Weapon of Vengeance (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy) (8 page)

Bemrin’s were the only shoulders that didn’t tense
at the frustration in Lad’s voice.  “Rumors it is, Master!”

Is he really that oblivious
? Mya wondered.

“Sereth?”

“My new fencing salon is progressing about as well
as expected, for the short time I’ve been at it.  Clients are enrolling slowly
but surely.  As you know, I’m also running a security business.  Vetted
security personnel is the idea.  Aside from the income, they’re well placed to
hear rumors, or spread them for that matter.  Other than a few outside
contracts for muscle, intimidation, or outright assassination, business is more
legal than illegal, so we’re not drawing much attention.  As to the investigation,
I’ve little to report.  Blades simply aren’t trained for ferreting out
secrets.  It’s not our bailiwick.  I’ve got those working as bodyguards
listening and asking questions, but I don’t want to provoke suspicion.  It’s
been
suggested
”—he glanced sharply at Bemrin—“that I bring an Inquisitor
into the fencing salon to ply the young lordlings for information, but I’d
rather not risk my public identity.”

“I agree.  Any discipline problems?”

“None whatsoever, sir.”

Mya noted the faintest relaxation of Lad’s posture,
a lessening of the wrinkles that seemed to perpetually crease the corners of
his eyes nowadays. She suspected that Yance’s execution had taken a toll on
him, and that he was relieved to not have to repeat the lesson.  With the
rumors that must be flying around the guild about him after the Fiveway
Fountain massacre, she was surprised anyone had been stupid enough to flout his
authority in the first place.

“Good.”  Lad turned to the Master Hunter.  “Mya?”

“Business is virtually unchanged, since we instigated
these practices years ago.  And my people know you, so there’s no problem with
sedition.”  Mya pulled the vial holding the dart from her pocket.  “I did find
out something about this, however.”

“The crafter?”  Lad’s face lit up with eagerness.

“No, Master.”  She hated to dash that glimmer of
hope, but she’d been convinced that Crumly didn’t know who had made the darts. 
“Nobody I talked to had ever seen anything like this.  But one old clockmaker
told me that the Royal Guard has been asking the same questions I have.  They
evidently recovered an identical dart from somewhere, and they’re looking for
whoever made it.”

Lad’s eyes narrowed.  “And have
they
made any
progress?”

“I have no way to know, Master.”  She looked toward
Bemrin.  “We might be able to find something out between the sheets, if you
want to go there.”

“Bemrin?”

“I’d be happy to try, sir.”

“Do it.  Find out where they got that dart and if
they’ve found its maker.”  Lad’s eyes snapped back to Mya, a pair of needles
that pierced her to the core.  “Who was asking the questions?”

“A sergeant named Tamir.  He’s Norwood’s number
one.”

“Norwood…”

For a moment Lad’s eyes took on a faraway look, and
Mya’s heart sunk. 
Gods, not again
!  Lad’s first visit to the Royal
Guard captain had seemed foolhardy; repeating the stunt would border on
insanity.  She opened her mouth to warn him, but then clapped it shut.  Lad
didn’t know that she had discovered his nocturnal visit to Norwood; telling him
now would earn her no favors.  Thankfully, Lad’s gaze had drifted to a spot on
the rug.  He hadn’t noticed her expression of concern.

Everyone sat perfectly still, waiting for their
master to resume the conversation, but he didn’t.  Lad seemed utterly lost in
thought, but no one dared interrupt.  Bemrin shifted in his chair, and Jingles
and Sereth exchanged glances.  Even Enola looked up to see what she might have
missed, before dropping her eyes once again to her lap.  The silence dragged
on, broken only by the mantel clock chiming the quarter hour, and still Lad
remained focused, oblivious to their growing discomfort.

This isn’t like him at all
.  Lad was the most attentive
human being Mya had ever met.  When they walked the streets of Twailin
together, he would react to the drop of a coin a block away.

Dee cleared his throat loudly, and Lad’s head
snapped up like a bird dog attending a flushed pheasant.  He blinked and looked
around, almost as if he’d woken from a dream.

What the hell
…

“Yes…  Yes, do that.  Mya, you work with Bemrin. 
Start with someone who works under this Sergeant Tamir.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Business is going well, so no changes there, but I
find that I’m pressed for time.”  Lad began to pace, his words clipped.  “The
investigation has to be concluded quickly.  I expect you all to push forward on
this.  Money, pressure, use whatever means are necessary to follow a lead.  If
it comes to violence, clear it with me personally first.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good.  Mya, I need to talk to you.  The rest of you
can go.”

What the
… Fear gripped Mya.  She watched
helplessly as the others stood and left.  Dee shot her a sympathetic glance as
he closed the door on his way out.  She stood and clenched her hands behind her
back, facing her master, but kept her eyes fixed on the top button of his
shirt.  She didn’t dare look into his eyes. 

Lad held out a hand.  “Give me the dart.”

Fishing the vial out of her pocket, she put it in
his hand without a word.  Her fear eased a trifle. 
Of course, he needs it
to take to Norwood
. 

“I received a letter that concerns you.”  He pocketed
the vial as he strode to the desk.  When he returned, he held out an envelope. 
“Read it.”

The familiar press of black wax sent a shiver down
Mya’s spine.  Her heart sank when she recognized the embossed crest and
scrawled signature on the letter.

