Weapon of Pain (Weapon of Flesh Series Book 5)

by Chris A. Jackson

  They cleared the center of the room all the way to the canopied bed, but found nothing.

  “Where the hell could they have gone?” Embree muttered.

  Jolee shrugged her heavy shoulders. “Maybe someone took them away.”

  “How, with these damn things all over?” An annoyed Enforcer thrust his torch deep into the foliage. The plants writhed and thrashed to get away from the flames.

  “We can’t discount anything,” Dee declared. “There’s got to be some sign of what happened! Look!”

  The Hunters, far more skilled at looking for traces, searched the spot where she lay, but found nothing.

  “Search back to the walls,” Embree ordered. “Burn the vines if you have to!”

  They searched every crevice, every niche, every inch of the threadbare carpet. They found blood where Mya’s dagger had pierced one assassin’s hand, and even found Mya’s dagger and Dee’s spent bolts, but no trace of any of the assassins. They searched the walls and tore down the shelves, even looking under the canopied bed.

  Jondy and Folk came huffing into the room. “Taelish hasn’t seen anyone come out of the tunnel.”

  How could she just have disappeared into thin air? Dee knew the answer to that question—Hoseph!—and prayed that he was wrong.

  “Blood!” Embree barked, pointing at a smudge on the back wall. “There! A hand print!”

  Dee’s heart caught in his throat as he vaulted up and dashed to the wall. “There was nobody here! There shouldn’t be blood here!” He examined the wall, spied another drop. “Here!”

  “And here!” Embree touched a smudge about four feet up the wall. Running his hand over the wall, the Master Hunter suddenly stopped and ran his fingernail slowly up a tiny slit. “There’s a door here!”

  “A door?” Dee stared, but couldn’t see it. He was a Hunter, but not of Embree’s skill. “Can you open it?”

  “Step aside.” Jolee’s order brooked no argument. Even Embree stepped back.

  The massive Enforcer launched herself at the wall, leading with her shoulder. The room shook, and the fissure that had been only a hair’s breadth before, now widened to that of a fingernail.

  “Again!” Embree ordered.

  Jolee complied, taking several steps back and flinging herself at the wall. The crack widened.

  “Here!” Folk held out a crowbar.

  Embree jammed it into the fissure and pried. Several more assassins grabbed on and they all heaved on the bar. Jolee finally wedged her thick fingers in the crack and roared with effort as she wrenched open the hidden door. Beyond yawned a straight, clean tunnel of quarried stone.

  “Bloody good thing it wasn’t trapped,” Embree said with chagrin.

  “What now?” a Blade asked, peering into the dark tunnel.

  “We follow it!” Dee’s spirits soared. We’re coming for you, Mya! He stepped forward, but someone dragged him back.

  “Not you, Dee.” Embree’s expression might have been worn by an executioner for all the emotion there.

  “What?” Dee’s knuckles whitened on the hilt of the dagger in his hand. “Oh, I’m going along!”

  “No, you’re not.” Jolee’s hand closed around his in an unbreakable grip.

  Dee glared at her. “What?”

  “The boy, Dee,” Embree stepped up to him, his cold eyes inches away. “That’s the objective. You’re the only one who can deliver him to the palace. We’ll follow this tunnel. I’m a better Hunter than you’ll ever be, so tuck your dick back in your pants and grow a brain. You’re an assassin. Start acting like one, not a smitten school boy.”

  “But…” Dee knew he was thinking with his heart, not his head, but his heart was the more persistent of the two by far. “The boy’s safe!”

  “But you’re not!” Embree waved Jolee back and gripped Dee’s sewage-mired shirt. “You’ve got a job to do; a job the Grandmaster ordered you to do! Do it.”

  Dee’s heart raged to use the dagger in his hand, to chase down the dark corridor after Mya, but his brain knew Embree was right. Don’t be a fool… “R…right. Make sure—”

  “I’ve got it!” Embree snapped, shoving him toward the door. “I’m a Hunter. Let me hunt! Jondy, Folk, go with him. And for the sake of all the gods, change your clothes before you go to the palace! You stink like a sewer!”

