“Why not?” Hoseph considered the prospect, a whole new scenario blooming in his mind as Graving gaped at him. “A war would certainly discredit the new emperor’s dangerous policies, make him seem weak, and change the commoners’ view of him.”
“But…the loss of life! The destruction of property…” Graving swallowed, his chins quivering.
Hoseph waved away the man’s concerns. “The lives of soldiers and the property of peasants are commodities to be spent when the need arises, Chief Magistrate. We wouldn’t allow foreign armies to march on the capital, of course, but setting a few of the southern provinces afire would be a reminder that a strong emperor is the only thing keeping the empire safe. The last idealistic holdouts, like Duke Mir in Twailin, could use such a lesson. Now, about our disinclined colleagues … They tempt my wrath, Graving.” Hoseph let slip some of his restrained anger. “Do I have to discipline them as I did Lady T?”
“Killing them will gain you nothing and risk much, Hoseph. They’re all laying low, hiding behind well-armed bodyguards. You may be able to blink in and out of thin air, but you bleed. You’re mortal. They’ll have no compunction about setting their dogs on you. A trail of noble corpses would only compound the charges against you.”
Hoseph fumed. Graving had a point, but not disciplining the reluctant conspirators would set a bad precedent. And sending their wretched souls to Demia would be satisfying…
“Besides…” Graving waved a hand at the piles of parchment. “…given time and enough of the emperor’s new laws, they may come around.”
“Time…” Hoseph gritted his teeth.
Was Graving being truthful, or simply deferring Hoseph’s wrath? Granted, getting all the conspirators together would be problematic—using the talisman to transport so many people in so little time would tax Hoseph beyond endurance. Perhaps he should concentrate on finding and eliminating Mya first and worry about the new emperor later. Focusing his energy on one task seemed prudent. Tessifus’ sons were still safely in Master Inquisitor Lakshmi’s care, so their hold on the next in line to the throne was undiminished. And indeed, they needed time to condition the youngest boy to be the next Imperial Grandmaster. But Graving still might be able to help.
“What about the constabulary? Can you persuade them to ease their pursuit of me?” Hoseph could roam the streets of the Downwind District and Dreggars Quarter easily enough, but north of the river, the constables were looking closely at every priest and acolyte of every sect. The wanted posters hanging around the city now displayed his new guise all too accurately.
“Not likely.” Graving interlaced his sausage-like fingers. “They’ve word directly from the emperor to spare no effort to hunt you down. Lady T’s bodyguard is working with them. Murdering a noble has earned you the enmity of many powerful people, my friend.”
Hoseph didn’t for a moment consider Graving a friend, but took the advice for what it was worth. Graving had considerable pull with Chief Constable Dreyfus, but the chief magistrate wasn’t about to stick his fat neck out to help Hoseph right now. There were, however, others who might help the priest…given the proper incentive.
“Very well.” Hoseph stood, dissatisfied with the results of the meeting, but willing to adjust his strategy to suit the information the magistrate had provided. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Don’t pop in here in the afternoon or evening. I often have people over.”
Hoseph bristled at Graving laying down rules, but nodded in agreement. Grasping the silver skull, he invoked its power and faded away.
Dee clutched Mya’s hand, relishing it while he could. It was just part of their ruse, of course, but that didn’t matter; he’d enjoy it while it lasted. Surveying the tidy little flat in mock distain, he shook his head. “I don’t know, Master Quince. It seems so…small.”
Actually, he was quite pleased with the find. The apartment had a bedroom, kitchen, living area, and bath complete with—thank the Gods of Light—a hand pump to bring water from a cistern. On the border between Midtown and the Heights, it was far enough from the orphanage to confound searchers, yet close to many conveniences, not the least of which was a seamstress’ shop just downstairs where they could have new clothing made to replace all they’d lost in the fire. They had seen no one on the stairs as they ascended, and the landlord lived elsewhere, so there were few eyes to see them coming and going. The place was exactly what they needed, but he wasn’t about to let the prospective landlord see his delight.