I warned him that there would be
repercussions
…

Then she read, “Master Hunter Mya Ewlet will
accompany you to this meeting,” and her mouth went dry. 
Oh, gods
… 
Memory flashed, and Mya saw the Grandmaster’s letter burning in her hearth,
crumbling to ash.  She had literally thrown his offer in the fire, refused to
accept the guildmaster position.  Now she would pay for her fear-driven
actions.

Mya’s mind buzzed with possibilities, potential
actions, and consequences as it always did when she faced mortal peril.  She
couldn’t fight, couldn’t flee, and knew perfectly well what a meeting with the
Grandmaster could mean.  Her death loomed large before her eyes.

“How could he know so fast?”

“What?”  The question caught her off guard.  “Know
what?”

“I received that letter this morning, one
week
after I sent him a letter announcing my assumption of the guildmaster
position.”  Irritation edged his voice, and his hands clenched and unclenched
at his sides.  “My letter should only be arriving in Tsing right now, and yet
we already have his reply.”  He flicked the envelope in her hand.  “He
addressed it to my
assumed
name, which I’ve only had for three days. 
And before you ask, the answer is yes, the seal is genuine.”

“I understand.”  Mya handed the letter back, chagrined
that she’d been distracted by her own plight, blinded to the apparent enigma of
the letter itself. 

“Then explain how the Grandmaster managed to send me
this letter.”

She shrugged.  “He must have a means to send
documents quickly, perhaps magic, perhaps mundane.  The Grandfather used birds
to carry messages.”

“Birds?”  He waved the perfectly creased and
unmarred letter in front of her.  “You think a
bird
carried this from
Tsing?”

“No, Master.  It doesn’t appear so.”  She
swallowed.  What did he want from her?  “It must have been sent magically.  I
don’t know how.  I can try to find out if a wizard can be contracted to send a
letter quickly.”

“Think like an assassin, Mya!”  Lad flung the letter
onto the desk.  “What
else
does this mean?”

“What else?”  Mya bristled at having her own words
thrown back at her.  She always thought like an assassin.  Why was he so angry
with her about this?  She had nothing to do with the damned letter.  Forcing
down her ire, she cleared her mind and thought for a moment.  An answer snapped
to the fore.  “It means he has someone watching you, and they have methods of
communication way beyond anything I’ve ever heard of.  It also means he
wants
you to know he’s watching you, or doesn’t care if you know.  A reminder of his
power over you, I suppose.  I don’t know what else you want me to tell you.”

“I want you to tell me who’s spying on me, Mya!  And
I want you to tell me who killed Wiggen before I have to sit in a gods-damned
carriage for a
month
on my way to and from Tsing, just to meet a man who
will probably tell me to drop our investigation and concentrate on making money
for the guild!”

The desperation in Lad’s eyes belied his angry
tone.  She looked down, cursing herself for meeting his gaze, knowing it would
tear at her heart.  He didn’t want pity from her; he wanted answers. 
Unfortunately, she had none.

“I’ll do whatever I can to help, Lad.”  She bit her
lip at her slip of the tongue—she hadn’t called him Lad since the night he put
the guildmaster’s ring on his finger—but he didn’t seem to notice her lapse, so
she forged ahead.  “The spies could be anyone, anywhere.  In an organization of
our size, it would be virtually impossible to find them.  Consider Moirin.  If
Dee hadn’t inadvertently caught her in the act, she would have continued
reading my correspondence and reporting to who knows who.  We could try leaking
misinformation to specific people and wait to see if any of it comes back
through the Grandmaster, but that would probably take too long to be useful. 
It’d be easier to just take strict precautions, restricting vital information
to only those you trust.”

Lad arched an eyebrow.  “Which leads to the
question: who can I trust?  ‘There is no one in the world who wouldn’t betray
someone with the right incentive.’  Those were your exact words to me not too
long ago.”

“In general that’s true.  But what I’ve learned over
the last five years of running the Hunters is that you’ve got to trust
someone
or nothing will get done.”  She swallowed hard and fixed her eyes to his again. 
“Master, you can trust
me
.”  There it was.  He could take it or not.

Lad stared at her, but did not respond.

Discomforted, she looked away and continued.  “As
far as the trip goes, I don’t see any way to avoid it.  Disregarding the
Grandmaster’s summons would only bring you grief…or worse.  We’ll just have to
find Wiggen’s murderer before you leave.”

“Before
we
leave, you mean.”

“Yes, of course. 
We
.”  It had been an honest
mistake.  Mya didn’t want Lad to think she was trying to weasel out of the trip.

“Why do you think he wants to meet you?”

“I imagine he wants to know why I’m not wearing that
ring on your finger.”  The answer came out more acerbic than she had intended. 
“If he knows I threw his letter into the fire, I’m dead.  I only told you about
it, but Moirin was reading my mail, so…”

“I won’t tell him you burnt his letter if you don’t
tell him I lied about destroying the ring in the first place.”

“I’m afraid he might already know both those
things.”  At least Lad wasn’t raving any longer.  Her willingness to help
seemed to have calmed him.  Mya laughed without humor.  “It could be worse.  He
could just have us both killed.”

“I’d almost prefer an assassination attempt to a
month in a carriage wearing a neck cloth and jacket.”  He flipped his lapel
with distaste.  “Dee told me I needed new clothes for the trip.  And if I have
to dress like a gentleman,
you
have to dress like a lady.”

Spies, poison darts, and a
summons by the Grandmaster, and he’s worried about clothes
?  She tried not to think of the
trip to Tsing.  Though a corset wasn’t comfortable, it beat a dagger in the
heart.  It would be a sore trial if she endured the former only to suffer the
latter.