“What about people outside on the street? Someone must have seen something.”
Embree shook his head. “We’re asking, but we’re not getting any answers. At that time of night in that part of town, everyone’s minding their own business. Even if they saw someone being carried down the street, they’d just think it was someone too drunk to walk.”
“Hoseph or Kittal could have whisked her away magically.” Noncey got up, poured a cup of blackbrew, and thrust it into Dee’s hands. “They’ll have planned this carefully. They won’t have left any witnesses.”
“It’s my fault,” Dee confessed as he sank into a chair. “Mya could have gotten out of that room, avoided the trap, but she tossed me and the kid out instead.”
“Your fault?” Clemson’s almond-shaped eyes softened as she glanced toward Noncey, then back to Dee. “No, Dee. The Grandmaster rescued the last two boys, so it’s only natural that they expected her to do the same here. They set the trap and bagged their target.”
“But why?” Dee’s hand trembled, sloshing blackbrew over the rim of the cup onto his fingers. The pain felt strangely appropriate. “Why take her? Why not just kill her?” Please, they can’t have killed her!
“Lakshmi’s not one to let information pass her by. The opportunity to interrogate the Grandmaster might keep Lakshmi from killing her…for now.”
Dee put the cup aside before he spilled all the blackbrew. “Torture won’t work very well on Mya.”
“Perhaps not,” Clemson admitted, “but we’re taking precautions anyway.”
Dee nodded. The assassins packing up the distillery made sense now. They were moving their headquarters because Mya knew where it was. “But aside from the locations of your bases, what could Mya tell them? Lakshmi and Kittal know more about the Tsing guild than Mya does.”
Clemson pursed her lips. “Consider what you told us about how the interim Twailin guildmaster—”
“Sereth,” Dee added automatically.
The Master Enforcer nodded. “—Sereth, defied Hoseph’s orders. Hoseph won’t take that lightly. I’ve no doubt that, once things are settled here in Tsing, he intends to send a contingent of our people down to convince the Twailin assassins to cooperate.”
“Or kill them.”
“Or kill them,” she agreed. “Regardless, it would be a bloody battle, but now they have the Grandmaster. And who knows more about the Twailin guild than her? Who else could give them the information to usurp or destroy that guild?”
Dee swallowed hard. “I do. I was the guildmaster’s assistant. They could have been trying for me, too.”
“That’s right!” Embree snapped his fingers. “You both were in on the previous rescue operations. They could have been hoping to get both of you.”
“But like you said, torture won’t work very well on Mya. They’ll have to figure out some other means of getting what they want from her. That gives us some time.”
Clemson’s pragmatic analysis of Mya being tortured made Dee want to scream, but she was right. “We’ve got to get word to Sereth.”
“We’ll send a courier.”
“How long do you think,” Embree asked uneasily, “before Mya breaks?”
Dee shuddered to consider it. “I don’t know. Her body will heal, as you’ve seen, but…” But her mind…
Dee knew from Paxal that Mya’s life had been driven by fear. He had seen the result of it himself, that beautiful web of magic etched into her skin, designed to keep the fear at bay. But now, that magic could work against her. What could be more frightening than a body that refuses to die?
“We have to find her quickly.” Dee’s voice cracked, but his own fear stiffened his determination.
“We’ve got assassins out there looking,” Clemson assured him.
“But Tsing is a huge city.” Noncey sighed softly, then turned to Embree. “How about magic? Don’t you Hunters use…”
Both Dee and Embree were already shaking their heads.
“It can be done,” Embree said. “If we had her blood contract it would be simple, but… Otherwise, we need a body part or something very personal. Hunters know this, so we generally don’t get attached to things. You don’t have any keepsake of Mya’s, do you, Dee?”
“No. Mya kept no personal items that I know of.”
They sat silent for a time.
“Well, we’ve got the best Hunters in the guild on her trail,” Embree finally said. “They’ll find something.”
“Not the best…” The words were out of Dee’s mouth even before the thought gelled in his mind.
“What are you talking about?” Embree asked.
