Weapon of Fear (43 page)

“But
if the guards find any kind of weapon on you, not only will you miss the
coronation, you’ll probably end up in that new beheading contraption.”

“Only
if they catch me.”  Mya frowned at the dark circles under her eyes.

She
hadn’t slept well since Hoseph’s attack.  When she did sleep, she dreamt of
fire, probably because the scent of smoke pervaded the place.  She’d been
downing cup after cup of Pax’s strongest blackbrew to stay sharp, and her
nerves were singing like harp strings.

Now
I’m going to walk into an imperial coronation and try to save a crown prince
from assassination by a gods-be-damned wizard
.

Mya
had killed a wizard once before, but the runemage who inscribed her tattoos had
known Mya, had trusted her enough to welcome her into his home.  Then it was
just a matter of shoving a dagger into the back of his skull quicker than he
could blink.  Duveau, on the other hand, would be ready for a fight.

I
must be crazy
.

“Well,
you might not be armed, but you look
good
.”  Dee adjusted the lace ruffles
on her sleeves and the drape of the skirt.  “Remember to walk like a lady.”

“I
will.”  She turned and checked the mirror again.  Dee was right; the dress
looked good on her.  She just hoped it was easier to get off than it had been
to get on.  She fingered the tiny tabs at her hips.  “You sure these will
work?”

Dee
shrugged and stepped back.  “Try it.”

“Are
you serious?  It’ll have to be restitched.”

“Sure. 
The stitching’s easy, and you really should make sure you can get out of it
quickly.  Just don’t pull too hard.  If you break the tabs, you’ll have to
fight in it.”

“Right.” 
Mya bit her lip.  Fighting the emperor’s blademasters in a gown had nearly been
the death of her. 
One more thing to worry about
.  “Okay, I just pull,
right?”

“Right.”

Mya
jerked the two tabs.  With a zip, the specially constructed side seams split
from hip to shoulder, and the bodice of the gown fell loose.  Mya shrugged out
of the sleeves, and the skirt dropped to the floor.  She stepped free of the
frothy heap easily.

“Well,
that worked like a charm!”  Dee grinned.

“I
hope I don’t have to use it tomorrow.”  Mya took off the wig and placed it on
its stand, then ran her hands through her short hair.  “What if this whole
thing’s a set up?  What if Lady T fed me a big lie to get me to kill Duveau,
making Arbuckle even more vulnerable?”

“That
seems an elaborate ruse.”  Dee cast her a sidelong glance, then snatched up the
dress and examined the stitching to be replaced.  “You’re thinking about this
too much.”

Mya
knew Dee was eying her wrappings, but she didn’t care; he already knew her
secret.  She started to pace, lifting a hand to bite her nails. “How can I
not
think about it?” 

“
Don’t
bite your nails!  You’ll ruin the lacquer.”

“Oh.” 
She looked down at her painted nails and cringed.  “I forgot.”  She clenched
her hands at her sides.

“Would
you
please
stop worrying about it?”  Dee fixed her with a stare like a
disapproving governess.  “If Duveau tries to kill the prince, you take him
out.  If he doesn’t, you have a nice time and eat too many confections at the
reception.  Play your cards right, and you might even get to dance with the new
emperor.”

“Stop
it!”  Mya started pacing again.  “Telling me not to worry is like telling fire
not to be hot.  I could be going up against a gods-be-damned
archmage
! 
I have no idea what to expect from him!”

“And
he has no idea what to expect from you.”  Dee stepped into her path.  “In fact,
he doesn’t even know you’re coming.  Surprise him, and he won’t have a chance. 
Wizards bleed, just like regular folk.”

She
stopped and glared at him.  “Since when have you been a tactician?”

He
looked a little affronted by her comment.  “Just because I was your assistant,
doesn’t mean I don’t have other skills.  I
am
an assassin, you know.”

“I
know.”  She turned away and stalked back and forth across the floor, her mind
awhirl.  Of course Dee had skills.  He was smart and thorough, and had done
fine against Hoseph’s mercenaries.  A wry thought flashed into her mind; if
Moirin’s boasts were to be believed, he had other skills, too.  She glanced at
Dee as she turned.

