Weapon of Pain (Weapon of Flesh Series Book 5)

by Chris A. Jackson

  “It turns out that these particular three boys have quite a lot to do with our guild war. Hoseph intends to use them to pressure Duke Tessifus, who’s next in line for the throne. If his attempts on the emperor’s life had been successful, he’d already be holding the reins of the empire.”

  Clemson cocked her head. “Establishing the guild’s control over the throne.”

  Mya shook her head. “Hoseph would run things for his own benefit, not the guild’s.” She voiced a question that had long been on her mind. “Did you know that the previous emperor was Grandmaster?”

  The two masters both shook their heads, and Clemson said, “We suspected so after he died. Their simultaneous deaths were too coincidental.”

  “When Hoseph showed up after Lady T was killed, that pretty much confirmed it,” Noncey added. “Why else would the emperor’s spiritual advisor be involved with the guild?”

  “Although,” Clemson smiled slyly, “you seem to be cultivating your own relationship with our new emperor, saving his life at the coronation.”

  “I found out Hoseph was behind the attempt. That was the only reason I needed.”

  The masters smiled and nodded their agreement.

  Mya made up her mind; the two seemed honest, and their stories made sense. And they’re all I’ve got. Muscles she didn’t even realize were tense suddenly relaxed, and she pushed ahead. “We have a new objective.”

  Noncey grinned. “Other than killing that lunatic priest, you mean?”

  “Yes, but that could be a bonus.”

  “And this objective has to do with the boys?” Clemson asked.

  “Yes.” Mya sipped her rum. “We need to get them back. I don’t suppose either of you knows where they’re being held.”

  “No.” Noncey frowned. “But if we’re to get them back, we’ll have to infiltrate Lakshmi’s organization. That’d be hard enough if we weren’t at war with her.”

  “I know.” Mya swirled her glass and inhaled the heady aroma. “They’re probably being held separately. At least, that’s what I’d do; spread the risk if one’s discovered. So, we need information on where the boys might be. Don’t discount anything. There’s no way to know what might be important.”

  “Of course.” Clemson nodded.

  “Well, I won’t keep you.” Mya tossed back the rest of her rum and stood. “I’ll send Dee by regularly. You can tell him anything to pass along to me. Thanks for the drink.”

  “My pleasure, Grandmaster.” Clemson stood and took Mya’s empty glass, glancing sidelong at Noncey with a curious smile on her lips.

  “Something funny?” Mya asked, flushing as she suspected a private joke at her expense.

  “No, Grandmaster, but we were discussing earlier how unaccustomed we are to a Grandmaster, or even a guildmaster, for that matter, who plays such an active role in guild affairs. It’s…refreshing.”

  “Get used to it. I’m the hands-on type.” Mya started for the door, then turned back. “I’m also the type who appreciates being told when I’ve made a colossal blunder, so don’t hesitate to tell me when I’m wrong. I’m still learning about the guild in Tsing, and I’m not your former Grandmaster.”

  “Very well,” Clemson nodded respectfully, her action mirrored by Noncey. Yes, the two were a perfect pair.

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  Mya departed with her mood much lighter than when she arrived. Nodding to the guard stationed at the bottom of the stairs, she started up toward the distillery.

  Crack!

  Mya’s first thought was of Dee and his little crossbows. Dee’s not here! She leapt straight up, trying to evade as Lad had taught her. Unfortunately, her assailant was too close.

  A finger-thick bolt punched into the middle of her back just below her shoulder blades, shattering bone. She felt no pain, of course, only the sudden and worrisome sensation of…nothing below her waist. Her legs were completely numb, useless. Mya wheeled her arms, trying to catch herself, but crashed facedown onto the stairs.

  My spine! Her heart hammered in her chest, waves of nausea and weakness washing over her. It will heal! she reminded herself. But first she had to remove the bolt. Gripping a stair with one hand, she reached back with the other. From the corner of her eye, she saw the guard at the bottom of the stairs pulling out another bolt to reload his weapon.

  Assassin? Mya’s mind reeled. She’d recognized the guard from her previous visit, assumed he was guild-bound. They can’t touch me!