Lad could find her—but he clamped his lips shut. The entire guild thought Lad was dead, a lie to allow the former guildmaster to live his life in peace with his family.
But he could be Mya’s only chance. What’s more important, Lad’s peace or Mya’s life?
In Dee’s mind, there was no question. Lad put her in this position by putting the Grandmaster’s ring on her finger, so he damned well should help get her out! And maybe, just maybe, Dee could figure out a way to keep Lad’s secret, keep him anonymous. After all, no one in Tsing knew what he looked like. Except Hoseph…
Dee resolved that he could make this work. It’s the only chance… “I know someone in the Twailin guild who can find her. They call him The Bloodhound.” The pseudonym had come to him like a gift from the gods. Yes, this could work…
“Maybe, but it’ll take weeks to get him here.” Embree sounded slightly affronted, bud Dee didn’t care.
Unfortunately, Embree was also right. Weeks would pass in getting Lad to Tsing. If Lad will even come. It would take some convincing. Dee clenched his fists in frustration. If only he could pop down to Twailin like Hoseph had. Unfortunately, he lacked the magic…
Dee caught his breath. He didn’t have magic, but he knew someone who did.
If I haven’t burnt that bridge.
Well, there was only one way to find out. Picking up his cup, Dee downed the scalding blackbrew in one long draught, stood, and headed for the door. “I’ve got to go.”
“Where?”
“Back to the palace,” he said, “to eat crow and beg for a favor.”
Chapter XX
Hoseph contemplated death.
Not his own death, nor even Mya’s. Rather, he contemplated the nature of death itself. Many feared death—the loss of worldly possessions, the final judgment with the possibility of endless torment for mortal transgressions. Hoseph knew better. Death was a release from the burdens of life, an end of sickness, decrepitude, anxiety and anguish—a blessing from Demia.
Death, he had learned, was also a powerful tool, though that wasn’t one of the tenets of his faith. Years ago, the temple elders had frowned upon the young acolyte who dared suggest using Demia’s gifts to broaden and strengthen the cult. Hoseph paid them no mind, and his perseverance had earned him a seat at the emperor’s right hand. And though the elders may not have condoned his unorthodox use of Demia’s gifts, they didn’t complain about the benefits conferred upon the temple as a result of his new-found influence. He’d lost that influence with the emperor’s death, but he would soon regain that and more. With a young, malleable boy on the throne, Tsing would be Hoseph’s to mold as he saw fit.
The sweet tone of a bell drew Hoseph from his deep meditation. Urgency pulsed along his nerves. The signal from Lakshmi could mean success…or disaster.
Hoseph rose and straightened his drab robes. Clutching the silver skull in one hand and the bottle of Kittal’s wondrous elixir in the other, he invoked the talisman and followed the tone of the chime.
“Well met, Hoseph.”
The unusual lilt in the Master Inquisitor’s voice and the bright expression on her face reassured Hoseph. Success, then. Mya is dead… His fleeting elation vanished as the twinge behind his eyes swelled into a fierce throb. Feigning a cough, he turned aside and surreptitiously dashed several drops of elixir into his mouth. As t
he pain vanished, he covertly tucked the bottle away in a pocket of his robe.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he lied, straightening and considering his surroundings. Hoseph recognized the hidden repository where Kittal had delivered them from the attack on the Master Alchemist’s headquarters. “The reek of chemicals in this place irritates my throat. Why have you summoned me here?”
“Because it’s convenient and private.”
Or because you don’t want me to know where you’re staying, he surmised.
“I have a gift for you, Hoseph.” With a smile that only emphasized the maze of wrinkles on her face, Lakshmi held out a closed hand.
“A gift?” Hoseph held out his hand, and she dropped something into his palm. Lamplight glinted on a small circlet of gold and obsidian. He knew it well. “The Grandmaster’s ring!”
“You look surprised.”
“I am.” Even her smug expression couldn’t quell his delight. Mya’s dead! “Both with your success and that you would hand this over so readily. I suppose you want the guildmaster’s ring in exchange.”
“Keep it for now.” She waved a wizened hand as if unconcerned. “I’ll take it when I give you Mya. Then our bargain will be complete.”
