Weapon of Pain (Weapon of Flesh Series Book 5)

by Chris A. Jackson

  Many sported injuries from the fights, but their wounds had been tended, and none bore signs of beating. Mya had forbidden any mistreatment. Instead, she had ordered that they be left alone, crowded into one room with ample opportunity to talk amongst themselves. Inquisitors were trained in torture and the manipulation of minds, and Mya knew they would dream up a much worse interrogation scenario than she had planned for them. In fact, she was counting on it.

  I hope this works.

  Mya strolled forward, stopped a few steps away from the line of prisoners, and crossed her arms. “You have no idea how lucky you are. In fact, you’re the luckiest members of this guild, right now.”

  Eyes focused on her, surprise etched on their faces.

  “Don’t think so?” She counted off on her fingers. “You’re out of the fight until the war’s over. You’re going to be fed and kept healthy. You won’t be faced with the decision of whether or not to kill someone who was an associate only weeks ago. All you’ve got to do is consider one question: what kind of future do you want for the guild?”

  The expressions on the prisoners’ faces ranged from quizzical to confused to worried and, in at least one case, suspicious. They didn’t understand, but she was about to explain.

  “Do any of you even know why we’re fighting each other?”

  “You murdered the Grandmaster,” said a grim-faced woman with the sly look of an Inquisitor.

  “Actually, I didn’t, though I was there when he died. The story your masters told you is that I came up from Twailin to kill the Grandmaster and usurp his position. That story is wrong. I arrived as a loyal assassin—a Master Hunter like Embree here—and ended up fighting for my life because I disagreed with the Grandmaster.”

  Mya began to pace slowly, never averting her gaze from the prisoners. “By now, you know that our former Grandmaster was the emperor. You all grew up under his rule. I imagine that many of you knew people who ended up in the Imperial Plaza, hung, whipped, or pilloried for no reason other than trying to survive. Maybe you joined the Guild to escape that, but he ran the guild exactly the same way! Even if you did a good job, achieved the goals he set for you, you might still end up in his dungeon. He’d flay the flesh your bones just because he enjoyed it.”

  A vision of Kiesha’s bloody, mutilated body rose unbidden, and Mya had to force her mind back to the job at hand.

  “His entire rule was about exerting control for the betterment of himself and his nobles. And the guild”—Mya stopped pacing and waved an inclusive hand—“all of us, were his means of doing that.

  “That’s the kind of guild that Lakshmi and Kittal are working to keep, but they’re not the real problem here. The problem is Hoseph. He had power under the previous Grandmaster, and he’ll do anything to get that power back. He wants the guild to remain a tool of the nobility. He doesn’t care about the guild itself, because he’s not guild!”

  A few of the prisoners shifted nervously.

  “I want a guild run by assassins, for the benefit of assassins. I want do away with the unnecessary violence, expand our operations, and do things we haven’t done before.”

  “You want an Assassins Guild that doesn’t assassinate anyone?” The disgruntled Inquisitor sneered in derision.

  Mya raised an amused eyebrow. “Did I say we wouldn’t assassinate anyone? I don’t remember saying that. If we never killed anyone, we wouldn’t be much of an Assassins Guild, would we?”

  Blades, Enforcers, and Hunters, as well as a few of the prisoners, chuckled at the furious Inquisitor’s expense.

  Mya looked straight into the woman’s eyes. “Do you know what percentage of guild income is generated from assassination?”

  The woman shook her head with a frown.

  “About ten percent. You’re an Inquisitor. You deal in information, not death. We run dozens of different kinds of operations that have nothing to do with killing. We’ve even started hiring out Enforcers and Blades to protect rich nobles. They pay us to put spies in their homes! Beating up poor shopkeepers for a few crowns a month only makes people hate us.” Lad had taught her that. Damn him anyway. She fingered the ring. He’s the reason I’m in this mess. “Yes, we’ll take contracts, but there are so many other ways to fill our coffers. We’ve done it in Twailin. We can do it here in Tsing and elsewhere.”

