Weapon of Pain (Weapon of Flesh Series Book 5)

by Chris A. Jackson

  “So We were told.” Arbuckle casually surveyed the room, hoping everything was in place as he’d been assured. Save for two imperial guards at the other door, a single footman, the duke, and those who had just come in, it looked empty. I hope Keyfur’s actually here. “Please be seated.”

  Arbuckle sat in the chair opposite the duke. To one side, on a low, highly polished table, sat a crystal decanter of amber liquid and two glasses. Waving the footman forward, he said, “Please, Tessifus, join Us in a spot of this fine brandy. We just spent two hours arguing with recalcitrant clergy, and feel the need for…fortification.”

  “My pleasure, Majesty.”

  The footman poured, and Arbuckle lifted and swirled his snifter. The heady aroma steadied his resolve.

  “You haven’t asked why We summoned you.”

  Tessifus shrugged as he swirled his own drink, then sipped it. “We are the two highest nobles in the empire, majesty. We have much to discuss with regard to our policy…disagreements. As you know, I oppose the changes you’re putting forth. I believe they’ll damage the empire’s economy. If commoners can demand—”

  The emperor raised a forestalling hand. “Please, good duke, We didn’t summon you to discuss policy.” He sipped his brandy, his eyes fixed on the man who would wear his crown should he die.

  “Majesty?” Tessifus curled his lips in a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Why then did you summon me?”

  “The recent attempts on Our life have made Us acutely cognizant of the matter of succession. We are sure you’re aware that, without heirs, if We should fall prey to an assassin, you will be the next Emperor of Tsing.”

  “Of course, Majesty.” The duke lowered his glass, his expression now distinctly worried.

  What do you know? Arbuckle was surprised at the disappointment he felt at the duke’s reaction. Though they weren’t close, they were cousins, and it pained him to consider the possibility of the man’s treason. But then, that’s what they were here to discover.

  “We will speak plainly, Milord Duke. We have recently received a list of names purportedly responsible for the recent assassination attempts. We brought you here because your name is not on this list.” Arbuckle withdrew the roll of parchment that the late-night intruder had given him and held it out.

  Tessifus reached for the note as if it might sprout fangs. His eyes widened as he read it, though his expression remained uncertain. “I don’t understand, Majesty. Why would these nobles and magistrates consort with Hoseph?” The duke’s brandy rippled in his glass. “And why would the lack of my name on this list warrant a summons?”

  “There’s a conspiracy to kill Us, my good duke. We have no hard evidence to prove it, other than this note given to Us by an unknown benefactor. It did, however, prove accurate with regard to Archmage Duveau’s involvement. If your name was on this list, We would not be confiding in you. We do, however, wish to know why these people would want you as their next emperor, yet not take you into their confidence?”

  The glass in Tessifus’ hand trembled, the brandy sloshing up the sides. He placed it carefully on the table and cleared his throat. His lower lip began to quake. “I…cannot say, Majesty.”

  “Cannot, or will not?” Arbuckle leaned forward. What do you know?

  “Cannot. My…” He looked down, then flicked his gaze around the room like a cornered animal looking for escape. When he finally turned his eyes to Arbuckle, they glinted with tears. “My…sons.”

  “Your sons?”

  “They’ve taken my sons!” Tears rolled down the duke’s cheeks. “They said…they would…return them in pieces if I don’t do as they tell me.”

  “Good Gods of Light…” Arbuckle sagged back in his chair, his heart wrenching with sorrow. His own lack of children now seemed a blessing rather than a curse. No one to love…no one to risk. Then another realization surfaced: kidnapping and terror could not be allowed to influence the future of his empire. “We’ve got to find them!”

  His musing turned to panic as Tessifus lunged from his seat. A chime with no notable source rang loud and clear, and a dozen imperial guards materialized around the duke, swords drawn. Master Keyfur appeared at the emperor’s side, whispering words that evaporated before the emperor could comprehend. A scintillating shield of rainbow light snapped into being between the emperor and the duke. The door flew open, slamming against the wall as Ithross and the rest of the guards charged in.

  But Tessifus didn’t even notice the blades at his throat. He wasn’t lunging to attack, but to prostrate himself before his emperor.

