Weapon of Pain (Weapon of Flesh Series Book 5)

by Chris A. Jackson

  Demia, take me! he pleaded, but the Keeper of the Slain either deigned not to listen, or had other plans for her priest. Regardless, the agony confirmed one important fact: I’m alive.

  Hoseph rose unwillingly into full consciousness. The chill of cool stone pressed against his back. The sour taste of vomit and an overlying astringent tang coated his tongue. Blinking open his eyes, he peered through dim lamplight into the spectacled and disgruntled visage of Master Alchemist Kittal.

  “He’s back.” Kittal wrinkled his nose and stood.

  “What…” Hoseph struggled to recall where he was. Chime, noise, panic, pain, darkness… “I was poisoned.”

  “As a matter of fact, you were drugged. Luckily for you, I have an antidote.” Kittal wiggled an empty vial between his fingers. “If it had been poison, one of my poisons, you’d be dead.”

  Swallowing the bile that threatened to rise in his throat, Hoseph assessed his condition. Kittal was right; the weakness and disorientation of the poison were gone. His nausea and pain were simply the familiar aftermath of using his talisman.

  “Why drug me? Why not use a real poison?”

  “I told you Mya wouldn’t slaughter guild members unnecessarily. You were just lucky; if the shooter had realized it was you, it probably would have been poison.” Lakshmi’s shrewish tone pounded like a hammer on his headache. She sat on a stool in one corner, her wizened features once again calm.

  Hoseph glanced around. He was lying on the floor of a workshop or storage chamber. Bottles, jars, vials, and urns competed for space upon shelves that lined the walls. This didn’t look anything like the Alchemist’s office. He levered himself up to a sitting position, wincing at the pain in his backside. He felt the wound, but the bolt had been removed.

  “One of Mya’s assassins shot you with a dart. I didn’t recognize him.”

  Hoseph had—Dee—but everything after that was a blur. “What happened? How did we get away?”

  “You brought us to Kittal’s, then Kittal brought us here.” Lakshmi nodded respectfully to the Master Alchemist. “He saved our lives.”

  Kittal frowned at the empty vial hanging on a chain around his neck. “Don’t expect that trick again any time soon. This potion is expensive, onerous to prepare, and loses potency over time. I make it only when necessary and save it for emergencies.”

  “Where are we?” Hoseph massaged his temples and tried to concentrate.

  “One of my repositories.” Kittal squinted at Hoseph. “And you’re welcome for the rescue and antidote.”

  Offering gratitude for an action that was clearly as much self-centered as altruistic struck Hoseph as ludicrous. “I won’t try to flatter you with false sentimentality. Just as I saved Lakshmi’s life because I need her to fulfill the goals we’ve set, you saved mine for the same reason.”

  Hoseph tried to rise, only to have the pain behind the orbs redouble. He gasped, quickly regretting the lapse as Kittal leveled sharp eyes at him.

  “You’re in pain?"

  Hoseph tried to wave it off; he’d be damned if he’d let these two know how incapacitating it was for him to use his talisman. His ability to travel instantaneously anywhere the empire was his unique contribution to the guild. Without that…well, they might choose to practice their deadly profession on him.

  "Just a headache I had before this all started. The drug or the smoke made it worse, not to mention getting shot.”

  Kittal selected a non-descript brown bottle off a shelf and handed it to Hoseph. “Put a drop—only a drop, mind you—on your tongue.”

  Hoseph examined the lettering on the white paper label. Whether it was some strange arcane script or a code particular to alchemists, he had no idea, but he couldn’t read it. He wondered briefly if Kittal would poison him for his lack of gratitude. No, that would be absurd. Why save him only to kill him? He unscrewed the top and opened it. Attached to the bottom of the cap was a small glass tube filled with a greenish liquid. He touched the tube to his tongue. A minty, fruity flavor suffused his mouth, banishing his pain as quickly as it dispelled the vile taste of vomit.

  “That’s amazing!” His headache was gone, his nausea, even the pain in his backside. It was all just…gone. He stood easily and without dizziness, silently berating himself for his innate aversion to asking for help. He should have known to ask an Alchemist for a cure to his affliction. “A healing elixir?”