  “And you want to do away with torture?” goaded the annoying Inquisitor. “You won’t let us practice our art?”

  Mya narrowed her eyes. “Having been on the receiving end of it, I abhor torture. It’s also ineffective. It gives false information and breeds ill will.”

  The woman snorted a laugh. “An assassin squeamish about torture?”

  In two strides, Mya stood in the woman’s face. The surrounding prisoners stepped back, but the Inquisitor held her ground. Mya pulled one of her daggers from its sheath, regretting that she had to make an example of someone.

  “Squeamish isn’t a word that’s ever been used to describe me.” She raised a hand between their faces and drew the razor-edged steel across her palm. No pain… The wound bled, but healed instantly right before the woman’s eyes. “Don’t mistake my dislike of violence for weakness.” She wiped the blood on the woman’s cheek and turned away.

  “You’ve probably heard rumors about my…abilities.” Mya turned back and showed them all her unmarked palm. “As I said, I’m very hard to kill. Hoseph burned the blood contracts because he thought it would help him kill me. How many assassins’ lives has he spent trying to kill me? How many more will die trying? That’s one more reason to end this guild war as quickly as we can.”

  She started pacing again.

  “So, you each have a decision to make. Help me end this war, or don’t.” She paused. “It will end. I will see this guild whole again. I don’t want to kill Lakshmi or Kittal; I want them to come over to my side, just as Embree did.” She waved a hand at the Master Hunter.

  Embree nodded solemnly in acknowledgement.

  “Some of you,” she flashed a glance at the belligerent Inquisitor, “don’t seem to share my philosophy. That’s fine. I’ll keep you confined until this matter is settled, then you’re free to go. There’s nothing to prevent you from leaving, and I don’t want anyone in my guild who isn’t dedicated and loyal.”

  “But…we tried to kill you,” said one Alchemist, clearly mystified.

  “You were following orders. I don’t kill people for following orders.” Mya regarded them again, pleased to see a few more introspective looks. “I’m going to ask some questions. I’d like your cooperation. If you refuse, you won’t be harmed, but when this war’s over, you also will no longer be part of the guild.”

  Shock registered on many faces. Mya didn’t want to lose good assassins, but she didn’t have any other way to pressure them.

  A wide-eyed young Alchemist spoke up. “What about everyone still working for Kittal and Lakshmi? You going to kick them out of the guild, too?”

  “This isn’t about them, it’s about you. Right here, right now.” Mya raked them all with a cold stare. “I won’t kill you and I won’t torture you, but if you don’t help me, you’re out of the guild. Anyone who wants out, go now.” She pointed to the door.

  “Crazy bitch,” the belligerent Inquisitor muttered, starting for the door.

  The rest looked at one another dubiously. One shook his head and followed the Inquisitor, then another. The rest didn’t move. The Inquisitor glared back at the group and opened her mouth to say something, but Mya wouldn’t let her intimidate any others.

  “Jolee, get them out of here. Put them in a separate cell.”

  “Yes, Grandmaster.” The Enforcer herded the three malcontents out.

  “The rest of you, give me everything you can.” Mya gave them her most beseeching look. “The key to Hoseph’s plan for regaining his power is control of the emperor, which is why he had the sons of Duke Tessifus kidnapped. Kill the present emperor, put Tessifus on the throne, and control him from the sidelines by threat
ening his children. Now, we’ve already taken back two of the kids. The last boy is the linchpin. Without the boy, there is no plan. No plan, no guild war. So, who can tell me where he’s being kept?”

  Silence and blank stares were all that met her request. Come on, she pleaded silently. Frankly, if this appeal didn’t work, she wasn’t sure where to go next.

  “Only Lakshmi know where he’s being kept,” volunteered a young man.

  Yes! Mya rejoiced.

  “A few others do,” another piped in. “Lakshmi sequestered him someplace and assigned a squad to attend him. Every few days, one of them shows up to replenish their supplies of food and drugs.”