  “Please, Majesty! We can’t try to find them! No one can know! They’ll be killed. Worse than killed! He…promised that my wife would receive packages with…pieces. That they would die screaming.” The man pressed his face to the floor at the sovereign’s feet, his shoulders wracked with sobs. “Please…”

  “Guards, stand down. Keyfur, drop your spell.” Arbuckle waved Captain Ithross and his men back. Keyfur snapped his fingers, and the rainbow shield vanished. The emperor knelt and placed a hand on the man’s heaving shoulders. “Who, Tessifus? Who told you this? Who took them?”

  “No one can know!” the duke said, looking around wildly as if only now seeing the guards.

  “No one will,” Arbuckle assured him. “Not one word will leave this room. You must trust Us.”

  It took a long moment, but eventually the duke got himself under control, though his face remained twisted with torment. “The…priest. Hoseph.”

  “That…” Arbuckle gritted his teeth against the curse, longing to call back Demia’s high priest and threaten to tear down his temple brick by brick, but knowing he couldn’t. If Tessifus was right and word got out that he’d learned of the boys’ abduction, they were as good as dead. “Here. Let Us help you up.” He put a hand under the man’s arm and lifted.

  Two guards were there in an instant to help. The duke wavered on shaky legs, looked dazed as they sat him back in his chair.

  “Here.” Arbuckle pressed a snifter of brandy into the duke’s hand. “Drink that down. We need to talk.”

  “Majesty, I…” The snifter trembled.

  “Uh-uh!” Arbuckle pointed to the glass. “Drink!”

  Tessifus complied, coughed, then took another gulp.

  As Arbuckle watched the man wipe his eyes and draw a shuddering breath, he motioned Captain Ithross over. “All is secure here, Captain. Please dismiss your guards and warn them to breathe not one word about this to anyone, not even amongst themselves. If you would please stay, We would have you hear what the duke has to say.”

  “Of course, Majesty.” Ithross nodded to the lieutenant in charge of the detail, and the guards started to file out.

  Arbuckle turned to Keyfur. “I’ll need your help here, too, Keyfur.”

  The mage bowed without a word.

  Arbuckle refilled the duke’s glass and poured an additional splash into his own. “Milord Duke, We need to ask you some questions, and We must insist that Master Keyfur confirm that your answers are truthful. Will you agree to that?”

  The duke nodded, his hands wrapped around his snifter so tightly that Arbuckle worried it might shatter. At a gesture from the emperor, Keyfur withdrew a feather and waved it over the duke’s head. He nodded; the spell was cast.

  "You said that Hoseph was the one who threatened you. Do you believe that he was working alone?”

  Tessifus shut his eyes tight as if thinking, then answered. “No. He definitely said ‘we need your help’.

  Arbuckle held out the parchment once again. “Did he mention any of these people?”

  “No, no.” The duke shook his head without even looking at the list. “I would remember if he named them. I’m acquainted with all of them.”

  Glancing at Master Keyfur, Arbuckle was relieved to see the wizard’s nod of affirmation; the duke told the truth. “Have any of these people mentioned anything to you about a conspiracy?”

  Another sullen shake of the head. �
�We’ve discussed politics, of course. That’s all I have in common with most of them. But none have spoken outright of…treason.”

  Another nod from Keyfur, and Arbuckle sipped his brandy thoughtfully. They had answered the question of Duke Tessifus’ loyalty, but in doing so, a dozen more questions had been raised. “Now let us speak of how we can deal with your…difficulty, Milord Duke.”

  “Deal with it?” Tessifus wiped his runny nose on the sleeve of his dress jacket and sniffed. “How can you, Majesty? Hoseph said if I told anyone, my sons would die. I’ve already killed them.”

  “No, you haven’t. No one will know what you’ve told Us here, We promise you that. And We swear to you on Our oath as Emperor of Tsing, We will spare no effort to bring your sons home to you. We don’t know how yet, but We will explore every possibility.”

  “I…” Tessifus swallowed hard and straightened his shoulders. “I believe you, Majesty. And I thank you. I’m sorry for—”

  “You should not be sorry because you love your sons, cousin. You did not conspire to have Us murdered, and committed no act against Us.”