  “Healing and restorative. A formulation of my own. You’re welcome.” Though Kittal’s words were sharp, his features expressed satisfaction at Hoseph’s reaction. The Alchemist plucked the bottle from Hoseph’s fingers, capped it, and placed it back on the shelf. “Now that we’re all conscious, we need to consider what happened. Lakshmi and I were attacked at precisely the same moment, a concerted effort by Blades and Enforcers led by Mya.”

  “It seems obvious that we were betrayed,” Lakshmi said. “The force was too overwhelming and too knowledgeable not to have inside information. I would wager that Master Embree has shifted his loyalties.” Her eyes slid sideways to focus on Hoseph. “It’s not difficult to understand his motivation.”

  Hoseph felt too good to put up with any of the Master Inquisitor’s sly accusations. “If you’re implying that Embree’s treason is somehow my fault, I—”

  “Treason depends on your point of view,” Kittal interrupted. “Hoseph, you murdered our guildmaster for acknowledging Mya as Grandmaster. Mya, of course, murdered the previous Grandmaster to usurp his position. Who is right and who is wrong is irrelevant!” He shifted his gaze to Lakshmi. “As is pointing fingers and laying blame.”

  “Point taken.” Lakshmi nodded contritely.

  Hoseph glanced first at Lakshmi, then Kittal. Well, well, well, the cat is declawed.

  It occurred to him that he had only ever seen Lakshmi in her own headquarters, among her own people, where she reigned supreme. Maybe that’s why she always arranges for meetings at her place, so she holds the upper hand. He tucked this valuable insight away for future consideration.

  “The formula is simple, each side has their own goals,” the Alchemist explained. “We desire an imperial Grandmaster, whereas Mya wants the Grandmaster’s position for herself. Barring Mya’s ascension to the throne—an impossibility due to her low birth, among other things—these two goals are mutually exclusive. The key to winning this war is not in arguing over who is a traitor and who is not, but in foiling the other side. Mya has tipped the scales in her favor by recruiting Embree and rescuing two of our three hostages.”

  “But not the most important one,” Lakshmi insisted. “I’ll step up his training so that we can institute control sooner rather than later, but it’ll still be years, at least.”

  Hoseph threw back his head in frustration, muttering a silent prayer at the ceiling. “We’ll never be able to institute control with Mya around. As I’ve said from the beginning, we need to kill her!”

  Lakshmi slid off her stool and spread her hands wide. “How, Hoseph? She’s resisted every effort to kill her—yours and ours—and after today, I see how.” She turned to the Master Alchemist, wide-eyed. “You should have seen her, Kittal. She punched through a solid oak door like it was parchment, shrugged off injuries instantly, flew down the stairs as if she had wings! I’d heard rumors about her abilities, but didn’t truly believe them.”

  “Believe them,” Hoseph warned. “I saw her fight the emperor’s blademasters. She took wounds that should have killed her, yet her attacks never waned. She moves like lightning, and fights like…” Like Lad did, he realized.

  Kittal turned to Hoseph. “There’s certainly magic of some sort behind her abilities. Do you know its origin? Performance-enhancing potions, perhaps?”

  “I don’t know for certain, but for a time she wielded Saliez’s human weapon. He was crafted by a master runemage. Mya may have sought to copy that enchantment somehow.” A thought occurred to Hoseph as he mind ran unhindered by pain or fatigue for the first time in recent memory. “You obviously deal w
ith magic to some degree, Kittal. Can you counteract rune magic?”

  “Without knowing the precise spells employed, I would have no way of designing a specific counter-potion.” His eyes flicked to the many bowls, vials, jars, and bottles lining the shelves. “But I doubt she’s invulnerable.”

  “Perhaps if we captured her,” Lakshmi mused, “we could study her, unravel her mysteries. If we could duplicate her abilities… The world’s greatest army couldn’t stand in the way of a host of superhuman assassins.”

  “Out of the question,” Hoseph said. “Trying to capture Mya is too dangerous. We have to kill her and be done with it. But to kill her, we have to catch her unaware, which means finding where she sleeps. Lakshmi, how far have your people gotten with that constable in charge of investigating Lady T’s murder?”

  “Sergeant Benjamin?” The Master Inquisitor shrugged. “According to my sources, he’s uncouth and unbribable. He lives alone and likes the ladies, but all his liaisons are aboveboard at reputable brothels. He has few real friends. He drinks, but not to excess. and knows the city like the back of his hand, both north and south of the river.”

