Weapon of Pain (Weapon of Flesh Series Book 5)

by Chris A. Jackson

  How strange it seemed to trust a constable to watch his back, but he and Benj had developed a rapport over the course of their regular meetings. The sergeant was crude and blunt, but his mind was as sharp as the sword at his hip. Unfortunately, they never had much information to exchange—the caps had no leads on Hoseph, and Dee wasn’t about to divulge Mya’s affairs, since the constabulary wasn’t privy to the hunt for the Tessifus boys. Tonight, though, Dee had something he could share.

  Benj gestured to the barman. “I need another drink. Talkin’ to priests gives me a hangover without the pleasure of first gettin’ drunk.”

  Dee sat up straight. “Priests?”

  “Don’t get excited. It wasn’t…him. Word came down from on high that we should question the priests at the temple of Demia again.”

  A barmaid delivered two tankards of ale. Dee held out a coin without looking at her and waited until she’d hurried away to ask, “About what?”

  “Just rattlin’ their cages.” Benj reduced the volume of his tankard by half. “The emperor asked for help from their high muckety muck and apparently got told to stuff it up his arse. I guess the high priest didn’t know that you never piss on a noble’s shoes. All it gets you is pain, and I’m the needle.”

  “They deny knowing anything about Hoseph?” Dee sipped his ale. Not bad. He would have preferred wine, but workmen drank ale.

  “Yeah. I ask, and they claim ignorance. They’re probably tellin’ the truth, but you don’t get any fruit without shakin’ the tree.”

  “Speaking of fruit…” Dee produced a roll of fine parchment from his tool satchel and handed it over. “One of our people spotted him in Midtown. He’s changed his appearance.”

  “Really?” Benj unrolled the sheaf of paper and looked at the top page. The sketch of Hoseph stared up from the parchment. “Don’t look much like a priest anymore, does he?”

  “More like a vagabond.”

  “This might help, but he could be stayin’ in any one of a thousand inns or flop-houses. The way he pops around, nobody would see him come or go. I’ll spread these around.” He downed his ale and wiped his sleeve across his mouth. “Anything else?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t suppose Miss Moirin had anything to do with an explosion that took out a glassblower’s shop on Flatiron Street?” Benj raked dirty nails over his stubbled chin, the sound like coarse sand under a boot.

  “An explosion?” Dee snorted in distaste. “Not her style.”

  “No, I suppose it’s not. It was strange, though. Six dead, but no injured, like someone cleaned up the scene before we got there.” Benj pointed to Dee’s nearly full tankard. “You gonna drink that?”

  “Um…no.” He pushed the tankard across the table. “Doesn’t sound like Hoseph’s style either. Explosions aren’t very subtle.”

  “No, they’re not. Thought I’d ask.”

  “It’s like looking for a twig in a forest,” Dee confessed. It was the truth.

  “I’ll keep askin’ around.” Benj patted the rolled parchment. “Thanks for these.”

  “I hope they help. Where do you want to meet next?”

  “There’s a place halfway up the hill on Greenbriar called the One-Eyed Tom. Day after tomorrow?”

  Dee nodded and got up to leave.

  “Sure you don’t want some company, love?” The trollop at the bar downed a cup and gave Dee a lascivious grin. “A knee trembler in the alley. Yer wife’ll never know.”

  “Oh, she’ll know.” Dee smiled and walked past. “She always knows.”

  “Suit yerself then.”

  Dee donned his hat and left the pub, glancing up and down the street and longing for the day when they wouldn’t have to be so paranoid. It was growing dark already, and foot traffic was sparse. No one gave him a second look. Nonetheless, he chose a random, circuitous route as he headed for home. There was no such thing as being too careful.

  Hoseph waited patiently on the rooftop across from the pub Sergeant Benjamin had entered. He breathed in the cool evening air, and released it in a sigh of satisfaction. His untold hours flicking around the city following the disgusting constable, enduring the pain, nausea, and fatigue of using the talisman, had finally paid off. Only minutes ago, he’d recognized the distinctive soul of Mya’s assistant, Dee, as he entered the pub. Where a guild of assassins had failed, Hoseph was about to succeed. All he had to do was follow Dee to Mya.

