Weapon of Vengeance (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy) (34 page)

“Your Majesty, he is
quite
adept.  And I know
that he was correct.  The very day I started my investigation, an assassin
tried to murder me, also using magic.  I could only assume that this was the
same man, so I set a trap.  That’s how I know there’s a spy in the palace, Your
Majesty!  I gave Master Woefler a false message to send to Tsing, detailing
when and where I would be conducting my investigation.  I left myself open for
attack, and the assassin took the bait!  I got a good look at him, too.  If we
find the assassin, we can identify the spy.”

“How unfortunate.”  The emperor sounded
disappointed.

Unfortunate?  What the hells
…

“And how does this spy in the palace pertain to Our
personal safety, Captain?  This assassin attempted to take
your
life,
not Ours, and those attempts occurred in Twailin and Farthane, not here!”

Norwood fought to remain calm.  “The assassin can
transport himself with magic, Your Majesty.  He escaped me using it.”

“Captain!  Something—”

Tamir’s urgent whisper was cut off by the emperor’s
harsh laugh.

“And you think that this assassin might pop in here
and assassinate Us?  Rest assured, Captain, the Imperial Palace is quite
secure.”

Norwood couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Your Majesty, the message was intercepted
here
! 
The spy must be someone within your inner cadre, someone close, beyond suspicion. 
An imperial page, or one of the retinue of wizards.  Someone close to you is a
traitor!  Your safety and the security of the empire are at risk!”

“The security of this empire is
not
at risk,
Captain!”  Tynean Tsing’s tone cut like a razor, as if Norwood’s claim had been
a personal affront.  “And neither is my safety.”

“But Your Majesty, the evidence suggests—”

“Let me tell you what this
evidence
you think
you have suggests, Captain Norwood!”  The emperor thrust himself up from his
seat and stepped down from his dais, his eyes blazing, his lip curling in a
sneer of contempt.  His bodyguards moved as he did, keeping him within their
protective circle.  “It
suggests
that someone in this palace
orchestrated the murder of Baron Patino, as well as the attempts on your life. 
Your assumption that I am somehow in danger is nothing but conjecture.”

“But Your Majesty!  If someone in the palace—”

“Captain!”  Tamir’s hand closed hard on Norwood’s
elbow, his hissed whisper edged with panic.  “It was
him
!  He had Patino
killed!”

“Tam!  What—”

“You never mentioned Farthane, but he
knew
!”

“You should listen to your sergeant, Captain.”  The
emperor sneered.  “He sees clearly, where you are blinded by duty and loyalty.”

Norwood tried to make the last piece of the puzzle
fit.  “I was told that that Patino was killed because of his involvement with
the Assassins Guild.  Your Majesty must have...thwarted an infiltration of the
nobility by the Assassins Guild?”

Tynean Tsing laughed.  “Wrong again, Captain.  I
am
the Assassins Guild.”

“Good Gods of Light…”  Norwood’s knees nearly
buckled.  Of all the possible explanations to the questions whirling through
his mind, that was one that he simply could not fathom.  “Your Majesty,
why
?”

“You dare to question
me
?”  The emperor’s sallow
features flushed with anger.  “Guards!”

The imperial bodyguards closed in, swords hissing
from their scabbards.

This is impossible
!  Norwood stumbled back as Tamir
pushed him aside.

Tamir pulled his ridiculous little contraption from
his pocket, flipped the corkscrew out and gripped the body of the tool in his
fist with the tiny spiral of steel protruding between his fingers.

The emperor of Tsing raised one finger and pointed
at Tamir.  “Kill him.”

“Tam!”

Before Norwood could even attempt to intervene, two
of the blademasters struck.  Steel parted flesh and bone effortlessly.  One
cleaved Tamir’s wrist, the other cut a furrow from collarbone to crotch. 
Sergeant Tamir fell back clutching the horrible wound.

“No!”  Norwood dropped to his knees, trying to stem
the torrent of blood that poured from his friend’s gaping chest.

Tamir’s expression registered only surprise.  His
mouth tried to form a word, but it was drowned by a gout of bloody froth.

Tam!”  Norwood clutched Tamir’s remaining hand, but
there was no strength in the man’s grip.  Tamir’s eyes lost focus, the flow of
his life’s blood ebbing.