  Hoseph waited a moment, but no more information was forthcoming. Irritated, he asked, “Where does he go? Who does he see? My source tells me that he’s meeting with Mya’s assistant on a regular basis.”

  Lakshmi’s eyebrow cocked sharply. “How should I know? Inquisitors specialize in questioning people, reading between the lines, teasing information from presumably innocent conversations. We don’t stalk the streets tracking constables. That’s a job for Hunters.”

  “And if your theory about today’s attacks is correct, then we no longer have Hunters.”

  “And whose fault is that?”

  Kittal stepped between Hoseph and Lakshmi, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “Stop it! Arguing gets us nowhere.”

  “If you want my Inquisitors to—”

  “Forget it!” Hoseph spat. Blessed shadow of death, soothe me… “I’ll do it myself.” He glanced at the brown bottle perched upon the shelf. With Kittal’s potion to remedy his pain, there was no longer any barrier to Hoseph’s travel through the Sphere of Shadow. Besides, he could identify Mya’s assistant more easily than anyone. I owe you, Dee… “You do at least know where Sergeant Benjamin lives, don’t you?”

  “Yes. He has a flat above a brothel on the corner of Greenleaf and Southshore in the Dreggars Quarter.”

  “I’ll find him and follow him, then. He’ll lead me to Mya’s assistant, and then I’ll follow him to Mya. Done!”

  “Very well.” Kittal looked from one to the other. “If you can learn where Mya lives, then Lakshmi and I will work on a plan to bring her down.”

  “Frontal assaults don’t work,” Hoseph reminded him.

  “Nooo…” Lakshmi tapped her lips with one long nail, “but a trap might. We have something Mya wants, and she won’t stop until she gets it. We can lure her in.”

  “No!” Hoseph stabbed a finger at the Inquisitor. “You won’t use the last Tessifus boy as bait. He’s crucial to our plan.”

  “I know he’s crucial, Hoseph!” Lakshmi regarded him with narrowed eyes. “Do you have a better idea?”

  Despite his best efforts, Hoseph did not.

  “A trap is worth a try.” Kittal nodded absently. “We can minimize the risk. Rest assured, Hoseph, if Mya walks into a trap of my construction, she won’t be walking out again.”

  Hoseph considered Kittal. Perhaps the pragmatic Alchemist was the one he should be dealing with, not the egomaniacal Inquisitor. “Fine. I’ll find Mya. You two think up a plan to kill her.” He flicked the silver skull into his hand. “Summon me if something important occurs.”

  Hoseph muttered the word of invocation and felt his corporeal body begin to fade. He swirled his cloaks dramatically, mist spreading wide around him. A tendril of darkness drifted over the shelf of bottles and vials. When it dissipated, the brown bottle containing the elixir was gone.

  Arbuckle girded his impatience as the footman finally poured his blackbrew, his mouth watering in anticipation of that first euphoric sip. He snatched up the cup before the servant could stir in the cream and downed a careless gulp. Bliss…

  “May all the Gods of Light bless whoever first discovered blackbrew!” He downed another swallow and put the cup down as a second footman placed his breakfast before him. He’d been working on far too few hours of sleep lately, but a peaceful and refreshing breakfast would set him to rights. The heavenly aroma of eggs, bacon, toasted bread, and pastries rumbled his stomach. Even an emperor has to eat. His fork was halfway to his mouth when a knock at his chamber door interrupted.

  “Please continue, Majesty,” Barris insisted. “The guards will see who it is.”

  Before the guards stationed there could even reach the door, a second knock sounded, harder and more insistent than the first. When the guard turned the latch, Captain Ithross burst through.

  “Your Majesty.” The captain bowed quickly. “Forgive the early intrusion, but we’ve received another…um…special delivery from your coronation acquaintance.” His eyes flicked to the footmen waiting unobtrusively near the table.

  “Really?” Arbuckle put down his fork. His faith in Miss Moirin had been proven yet again, despite Ithross’ concerns. He rose and dropped his napkin onto his chair. “Take Us to them.”

  “Majesty!” Baris looked aghast at the untouched food. “Your breakfast…”

  “Baris, We’re sure there are enough eggs and bacon in the kitchens to make another breakfast after I deal with this…issue.” Arbuckle downed the remainder of his cup of blackbrew and turned to Ithross. “Lead on!”

