Weapon of Blood (2 page)

Chapter
I

S
ereth stood at
his master’s elbow, hands clasped casually behind his back, fingers resting on
the hilts of the daggers in his sleeves. 
Watch nothing, see everything
,
he thought, letting his vision slip into the attentive blankness that would
best observe, even while appearing bored and inattentive.

He had plenty to keep his attention
occupied.

The room itself was unremarkable, a
wood-paneled office in the back of a brothel.  The room’s occupants, however,
were among the most dangerous people in all of Twailin, master assassins and
their bodyguards, the best of the best, or worst of the worst, depending on
one’s point of view.

Four of the five masters of the Twailin Assassins
Guild were present for the meeting.  Master Alchemist Neera sat stiffly, her
rich robes drawn around her like armor.  The eldest of the four, she seemed so frail
that her ancient bones might shatter in a stiff breeze, her wrinkled skin
dissolve to dust and blow away.  Sereth knew better than to gauge her by her
appearance.  The alchemist wielded more magic than any other member of the Twailin
guild.  Her concoctions could heal, harm, kill or, rumor suggested, revive from
the very brink of death.  Her bodyguard, a slim fellow Sereth knew only by
reputation, preferred envenomed darts, and rarely missed his target.

Master Enforcer Youtrin filled his seat
like a side of beef fills a butcher’s case.  Huge hands, knuckles scarred by a
thousand beatings, lay clasped on the table’s varnished surface.  He might not
be the sharpest dagger in the arsenal, but in a fight, he could receive and
deal more hurt than any other two men in the room.  A bodyguard seemed
redundant, but he had one nonetheless, a huge brute with arms like tree
trunks.  His jutting lower jaw and olive-drab skin bespoke of ogre blood, but
his eyes were sharp and cunning.

The newest member of the council, Master Inquisitor
Patrice, lounged in her seat, clad in a comfortable array of silks and satins. 
She owned this particular brothel and a half dozen more like it, but Sereth
knew that her greatest talents were not in the bedroom.  She could flay the
secrets from a person’s mind like flesh from bone, and knew more about pain
than Sereth ever wanted to learn.  In his nightmares, he lay upon her table,
his secrets laid bare as his skin peeled away.

Sereth repressed a shiver and focused on
the Inquisitor’s bodyguard.  She was dressed like a trollop, but Sereth knew
her vicious reputation, and did not allow the swell of pale flesh revealed by
her loose bodice to distract him.

Sereth’s own master, Horice, was head of
the Blades faction, and probably the best swordsman in the city.  That skill
had served him well, clearing the path to the position he now held.  Even so,
he was not without adversaries, and not all attacks could be met with a blade,
especially in this company.

Adversaries…
  The notion almost brought an ironic smile to
Sereth’s lips.

These three masters were supposed to be Horice’s
allies—had
been
allies not too long ago—but relations between the
factions had become more than strained.  Knowing an adversary’s strengths and
weaknesses kept you alive in this business.  And while Sereth didn’t know
everything about these people, he knew enough.  He supposed that they knew a
great deal about him as well, but was certain they did not know everything.

If they did, he would be dead, or worse,
strapped to Patrice’s table.

A faint cry of passion drifted down from
the rooms above, evidence of the quality services being offered.  Everyone
pretended not to hear, but like salt in a pot of water nearing a boil, the
disruption served as a catalyst to action.

“I’m not waiting any longer!” Horice punctuated
his remark with a fist to the tabletop.  “That insolent upstart has kept us
waiting long enough.  I move we convene the meeting without her.”

“Seconded.”  Neera’s voice rasped from
her withered throat, a consequence of age or a lifetime of inhaling the fumes
of her noxious trade.  Her fingernails, yellowed from the powders and acids of
countless concoctions, tapped the table in an impatient staccato.  “Mya must
have been delayed with other business.”

“She’s ignoring us!”  Horice hammered the
table again for emphasis.  “She’s the one who suggested this council instead of
appointing a new guildmaster, and she doesn’t even attend the meetings!  It’s
insulting!”

“The insolence of youth.”  Patrice flicked
one manicured hand in a dismissive gesture.  Though the youngest master
present, she was near twice the age of the absent Master Hunter Mya.

“She may be young, but she is skilled.  Her
defenses are formidable and her revenge swift.”  Neera’s wizened lips curved
into a cruel smile directed at the Master Inquisitor.  “As your predecessor
learned.”

Patrice’s eyes shot daggers, but she
didn’t reply.  Everyone in the room knew how the former Master Inquisitor had
fallen; Mya’s retaliation for an attempt on her life.  The attempt wasn’t the
problem, but Patrice’s predecessor had made the fatal mistake of leaving a trail
that the Master Hunter could trace back to her.

“We’ll
see
how skilled she is.” 
Youtrin’s scarred face stretched into a smug smile as he leaned back in his
creaking chair.

“Shut up!”  Horice fired a dirty look at
the Master Enforcer.