  The click of the crossbow being cocked jarred her out of her shock.

  Figure it out later, Mya. He’s going to kill you unless you do something… But what could she do? Her legs were useless, and she couldn’t get a good grip on the bolt to pull it out. Think, Mya! She slowed her fumbling fingers, then went limp, holding her breath and praying to any god who would listen that the guard thought her dead. Got to get him close enough…

  The brush of his boots on the stairs coincided with the click of a crossbow bolt sliding into place.

  Now!

  Mya put both hands on the stairs, cocked her elbows, and thrust with all her might. Up and back she flew, right into her assailant. The impact drove the bolt through her body until its bloody head protruded from her stomach an inch below her sternum. Too close…

  The crossbow cracked and another bolt punched through her leg as she and her assailant tumbled down the stairs and crashed into the floor at the bottom. Thankfully, Mya landed on top. Air whooshed from his lungs, but he wasn’t knocked senseless, as she’d hoped. A strong arm wrapped around her throat, and he shifted beneath her.

  He’s going for his dagger! Mya reached back and grabbed his wrist as the blade came down at her throat. Twisting it sharply, bones snapped beneath her fingers, and the dagger clattered to the floor. He screamed. Without a pause, she drove her elbow back as hard as she could. His ribs shattered, and the scream died to a soft wheeze. Still, the arm around her neck didn’t loosen.

  Tough bastard… She couldn’t breathe and was weakening quickly from blood loss.

  Mya gripped the bloody head of the crossbow bolt transfixing her torso and wrenched it out of her body. Gagging on the bile and blood that surged into her throat, she thrust the bloody bolt point first over her shoulder. Something crunched, and the arm around her throat went slack.

  Mya dragged a breath into her lungs and flung herself off the man. She reached for a dagger, but it wasn’t necessary. One of the guard’s eyes had been pierced by the crossbow bolt, the other stared blankly at the ceiling.

  “Olsen, what the hell’s all the—” Clemson and Noncey stood in the doorway to her office, staring wide-eyed at the dead assassin and Mya each in turn.

  Mya lurched up, her legs tingling as her severed spine knitted. Her knees wobbled, but she drew another dagger and put her back to the wall. Steadying herself, she swallowed blood and stared at the two masters. Had her trust been so misplaced? Not two minutes ago she would have sworn that they were on her side. As she watched them, however, her thoughts of treason and conspiracy faded; the shock in their eyes could not be feigned.

  “Grandmaster, what…”

  “Your man just shot me in the back, Master Clemson.” She pushed off the wall and fought to remain upright. “Why hasn’t he signed a blood contract?”

  “All my people have signed blood contracts!” Clemson strode forward, Noncey at her heels wielding two curved daggers. Other doors along the hallway opened and sleepy-eyed assassins emerged.

  “Then he must be an imposter.” Mya slowly lowered her daggers, but kept her eyes on the rest of the assassins. She was in no condition to fight. “Maybe some kind of disguise or magic?”

  Clemson knelt to inspect the dead assassin, then looked up to Mya. “No, this is Olsen. He’s been a junior journeyman with me for more than a year.”

  “Then how the hell could he shoot me in the back?” Mya began to shake as the implications chilled her blood.

  “Grandmaster, you’re still wounded!” Noncey pointed
to the crossbow bolt sticking out of Mya’s thigh. “You need—”

  Mya wrenched the bolt from her leg and flung it aside, her leg muscle twitching as the wound closed and healed. “What I need is to know how in the Nine Hells a member of this guild could shoot the Grandmaster in the back if he’s signed a blood contract!”

  Clemson stood and held out her hands, shaking her head helplessly. “Grandmaster, I don’t know. No one gets in without a blood con—” The Master Enforcer’s face paled and she glanced around at her assassins. “Jolee, come here!”

  “Yes, Mistress.” The hulking woman strode over.

  “Slap me,” Clemson ordered.

  Jolee looked aghast, her long, lower canines jutting from between her lips as she frowned. “Mistress, I—”

  “Do it!” the Master Enforcer snapped.

