Ghost in the Maze Read Online Free Page B

into the gap between the shutters, pulling them open.
    Again she heard the click of crossbows, and two quarrels slammed into the wooden shutters. One brushed her right arm, so close that she felt a flare of pain as the razor-edged quarrel touched her skin. She desperately hoped that the quarrels had not been poisoned. 
    But the shutters popped open, and Caina threw herself through the window and into the palace’s fourth floor. Anburj’s furious commands echoed in her ears, and she heard the clatter of armor as the Immortals ran along the bridge, making for the palace proper.
    They would not let her escape without a fight. Caina found herself in a deserted bedroom, the bed and the chairs draped in sheets to keep dust at bay. She hurried across the bedroom and threw open the door to the corridor. From here it was a short distance to the palace’s grand central staircase. She could easily reach the main floor and escape across the grounds before Anburj and the Immortals descended. 
    But a half-dozen armed men blocked the way to the stairs. They were Istarish, and wore chain mail and leather, swords and shields in hand. Caina didn’t think they were Kindred assassins. Mercenaries, most likely, men Anburj had hired to help trap the Balarigar. 
    For a moment she wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. She was one woman in a shadow-cloak, yet Anburj feared her enough to set this elaborate trap. If he captured her and forced her to talk, she wondered if he would be disappointed to learn that she was only a woman with a shadow-cloak and a flair for theatricality learned from an opera singer. 
    “That’s him!” roared one of the mercenaries, pointing his scimitar. “That’s the Balarigar. Kill him!” 
    The men charged with a yell, shields raised. 
    Caina sprinted in the opposite direction, the mercenaries in pursuit. Trying to fight them was out of the question. She had lost her rope in the inner courtyard, so going out the window was not an option. Caina could outrun the mercenaries, perhaps reach the slaves’ stairs first. But if there was another band of men upon the back stairs, she would be trapped. For that matter, if there was another group of mercenaries on this floor, if she found herself caught between them in the corridor, her life would be over very quickly. 
    Or her life would last until the mercenaries dragged her before Anburj.
    She raced around a corner and her heart sank. Another corridor stretched before her, unlit iron chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. It ended in another corner, and around that corner, Caina heard the clatter of boots and the shouts of men. She was trapped between two bands of mercenaries.
    But she still had one moment free to act.
    A marble statue stood in a niche along the wall. Caina heaved herself up the statue, perched upon its stone shoulders, and jumped. Her hands seized the cold edge of the iron chandelier, and Caina pulled herself up, her legs wrapped around the outer ring, her cloak caught between her boots.
    An instant later the mercenaries dashed around the corner, and came to a confused stop as they looked back and forth.
    “Where the hell did he go?” said one of the men.
    No one ever looked up. 
    “Check the side rooms,” said another mercenary. “He can’t have gone far.” The men started to move to the side of the corridor. “He ought…”
    Caina swung down, all her strength and weight behind her boots, and drove both her heels into the nearest mercenary’s face. The shock of the impact traveled all the way to her hips, and the mercenary’s head snapped back, blood and teeth flying from his jaw. Caina let go and landed, catching her balance, a dagger flying into her hand as she slashed. Her blade opened the throat of a second mercenary, hot blood splashing across her hand and sleeve, and the mercenary fell next to the first man.
    The remaining mercenaries recovered from the surprise and charged, but by then Caina was already running. She dashed