  Dee’s heart hammered with something between fury and despair as he strode out of the room and up the stairs. Silently, he damned himself for not being the one captured in the trap, and damned Mya for insisting they try to rescue these noble brats. They should have devoted their time and energy to finding and killing Hoseph, not chasing down kidnapped children.

  It’s not the boy’s fault, his conscience chided.

  Deep down, Dee knew that was true. The boy was an innocent. The only person he could rightfully blame was the one who had manipulated Mya into accepting this mission in the first place.

  Emperor Tynean Tsing III…

  Chapter XIX

  Wake him! I have news he’ll want to hear!”

  “He just got to sleep, and I’ll not have you disturb him!”

  Arbuckle tried to shut out the voices from beyond his bedchamber door and drift back to sleep.

  “It’s not your place to decide, nor to give me orders!”

  “The emperor’s well-being is my responsibility! He’s sleeping, and he’s gotten precious little of it lately!”

  “The security of this palace is my responsibility! If I have to beat on that door myself, I’ll damn well wake him if I deem it necessary!”

  Why would Baris and Ithross be fighting? Arbuckle’s curiosity woke him fully despite his fatigue, and he threw off his blankets. Both men were dedicated and stubborn, and Arbuckle wanted to defuse the situation before it devolved to violence. The emperor grabbed a robe from the stand and hurried to the door.

  “Baris, Captain Ithross, what’s going on?” Arbuckle blinked in the bright lamplight at Baris facing off with the captain. The scene would have been a comical—the valet in nightshirt and cap, Ithross in chainmail and tabard—if they hadn’t been ready to kill each other.

  “Majesty, I’m sorry!” Baris bowed and glared at the guard captain. “The captain insists upon seeing you immediately. I couldn’t forestall him.”

  Ithross bowed low. “I’m truly sorry for waking you, Majesty, but you said you wanted to be notified as soon as the final of the three lost packages was returned.”

  Lost packages? Arbuckle’s sleep-addled mind stumbled before he decoded the captain’s cryptic statement. The last Tessifus boy!

  “He’s here?” Moirin! Arbuckle tied his robe tight. “Baris, get Us a pair of slippers!”

  “Yes, Majesty.” The valet glared again at Ithross, but dashed into the bedchamber.

  “That woman never ceases to amaze me!” Arbuckle said. “By the Gods of Light We will give her a title for this! How is she, by the way? Well enough, if she can deliver…” He fell silent as Ithross shook his head.

  “Miss Moirin’s not actually here, Majesty,” the captain whispered conspiratorially.

  “What? Who…”

  “The situation is difficult to explain here, Majesty. Perhaps while we walk.” The captain cast a meaningful nod toward the bedroom door.

  “Of course.” Arbuckle allowed Baris to put the slippers on his feet and fuss over his appearance for a moment before waving the valet off. “That’s good enough, Baris. I’m sure this won’t take long.”

  “Yes, Majesty.” Baris bowed and backed away.

  “Lead on, Captain.”

  Outside the royal chambers, a squad of guards started to close in around them, but Ithross waved them back. “Follow at ten paces,” he ordered.

  They started out, walking a discrete distance behind the two guards bearing lanterns to illuminate their path through the dark halls of the palace.

  Ithross spoke quietly. “As the last time, the boy was delivered by Master Dee alone, Majesty. I’m afraid he’s quite agitated.”
<
br />   “About what?”

  “He wouldn’t say, but he…demanded to see you.”

  “Demanded?” Few commoners had the temerity to demand anything within the walls of the palace, let alone to wake the emperor in the middle of the night. “Does it have to do with Miss Moirin?”

  “He won’t say. He just insists that he needs to speak with you.”

  “And the boy? How is he?”

  “Unconscious, but alive, like the others. I’ve sent for Master Corvecosi and the duke.”

  “Good.”

  Ithross led them to a familiar corridor with two guarded doors and stopped in front of the first.

  “Would Your Majesty like to see the boy?”

  “Not necessary. We’ll give the duke privacy to be with his son.”

  Ithross turned to one of the door guards. “Has the duke arrived yet?”

  “No, sir. Only Master Corvecosi.”

  “All right. We’ll be in the adjoining room.”

  The guards in front of the second door opened it and bowed the emperor inside.