  The Enforcer lashed out with one meaty hand, the open palm smacking Clemson’s cheek hard enough to knock her back a step. The blow was certainly not as hard as Jolee could have made it, but even so, it left a red print on the Master’s cheek.

  “Impossible!” Noncey’s incredulous tone mirrored the shock on everyone’s faces.

  “Obviously it is possible.” Mya’s legs threatened to collapse beneath her, due to blood loss or the shock of what she’d just witnessed, she didn’t know. She might have believed someone destroyed one assassin’s contract so he could kill her, but if Jolee could strike Clemson… How many others? she wondered. All?

  Clemson seemed to be reading Mya’s thoughts. “Alek, you, too. Slap me.”

  A young man, barely old enough to shave, stepped forward with wide eyes. Hesitantly, he reached out and also slapped his master’s cheek.

  “Jolee’s been with me for years, Alex a couple of months. It doesn’t seem to make a difference.” The Master Enforcer shook her head.

  Mya’s mind whirled. “The attack on the orphanage! Those were Hunters and Alchemists, not mercenaries!” There was only one possible answer. “Someone’s destroyed the blood contracts.”

  “Gods and devils preserve us.” Clemson’s oath drew Mya’s ire like a magnet.

  “We’d best see to preserving ourselves, Master Clemson.” Mya fingered the bloody hole in her shirt. “If we don’t, I doubt the gods will take up the slack. Where are the blood contracts kept? Who’s in charge of them? In Twailin, all new contracts were given to the Grandmaster’s collection agent.”

  Clemson shrugged. “We never knew where the repository was. All contracts went to Lady T, and from there…” She shrugged again.

  To the Grandmaster? Mya wondered if that was how the Emperor knew about the Assassins Guild. But no, if the contracts had been discovered in the palace, Lady T would have been in the dungeon, not seated beside the new emperor at his coronation reception.

  “Hoseph…” Noncey’s face flushed red. “It must be! No sane assassin would destroy the contracts. It’d mean chaos. Every junior journeyman with a grudge against a superior would be free to seek revenge.”

  “The other factions must already know this since they staged an attack on me, so there’ll be as much mayhem in their ranks as in ours.” Mya gritted her teeth. “Hoseph’s destroying the entire guild just because he wants me dead.”

  “He’s neither sane nor an assassin.” Clemson looked around at her Enforcers. “Jolee, get rid of Olsen’s corpse and spread word of what’s happened. There’s no point in hiding it. The damage is done.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  Mya turned to the two masters. “This doesn’t change our new mission, but it does mean that we have to be careful who knows what we’re planning. The other factions have already infiltrated our side.” She jerked her chin toward Olsen’s body. “We can’t afford for them to know our plans, so make damned sure that your people are loyal. And let it be known that anyone exploiting the destruction of the blood contracts by attacking a superior will be executed.”

  “Yes, Grandmaster,” Clemson and Noncey said in unison.

  “Do you want an escort home, Grandmaster?” Clemson asked, glancing around at her Enforcers.

  “No.” Mya shot the master a level stare. “I’m safer alone. Right now I don’t know who I can trust.”

  Clemson reddened in embarrassment. “I understand, and I’m truly sorry that one of my people has let me down…let us down. It won’t happen again.”

  “Make sure it doesn’t.” Mya swept her eyes over the junior assassins, noted the awe—and a little fear—in their eyes. Perhaps it was just as well that they saw her recover from the seemingly lethal wounds; it would make them think twice about crossing her. She started up the stairs. The tingling was gone, but her legs still felt weak. It was going to be a long walk home.

  Who can I trust? she wondered, but realized that she already knew the answer to that question. She could trust no one.

  Dee flexed his aching hands. He’d fired bolts into the padded chair until fatigue worsened his aim more than practice improved it. Still, it hadn’t been enough to keep his mind off Mya.

  I sent her out without a word. Why didn’t I say goodbye? In this business, surviving to meet again was never a sure thing. But his hurt feelings had sealed his lips until after she’d left. Without me, because I’m apparently too slow.