He squeezed Mya’s hand. “What do you think, my dear?”
“I think it’ll have to do until we find a proper house.” Mya pursed her lips in a moue. “You did promise me a proper house, Donally, and I mean to have one. My dowry won’t buy us a mansion, but I’ll not live as a pauper, even for you. If I need to ask Daddy for more money…”
“Not to worry, dear. We’ll find your house, but these things take time.” Dee nodded to Master Quince. “We’ll take it for one month.”
The landlord, whose eyes had lit up at the word ‘dowry’, now frowned. “I’m more interested in a long-term tenant. Two month minimum, and you leave at least two weeks before that’s up to give me time to get another tenant.”
Dee had a sudden vision of having to return to the flophouse if this deal fell through. They had decided for security reasons to stay in any one place no longer than a month. But it’s the principle of the matter… “Your advertisement said nothing about a long-term requirement, and—”
“Sweetheart,” Mya interrupted, a false smile on her face, “we can afford to pay that.”
Dee tried not to wince at the pressure of her grip. They could afford it, but Sereth’s money wasn’t going to last forever. Granted, Mya could request more from Clemson and Noncey, but they couldn’t expect an inexhaustible supply. A guild war was expensive, and who knew how long it might last? But Mya’s the boss…
“I’ll pay you for a month and a half, and we’ll be out in one.”
“Done.” The landlord extended a hand and Dee shook it. “Here’s the key. Try to keep the noise down during the day. Mistress Gantry in the shop below has ears like a fox, and complains.”
“We won’t be noisy during the day.” Mya smiled impishly up at Dee. “After sunset, however…”
“Dear, please.” Dee blushed and looked mortified, hardly an act. “My apologies, Master Quince. New brides, you know…”
“All too well, my boy!” The man grinned, his hand still extended though Dee had released his grip. “The money, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.” Dee released Mya’s hand and paid the man, who, with his pocket jingling, left the apartment with a smile.
Dee threw the bolt on the door, checked to make sure the windows were closed, and drew the drapes. The apartment occupied the southwest corner of the building, sporting a good view of two streets from the front room and bedroom, and a limited view of an alley out the bathroom window. He peered out, relieved to see nothing suspicious. Nonetheless, he pulled their disassembled crossbow and bolts out of one of their bags and started assembling the weapon on the table. “Well, nobody tried to kill us, so I think we may have made it.”
Bringing Mya here in the middle of the day had been a huge risk, but there was no other option. He’d bought her an overly large dress, and they’d added padding to hide her shape. A hat with a veil disguised her hair and face.
“Don’t count your eggs before they’re in the basket,” Mya warned, easily lifting the leather bags he had lugged up the stairs and heading for the bedroom. They didn’t have much, but gold was heavy. “Put water on to heat. After two nights in that flophouse, I need a bath.”
“Right.” Dee doffed his jacket and draped it on a kitchen chair, then rolled up his sleeves before laboriously lighting the coal-fired stove. The heat would be oppressive, but a cold bath would be worse. Filling a huge copper kettle from the pump, he hefted it onto the stovetop. When the fire finally caught, he opened the damper. The iron stove clicked and poppe
d with the rising heat.
Mya’s raised voice reached him. “The bed linens are musty. They’ll have to be laundered.”
“Of course.” Fishing a tattered page of parchment and a pencil from his waistcoat pocket, Dee added ‘launder sheets’ to his growing list of things to do. “Are there towels in the bathroom?”
After a moment, a cupboard door slammed and Mya called out, “Just the one on the rack.”
“What else?” he muttered as he prowled the kitchen, opening cabinets and drawers and jotting notes as needed. He added plates, bowls, and cups to his list—Furnished apartment, my ass! No dishes?—with a disgusted flourish.
“Put food on that list!”
Dee started at the unexpected voice and whirled to find Mya standing right behind him.
“Sorry, didn’t meant to startle you,” she said, an impish grin belying her claim.