  And there he is.

  Dee emerged from the pub, pulled his broad-brimmed hat low, and glanced left and right, but not up. Apparently satisfied, the assassin started down the street, turning left at the next corner.

  Smiling, Hoseph clutched his talisman, checked to make sure the pilfered bottle of Kittal’s elixir still resided in his pocket, and pictured his destination. With a word, he faded away and appeared on the distant rooftop. He staggered with the usual wave of pain and dizziness, but Hoseph didn’t fear the pain anymore; it wouldn’t last long.

  Crouching to conceal himself from anyone passing by or looking out a nearby window, he reached a trembling hand into the pocket, uncapped the bottle, and placed a drop of elixir onto his tongue. Relief washed over him. The pain ebbed, dizziness vanished, and his limbs stopped trembling, but…a twinge lingered behind his eyes, a dull, persistent ache. He’d been traversing the Sphere of Shadow frequently of late, and the cumulative effect must have overwhelmed the elixir’s curative capacity. Well, he needn’t be so frugal, there was plenty in the bottle, and, despite the Alchemist’s warning, he was feeling no ill effects from multiple doses. Hoseph placed another drop of elixir on his tongue, and the last hint of pain vanished.

  Tucking the bottle away, Hoseph peered over the edge of the roof and watched Dee stroll down the street, surreptitiously checking over his shoulder at every turn. No doubt he would lead Hoseph on a merry chase, but there was no way he could evade the priest. He could disguise himself as he liked, but he couldn’t disguise his soul. Eventually, Dee would lead the priest to his quarry.

  I’m coming for you, Mya.

  The sound of shattering glass brought Mya bounding up out of bed like a startled cat. The room resolved around her into a slow-motion nightmare, shards of glass glittering like shooting stars, sprinkling her hair and embedding in her wrappings. A metallic sphere trailed smoke across the room from the shattered window. Her sleep-addled mind screamed, Catch it! She flung out a hand and watched the sphere pass just beyond her fingertips to rebound off the wall. When her feet touched the floor, she grabbed the frame of the bed and heaved.

  “Wha—?”

  Dee’s shout of alarm was cut short as Mya jerked the bed out from under him and flung it onto the smoking sphere. Snatching Dee up like a ragdoll, she pulled him into a hard embrace and turned her back to the bed.

  The explosion slammed them against the wall. Shards of metal and splinters pierced her back, and goose-down bedding filled the air like snow. Mya’s ears rang, and she couldn’t see for the feathers. She blinked and shook her head.

  “What the hell?” Dee looked around with dazed eyes. The mattress had a huge scorched hole in it and the room was a shambles, the walls riddled with gouges. At least there was no fire.

  “They’ve found us!” Mya cast about the room and found her daggers beside the splintered nightstand. Broken glass crunched under her bare feet as she recovered them. “Arm yourself!”

  Dee gaped at her for a moment before reaching for his pants. “We have to get out! There’ll be—”

  Glass shattered in the front room.

  “Down!” Mya dragged Dee to the floor and covered him. The concussion of the second explosion was muffled, but the thin walls didn’t stop the shrapnel.

  Dee shoved her off. “How did they find us?”

  “Doesn’t matter how!” Mya vaulted up and dragged Dee to his feet. While he frantically pulled on pants and a shirt, she crept across the room, ignoring the bloody footprints she left on the floor. She didn’t have time to worry about a few cuts. M
ya leaned out the bedroom door to check the hall. Dee pushed his feet into his boots, slung on his long coat, and crept up behind her. The click of his crossbows comforted her; he had her back covered.

  Other than a few startled shouts from the apartment upstairs, everything was quiet…too quiet. “Watch the window. I’ll check the front. They’re waiting for us to move.”

  “Right.” Dee turned to face the bedroom window.

  As Mya stepped cautiously into the shattered front room—The landlord’s going to be livid—ominous noises sounded from the bedroom.

  Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

  Dee cursed, then she heard a cry and a thud.

  Mya started to go back and help when the front door burst open in a shower of splinters. Several figures moved in the shadows on the landing outside. She heard Dee curse again, reconsidered—He’s alive. Got to trust him—and stepped into the front room.