“Give me Mya?” His mind stumbled—Why would I want a dead body?—before realization struck. “She’s not dead?”
“In due time.”
“Kill her!” The glow of victory burst into an inferno of rage. “Now!”
Lakshmi’s smiled again, but now it looked stiff and unnatural, and her eyes narrowed warily. “Not yet. I’m not done with her.”
“Done with her? There’s nothing to do with her except kill her!” He couldn’t believe the woman would be so foolish as to keep their most deadly enemy alive.
“And we will, don’t worry. In fact, we’ll let you do the deed when the time comes.”
“Where is she?” Hoseph fixed Lakshmi with a cold stare.
“Secure.” Lakshmi tapped her long fingernails on the counter. “I gave you that ring as a good faith token, Hoseph. Both the Tessifus boy and Mya are safe. Once I’m finished with her, I’ll hand her over to you in exchange for the guildmaster’s ring. The Tsing guild will unify under my guidance, and we’ll put that ring”—she pointed to the band in Hoseph’s hand—“on the finger of our imperial-Grandmaster-to-be.”
“You’re playing with fire.” Hoseph clenched his fist around the ring, remembering Lakshmi’s fascination with Mya’s abilities. “You think you can study Mya and learn her secrets? She’s beyond dangerous! She cut through the Blademasters of Koss like they were paper, and you want to make more like her? Don’t be a fool! Kill her now, and I’ll give you the guildmaster’s ring.”
“No.” Lakshmi‘s face was implacable. “I’m quite aware that Mya is dangerous, but she is secure. What’s foolish is throwing away the opportunity to use her. If my experiment succeeds, the guild will reap untold benefits.”
“What experiment?”
“That’s not your concern. You aren’t in the guild!” She slapped the counter in an uncharacteristic gesture of annoyance. “We’re done here! I’ll call on you, Hoseph, when we’re finished with her.”
Hoseph seethed, but he had no recourse. He needed Lakshmi to finish the conditioning of the Tessifus boy, and he didn’t know where either the boy or Mya were being kept. He flicked his talisman into this palm. She might hold the upper hand now, but the moment the crown was placed on that boy’s head, Hoseph would be in charge once more. The thought made him smile, and he enjoyed the flash of worry in the Master Inquisitor’s eyes as he misted away.
A scent drew Mya from the depths of darkness. Spicy and distinct through the miasma of chemical odors, it triggered a curious physical reaction. Unlike the mouthwatering aromas of a kitchen or bakery, however, this spicy scent made her skin crawl. Mya took a deep breath and wracked her brain for the association.
Lakshmi.
The scent wasn’t strong, but it persisted. Then she heard the scuff of shoes against stone, a quiet cough, the trip of a heartbeat, close, but not in the room. Craning her neck, Mya could just make out the edge of a door. Lakshmi must be outside.
Dread wormed through her gut. What is she waiting for?
Mya strained against her bonds yet again, cursing silently. After what seemed like hours of girding her fear and analyzing her environment, she had succumbed to exhaustion, losing precious time in figuring out a plan. The approaching tread of several more people stopped her struggles. Her fate approached.
“What took you so long?” Lakshmi sounded annoyed. “I’ve been waiting half an hour.”
“I was asleep.” Kittal sounded no less irritated. “I’ve been sitting in a dark tunnel for days, Lakshmi. I needed rest.”
“Very well. You’re rested. Now, let’s get to this.”
Dissension? Perhaps the two masters weren’t as close as they were rumored to be. Maybe I can figure out how to play one against the other.
Metal clicked against metal, and a key clattered in a lock. Mya closed her eyes, unsure what advantage she might gain by feigning sleep, but desperate for any edge she could get. The door squeaked open, and several people entered. Mya mimicked sleep as she gauged how many, where they were, and what they were doing.
“You can stop pretending to sleep, Mya. I know how long my concoctions last, and you’ve been awake for some time.”
Mya opened her eyes and glared at Kittal. He stood beside her table, spectacles perched low on his nose, his eyes roving over her from head to foot as if analyzing or reading her runes. Behind him, Alchemists carrying large jugs of liquid and trays of equipment set their burdens on a nearby table.
