Weapon of Vengeance (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy) (39 page)

“Don’t!”  The ruler of an empire of fear gripped the
dagger with both hands, struggling to push it away.  “Please!”

“How many have lain in this room and uttered those
same words to you, Your
Majesty
?”

“I…I don’t want to die!”

“Neither did they.  Neither did Wiggen.”  Lad
positioned the point of the dagger beneath the Grandmaster’s chin, pricking the
skin so that a single drop of blood trickled down the serpentine blade. 
“Goodbye, Your Majesty.”

Lad plunged the dagger up to the hilt, ending a
fifty-year reign of terror.

Emperor Tynean Tsing II died instantly and
painlessly.  It was more mercy than he deserved.

Vengeance
.

And yet, Lad felt no rush of joy, no relief, just
emptiness.  Wiggen was still dead.  Though he had changed the course of an
empire with a single dagger thrust, all it meant to Lad was one more death
weighing upon his soul.

The glint of gold and obsidian caught Lad’s eye as
the emperor crumpled to the floor.

“Lad!”  Mya struggled to her feet and staggered to
his side, cursing the tattered and bloody dress that dragged at her every
step.  She stared down at the fallen emperor and felt suddenly as if a huge
weight lifted from her shoulders.  “You did it!”

“Yes.”  He turned toward her, his face pinched in
pain.  Clutching his bleeding hand to his side, he stepped past her.  “Just one
more thing to do.”

“What?”  Mya watched as Lad began scanning the
floor, flipping over one of the dead blademasters.  “What are you—”

“I’m finishing this.”  He plucked something out of
the blood, then strode over to the slab where Kiesha lay.  “I
have
to.”

Of course
…  She staggered after him. 
“Vengeance.”

“No.  Forgiveness.”  Leaning down, he spoke softly
into the tortured woman’s ear.  “Kiesha.”

The thief’s eyelids fluttered, and her ruined lips
murmured, “No…no more…please.”

“No more pain, Kiesha.”

Now Mya saw what Lad had picked off the floor, a
tiny vial and cap.  He fitted the cap onto the vial, shook it, then removed the
cap again.  A needle on the bottom of the cap glinted in the light, and she
understood. 
Poison
.

 “I’m here to end your pain.”  Lad’s voice was
quiet, soothing.  “I don’t blame you for Wiggen’s death.  You were a weapon,
just like I once was.”

“End…pain…please,” Kiesha muttered, peering up at
Lad.  Her eyes glinted with madness, but also hope.  “Please…”

“Yes, Kiesha.  Just relax.  The pain will be over
soon.”  Lad pressed the needle into an exposed vein in her neck.

A labored breath, one last sigh, and Kiesha’s eyes closed.

“Mercy…”  Mya could only stare, staggered by Lad’s
compassion.  She wondered if she could have been so merciful.

Lad stood straight and silent for a moment, then
tucked away the vial and turned to her.  “Now what?”

The question stirred Mya out of her trance.  “I…” 
She glanced at the fallen emperor, and the sight ignited her. 
We just
killed the godsdamned emperor
!  “First we bind up your hand, then we get
the hell out of here.”  She fumbled with the hem of her dress, straining to
tear a swath from her pettiskirts. 
Gods, I’m so weak
…  Picking up a
fallen blade, she sawed at the ragged tear until the fabric came free.  “Come
here.  We don’t’ want to leave a blood trail.”

Lad winced while she wrapped his mangled hand, but
stood still.  Oddly, he just stared at her.  Mya found his scrutiny
discomforting, and spoke quickly as she worked.

“Make sure we pick up your fingers.  If we leave
them behind, they can use magic to trace you.  I’ve used that method myself. 
There’s too much blood to worry about, and it’s mingled with everyone else’s,
so—”

“Mya.”  Lad hissed in pain as she tied the final
knot tight, then clutched her hand in both of his.  “Stop.  Please.  I need to
tell you…something.”

“What?”  His hands felt warm on hers.  His eyes no
longer gleamed with anger and frustration, but looked at her gently, the way
she’d always wanted him to look at her.  Her heart skipped a beat.  “Tell me
what?”

“Thank you.”  He clutched her hand and stared into
her soul.  “You saved me.  You saved me from myself.”

“I didn’t.”  Mya swallowed hard.

“You did.  During our trip here, you did for me what
I couldn’t do for myself.  You helped me focus.  You reminded me of what I am. 
You reminded me that I have a family.  That I have someone to love.”