  “Master Dee, We—” Arbuckle stopped short. Moirin’s assistant stood surrounded by four guards, one sleeve of his shirt torn and a bruise darkening his left cheek, obviously livid. “What happened?”

  “He was rather too emphatic in demanding to talk with you, Majesty,” Ithross explained. “He had to be…restrained.”

  If looks could kill, Dee would have made a fine executioner.

  “Very well.” Arbuckle stepped closer, but kept well out of reach. “Master Dee, where is Miss Moirin?”

  Muscles bunched at the young man’s jaw. “She’s gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Gone, taken, kidnapped. She might even be dead by now, because she was working on your mission!” Dee stabbed a finger toward Arbuckle and took a half step forward, but the burly guards interceded, hands closing on his arms.

  “You’ll settle down this instant or I’ll have you in chains,” Ithross warned.

  Kidnapped! Arbuckle’s stomach clenched. “What happened? Who took her?”

  “Who do you think took her? The same people who took the boys. Moirin was caught saving him…saving me.” The man’s face flushed, his voice cracking.

  He blames himself, Arbuckle realized, and me. Maybe he should. “Master Dee, We want to help. How can—”

  Rapid-fire knocking rattled the door, and Ithross gestured to a guard to open it.

  Duke Tessifus strode in, his nightclothes askew and hair disheveled. Sketching a hasty bow to the emperor, he turned to Ithross. “Captain, where’s my son? I was told he was here!”

  “In the next room, milord. Master Corvecosi is checking him…” The captain’s voice trailed off as the duke shook his head.

  “No!” The duke’s face flushed. “I’ve been in there. That’s not my son!”

  Arbuckle’s jaw slacked. “Not your son?”

  Ithross whirled on Dee. “What in the name of—”

  “Not your son?” The young man’s face blanched to the hue of fine parchment. “It was a trap! A trap for My…Moirin.”

  Arbuckle saw the pain and guilt writ clear on Dee’s face, and understood. My Moirin… His hunch had been right; there was more than just a working relationship between the two. A sudden, sharp stab of jealousy rose in his breast, shaming him. To think only of himself when Moirin is lost… No! She’s not lost yet!

  “Master Dee, what can We do to help recover her? We’ll have every constable in the city searching if you just tell Us who took her and where. We want to help. Please.”

  Dee looked at him, mistrust and hope battling in his eyes. Then he shook his head. “There’s nothing you can do. It’s best to leave it up to us.”

  Now Arbuckle was confounded. “Us?”

  “Who is this?” Duke Tessifus stared at Dee in confusion. “And what does he know about my son?”

  “Ah…milord, if you’ll come this way.” Ithross gestured respectfully toward the door, his anxious expression a reminder that the details of the mission to save the duke’s sons had been kept secret even from Tessifus himself.

  The duke balked. “I want an explanation!”

  Arbuckle sighed. “It’s all right, Captain. He deserves to know what’s going on. Milord Duke, this is one of the people tasked with the rescue of your sons. Apparently, the miscreants who kidnapped your sons have used this decoy”—Arbuckle gestured toward the next room—“to lure and capture his mistress.”

  The duke’s face darkened. “But why is all the talk of saving her? What about my son?”

  “Without her, your other two sons would still be missing!” Dee snapped.

  “Gentlemen!” Arbuckle interceded. “Emotions are running high. We must all keep our heads. Duke Tessifus, please wait in your quarters. We promise to send what news we can.” He turned to Dee as the duke stormed from the room. “Master Dee, are you sure that there’s nothing We can do to help?”

  The young man glared daggers. “No, Your Majesty. You’ve done quite enough already.”

  Mya shivered as her mind slowly rose into wakefulness. Cold…why am I cold? Dee’s always warm. She reached out to pull him close, but couldn’t move her arm.

  The vines! Now she remembered: sneaking up the tunnel, breaking into the cellar room, becoming caught up in the godsdamned enchanted vines so tightly she couldn’t move. There was more, but…she couldn’t quite remember. Her eyelids weighed tons, but she forced them open.

  Even in the dim light, she could see that there were no vines.

  Then what’s holding me? Mya tried to move, felt metal scrape against her wrists and ankles, arms and thighs, and her neck. She yanked on the restraints, to no avail. Chill stone pressed against her back, and she realized why she was so cold; her wrappings had been removed. She was strapped naked to a stone slab.