Laughter crackled like shattering glass, harsh and
discordant.  Norwood lifted his gaze from his friend’s dead eyes.  The
emperor’s smile turned his stomach, and the captain reached automatically for
the hilt that was no longer at his hip.  Two swords hovered inches from his
face, waiting for a word from the emperor.  Norwood had no hope of avenging his
friend, even if he’d had a sword, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to kill
Tynean Tsing, the very man he had come here to protect.

“We must admit, Captain, you found your quarry.” 
The emperor folded his bony hands across his chest, and the lamplight glinted
off a gold and obsidian ring on his finger.  “You’ll need to answer a few more
questions before you die for…let’s say…a treasonous attempt on Our life.”

“Treason?”  Norwood’s bloody hands clenched into
fists.  “It’s
you
who’ve committed treason here, not me!  You’ve
betrayed your oath to this empire!  You’re nothing but a—”

The emperor raised a finger, and a blade descended
to Norwood’s throat.

“Take care, Captain.  You must be able to speak in
order to tell Us who else is privy to your little discovery.  We can’t afford
any loose ends.  But We do
not
need you…undamaged.”  Tynean Tsing turned
toward the room’s other door and called, “Hoseph!”

Norwood’s would-be assassin entered in a swirl of
crimson robes, and the captain knew just how deeply he had been betrayed.

“Show Captain Norwood Our hospitality, Hoseph.  We
will be down later to speak with him.”  The emperor of Tsing whirled away,
followed so closely by three of his bodyguards that they seemed controlled by
his thoughts.

Norwood knelt in Tamir’s blood as the harbinger of
his death approached.  Weaponless, with two swords at his throat, he had no
chance of escape.  Hoseph reached out a hand, and black tendrils swirled forth,
icy vapors that chilled his skin and froze his soul.  The last thing he heard
before the world faded around him was the condescending voice of Tynean Tsing
II.

“Thank you for your diligence in the pursuit of
Baron Patino’s murderer, Captain.  If you hadn’t come all this way, We would
have had to go to no end of trouble to kill you.”

“I
’d
like to find the sadistic, woman-hating bastard who designed this and make
him
wear one for a month!”  Mya drew the corset laces tighter, and cloth and metal
creaked.  She tied the knot and took a half-breath, all the restrictive garment
would allow, and glanced in the full-length mirror.

The corset squeezed her meager bust and slim hips
into a caricature of femininity.  Wearing only the corset, stockings, and
ankle-high shoes, she looked like a one of the painted doxies on Red Street,
back in Twailin—except for her wrappings, of course.

With a huff of resignation, Mya pulled her gown from
the airing rack.  The latest formal fashion was for daringly low décolletage,
which Mya’s runic tattoos forbade.  Instead, her dress had a flesh-hued backing
covered in black lace to give the effect of a low cut without revealing her
wrappings.  She’d considered going without them, but didn’t want to sweat.

“Like I need one more thing to make me nervous.” 
The pending meeting already had her stomach in knots.

She donned the pettiskirts, then slipped the frothy
gown over her head.  The side laces tucked cunningly away under her arms, but
the garment felt more cumbersome than her comfortable traveling dresses.  She
tugged the padded bustle into place, and checked herself in the mirror.  What
she saw took her aback.

“Damn!  Who the hell is that?”  Vastly different
than her traveling dresses, or even the fancier ones she wore on forays into
Twailin’s Hightown district, the gown clung enticingly to her corset-enhanced
figure, the skirt draping elegantly to just above the toes of her shoes.  The
deep-crimson hue accented her hair perfectly.  Bemrin’s tailor had done a
beautiful job.

Perching the crowning touch of a ridiculous little
hat atop her head, she tried to affix it with the attached ribbons, but her
hair was so short, they kept slipping free.  With a disgusted sigh, she gave up
and sought help.

In the suite’s main room, Lad stood before a mirror
trying to arrange his lacey cravat.  If the frown on his face was any
indication, his preparations were as trying as hers.

“Having trouble?

“Yes.  This lace is frustrating.  I can’t seem to…” 
He glanced back at her in the mirror, blinked, and shook his head.  “I know
more than a hundred knots for climbing ropes and restraining or capturing
people, but I can’t…manage…this.”