They’re…beautiful
,

Stop
it, Mya…this is Dee
. 
She paced faster.

“You’re
going to wear a rut in the floor.  Would you please try to relax?”  Dee stepped
into her path again, his dark eyes pleading.  “You haven’t slept since Hoseph
attacked the inn.  If you don’t get some rest, you’ll be exhausted tomorrow!”

Mya
sidestepped him.  “I’ll be fine.”

“Fine!” 
Dee whirled and scooped up the dress.  “Worry yourself sick.  But if you get
yourself killed tomorrow, you’re not just letting yourself down; you’re letting
the whole guild down.  The whole
empire
, maybe.”

“And
that’s supposed to make me worry
less
?”

“No,
it’s supposed to make you realize that if you don’t relax, you’re
dead
!” 
He stormed out with the dress, leaving her alone with her worries.

Mya
stopped and looked after him.  Dee certainly wasn’t acting like her normally
mild-mannered assistant.  But he was right.  If she didn’t relax, she was dead.

“Wine
and a bath.  That’s what I need…”  Mya donned her robe and snatched up her
towel.  She would pick up Gimp on her way down to the cellar to watch for her.

The
scent of the scorched floorboards wrinkled her nose as she emerged from her
room.  The hall was a maze of strings once again.  She bent and wove her way
through the path toward the stairs, glaring at Dee’s door as she passed.

They’re
beautiful
…

The
doorknob turned in her hand before she realized what she was doing.  Nails and
Nestor sat on the floor playing some game with sticks and stones, their
crossbows within easy reach.  Dee looked up from where he sat on his bed, her
dress draped over his lap, a needle and thread in his hand.

“I
need to talk to Dee in private.”  She held the door open.  “Go get something to
eat in the kitchen.”

“Okay!” 
The urchins grabbed their weapons and left.

Mya
closed the door and met Dee’s gaze with eyes that wanted to look anywhere but
at him. 
Don’t do this, Mya…

“I
need to ask you something, but you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” 
She clenched her hands at her sides, trying not to fidget.

“All
right.”  Dee put the dress aside and looked at her patiently.  “Ask.”

“After
Moirin died, did you ever…  Have you been with anyone else?”

Pain
flickered across his face.  “No.  Not yet.”

“You
were in love with her.”  It wasn’t really a question.  She knew he had been.

“Yes,
but she obviously wasn’t in love with me.”  He crossed his arms and shifted on
the bed.  “Why the interest in my love life?”

“Because…” 
She sighed and looked away, unclenching her hands.  She looked down at them. 
It seemed that all she’d ever done with them was kill.  “Because I was in love
with Lad for a long time.  It was stupid.  I was a fool, and he’s still in love
with his dead wife, so he’s gone.  I just wanted to know if you ever feel…over
it.”  She looked back up at him, her teeth grinding together.

He
showed astonishingly little surprise at her admission.  “Over it?”  He
shrugged.  “Not really, but it hurts less with time.”

“Good.” 
She fiddled her fingernails, longing to bite them.  “I needed to know that I
won’t feel like this forever.”

“You
won’t.”  He nodded to the towel.  “Going for a bath?”

“I
was.”

They’re
beautiful
…

“Mind
if I ask one more question?” 
Why are you doing this, Mya?  Don’t be stupid…
 
Her conscience was right, she knew, but the rest of her needed something that
her conscience didn’t.

“Not
at all.”

“You
said…in the washroom…that my tattoos were beautiful.”

One
of his eyebrows lifted.  “Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“Because
they are, and I didn’t want you to misunderstand me.”

“Because
you’re afraid of me.”  She could see the fear in his eyes.  At least, she
thought it was fear.

“Partly,
yes, but I wanted you to know the truth, too.”  He sat up straighter.  “You
might keep them covered because you don’t want people to know your secret, but
they’re not ugly.”

“You
don’t think they make me a monster?” 
Don’t do this, Mya
…  She told her
conscience to shut the hell up.

“No,
they don’t.”

“Would
you like to see them again?”  She fidgeted with the tie of her robe.  “All of
them?”