Idiot
, Sereth thought, then revised his assessment. 
Twice
idiot!  Once for agreeing to help Youtrin kill Mya, and again for opening your mouth
about it among the other masters.
  Of course
he
knew what they were
planning.  It would have been difficult not to know, since he spent nearly
every waking hour in Horice’s shadow.  And though they might not agree on much
else, Horice and Youtrin shared a dislike of the young Master Hunter.  Mya’s
dismissal of their condescending council had fostered that dislike, and it wasn’t
improved by her unconventional practices.

“Not another one!”  Patrice’s glossy lips
tilted in a disapproving frown.  “Don’t you two ever get tired of trying to
kill everyone who insults your fragile egos?”

“What I’m tired of is listening to
you
tell
me
what I should and shouldn’t do!”  Horice’s hand shifted to the
hilt of the rapier at his hip, and Sereth stiffened.  Though the hilt was below
the table, the movement of Horice’s shoulder brought Patrice’s bodyguard’s
attention to bear.  Sereth gauged the angles between them. Though fetching, the
deep V of her décolletage made an apt target.

Neera raised a wrinkled hand.  “Enough of
this bickering!  I call this meeting to order.  I suggested that we meet to
discuss this very issue.”

“Good!”  Youtrin sat up in his chair, his
brutish features intent.  “It’s about time we did something about that insolent
whelp!”

“You misunderstand me, Master Youtrin.” 
Eyes like pools of acid fixed the Master Enforcer with a pitiless gaze.  “I
speak of our continued inability to cooperate.  This intra-guild squabbling makes
us weak, and the Thieves Guild is pressing at every chink in our armor.”

“That’s the truth!  A couple of my boys
were roughed up on their rounds just yesterday.”  Youtrin cracked his knuckles,
a sound like popping corn.  “Our protection racket lost two more clients! 
Damned thieves undercut our rates, and they don’t bluff about enforcing their
new territory.”

“It’s not
their
territory; it’s
territory they
stole
from you!” Horice corrected.  “They’re pushing
everywhere.  It’s got to stop!”

“So you two are diverting resources to attack
a master in our own guild instead of focusing on the real enemy! 
That
makes sense!”  Patrice’s sneer of contempt earned her a glare from the Master
Blade.

“Slapping down that contemptuous little
bitch isn’t a matter of business, it’s a matter of principle.  She disrespects
us,
all
of us.”

“I disagree, Horice.  It
is
a
matter of business.”  Neera’s calm tone juxtaposed his acerbic one, though
Sereth could see her jaw muscles tense through her thin skin.  “Resources
allocated to one effort are necessarily diverted from others.  We fight each
other, so we have fewer resources to combat our true enemies.  We
must
cooperate, or we will fall.  We’ve lost a tenth of our territory south of the
river in the last year, and revenues reflect that loss.  Our lost income has
surpassed the gains we enjoyed from not having to support a guildmaster.”

“How can we cooperate when one of our own
masters won’t even come to council meetings?” Youtrin protested.  “She refuses
to lend her Hunters where they’re needed, and won’t even discuss issues that
impact our operations.  She’s the one who suggested we could do without a
guildmaster!”

“Yes, she did, and if you remember, it
worked.  Unfortunately, differences of opinion and refusals to compromise led
to disagreements and this current lack of cooperation.”  Neera’s tone had
hardened, and her eyes flicked to all the others in turn, accusative and
piercing.  “The visit from the Grandmaster’s representative to collect last
quarter’s revenues was not pleasant.  She grilled me for a full hour about this
situation, and I assume you all experienced the same.  If this continues, we’ll
face sanction by the Grandmaster.”

“Sanction?”  Patrice’s eyes widened.  That
word meant only one thing within the guild.  “Kill us for squabbling?  He wouldn’t
dare!”

“The Grandmaster has the authority to
take any action he deems fit,” Neera reminded her.  “Our goal
should
be
to make sure he does
not
see the necessity to replace us.  We
must
cooperate!”

“And how do you propose we do that when
we can’t even make the youngest and most inexperienced of this council attend a
meeting?”  Horice shifted in his seat, and every bodyguard in the room tensed.

“This meeting is
not
about Master
Hunter Mya!”  Neera’s lips constricted into a shriveled moue.  “Her revenues
are the highest among the guild factions.  Instead of denouncing her youth and
inexperience, perhaps you should consider emulating her success!”

“Success?  She runs her Hunters like a
band of peasants for hire!  She takes contracts that do nothing to further the
influence of the guild!  She’s even performed services for the thrice-damned
Royal Guard!”  Horice was in full rant mode now, and even the sternest glare
from Neera could not quell his ire.  “Sure, she makes more money than the rest
of us!  We’re specialists, and Hunters are generalists, which means she suffers
least from the lack of cooperation.  She refuses to cooperate, thwarts us at
every turn, and it makes
her
look good!  She doesn’t follow the tenants
of the council
she
suggested we form!  She votes against every
initiative this council puts forth, all for her own gain!  She’s reckless and
greedy!”

“And what does she do with her gains?”
Youtrin put in, feeding off of Horice’s temper.  “She isn’t even maintaining
the image of her position as a master!  She lives in that hovel of a pub!”