  Mya nodded, remembering the groggy Wexford and his brother. “Opium.”

  “No,” said a small woman with the stained fingers of an Alchemist. “I made up the opium doses, but only for two boys, the larger ones. The dose depends on the person’s size, you know.”

  “So the youngest boy wasn’t being drugged?” Perhaps he was small enough to manhandle and didn’t need sedating.

  “Oh, he was,” the Alchemist insisted, “but with something special. I don’t know what it was. Kittal prepared those doses himself.”

  “Special?” That was strange. What plans did they have for the youngest Tessifus boy other than to use him as a hostage to pressure the duke? “Does anyone know why he’s being treated differently from his brothers?”

  They all shook their heads.

  The helpful Inquisitor offered, “Lakshmi holds her cards close, only tells us what we need to know to do our jobs.”

  Well, I got some information, but not enough. Mya bridled her frustration and decided to try another tack. “What about Hoseph? Does anyone know where he stays, any of his habits or weaknesses? Are there any patterns to his movements?” She recalled Dee’s theory that Hoseph could only travel magically to locations he’d already been. “When your masters moved headquarters, he probably arrived on foot the first time. Did anyone notice what direction he came from?”

  The prisoners looked at one another. One man shrugged. “He comes and goes on foot most of the time that I’ve noticed, but not from any particular direction.”

  “He does?” That was strange. Why would Hoseph walk the city streets with the entire constabulary looking for him when he could travel effortlessly and anonymously with magic? Unless it’s not effortless. She’d have to keep that in mind.

  “Have any of you seen him use magic to travel recently?”

  “Yes.” The speaker was one of the Inquisitors from Lakshmi’s office. “Just before you broke through Master Lakshmi’s door. She rang a little chime, and he popped in. That’s why Lakshmi summoned him, to use his magic to get her out of there.”

  A few others nodded.

  “All right. That’s valuable information.” She’d wondered how Lakshmi, and Lady T before her, had contacted Hoseph. “So why doesn’t he pop in like that all the time?”

  Blank stares and shrugs were all she got.

  “All right…” Mya hadn’t really expected any of them to know much about Hoseph. “Anything else you can tell me about the Tessifus boy or Hoseph?”

  They all shook their heads.

  “You’ll be held here under guard until this is over, but you’ll be treated well. If anyone has information for me, just tell one of the masters. Any information could help, so they’ll be asking questions about hideouts and movements.”

  Mya stood there until the prisoners had all been herded out and only the masters remained. Her shoulders slumped as fatigue settled on her like a leaden blanket. She rubbed her eyes, trying to think past the desire for a soft bed and a warm pillow. It had been a very long day.

  “That went remarkably well, Grandmaster,” Clemson said.

  “Did it?” She looked from face to face. “I suppose it could have been worse.”

  “It could have been a lot worse,” Embree added. “Did you mean all that about changing the guild?”

  “Every word.” She sighed, trying to think of anything she might have forgotten. “Question them each separately about the whereabouts of any of Lakshmi or Kittal’s hideouts. I doubt we’ll get anything useful, but send people out to keep an eye on any likely places. I’ll have Dee come by tomorrow to pick up the addresses so I can have some of my urchins keep watch, too. Oh, and those new sketches of Hoseph. Have the artist make as many as she can. I want to get some to the constabulary.” It was no wonder they couldn’t find him the way he’d changed his looks.

  “Where is Dee?” asked Clemson, exchanging a glance with Noncey. “I expected to see him here with you.”

  “He took the boy to the palace.” Mya sighed again. Does everyone know about me and Dee? “If you learn anything new, give it to him in the morning. Get some rest and start hunting.”

  “Yes, Grandmaster.”

  Mya set off for home. She needed a bath and food right now more than she needed Hoseph’s head on a platter.

  “Tennison.” Arbuckle leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He’d been reading the same passage for an hour and making no progress. His mind kept straying. “I need…We need to ask you something.”