“Mya,
I…”  Dee swallowed hard, then nodded.  “I would.”

Mya
pulled her robe tie and shrugged out of the voluminous garment.  She loosened
the end of her wrappings at her wrist, then hesitated and looked at Dee again. 
His mien remained neutral, attentive, but his eyes gleamed.

“You’re
sure?”  She had to ask.

“I’m
sure.”

Mya
unwound her wrappings, balling the magical cloth as she bared one arm, her
neck, the other arm.  The air felt warm against her breasts as she unwound
the
fabric from her torso, her hips, and, finally, from her legs.  She dropped the
wad of cloth to the floor and stood straight.  Dee’s gaze roved over her from
head to foot, his mouth slightly parted.  He looked a little stunned, but not
disgusted, as she thought he might be.

“Well?”

“Well…” 
He cleared his throat.  “Well, what?”

“Do
you still think they’re beautiful?”

“Oh,
yes!”

Mya
walked up to Dee slowly, deliberately.  He stared up into her eyes.  Her
conscience was blissfully silent.

“Would
you like to touch them?”

His
tongue darted out to wet his lips.  “Very much.”

Tell
him the truth, Mya!  Be honest.  He deserves that much.
  For once, her conscience was absolutely
right.

“I’m
not in love with you, Dee.  Love is a weakness I can’t afford.  Don’t expect me
to fall in love, or swoon like a maiden, or write you love notes.  It’s not
going to happen.”  She met his eyes with firm resolve.  “I’m not in love with
you, but I need to be touched.  I need someone to make me feel…human.”

A
sweet, peaceful smile graced his lips.  “I can do that.”

“Then
touch me.”

Dee
lifted his hands from his lap and ran his fingertips up her thighs, her hips,
her abdomen…light as feathers, smooth as silk.  Mya shivered with the
sensation, closed her eyes, and let his touch sooth her tortured soul.

M
ya stepped off the curb as Lady T’s
elaborate coach rounded the corner.  As the matched team of four clomped past,
she hiked up her gown, took two running strides, and hopped up to the running
board.  The gold latch turned in her hand, and she ducked through the door,
landing in a frothy pile beside an astonished man in dress doublet and hose.

“What
in the name of—”

“Sorry
I’m late, but I simply could
not
make myself get out of bed this
morning!”  Mya flashed a smile at the man, then at the open-mouthed Lady T.

A
cry from one of the coach guards above heralded a bellow from the
driver—“Whoa!”—and the conveyance rumbled to a stop.  One of the guards leapt
down and jerked open the door.

The
man beside her brandished his cane like a weapon.  “See here now!  You’ll be
out of this carriage this instant!”

“No,
you’ll
be out of this carriage this instant, or I’ll break that cane of
yours and stick it up your arse splintered end first.”  Mya smiled sweetly.

He
swung the cane’s golden head at her, but she caught it easily.  He tried to
wrench it free, but she wouldn’t let go.  The guard tried to grab her arm
through the door, but his hand stopped an inch from her. 
Guild
.  He
couldn’t touch her.

“Get
out.  Now.”  Mya jerked her head toward the door.

“Terrance!” 
Lady T’s commanding tone drew the man’s attention.  “Please don’t make a
scene.  My friend here intended to attend the coronation with me, but had a
conflict in her schedule.  That conflict has evidently been resolved.  Please
leave us.  I’ll make it up to you.”

Terrance’s
face reddened, and he snatched his cane from Mya’s eased grasp.  “Fine!” 
Shoving past Mya, he dismounted the carriage, turning back to glare at her as
he slapped his hat on his head.  With his jaw clenched, he bowed to Lady T. 
“I’ll contact you tomorrow, milady.”

“Do
so.”  Lady T nodded to the guard.  “Drive on!”

“Goodbye,
Terrance!”  Mya twiddled her fingers and blew the enraged man a kiss.

The
door closed and the carriage lurched into motion.