  A man leaned through the front door and hurled a disturbingly familiar glass cylinder at her. He gaped in surprise when she caught the missile and flung it right back at him, but ducked out of the way. The cylinder tumbled over his head onto the landing. Shouted curses and the pounding of feet fleeing down the stairs were drowned out by the explosion. Flames blasted through the doorway, flinging the assassin into the apartment.

  Her back to the wall, Mya readied a dagger for throwing, but the assassin lay sprawled on the floor, unmoving, his cloak and hair burning. Damn! She took a step forward. He moaned, struggling weakly. At least he’s alive.

  Unfortunately, the stairwell was fully involved in flames. They had to find another way out, but to leave him to burn to death wouldn’t do.

  Mya jerked the cloth off their table and smothered his smoldering clothing. He moaned again. Good enough… Someone will get him out. She backed up to the bedroom door. Dee stood there with both crossbows aimed at the window. Another assassin lay half in, half out of the window, one of Dee’s darts in her neck.

  “Dead or drugged?” she asked.

  “Drugged.” Dee pointed at the ceiling above the window, riddled with crossbow bolts. “They shoot every time I get near the window, so going that way is probably not smart.”

  She pulled him toward the bathroom. “The bath is the—”

  The small bathroom window shattered. Mya threw a dagger as Dee whirled and fired. With a scream, the darkly clad assassin tumbled backward out the window, his face contorted in pain and horror.

  That face! I know him! He was one of Kittal’s senior journeymen. They were sending in the guild’s best to take her down. She heard a crash from the alley below.

  Four long strides took Mya to the window, and she glanced out quickly, wary of crossbowmen waiting below. She caught a glimpse of movement, but nobody shot her. The alley was barely ten feet wide, the opposite wall sturdy brick.

  Easy as pie… “We’ll go out this way. Wait for my whistle, then follow.”

  “Mya, you can’t be serious!”

  “Got a better idea?” She jerked a thumb at the burning staircase.

  Dee’s face contorted. “Don’t die, please.”

  “That’s the goal.” Mya stepped back for a running start.

  Dashing forward, she dove through the window and tucked, meeting the brick wall across the alleyway feet first. Bending her knees, she launched off on a new trajectory. Crossbows cracked from below. Two bolts whizzed past, ricocheting off the wall, and she batted aside a third. When Mya landed, the assassins were already running away. She let them go. Listening hard and peering into the darkness, she scanned the alley and the rooftops for more snipers. The man who had fallen lay in a pile of refuse bins, unconscious, but still breathing. Putting her back to the wall to make sure Hoseph didn’t pop in behind her, Mya whistled.

  Dee crawled through the window, lowered himself until he hung from the sill, then dropped the rest of the distance to the cobbles. Drawing his crossbows, he whispered, “Where to? There’s going to be a dozen constables here in two minutes, and you’re not dressed for an interview.”

  “We’ll be gone in thirty seconds.” She retrieved her dagger from the fallen man and started away, then stopped. Kittal’s senior journeyman… “Wait.”

  “What?”

  “This is one of Kittal’s senior people. He was there when I met Kittal that first time.”

  “So?” Dee’s voice hummed with impatience.

  “So, he may know something important.” Mya bent down and hoisted the assassin up onto her shoulder. “I want to ask him some questions.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Nope. We’ll take him to Clemson’s. Where can I hunker while you grab a carriage?”

  “Fine.” Dee pointed down the alley. “This way. There’s a bakery around the corner. It should be empty at this time of night. We can slip in the back.”

  “Perfect.” Mya shoved him forward with a grin. “I’m starving.”

  Mya paced before the bound prisoner, flexing her hands open and closed, straining to keep them from around the Alchemist’s neck. After an hour of Dee digging bits of metal, glass, and wood out of her back and feet, and Clemson’s people treating the prisoner’s injuries, the anesthetic drug from Dee’s bolt had worn off, and she had started asking questions. The next hour had been an exercise in frustration.

  Salish was his name, but she’d gotten that from Noncey. From Salish, she’d gotten nothing, not a word, not a single syllable. She’d pled her case as with the other prisoners, but this time it had yielded nothing but sullen silence. He just stared at her, his mouth firmly closed.