“You’d think I’d be used to it after worked for Lad. He was quiet as a…” His voice trailed off when he realized that Mya was clad only in her wrappings, a single strip of black cloth snugged around her limbs and torso. Dee grew warm. “Shouldn’t you be…wearing clothes?”
Mya waved off his question. “That dress was too uncomfortable. Besides, it’s only you and me here.”
That’s the problem. Dee swallowed hard and tried to keep his eyes on his list.
“We’ve got a lot to do.” Mya started to pace, as she always did when plotting strategy. “First off, I need to change the way I look again. Inquisitors and Hunters will be searching for me, but they’ve only seen me with dark hair.” Mya ran her hand through her short locks, dyed black to hide her natural red hue.
“The blonde wig you wore to the coronation really changed your appearance.”
“Yes, but a wig’s too cumbersome. Pick up something to lighten my hair, and scissors for a trim. There’s a cosmetic shop not far up the street, I think.”
“Okay.” He made a note. “What about clothing?”
“Definitely soft boots and dark pants and shirt for going out at night.” She started ticking items off on her fingers. “A working woman’s outfit. A decent dress for around town. And some boys’ clothing. Let’s say…something scruffy so I’d blend in with a crowd in the Dreggars Quarter. Oh, and maybe an outfit suitable for a well-bred young man on the town. I want all my options covered.”
Dee’s pencil scratched. “All right. Weapons?”
“I’ve got the daggers you bought, but can always use a couple more. Touch base with Noncey for those.” Mya abruptly stopped pacing and picked up the crossbow from the table, looking at it, then at Dee. “You can’t very well carry this around, but he might have something you can conceal. Something you can use better than a dagger.”
Dee stiffened. His lack of skill with a blade had caused him no end of grief, and it still stung.
“I’m not disparaging you, Dee.” Mya sighed. “You’re lousy with a blade, so you gave it up. That was smart. Instead of becoming a mediocre fighter, you played to your strengths and became an excellent assistant. And now you work for the Grandmaster!”
Dee squelched the sarcastic remark he wanted to make. She was right. Had he continued to go the route of the rest of the apprentice Hunters, he’d probably be working as a bag-man on the streets of Twailin.
Mya resumed pacing. “The law against commoners carrying swords has forced Noncey to arm his people with some unusual weapons. He’s got quite a collection, and I’m sure there’ll be something to your liking. Ask him.”
“Right.” He made another note.
“Also check in with Sergeant Benjamin. Maybe they’ve made some headway in their search for Hoseph or gotten a lead in their investigation of the attack on the orphanage. If so, I want details.”
“Will do.”
“And check the Prickly Pair for a note from Pax.”
“Got it.”
“And we need food! I’m starved!”
“Already on the list.” Dee waved his list at her. “Don’t worry. This won’t be nearly as complex as setting up Lad’s household when he became guildmaster.”
Mya stopped and grinned at him. “I’m glad you’re here, Dee. I wouldn’t know the first thing about setting up house. I’m too used to living in an inn with Pax to take care of me.”
“You’d make a lousy housewife,” Dee admitted with a smile.
“Actually,” she cocked her head at him, “how do you know so much about it?”
“My mother was a housekeeper and seamstress at a minor noble’s house.” A long-lost memory stole into his mind, and he could almost smell his mother’s flowery scent, feel her warm lips as she kissed his cheek. It had been a long time since Dee had thought of her, and guilt tweaked him.
“I never knew that. So, you had a happy childhood?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “She’d take me with her while she did her chores and ran errands, which is why I know what’s what around a house and about clothes. Nobles are finicky about their clothes. But she died when I was ten, and the master put me out on the street.”
“Oh.”
Mya was quiet for a moment, and Dee wondered about her own childhood. From what Paxal had told him, it must have been far from happy. He couldn’t ask, of course. She started pacing again, biting a nail unconsciously before clenching her fists at her sides.
Dee watched her body slowly tense, like a watch spring wound too tight. He tapped his list. “All these errands will take several trips, and it’s apt to take at least a day or two to get our clothing made. How about something to read to pass the time while I’m out and about?”