“Lad, I…”  Mya choked on the words.  In her entire
life, she had only said those words to one person, and that person she had
murdered.  She doubted she could ever say those words again.

“I know, Mya.”

“What?”  His words hit her like a slap.

“I know how you feel.”

“You…”  Her knees began to shake with more than just
weakness and blood loss.  “You do?”

“Yes.”  Lad smiled through his pain, and her heart
swelled to breaking.  “Yes, I do.”

“Oh, gods…”  She entwined the fingers of her free
hand in his hair and pulled him to her, seeking his lips.  She found them—oh so
warm and soft—and kissed him as she’d so often dreamed of doing. 
Can it be
…   
Then she realized that his lips were passive.

Mya felt something slip onto her finger.  Pulling
away, she saw the regret in Lad’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“You…”  She lurched back and looked at her hand. 
Obsidian and gold glinted on her finger. 
The guildmaster’s ring
?  But
no, Lad’s ring still lay on the floor, encircling his severed finger. 
What
ring…
  Sudden realization ignited in her gut.

“You
bastard
!”

Her slap knocked Lad to the floor.  Mya staggered,
dizzy with sudden weakness.  Lad hadn’t even tried to block or dodge the blow,
and for a moment she was terrified that she’d snapped his neck.  Then he spat
blood and rose up on his elbows, the imprint of her hand livid on his face.

“You tricked me!”  She felt like kicking him for the
betrayal.  “You let me kiss you to trick me!”

“I’m sorry, Mya, but I’ll only ever love one woman,
and Wiggen is dead.”  He rose to his feet, eying her warily.  “Will you let me
explain?”

“Explain?”  Mya seethed with rage, glaring first at
Lad, then at the two rings on her fingers.  She wrenched off the ring that had
made her Master Hunter and flung it at him.  He caught it in his good hand. 
“Explain
what
?”

“That you’re the
perfect
Grandmaster.”  Lad
tucked the ring in a pocket.  “You think like an assassin, but you have a good
heart.  You won’t abuse the power, not like
he
did.”  He cast a
disgusted look over his shoulder at Tynean Tsing’s body.

“But I don’t
want
this!”  Mya waved her hand
before his face, obsidian and gold flickering in the light.

“Why not?”  He cocked his head at her.  Even in her
anger, the endearing gesture plucked at her heart.  “You’re safe now.  No
member of the guild can hurt you.”

“You think they’re going to
thank
me for
killing their Grandmaster?  I’ll have the empire
and
the guild after my
head!”

“Then have someone cut it off.  Um…the ring, that
is, not your head.  But you can’t run away from the guild, and they’ll know we
did it.”  Lad stepped past her and bent to pick up his severed fingers,
removing the guildmaster’s ring and putting it into a pocket.  “We can’t
discuss this here, Mya.  We’ve got to go.  Help me get Norwood out of that
cage.”

“We should just kill him,” she said, still angry.

Lad looked at her with sympathy in his eyes.  “No,
Mya.”

“Why not?  Why not just leave him?  He hasn’t seen
us.  He can’t tell them anything.”

“Because killing him would be wrong.  If we leave
him, they’ll question him, and he won’t have any answers.  He’ll end up in
prison or dead.”

“Better him than us!”

“I’ll do it myself, then.”  He bent to search
emperor’s body.

Mya seethed. 
I should just leave him alone to
explain why he’s carrying Norwood’s naked body through the streets
.  A pang
of guilt stabbed her, and she knew she couldn’t do it.

“Damn you to the Nine Hells…”  She cast about for
something, anything to open the iron cage.  Scanning the room she suddenly
froze.  “Where’s Hoseph?”

“What?”  Lad straightened with a ring of keys in his
hand.  “He’s…”  His eyes widened.  “He was right over there.”

“He’s
gone
!”  Adrenalin surged through her
veins, but with little blood to accompany the urgency, she only felt faint. 
“We’ve got to get out of here!  He’ll be back with more guards!”

Lad hurried to the cage and started fitting keys
into the lock.  “Hurry!  Grab some clothing.”

There was no time to argue.  Mya started pulling a
jacket off of one of the fallen blademasters.  “Everything’s all bloody!  We
can’t just walk into the inn with—”

“Not now, Mya.  Just grab some clothes and help me
with him.”  The door to the cage squeaked open, and Lad loosened the spikes
that pierced the captain.  “It’ll be dark when we leave, so the blood will be
less noticeable.  We’ll worry about getting back to the inn
after
we get
out of here!”