  Her heart hammered in her chest. Oh, gods, where am I?

  Mya blinked away the blurry vision and turned her head as far as she could to survey her surroundings. Stone walls lined with shelves supporting innumerable bottles, jugs, and alchemical paraphernalia stretched as far as she could see. Obviously one of Kittal’s hideouts.

  Kittal… Now the memory returned, his calm, confident voice as he parted the clinging vines and draped the cloth over her face, a chemical stink…gagging…darkness. She strained against the bonds until something in her wrist popped. No pain, but she relented. Her flesh was weaker than whatever bound her.

  Calm down, Mya. Think!

  The cool air and earthy scent beneath the chemical odors told her she was underground. Her apartment in Twailin had been constructed in the disused wine cellar beneath the Golden Cockerel. Its subterranean secrecy made her feel snug and safe. This place felt more like a tomb. My tomb. Panic swelled in her like a rising tide, banishing the last cobwebs of her drug-induced sleep.

  Think, Mya! Think like an assassin. Why am I alive? She heaved deep, measured breaths, forcing her heart to slow, remembering the peaceful meditations with Lad after their exercises. No fear…

  First things first. Mya assessed her situation. She wasn’t hurt, of course; her runes would have healed any injury. But something felt…wrong.

  Well, I’m naked. That her carefully kept secret had been exposed bothered her more than the thought of someone stripping off her wrappings. Dee was the only person who had ever seen her runes in their entirety. Vonlith, the runemage who inscribed the tattoos, was dead, so he really didn’t count.

  But no, it was more than just her nudity. Starting with the top of her head, Mya concentrated on how everything felt. She could turn her head. Her breathing was fine, though her throat felt thick with mucus. She was hungry and thirsty. She shifted her arms and legs, wiggled her toes and…fingers. She came up one short on her left hand. The finger with the Grandmaster’s ring was gone.

  Well, shit, doesn’t that just figure! Once again panic threatened, and once again Mya forced it down, this time with anger. She should have expected them to take it. It didn’t
really matter anyway. With the blood contracts destroyed, all the ring protected her from was direct harm by the masters.

  Except now Lakshmi has free rein, gloated her conscience. You may not feel pain, Mya, but a Master Inquisitor can surely work around that.

  Dee’s fears redoubled during the long carriage ride from the palace to Clemson’s headquarters. A trap! his conscience screamed. And it only worked because she saved me!

  At the distillery, Dee leapt from the carriage before it even came to a full stop. The first predawn glow had barely lit the sky, but the yard was a bustle of activity. Instead of workers grinding cane, carrying jugs of juice, and stirring the vats, however, assassins hurried about carrying boxes and bags, loading wagons.

  Packing up? That concern seemed trivial compared to the news he had to bring to the masters. Nobody interfered with his progress to Clemson’s office, and the Enforcer guarding the door opened it without pause.

  “Dee…” The stern visages of the masters stopped him short.

  His heart skipped a beat. “She’s not—”

  “We haven’t found her yet.” Clemson sat at her desk, Noncey and Embree on either side. The desktop was strewn with maps, diagrams, and parchment held down by mugs of thick, white porcelain. “We’re searching but—”

  Dee strode forth and slapped his palms down on the desk. “It was a trap! The boy was a ruse. This whole godsdamned operation was a setup to capture Mya!”

  The three exchanged hard looks. Embree nodded and sighed. “We thought it might have been. It was too clean, too precise. Someone was waiting behind that concealed door ready to take her.”

  Rage boiled Dee’s blood. “Where did it go? What did you find? Why aren’t you still looking? You’re sitting here drinking blackbrew!”

  “Dee, calm down, right now.” Noncey’s voice was a hard and as sharp as one of his blades. “We are looking, but everyone’s exhausted.”

  Dee gritted his teeth, but nodded. Getting angry wouldn’t help. “Where did the tunnel lead?”

  “To a laundry.” Embree poked a finger at a spot on one of the maps. “Quite a distance away in the Wharf District. We lost the trail there, in the basement. I left Jolee and her crew to lock down the place. Nobody’s getting in or out, and we’ve started questioning everyone. Several of the workers live above the place, but so far, no one saw anything and no one heard anything.”