  “But…your policies. Your edicts… I opposed you at every turn.”

  “Fah!” Arbuckle quaffed his brandy and fixed the man with a firm stare. “That’s just politics, man! Blood is thicker than water, they say, and let Us tell you one thing.” He leaned forward and smiled coldly. “We will not be intimidated by acts of brutality and terror. If Hoseph and his cabal of assassins want blood, We are going to give them blood. They’re going to drown in blood before We’re through with them!”

  Tessifus drew back from the emperor’s vehemence. He blinked and looked down at the snifter in his hand, then downed the entire tot. Wiping his mouth, he clenched his jaw and met his sovereign’s eyes. “Tell me what you wish me to do, Majesty, and I’ll see it done.”

  “First, tell no one what we spoke of here, not even your lady wife.” Arbuckle frowned. “If anyone wonders why I summoned you, tell them that We wanted your support for Our New Accords, but you refused. Feel free to bandy my name about shamelessly and insult my policies; anything that will convince people that we’re at odds. Meanwhile, We’ll see what can be done to find your sons…discreetly.” He stood and held out a hand to the duke.

  “I’ll do it, Majesty.” Tessifus stood and they clasped hands. “I’ll do anything you ask if it means getting my sons back. Thank you!”

  Only after Tennison had shown the duke out did Arbuckle feel the impact of the duke’s words. “I’ll do anything you ask…” It was exactly the same pressure Hoseph was using to control the duke. Did it matter that he had offered to save the boys, whereas Hoseph threatened to harm them? Brandy-laced acid burned his throat, and he swallowed hard, quelling the urge to retch. He wouldn’t manipulate anyone like that. He couldn’t.

  I just did.

  Damn, it feels good to be out of that flat!

  Mya breathed deep of the cool night air, the sea-breeze giving the waterfront a respite from the sweltering heat. The cool slate roof under her hands was dangerously slick with dew, and the air reeked of the river and shore, but neither kept her from reveling in her freedom. Being cooped up day and night had been driving her crazy. Even when she was only a Master Hunter, she’d insisted on going out daily into the city. She couldn’t understand how any of the others managed their operations, only receiving intelligence gathered by others and sending out orders. Where was the fun in that?

  The humid air carried a drunken sea chanty and laughter to her ears. The Wharf District never slept. Unfortunately, that meant more frequent patrols of constables to keep the revelry to a dull roar and violence to a bare minimum.

  Mya shifted her stance and slid down the roof’s slippery slope to the eaves. There, she gripped the edge and peered over. The alley two stories below, though not vacant, was dark enough to keep her hidden. Flipping her legs over the edge, she hung for a moment, and let go. She landed without a sound, confident that the couple in the midst of a vigorous exchange of gold for carnal favors wouldn’t notice her. Their business transaction continued without pause as she slipped through the shadows toward the street.

  Mya had used all of her tricks for the trip from the apartment to the Wharf District, shimmying up gutters, racing across rooftops, and leaping over alleys. Lad had taught her how to best use her magically enhanced skills to avoid detection. Though he might have been able to follow her, no one else could have.

  Mya’s heart panged with the memory of skulking through the city with Lad, his agile grace and quiet confidence making the most difficult task appear easy.

  Forget it! She wrenched her thoughts back to the here and now. Love is a weakness. Pay attention or you’re dead!

  Stepping from the alley, Mya looked around to get her bearings, then headed down the street at a sedate pace, avoiding the light of streetlamps and pulling her knit cap low over her blonde hair.

  Sailors of a dozen nations laughed and drank and sang as they traipsed or stumbled down the streets. Hawkers assailed passersby with inventive cries of, “Come in and see Sea Serpent Sally and her slithering dance!” or “Cold ale, hot steaks, and hotter barmaids!” On a second-floor balcony, a woman squealed with laughter as a man brazenly pawed at her drooping bodice.

  “Take it inside, Doris!” called the leader of a squad of caps striding down the center of the street. “How many times have we got to tell you?”

  “Don’cha worry, Corporal Penkin! You’ll get yer turn!” Doris cackled and dragged the man inside.