“Good idea. Pick something up for me. Anything. Sorry for making you do all the legwork, but too many assassins know what I look like. I don’t dare go out until I’ve got good disguises. Although,” she threw her hands up in frustration, “despite all my disguises, Hoseph was somehow able to follow me back to the orphanage, so it might be useless to try to fool him.”
“No problem. The guild doesn’t know what I look like.”
“Hoseph does.” She shot him a warning glance.
“Yes, but he’s not looking for me, and Tsing is a big city.” It was safer for Dee to go out than for Mya right now and they both knew it. Folding the list, he stuffed it into a pocket and rolled down his sleeves, then counted the money he was carrying to ensure it was enough for all the shopping.
“Be careful touching base with the constables. Don’t tell them where we’re living. The same goes for Noncey and Clemson. I told them to watch for you, but they might be twitchy.” She turned and looked him in the eye, holding up two hands in a warding gesture. “And for the gods’ sake, don’t let anyone follow you back here.”
“I’ve got it, Mya.” Dee gave her a tolerant smile. “I am a Hunter, you know.”
“I know.”
The kettle whistled.
“Go get ready for your bath,” he said. “I’ll bring the hot water.”
Mya flashed a final quick smile and trotted toward the bathroom.
Dee went to the kitchen and lifted the heavy kettle from the stove. As he approached the bathroom, he heard water sloshing into the big copper tub. Mya worked the pump handle with one hand and unwound her wrappings with the other, the long strip of enchanted cloth pooling at her feet. Dee poured the boiling water into the tub, trying not to look at the beautiful expanses of rune-etched skin and the lithe muscle rippling beneath.
The kettle empty, he turned away and hurried back to the kitchen to refill it. They’d need hot water for Mya’s hair, too. “I’ll dash out and pick up a few things while you bathe.”
“Fine.” The sound of the pump quieted.
Dee grabbed his jacket and turned for the door, but stopped short. Mya stood at the bathroom door with only a towel draped over one shoulder, casual in her nudity and oblivious to his body’s spontaneous reaction.
A slow smile graced her lips, and she glanced down at his trousers, then back up to his face. “Sure you don’t want to join me?”
/> Or maybe not so oblivious…
He stifled a surge of desire and tried for a wry smile. “If we start that, I’ll never get the shopping done.”
“Good point.” She strode to the apartment door and threw open the bolt. “Hurry back, and be careful.”
Dee stopped and looked her in the eye. If they had been in love, he would have kissed her and told her not to worry. If we were in love…
They weren’t.
At least, Mya wasn’t. Dee truly didn’t know what his feelings were, beyond confused.
Gods, I’m in trouble…
“I should be back in less than an hour.” He nodded to the kitchen. “Keep the water hot. I’ve got to do your hair.”
“Right.” She opened the door and let him out.
It closed behind him and he heard the bolt clack into place. Hurrying down the steps, Dee tried to banish Mya from his mind. He had work to do and had to be vigilant. Mooning over someone who didn’t love him—and never would—could get him killed.
As the footman cleared the breakfast dishes, Arbuckle sipped his morning blackbrew and examined the two pieces of paper lying on the white linen cloth. They were both lists of names, but that’s where their resemblance ended.
The first was inked in Tennison’s ornate hand on fine vellum and included many of the highest nobles and magistrates in Tsing. He and Tennison had compiled it after the first attempt on his life, a list of those who might benefit from Arbuckle’s untimely death.
The second was written on poor-quality parchment, only eight names and a short note. This one had been delivered by the stealthy late-night visitor who had managed to invade his very sleeping chamber. Arbuckle shuddered and reminded himself that all the secret passages in the palace had been sealed. Those that the dwarves know about, at least. If the message was to be believed, these were the names of those who conspired to kill him. The note had saved his life, proving its validity.
Arbuckle drummed his fingers on the table. Nobody had tried to kill him since, but that didn’t mean the conspirators had abandoned their plot. Now was the time to martial his forces and secure his safety against the eventuality of another attempt.
Weapon of Pain (Weapon of Flesh Series Book 5) Page 7