anew, perhaps find a way to work the Apotheosis that will not require the other two relics of the Prince’s regalia. If we can kill him, if we can strike him down, we can reclaim the Star of Iramis and put an end to his dark dreams for all time.” 
    “If,” said Caina, “we can kill him.” The thought of facing a sorcerer of Callatas’s power in battle was not a pleasant one. 
    “The effort must be made,” said Nasser. “He destroyed Iramis. If left unchecked, he will destroy Istarinmul, the Kaltari Highlands, even the Empire and the Umbarian Order.”
    “Pity you didn’t make that little speech to Cassander Nilas,” said Morgant. “Rather than wasting time chasing the Balarigar, he might have been more useful fighting Callatas.”
    “Alas, even my stunning eloquence would not have been sufficient to sway Cassander to our side,” said Nasser. 
    “The Umbarian Order would wreak harm on the scale that Callatas dreams,” said Annarah, “if only they had the power. They do not, not yet.” 
    “Perhaps we will be fortunate and the Umbarians and Callatas may yet hinder each other,” said Nasser. “Well, we have our tasks. I suggest we should be about them.” 
    Nasser, Laertes, and Strabane headed for the headman’s hall, speaking in low voices. Caina remained sitting, as did