“I’ll make you a deal.”  She held out the silly
hat.  “You help me put this thing on properly, and I’ll help you with your
tie.”  Mya knew no more about tying a cravat than he did, but it would be
easier with the knot in front of her, rather than using a mirror and working
backwards.

“Deal.”  His expression changed from frustration to
curiosity as he turned to look at her more closely.  “That dress is…very
different.  I hardly recognize you.”

“Neither do I.”  Mya strode forward and dropped the
hat on the divan.  “Here.  Let me do that.”

Lad stood perfectly still as she tied the cravat,
fixing it in place with a topaz pin that matched his eyes perfectly. 
Good
choice, Dee
.  A few tugs and it was done.  Even without his jacket, and his
unruly hair still askew, he was beautiful.  Mya caught herself staring and turned
away, reaching for his jacket.

“Here.”  She held it for him as he slipped his arms
into the lace-cuffed sleeves.  With a quick jerk, it fell into place.  Custom
tailored to his shape, it fitted him like a glove.  Mya smiled and smoothed the
wide velvet lapels.  “You look perfect.” 

“I feel stupid.”  He picked up her hat and looked at
it dubiously.  “How does this fit on your head?”

“It doesn’t.  It just sits on top.  The veil goes in
front, and you tie these ribbons into my hair to hold it on.”

“Oh.  Right.”

Mya turned around and stood still, secretly
relishing the sensation of Lad’s fingers in her hair.  He cinched the ribbons
tight enough to resist a hurricane, and she thanked her runes for blocking the
pain.  When he was done, she looked in the mirror.

“I look like I’m going to a funeral.”  The
distraction of dressing slipped away, and a ball of dread coalesced in Mya’s
stomach.  Depending on how the Grandmaster reacted, this could very well be her
funeral.

“Don’t worry, Mya.”

“What?”  She caught Lad’s eye in the mirror.  He
looked concerned and…something else, something she couldn’t identify.  “I’m not
worried.”  She brushed her hair back around her ears and rubbed her nose.

“Yes, you are.  I’ve known you long enough to tell
when you’re worried.”

Mya froze. 
He’s reading me
! 
Gods, all
these years he’s been reading my tells
?  She’d been the one to teach him
how to spot people’s inadvertent twitches and habits, and he’d been using it to
analyze her.  Wishing she knew just what Lad had cued in on, Mya stiffened,
hoping to stifle her nervous habits.

“I told you before: the Grandmaster’s not stupid. 
He won’t hurt you.  You’re too valuable to him.”

“Let’s hope so.  Otherwise our plan’s worthless. 
But if we play this just right, you’ll be free of the ring and can be a father
again.”  Mya turned to face him, hoping that he would heed her.

Lad stepped back, a darkness the like of which she
hadn’t seen in days flashing across his face.  “Tell me the truth, Mya.  Why
are you offering to do this for me?”

Of course, she couldn’t tell him the truth. 
Instead, she looked him square in the eye and sidestepped the question.  “You
want a
list
of all the reasons I owe you my life?”

Turning her back on him, she stalked to the window. 
The evening sun blazed across the city as it settled toward the watery horizon,
the sky the hue of blood.  “Besides, when you consider all the things that led
up to it, Wiggen’s death was my fault.”

“What?”

“You said so yourself.  If the other masters hadn’t
tried to use you against me, they wouldn’t have taken Lissa, and if they hadn’t
taken her, Wiggen wouldn’t have died.”  She turned away from the view and
regarded him solemnly.  “So I owe you.  I took part of your family away, the
least I can do is give the rest of it back.”

“You’re wrong, Mya.”  Lad shook his head, but his
eyes never left hers.

“How so?”

“No matter what you did, Wiggen wore the ring.  That
was the reason she was killed.  The moment I put the ring on her finger, I
signed a contract on her life.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“
You
would have.”  The pain in his voice felt
like a knife slipping between her ribs.  “You think like an assassin.  I
don’t.”

“Then go through with our plan.  You have a chance
at freedom!  It’s more than anyone else in the guild will ever get.”

“I’ll stick to our plan.  Don’t worry.”

“Good.”  She tried to take a deep breath, failed,
and glanced at the wall clock.  “It’s time to go.”