“You
picked up on that very quickly.  I’m impressed.”  Mya smiled at her hostess and
settled back in her seat, relaxed and comfortable.  It was amazing what a good
night’s sleep had done for her outlook.  The rumors about Dee had proven wholly
inadequate, and she’d told him so…many times.  As sweet as it might have been
to stay with him until morning, she had gone back to her own bed to sleep,
guarded by her urchins.  Mya woke refreshed, still not in love with anyone, and
feeling wonderful.

“What
in the Nine Hells do you think you’re doing?”  Lady T’s face flushed scarlet,
her crimson lips set in a hard line.

“I’m
attending the coronation as your guest, just like you told your friend.”  She
glanced back out the window.  “He’s gorgeous, by the way.  Is he any good in
bed?”

“Not
that it’s any of your business, but yes, he’s absolutely fabulous in bed.”  The
lady regained some of her composure.  “What makes you think I’ll take you to
the coronation?”

“Two
reasons: One, you need me to keep Arbuckle alive so the guild will have rich
customers to fleece, and two, if you don’t, I’ll break your knees and tell
everyone
you had an accident while having intercourse with one of your horses.”

“You
filthy
…”

“Stop
playing the lady with me,
Lady
, and start thinking like an assassin.” 
Mya jabbed a finger at Lady T.  She was through with jokes and threats.  “I
told
you what would happen if the prince died, and yet you seem content to keep
playing along with Hoseph’s mad plan.  I’ve already warned the prince about the
impending assassination attempt, so he’ll have all kinds of protection.  I
probably won’t have to intervene, but I’m here to make sure nothing goes wrong
before he’s crowned.”

“You
warned
the crown prince?  How?”

“I
whispered in his ear.”  Mya enjoyed the woman’s skeptical glare.  “Now, I’m
assuming your invitation to the coronation says something like ‘Lady Tara
Monjhi and guest,’ so I’ll be your niece, Moirin, visiting from Twailin for the
coronation.  I imagine there’ll be whole flocks of young women being presented
to the new emperor during the reception.”

“And
if there is trouble and you do have to
intervene
, as you put it, what do
I tell the nobility of this realm?  That my niece also
happens
to be a
magically imbued assassin?”

“No,
you tell them that you hired the very best bodyguard money could buy.  You’ll
probably be given a duchy from the emperor for having the presence of mind to
order me to save his life at your own personal risk.”  Mya grinned.  “Are we
thinking like assassins yet?”

Lady
T glowered at her, her eyes flicking down to Mya’s dress.  “How did you know
I’d be wearing lavender?”

“I
didn’t.”  Mya noticed for the first time that they matched hues nicely, her
gown darker than the lady’s by several shades, but close enough to complement
one another perfectly.  “Sometimes you just get lucky.”

Arbuckle
pushed aside his untouched breakfast.  This was his second, actually.  The
first had gone cold and been replaced.  It looked delicious, but if he ate it,
he knew he’d be sick.  His stomach clenched on nothing but blackbrew, a roiling
pit of nerves and acid.  He’d been awake all night, sitting in an armchair
surrounded by guards, reading a book of fanciful stories in hopes of
distracting his mind from the impending coronation…and the chance that he might
not live through it.  The dwarven clan elders had shown them the secret
passages throughout the palace.  Arbuckle’s father had sworn them to secrecy,
but their oaths had died with him.  Arbuckle had ordered them to seal the
passages, so there would be no more unexpected midnight visits.  Still, he
hadn’t slept.

Now,
a contingent of guards and knights stood quiet and grim, ready to escort him to
the Great Hall at the appointed time.

For
now, he waited.

“Milord?” 
The footman proffered the blackbrew pot.

“No,
thank you.  My head is about to explode already.”

“Something
stronger then?”  The man smiled and produced a silver flask from his
waistcoat.  “A single malt from Fengotherond.  The best, in honor of your
coronation today.”

“Bless
you, my good man.”  Arbuckle nudged his blackbrew cup over and the man poured a
double measure.  The cup didn’t crack, so it wasn’t poison, and the prince
could definitely use the whiskey’s medicinal properties.  He sipped and sighed
in bliss, smiling his thanks.  “Your name?”

“Getry,
milord.”  He bowed.

“Thank
you, Getry.”