  One more try…

  “Do you like the idea of working for a power-mad priest, Salish?”

  Nothing.

  “Wouldn’t you rather work for a real assassin?”

  No response.

  She didn’t understand.

  “Fine! Jolee, keep our guest company.” She leaned down until their faces were nearly touching, and poked Salish in the chest with a rigid finger. “I’m not through with you.”

  She swept out the door, Dee and the masters on her heels all the way down the hallway to Clemson’s office. She sighed and started to pace the floor.

  “I don’t get it?” Mya vented. “It worked on the others. Granted, I didn’t get much of use, but at least they cooperated. It’s like he wants the guild war to continue!”

  “Salish is one of Kittal’s highest ranking aides.” Clemson plopped into the chair behind her desk. “He has more to lose than the others if Hoseph’s side wins and he’s called out for treason. Even if you win, and Kittal comes over to your side, he’ll never trust Salish again if he thinks that he betrayed him.”

  Noncey cleared his throat. “Are you sure you don’t want me to send in a couple Blades to rough him up? You could come in later and play the good guy, chew me out for letting it happen.”

  “No.” The memory of the emperor’s torture chamber turned her stomach. “No. It’ll make me no better than our last Grandmaster. If word gets out that I’m abusing prisoners, assassins will flee the guild in droves. But the longer this war drags on, the worse it is for everyone. We’ve had no better chance than this.” She started pacing again. “Salish knows something. I can see it in his eyes! I need what’s in his head!”

  “Too bad we can’t just peek inside and see what he’s thinking,” Dee muttered.

  Mya whirled on her assistant. “That’s it! Dee, you’re brilliant!”

  “I am?” He smiled uncertainly.

  “What is it?” Clemson asked.

  The other two masters looked just as bewildered.

  “Look into his head! With magic!” Mya snapped her fingers in triumph.

  “But we don’t have a wizard who can—”

  “Yes, we do! At least, we can borrow one.” Mya grinned in satisfaction. “Keyfur!”

  “Oh, no.” Clemson stood. “Grandmaster, you can’t take a senior member of the guild into the palace to be questioned under magical compulsion! They could discover—”

&n
bsp; “They won’t discover anything I don’t want them to. I’ll insist that I conduct the questioning personally. I’m the one who knows what to ask, after all!” Pieces of her plan began clicking into place. “I need a carriage and some clothes for me and Dee. Nicer ones than these.”

  “It’s two in the morning, Mya.” Dee looked horrified. “You’re talking about waking up the emperor!”

  “No. All we need is his wizard.”

  The masters all stared at her.

  “Um…clothing, carriage, escort… Now would be good.”

  “I’ll get some clothes.” Clemson hurried out.

  Embree strode out the door right behind her. “I’ll get a carriage and driver.”

  Noncey frowned and shook his head. “I wish you luck. You’ve got bigger balls than me.”

  “You have no idea,” Dee muttered

  Salish rode on the floor of the carriage between Mya and Dee’s feet, bound, gagged, and hooded. His eyes had flashed alarm as they prepared him for the trip, but he hadn’t uttered a word. Dee looked out the window at the dark buildings as the carriage rumbled up the hill toward the palace, as silent as their prisoner. Mya tried to shut out the voice in the back of her mind screaming, Are you crazy?

  “Miss Moirin to see Master Keyfur,” she told the imperial guard who stopped them at the first gate. He sent a runner off before assigning a squad of guards to escort the carriage inside.

  A sleepy but excited Captain Ithross met them by the small side door where they’d been admitted before, wearing his sword and imperial tabard over nightclothes.

  “The third Tessifus boy?” he asked, glancing at the figure on the floor of the carriage as Mya stepped out.

  “No, but hopefully someone who can tell me where he is. I have to see Master Keyfur right away.”

  The captain’s smile dropped, and his thick eyebrows shot up. “You have to?”

  Mya sighed. Ithross had always regarded her with suspicion; she’d overheard his protests to the emperor against the access she’d been granted. I don’t have time for this, she thought as she donned her sweetest smile.