  Dee sat back in his chair, his fingers drumming a sharp tattoo on the wood as he tried to think straight. When Mya was at the palace, he’d worried about her reaction to his kiss. Then, when she blew it off as part of his husbandly guise, he wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that she had misinterpreted his intention, or disappointed because she thought so little of it. It was the same thing with her remarks as he practiced. Were they sincere compliments or snide references to his lack of fighting skills?

  Damn! He slammed a hand on the table. Why was it so hard to sort out his feelings for this woman?

  He’d told her he wouldn’t wait up, yet here he sat. He wanted to tell her he couldn’t keep up a dispassionate relationship, but if she walked in the door and asked him for a casual romp to help her sleep—no emotions allowed—he’d be in bed with her two minutes later. Dee couldn’t help himself; when Mya beckoned, he jumped.

  Dee literally jumped when the bolt clacked and Mya burst into the apartment. Before he could ask how the meeting went, he saw the blood on her hands, the holes in her clothing, and leapt from his chair. “Mya! What—”

  “We’ve got a problem.” She slammed the door and started unbuttoning her shirt as she strode for the bathroom. “Hoseph destroyed the blood contracts.”

  “He…” Dee swallowed against a sudden lump in his throat as he followed. “You’re sure?”

  She stripped off her shirt and tossed it at him. “A journeyman Enforcer just shot me in the back with a crossbow. I’m pretty sure.”

  Dee examined the shirt. There was a hole in the back and another in the front, both barely halfway down and dead center. His skin went cold, his knees suddenly shaky as he followed her into the bathroom.

  “Mya, this was very close to your heart!” Pierce my heart or take off my head, Mya had told him once in one of their languid moments, when both were sated and on the edge of sleep, everything else will heal.

  “Tell me about it!” Mya kicked off her boots, then shucked out of her pants and tossed them to him as well. “Bastard shot me in the leg, too, before I killed him.” She started unwinding her blood-soaked wrappings. “I liked those pants!”

  “You could have been killed!”

  Mya stopped, eyebrows raised and a sarcastic sneer on her face. “Really? You think so?” She resumed unwrapping, her beautiful tattoos smeared with blood. “Stop staring at me and stating the obvious. Put the shirt to soak in cold water. I don’t know what you can do with the pants, since they’re suede. I’ll put the wrappings to soak in here after I bathe.”

  “Okay.” He whirled and went to the kitchen.

  Water began splashing into the tub in the bathroom as he put the shirt to soak in a pot of cold, soapy water. Dee inspected the pants; only one hole, b
ut it was ragged; he’d have to stitch in a new swatch to mend them properly. First he’d have to clean them, but for that he had to pick up the right supplies. For now, he hung them over a chair and went back to the bathroom.

  Mya sat in the tub, scrubbing at her skin with a brush. The water must have been cold; she was shivering. She looked up as Dee came in, and her expression unnerved him. Mya always presented an unassailable front—cocky, confident, in charge. Never before had he seen such fear in her eyes.

  Raising one hand from the blood-tinged water, she presented the obsidian and gold band on her finger. “It’s useless, Dee. Instead of protecting me, it makes me a target. And I still can’t take it off.” She tugged at the Grandmaster’s ring. “It’s fucking useless!”

  Dee was speechless. He had no idea how to deal with this unfamiliar, uncertain Mya. No idea what to say. He stared at her as she stared at the ring.

  Gradually, Mya’s fearful expression hardened and her eyes narrowed. She slammed a fist down on the edge of the tub.

  “I will not let Hoseph take this guild from me!”

  That’s the Mya I know! Dee thought with relief as he sagged against the doorjamb. “You know that all the contracts were destroyed? Not just the contract for this one person?

  Mya nodded and started brushing the blood from under her fingernails. “Clemson ordered two of her people to hit her. They did it with no problem. We’ve got to assume the worst.”

  “And you know it was Hoseph who destroyed the contracts?”

  “It only makes sense. How else could he use the guild against me? But he obviously didn’t consider the ramifications to the guild.” She snorted a laugh. “I don’t know if he’s mad, desperate, or just ignorant.”

  “The guild will fall apart,” Dee concluded. “Without the blood contracts, people will flee right and left, abandon their posts.”