The scent of spice doubled, and Mya shifted her gaze to Lakshmi as she approached the opposite side of the table. The Master Inquisitor’s expression was unreadable, her smile thin, sharp, and precisely painted.
“What do you want from me? You already took my ring.” Mya clenched her hand, acutely aware of the absence of both ring and finger. “I guess you’re Grandmaster now.”
Lakshmi laughed with delight. “Oh, no, my dear. I’m not going to be Grandmaster, but you do have something I want.”
She’s an Inquisitor, Mya reminded herself. She wants information. She’ll interrogate me. “So what now? If you intend to torture me to see what I know, you’ll be disappointed.” She barked a dry laugh, forced, but enough to quell Lakshmi’s mirth. “You may as well turn me over to Hoseph in exchange for the guildmaster’s ring.” At least death at the hands of the priest would be painless. In Lakshmi’s hands…who knew?
“Not yet. I need something from you first.” Lakshmi raised one wizened hand and turned it this way and that, peering at the wrinkled flesh as thin as parchment, brown age spots, bony knuckles. “I’m old, Mya, much older than I look. Thanks to Kittal’s potions”—she gave the Master Alchemist a fond glance—“I’ve staved off the infirmities and frailty of old age.”
Mya thought of Neela, the Twailin Master Alchemist of unknown years who had downed potions like fine wine to keep herself alive.
The Master Inquisitor’s voice turned hard as she continued. “But potions can only do so much for so long. My mind is as sharp as ever, but my body is failing. I do not intend to let that happen.”
“Sorry, but I don’t have anything to make you young again.”
“Oh, but you do.” Lakshmi trailed one long nail across Mya’s bare skin, raising goosebumps. “I was told that it’s your runes that give you your remarkable abilities. They are truly magnificent. Such magic might not make me young, but it would negate the ravages of age, grant me many more years of strength and vigor.”
“Yeah, well, good luck finding a runemage. They’re hard to come by.”
Lakshmi traced her fingernail down Mya’s leg. “I don’t need a runemage, my dear. Your runes will do nicely, thank you. Kittal is going to give them to me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Chills even colder t
han the stone slab upon which she lay raced down Mya’s spine.
Lakshmi smiled with the sweet expression of a loving grandmother. “Kittal’s going to remove your runes and graft them onto me.”
“Remove my…” Mya’ stomach heaved, but she managed to swallow the bile. The room suddenly closed in around her.
“It’s not going to be that easy, Lakshmi.” Kittal’s voice sounded distant, but she felt his rough touch on her skin. “The runemage who inscribed these was a genius. When she’s cut”—Mya felt pressure upon her belly, smelled blood—“the runes simply move out of the way, then move back as the tissue heals.”
“If the runes move, how can you collect them?”
“I designed this.”
The pride in the Alchemist’s voice drew Mya from the depths of her horror. Kittal held something out for Lakshmi to see. The device sported two sets of steel blades and a spiked drum. When he turned the hand-crank, the tiny blades scythed back and forth like miniature shears, and the spiked drum rotated.
“It simultaneously cuts two parallel lines, capturing the runes between them and separating the dermis from the underlying muscle. As I crank, it rolls up the strip of skin.”
Mya finally found her voice again. “Touch me with that thing, and I’ll stick it up your ass and turn the crank.”
Neither master even spared her a glance.
“Once the skin is detached,” Kittal continued, “we’ll treat it with a special concoction that I’ve devised before we transplant it onto you. We’ll have to test the procedure on a limited scale to start.”
“Can we test it now?” Lakshmi asked.
“Yes. I’ve had supplies brought in.”
Mya felt pressure as the Master Alchemist pressed his machine to her thigh. A memory of Kiesha’s bloody, skinless body rose in her mind, and bile burned her throat. She jerked as hard as she could against the restraints. Suddenly, another recollection flashed—the Grandfather and her former master, Targus, standing over Lad similarly bound on a slab. Lad fought back!
Weapon of Pain (Weapon of Flesh Series Book 5) Page 29