  “Yes, Majesty.” Ithross nodded and they stepped into the hallway, surrounded by imperial guards. “I’ve sent for Master Corvecosi, but still haven’t informed…the other interested party.”

  “See to that, Captain. We assume the package is being examined in the same chamber as the previous one?”

  “Yes, Majesty, and we kept it quiet.”

  “Good. On your way then. We’re adequately escorted.” He gestured to the grim guards.

  “Very well.” Ithross bowed and hurried off.

  On his way through the palace, Arbuckle considered that he probably could have finished his breakfast before attending to the matter. His presence wasn’t required at all, but he wanted to personally congratulate Miss Moirin on another stunning success. He’d been thinking about her a lot lately.

  The guards stationed at the door to the receiving chamber snapped to attention as the emperor approached.

  “Is Master Corvecosi in there?” he asked.

  “Yes, Majesty.” The sergeant in charge reached for the door latch.

  Arbuckle held up a hand. “We don’t want to disturb them. We’re sure Captain Ithross would have mentioned if there was a problem. We’ll see the others.” He strode toward the second door. More bows, and the guards ushered him inside.

  Arbuckle glanced around in surprise. Four imperial guards watched over only one person, Miss Moirin’s assistant, Dee. “Where’s Miss Moirin?”

  “Your Majesty.” The young man bowed stiffly. He wore common attire this time, simple trousers and shirt instead of the flamboyant garb of before. “Miss Moirin regrets that she’s unable to come in person. Another matter required her attention.”

  Arbuckle smiled to cover his disappointment. “Master Dee, isn’t it? We’re very glad to see you well. We trust your mistress is likewise.”

  “She was when I last saw her, Majesty.”

  “When you last saw her?” Arbuckle didn’t like the man’s choice of words. “Meaning that she might not be well now?”

  “May I,” Dee glanced pointedly at the attending guards, “speak plainly, Majesty?”

  “Please do. All here are privy to the mission that’s been entrusted to Miss Moirin.”

  The young man’s gaze hardened and his tone became accusative. “Miss Moirin takes terrible risks at your behest with little heed
for her own safety. She thinks she can’t back down from an imperial request!”

  The guards stiffened at the perceived insult to their sovereign, but Arbuckle waved them down. “You think We’ve put her in danger by asking her to rescue these boys?”

  “An imperial request is all but a command to a commoner, Majesty.” Dee took a breath and let it out slowly. “But Miss Moirin makes her own decisions on which jobs she’ll take on.”

  Dee hadn’t answered the question, but his tone made his opinion on the matter clear. An awkward silence weighted the air while Arbuckle considered the younger man. Tall and good looking, with an air of quiet competence, Dee’s gaze was unsettling.

  Arbuckle finally broke the silence. “And yet the task seems to be progressing well.”

  “Well, we have recovered another of the Tessifus boys. Miss Moirin’s gone to see if perhaps the third boy was also recovered by…some of our colleagues. I don’t know how likely that is, but she was hopeful.”

  “As are We, Master Dee. With luck, We’ll soon be thanking her personally.”

  “If she survives, Majesty.”

  Arbuckle saw it then, the emotion in Dee’s eyes. The young man seemed to care more deeply for Miss Moirin than a purely professional relationship would warrant. His manner bespoke a subtle challenge, as if he regarded Arbuckle as…what? A meddler? An interloper? A rival?

  Am I? Arbuckle caught himself, unsure of his own feelings. He had been thinking about Miss Moirin in a different light lately, impressed with her abilities and her poise, grateful to her for not only saving his life, but also for accepting responsibility for the Tessifus boys’ rescue. But was it more than that? That was a question that bore consideration.

  “Tell your mistress that We wish her every bit of luck the gods can send, Master Dee. We await her report.” He turned and walked out without waiting for a reply.

  Chapter XVI

  Mya took a deep breath and nodded. “Bring them in.”

  Jolee opened the door and jerked a thumb. She still wore the bloody shirt from the raid, though her shoulder had been bandaged. The captured Alchemists and Inquisitors filed in, escorted by glowering Blades and Enforcers. There were too many people to fit in Clemson’s office, so they were using one of the larger training rooms. The prisoners lined up in the center of the room. Most looked at the floor, the walls, anywhere but at Mya. Only a few glared defiantly.