  Mya sighed. Wherever there were sailors ashore to spend their sea pay, there would be taverns and brothels to supply the commodities they sought. There was no doubt in her mind that the guild operated a number of these places, or at least got a cut of the profits. But she wondered at Pax’s wisdom in seeking refuge amid such open debauchery. The urchins might have seen a lot in their short lives, but they were still children, and it chilled her to consider what might happen to them in such environs. There were undoubtedly slavers and worse lurking about who wouldn’t balk at abducting a child.

  Mya reached the corner and checked the street names painted on the buildings. Mango Street and Sloop Avenue. The streets here were named after fruits and the avenues after ships. She hadn’t taken much time to learn the Wharf District, and tried to recall her map of the area. Two blocks down and one south, she decided.

  The hubbub quieted as she crossed some imaginary line that separated the bawdier streets from the quieter ones. Though a few sedate drinking and gambling establishments could still be found, the signs above the shops mostly advertised chandleries, rope makers, and riggers. Ship supplies, bronze hardware, blocks, and cleats figured prominently in the dark, barred windows. She finally reached the address from Paxal’s note and wrinkled her forehead in confusion.

  “Tawny’s Maritime Victuals?” she muttered. The street-level storefront sported no windows, just closed double doors below a sign picturing two barrels. Four chimneys thrust up from the roof, and a faint light glowed in one of the two windows on the second floor. “What the hell?”

  Mya knew she hadn’t misread the address, but had expected a boarding house or tenement. She considered climbing up to look in the window, but decided against it. Not only would she risk notice by some passerby, but Paxal and the urchins might have rigged traps as they had in the orphanage, and she didn’t want to catch a crossbow bolt in the chest by accident. Not knowing what else to do, she walked up to the door and knocked loudly.

  “Who’s there?”

  Mya immediately recognized the raspy voice from the window above. Stepping back from the door, she looked up. “Who else would be knocking on your door at this hour, Pax?”

  Paxal stuck his head out and grinned. “Be right down.”

  She heard him bark orders, then small feet trundling down stairs. A light shone through the crack under the door just before a heavy wooden thump sounded from the other side, then three heavy clacks as bolts were thrown.

 
This has to be the most secure building on the street, she thought as she waited patiently.

  Finally, the door opened and a grinning face leaned through. “Miss Mya!” Digger pulled the door wide and motioned her inside with a grin. A wave of heat blasted her in the face as she stepped through.

  “Good to see you, Digger. Why is it so blessed hot in—” An assault of capering urchins quelled her question. They chattered so fast that she couldn’t’ understand a word. She found herself laughing at their antics as they hopped around and gesticulated wildly.

  “Quiet, you little ruffians. Let her breathe!” Paxal came down the stairs, his smile belying his harsh commands. “Bolt the door, Digger, and let’s get upstairs where we can breathe.”

  As Digger threw the three metal bolts and lifted a heavy oak bar to the brackets across the door, Mya looked around the sweltering room. The flour-dusted floor was crowded with long, low tables and rows of barrels stamped with the shop’s name. Four large brick ovens dominated the back wall, heat still radiating from them.

  “A bakery?”

  “We make ship’s biscuit!” Nails announced, picking up a small disk from one of the tables. “Hard as nails and tastes like chalk, but sailors eat ’em like bread.”

  “I see.” She looked askance at Paxal. “Why…”

  “Why not?” He shrugged and motioned for her to follow him upstairs. “The owner was lookin’ for workers, and there’s a loft above the place. Seemed like a win-win to me. The ruffians work the dough and pack the biscuits after they’re baked. The baker’s glad for the help, and we can stay upstairs.” At the top, he opened a door and stepped through.

  Mya followed, trailed by the urchins, who shut the door behind them. The upper floor was indeed cooler, the salty sea breeze wafting in though open windows, all of which, she noticed, were strung with catgut and bells. The only furnishings were a table surrounded by chairs and a barrel of water in the corner.

  “The owner doesn’t live here?”

  “Cripes, no, nor the baker. There’s only beds for the hired help, and when a gambling house down the street went up in flames, the previous crew of workers packed up and left.” He opened another door and showed her a room outfitted with bunks. “Home sweet home.”