“My
pleasure, milord.”

“Milord,
it’s time.”

Arbuckle
turned to find Baris with a cushioned golden tray in his hands.  Upon the red
satin sat his princely accoutrements: a platinum band for his head, a necklace
of office resplendent with rubies, and several rings.  They were remarkable
reproductions—all paste and wood—but they looked like the genuine articles.

“Very
well.”  Arbuckle downed the rest of the smooth liquor in his cup and stood. 
With great solemnity, Baris placed the mock jewelry on the prince, his
movements as deft and sure as ever.  When he’d finished, Arbuckle grasped the
man’s shoulder.  “Thank you, Baris.  For everything.”

“I
look forward to seeing to your needs as emperor, milord.”  The tray under his
arm, Baris bowed low and backed away.

“Ready,
milord?”  Tennison looked regal in his dress clothes and badges of office, his
ever-present appointment book in hand.  Only the strain around his eyes
betrayed his apprehension.

“Hells,
no
, I’m not ready.”  Arbuckle hoped his sarcasm might break the
tension.  A couple of the guards hid tight smiles.  “But ready or not, we
better be at it.  If I’m late, they’ll probably hire someone
else
for
the job.”

A
few more smiled at that, and Sir Calvert choked off a snort of laughter.

Arbuckle
took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Is the Great Hall in order?”

Tennison
nodded, with a reassuring smile.  “All is in order, milord, and the guests are
entering as we speak.”

Arbuckle
glanced around the room.  The footmen had gone, and only his trusted cadre of
guards and attendants remained.  “And Master Keyfur?”

“He’s
with us…in spirit, milord.”  Tennison winked.

Arbuckle
jumped as something unseen brushed his shoulder.

“More
than in spirit, milord,” the mage whispered.  “My simulacrum is in place with
the rest of the Retinue of Wizards.  It should fool Duveau.  I’ll be at your
side throughout this.”

“Good.” 
Arbuckle allowed Baris to place the robe of his office on his shoulders.  The
chain and clasp had been replaced with gold-painted wood, but the garment
weighed heavily on him.  There were no more reasons to delay.  “Ready then.”

They
proceeded through the palace in precise formation: knights in the van, Arbuckle
with Tennison and Verul centered within a cordon of imperial guards.  The
sedate march seemed to take an eternity, and Arbuckle looked at things as he
never had before.  The palace had been his lifelong home, though he’d more
often felt like a prisoner than a resident, always under guard, never allowed
to leave except with a detachment of protectors, relegated to meeting only
those deemed safe and appropriate for a crown prince’s company.  Only the last
few weeks had opened his eyes to the lies he had been fed his entire life about
what he should be, what being noble meant, and why his father considered him a
failure.

I
may have failed him, but no more than he failed the empire
, Arbuckle thought.  If he survived
this day, the prince would become emperor, and the empire would change for the
better.  If he did not…

The
crown prince winced.  If he died today, Duke Tessifus—who had argued so
vehemently against Arbuckle’s reforms—would assume the throne.  The laws would
not change, the commoners would not receive the justice they’d been promised,
and they would revolt.  Martial law, oppression, violence, death…  An empire of
slaves, beaten like curs when they dare to bite their masters...

I
can’t let that happen.  I
won’t
let that happen. 
A cold resolve settled over Arbuckle as they descended
the final flight of stairs to the main level of the palace
.  I
must
survive this day.  If I fall, Tsing will fall
.

As
the procession turned into the narrow corridors that would bring them to the
small corner entrance to the Great Hall, the weight of the mantle on Arbuckle’s
shoulders suddenly and unexpectedly felt lighter.  He straightened and squared
his shoulders.  Every measure they could think of had been taken to insure his
survival.  His fate now rested in the hands of the gods and the intrepid souls
who had pledged their lives to protect him.  He had placed his trust in both,
and would live, or die, with that decision.

The
entourage paused at the door, and Tennison checked his pocket watch.  “Just a
few minutes here, milord.”

“I’m
ready, Tennison.”  Arbuckle realized with a start that he was telling the
truth.  He was ready to become emperor…or die trying.