  “Yes, Majesty?” The secretary looked up from the parchment he was scribbling on. His eyes were red, his hair disheveled, and he had a small soup stain on his doublet. Long hours of work on the New Accords, day after day, were taking their toll on the poor man.

  Arbuckle felt responsible for Tennison’s misery, but there was nothing to be done about it. “We…are considering elevating someone of common birth to noble status. We know the procedure, but there are bound to be repercussions. How do you think the nobility would react?”

  “Majesty?” Tennison looked confused at the non sequitur question. “Is this to be part of the Accords?”

  “No, no, it’s just a question.” At Tennison’s puzzled look, he waved dismissively at the chaos of papers and books littering the table. “Sit back and take a break. We’re both tired. We insist. Consider this a…thought exercise.”

  Tennison put down his pen and looked thoughtful. “It would depend on many factors, Majesty. People of financial means purchase titles as a matter of elevating themselves with little repercussion, though, from what I understand, some of inherited nobility have a dim view those with purchased titles. That prejudice, however, doesn’t affect the benefits of being entitled.”

  “What about bestowing a title to a commoner for…a particular service performed for the empire.”

  “Squires are bestowed knighthood for services on the field of battle, valor, or merely tenure of loyalty, so there’s certainly a precedent. It was rare during your father’s reign, however.”

  “We don’t doubt that.” His father had reviled the common folk. “What about someone of low birth with no connection to the crown or the military. Someone…like a servant, who performed a valued service to the empire.”

  Tennison’s eyebrows arched. “What type of service do you mean, Majesty?”

  “Something monumental. Something…heroic, that ensures the security of the very throne.”

  “A commoner who…” His eyes widened. “Do you mean…Miss Moirin?”

  “Yes, We mean Miss Moirin.” Arbuckle chuckled at his futile attempt to be vague. He could never fool Tennison. “She did save my life, and she’s rescued two of Duke Tessifus’ sons so far.”

  “You rewarded her with a very fine necklace for saving your life, Majesty,” Tennison reminded him.

  “Yes, but We think she may deserve more.”

  “I doubt the nobles will appreciate it. Perhaps if it was a minor title…”

  “Yes, a minor title. We would like to show her our appreciation. And perhaps invite her to dine occasionally.” Or more than occasionally…

  Tennison paled, but nodded. “I…see, Majesty. I would suggest caution. Jealousy is a very sharp sword.”

  “Yes…” Arbuckle looked back to his work, invigorated by the thought of Miss Moirin—Lady Moirin—attending a priv
ate dinner, perhaps in the garden. “Yes, We will have to be careful.”

  For the first time since learning that his responsibility to the empire included providing an heir to the throne, the thought of choosing a woman to join him in that task sent a thrill of anticipation through Arbuckle.

  Chapter XVII

  Dee stepped into the tidy little pub and doffed his broad-brimmed hat. This was a workman’s pub, as were most of Sergeant Benjamin’s haunts. Hitching his suspenders, he shoved his hands into his pockets and sauntered toward the back. Though he had put together several simple disguises to help him fit in, his lack of callouses would be a dead giveaway. He scanned the afternoon crowd for the sergeant’s unshaven face.

  Benj sat at a back-corner table. A buxom woman in a tight corset leaned provocatively over him, one finger playing with the laces of his shirt. The sergeant spotted Dee and waved him over, then said something to the woman and slipped her a coin. With a pout, she tucked the coin into her impressive cleavage and turned away, squealing with mock indignation as Benj swatted her backside. Catching sight of Dee as he passed her, she stepped into his path.

  “Well, hello there, handsome.” The trollop eyed Dee from head to toe and smiled seductively. “Lookin’ for company?”

  “Not tonight, love.” He nodded politely and stepped around her. “My wife’s the jealous sort.”

  “Wives usually are,” she said with a wink before continuing toward the bar, “but I won’t tell her.”

  Dee sat down at the table. He would prefer having his back to the wall, but the sergeant had already claimed that seat. He wasn’t really worried; if Benj saw anything suspicious, he’d warn Dee.