“Fine.”  She grabbed two more jackets that weren’t
overly soiled, donning one of them.  “You’ll have to carry him.  I’m too weak
to carry much more than a
conversation
.”

“Good.  Maybe you won’t carry a grudge.”  Lad caught
Norwood over his shoulder and stood with little difficulty.

“Smart ass.”  Mya picked up two fallen daggers and
tucked them away, grumbling beneath her breath.  If she didn’t love him so
much, she would have stabbed him long ago.

L
ad
laid Norwood on the doorstep of the temple of the Earth Mother, and tucked the
stolen blanket around him.  Rapping loudly on the door, he waited until he
heard footsteps from inside, then sprinted back to the shadows to join Mya. 
They peered from hiding as the door opened and a willowy woman rushed forth to
kneel beside the captain.

“Well, that was easier than I thought it’d be.”  Mya
tugged at his sleeve.  “Come on.”

They made their way through the streets of Tsing
slowly and silently.  Mya’s weakness slowed their pace, but at least their
route was mostly downhill.  The wine shop had been closed and empty by the time
they made their way back through the strangely illuminated tunnel, and breaking
out of a building was easier than breaking in.  Finally they spied the sign of
the
Drake and Lion
half a block away.

“I don’t suppose you can climb?” Lad asked
hopefully, only to be rewarded with a sour look.

“Are you crazy?”  She looked up at the sheer walls. 
“I’m barely walking.”

After a moment’s thought, he said, “Follow me.”

The servants’ quarters were on the first floor.  Lad
slipped from one window to the next, peering into the dark rooms until he
recognized his three snoring Enforcers.  All it took was a tap on the window to
rouse them.  Within minutes, they met Lad and Mya at the back door with a
couple of blankets.  The trip up the servant’s stairs to the third floor went
well.  To any prying eyes, they seemed nothing more than faithful servants
escorting their drunken employers to bed.

As surprised as the Enforcers were to find Lad at
their window, it was nothing next to their shock of seeing Mya’s tattered and
bloody gown when she dropped her concealing cloak in the privacy of their
suite.  She forestalled questions with her usual aplomb.

“Stop gaping and get to work!  I want a meal here in
ten minutes, and the carriage ready to leave in twenty.  Keep it quiet!”  She
hurried into the bedroom, tearing at the laces of her dress.

Lad tried for a gentler approach.  “There’s been
trouble and we have to get out of the city.  I’ll explain everything later. 
For now, follow Mya’s orders quickly and quietly.”

“Yes, Master.”

Lad almost told them he was no long guildmaster, but
decided to wait.  They would learn soon enough.  He closed the door behind them
and peeled out of his bloody clothes.

Sooner than he would have thought possible, they
were ready, dressed in clean clothes, and full from a hasty meal of cheese,
bread, and cold roast mutton.  Lad kept his newly bandaged hand tucked under
his jacket as he watched the Enforcers heft the last of their bags into the
boot of the carriage.

“Ready?”

Lad turned at Mya’s question.  Though pale, she
looked remarkably normal in her traveling dress, though he noticed that she
wore no corset.  She’d eaten like a starved wolf, and downed two tankards of
mulled wine.  Truth be told, Lad’s dinner sat heavy in his stomach, their
conversation gnawing at him.

“I’m ready.  Are you sure about this?”

She smiled at him, then looked away.  “I’m sure.”

Lad held out his arm for her, and she rested her
fingers there with only a slight hesitation.

As the carriage clattered along, they both stared
out the windows, each absorbed in their own thoughts.  Lad watched as the
elegant architecture of the Heights District gave way to the more staid
buildings of Midtown.  Twice they were stopped by patrols.  Lad feared the
worst, but the constables were only making routine checks for illegal activity,
and let them pass.  Apparently, news of the emperor’s assassination had not yet
hit the streets.  Only when they turned onto the bridge near River Gate did Mya
finally break the silence.

“How long have you known?”  She looked Lad square in
the eye, her jaw clenched.  “How I feel about you, I mean.”

“Not long.  Not until tonight.”  He shrugged.  “I couldn’t
figure out why you’d risk your life for me when you had the perfect way out.”

“You’re an idiot.”  She looked away and brushed the
hair back from her ear.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”  Her eyes flashed again, as sharp as the
daggers in her dress.