Lady T awaited them in the lobby of the
Drake and
Lion
, tapping her frilled parasol on the marble floor.  She looked
nervous. 
About me or seeing the Grandmaster
? Lad wondered.  At their
approach, she turned, and her face shifted from nervous to contemptuous in the
flick of an eye. 
Not about me, then
.

Her dark eyes took them in from head to toe, and she
nodded in grudging approval.  “I trust your cane isn’t a sword.  I said no
weapons.”

“No weapons, but I see that you’re wearing four.”

“Six actually.”  Smiling slyly, she gestured to the
door.  “Shall we?”

“Yes.”  Lad held out his arm, and Mya put her hand
on it.  They’d fallen into this routine so thoroughly over the past two weeks
that it almost felt natural, her fingers resting there.

The inn’s doorman did his duty, and they followed
Lady T onto the street.  Her carriage made the one that Dee had chartered look
like a tinker’s wagon in comparison.  The wood and brass gleamed, and ornate
filigree glittered in the evening sun.  A pair of golden lion heads roared on
the forward corner posts, and the coat of arms of the Noble House of Monjhi
adorned the carriage doors.  Four perfectly matched geldings stood in the
traces like marble statues topped with feathery headdresses.  Two liveried
footmen held the door and handed the ladies up into the carriage.  Lad
followed, swallowing his apprehension.  Lad and Mya sat side by side, facing
their guide.  He held his cane between his knees, his hands clenched on the
brass bird head.

“You look nervous.”  Lady T smiled as if she had a
secret.

Is she goading me
?  Lad tried for a serene smile
in returned.  “I don’t like carriages.  They’re nothing but coffins with
wheels.”  He twirled his finger as they lurched into motion.  “Restricted
movement, too much noise, confinement, and motion.  I’ve killed in them
before.”

“And you, Mya?  Why are you afraid?”  Lady T’s
expression as she looked at Mya told Lad for certain that she was baiting.

Mya smiled.  “I’m a Master Hunter being summoned to
meet the Grandmaster, milady.  I’d be a fool not to be worried.”

“Yes.  Yes, you would be.”

They fell into uneasy silence as the team labored up
the steep cobbled streets.  The clatter of hooves and iron-rimmed wheels on
stone echoed off the buildings. Lad fixed his gaze out the window and tried not
to obsess about the pending meeting.  When that didn’t work, he resorted to his
long-practiced discipline for easing tension, clenching and relaxing each
muscle in his body one by one.  By the time he’d progressed through the
sequence twice, the carriage had reached its destination, and he felt somewhat
calmer.

“Here we are.”  Lady T opened the door and stepped
out.

Lad followed, and found that they’d stopped where a
wide avenue dead-ended at the bottom of the steep bluff.  High atop the
limestone cliffs towered the sheer stone walls of the Imperial Palace.  Before
them stood the largest wine shop Lad had ever seen.  A bas relief of twining
vines and bulging grapes decorated huge arched wooden doors, the name on the
sign covered in gold leaf.

“Vin’ ju’ Tsing.  I’ve read of this place,” Mya said
in a conversational tone.  “They’re famous.  The oldest winery in the empire. 
The caverns where they age the wine are delved far back into the bluff.”

“You’re quite learned.”  Lady T tapped her parasol
against the cobbles—
A nervous habit
?—and led them to the front door. 
Two doormen swung the doors wide, and they entered the shop’s cool interior.

“Lady T!  You honor our humble establishment once
again.”  A man in a dress coat, the winery crest embossed on the breast pocket,
approached and bowed deeply.  A ring of heavy brass keys dangled from his
belt.  “Your usual accommodations?”

“Please, Joffie.  I’m entertaining my friends, the
Addingtons, and I thought I’d showcase a few of your fine vintages.”  She
gestured to Lad and Mya as if they were long-lost cousins. 

“Of course.  This way, please.” 

They followed him through the racks of bottles to a
thick, iron-bound door at the back of the shop.  Joffie worked a brass key in a
door, and ushered them inside.  The temperature dropped as they entered a long
tunnel.  Joffie plucked a lantern from a peg and struck it with one of his
keys.  A glow crystal flared to life within, and he handed the light to Lady T.