“Brush your hair back, click your nails, rub your
nose, bite your lip…  Those are your tells.  You’ll have to learn to control
them if you don’t want anyone to read you.”

“Like you’ve been doing, you mean,” she said,
looking away again.  “Thank you.”

Lad wanted to say more, but he didn’t know what. 
After all the years he had spent watching Mya’s back, he still felt responsible
for her.

At the end of the bridge, Mya thumped to alert the
driver—“This will do.”—and the carriage lurched to a halt.  On the corner stood
an inn sporting an incongruous placard depicting a porcupine and a cactus in a
compromising position beneath the name,
The Prickly Pair
.

Lifting her hand, Mya gazed at the ring on her
finger.  “You know I’ll never forgive you for this.”

“Yes, you will.”

Mya reached for the door latch, but Lad stopped her,
placing his bandaged hand atop hers.

“You could come back to Twailin.  You know people
there.  You could run things from the
Golden Cockerel
.   Sereth would
support you.”

She smiled, but lifted his hand and placed it back
in his lap.  “No.  The Grandmaster belongs in Tsing.”

The Enforcers had unloaded Mya’s two bags, hefted
them into the inn’s foyer, and returned to their seats.

After a moment’s hesitation, Mya leaned over and
kissed Lad.  He didn’t protest.  Her lips were soft, but they weren’t Wiggin’s.

When they parted, he said, “I’m sorry, Mya.”

“So am I.”  The Grandmaster of Assassins stepped out
of the carriage and hurried to the inn without a backward glance.

“Drive on!”  Lad thumped the roof with the head of
his cane, and the carriage jerked into motion.  His hand hurt, and his heart
ached, but he was alive.  And he was going home.

As the last light of sunset faded, Mya sat on the
crest of the tallest inn in the Dreggars Quarter.  She had abandoned her
dresses for her favorite dark trousers and shirt.  Despite the demise of the
sun, the sky was still lit by flames from across the river.

That afternoon, she, along with hundreds of other
citizens of Tsing, had watched Crown Prince Arbuckle order a phalanx of knights
to release all the prisoners in the Imperial Plaza.  Arbuckle himself had set
the first torch to the bonfire built from the wood of the despicable machines. 
Only then had the people allowed themselves to believe the rumors: Tynean Tsing
II was dead.  Tynean Tsing III had yet to be crowned, but a new era was already
dawning on the Tsing Empire.

  To say that the populace had gone insane at the
news was an understatement.  The commoners rejoiced in the streets, while the
nobles quailed in their guarded estates.  The Imperial Plaza still burned, and other
fires bloomed like a field of poppies.  Mya wondered if everything north of the
river would burn.

South of the river, the mood was more celebratory
than vindictive.  There were no nobles to rebel against, and no gallows or
stocks to burn.  In fact, she wasn’t the only one who had crossed the river
seeking shelter from the storm.  Many had fled the turmoil consuming the
Heights District and Midtown.  They couldn’t flee the city entirely.  Cordons
of constables and soldiers barred every exit, searching for the emperor’s
assassin.

“At least Lad got out.”

Mya looked at the ring on her finger and sighed. 
She tried to be angry with him for saddling her with this responsibility, but
for the life of her, she couldn’t hold that grudge.  It pleased her to think
that he had escaped this life.  If anyone deserved happiness, Lad did.

The flames across the river blurred, and Mya wiped
her eyes.  This was no time to bemoan her lot in life.  She had a guild to run,
and no idea how to do it.  Who could she count on?  The Twailin guild was her
only surety.  Sereth was loyal to Lad, and Mya hoped that he would transfer
that allegiance to her.

Lady T
?  Mya wondered if the woman
would survive the wrath of the commoners.  If any noble survived, it would be
the guildmaster of the Tsing Assassins Guild.  But would she see Mya as a
liberator or usurper?

Hoseph
…  The priest was Mya’s greatest
worry.  She had slept last night with her back in a corner and daggers in her hands. 
He was the only one who knew the truth about what happened last night.

The right had of death
.  She only had two options:
recruit him or kill him.  The choice would be his, more than hers. 
Burn
that bridge later if you must
, she thought, watching the flames with a
lightening heart. 
First things first
…

Raised voices from the inn’s common room below
floated up to Mya, laughter and singing.  Breathing in the fetid night air, she
thought of Lad’s words.  Did she really have a good heart?  Only time would
tell.  Right now, she had work to do.

It was time to think like an assassin.