Weapon of Pain (Weapon of Flesh Series Book 5)

by Chris A. Jackson

  I’ll lie here begging for death, just like Kiesha, driven made by the agony.

  Despair rose in her like a dark tide. Hope of rescue, slim at best, seemed a dim beacon in that darkness. But what else was there? There was only one other future that she could hope for, and maybe she’d found someone to help her.

  “Kill me, Berta. Please.” Mya struggled to keep her voice from shaking. She’d never been one to beg, even when it meant enduring pain, but death seemed her only hope for a painless end to this.

  The woman looked startled. “I can’t.”

  “You can. There have got to be poisons in this room. You’re an Alchemist, not a torturer! You can tell Kittal that you found me dead. He’ll never know.” Mya hated herself for pleading like this, but she saw no other option.

  “He’d know.” Berta dropped her towel into a bucket. “And then I’d be strapped to a table, but it’d be Lakshmi holding the blade.”

  “Then kill me and run away! There are no more blood contracts.”

  Berta stopped and looked Mya in the eye. “Where would I go? What would I do? The guild is my life.”

  “The guild was my life, too. And now it seems it will be my death.”

  The Alchemist tore her gaze away and returned to her work.

  “Please.” Mya strained to reach the woman’s robe, to grasp her, hold her there, to make her listen. “Don’t let them do this to me.”

  “I can’t stop it.” Berta jerked away. She stood hunched over another table for a minute, then finally straightened, wiping her eyes with one sleeve. She picked up the two buckets and headed for the door, then stopped. She spoke without looking back. “I’ll see about getting you some drugs while Kittal…operates. That’s the best I can do.”

  Mya swallowed a hot retort. Berta’s offer wasn’t much, but it was more kindness she had reason to expect in this place. At least she might die sane and not screaming.

  “Thank you, Berta.”

  The Alchemist looked back at Mya one more time before fumbling with the door latch and hurrying out.

  “Here’s the pastry you ordered, sir.”

  Dee’s head snapped up and he blurrily regarded the cheerful serving woman beside his table. Gods, he was tired! He must have fallen asleep over his blackbrew.

  “I didn’t order another pastry.”

  “I’m sorry this one was stale.” The young woman swept aside the plate with his half-eaten sweet roll and replaced it with the new one. “I hope you’ll find this more to your liking.”

  Dee shook his head. He was tired, but he wasn’t senile. He’d have remembered ordering another pastry.

  “I didn’t—”

  Then he saw it, the edge of an envelope tucked beneath the plate. Finally! Picking up the new pastry, he bit into it and nodded. “Delicious. Thank you.”

  “Of course, sir.” The waitress nodded with a smile and hurried off.

  Dee didn’t know if she actually worked for the guild or if Embree just paid her to deliver messages, but he appreciated her discretion. He probably shouldn’t have come here, but waiting at Clemson’s new hideout only reminded him of how little had been accomplished in the search for Mya. After an entire night pouring over maps, lists, reports, and the scant evidence, they’d finally told him to get out, get some sleep, eat something, and stop bothering them.

  Sleep… It had been a nice thought, but every time he closed his eyes he saw Mya struggling in the vines, telling him to run, to save himself. So he’d come to the Little Ditty to wait for Keyfur’s message.

  Sliding the envelope out from under the plate, he spied the inscription—Master Dee—written in an unfamiliar, ornate script. He broke the wax seal and pulled out the message.

  Dear Master Dee,

  Please attend me at my residence as soon as you get this message. We have an appointment to keep.

  K

  Well, it seemed Master Keyfur also understood discretion. Even if someone intercepted the message, they wouldn’t have understood it. Dee dropped a few coins on the table and strode from the bakeshop.

  He dozed off during the carriage ride to the palace despite his attempt to be vigilant, the shuddering stop of the heavy wheels on the cobblestones jolting him awake. The imperial guard who peered in the carriage window looked familiar.

  The woman smiled. “Master Dee, we’re seeing a lot of you lately.”

  “I have an appointment with Master Keyfur.”

  “Drive on!” she called to the driver. “Outer court, postern door to the right.”

  When his carriage pulled to a stop beside the postern door, Dee dismounted and started to doff his long coat, as usual, but one of the guards held up his hand.

  “No need for that, sir. You’re to wait here for Master Keyfur.” He ushered Dee into a tiny room just inside the door.

  Dee thanked the guard and rubbed his face to wake up. He would have paced, but the room was so small it wasn’t worth the effort. He remained standing, afraid that if he sat down he might fall asleep again.

  “Ah, Master Dee. Good news.” Keyfur entered in a flourish of colorful robes, his stride jaunty and his face beaming with pleasure. “Master Woefler awaits us at The Hyacinth, a lovely little café just a few blocks from the palace gate.”

  Dee fell in beside the wizard as he strode out the door to the palace courtyard. “Why didn’t he come straight here?”

  “The palace is protected from entry using magical means.” Keyfur leaned in and lowered his voice. “Else we’d be much more concerned about High Priest Hoseph popping in unannounced, wouldn’t we?”

  They stepped into the courtyard to find an ornate carriage waiting, an imperial guard holding the door open for them. Dee cocked an eyebrow. “Did you know that Hoseph can use his magic to pop into a moving carriage?”

  “Yes. The death of Baroness Monjhi taught us all that lesson, but rest assured, nobody can arrive magically in a carriage that I’m riding in.” Keyfur mounted the step and dropped onto a well-cushioned seat. “You’re safe with me, Master Dee.”

  Dee settled into the plush cushions and found himself nodding before they even emerged from the palace gates. He leaned back, closed his eyes just for a moment…and started awake when a hand lightly touched his knee.

  “We’ve arrived, Master Dee.” Keyfur looked worried. “You seem exhausted.”

  “I’m fine.” Dee blinked himself fully awake, embarrassed that he’d fallen asleep.

  They exited the carriage in front of an elaborately decorated café. The building was painted pale blue and the door a cheery yellow. Large windows trimmed in white sported colorful sashes. Flowers and vines overflowed from window boxes and large pots beside the door.

  Two liveried doormen snapped to attention. “Master Keyfur, good to see you again.”

  Obviously, this was a frequent haunt of the wizard’s. While one doorman opened the door and bowed Keyfur in, the other discreetly inspected Dee from head to foot, his gaze lingering on his boots and the drape of his long jacket.

  Probably meant to keep riffraff like me out of the place. But being accompanied by Master Keyfur was apparently sufficient endorsement of his character, and the doormen didn’t impede his progress.

  “Master Keyfur! How delightful to see you!” The hostess, a stunning creature in a dress that would have ransomed a prince, took the wizard’s hands in hers and kissed him on the cheek. “Your friend awaits you in the Blue Room.” She gestured with one hand, and an escort appeared as if by magic.

  “Thank you, Laila.” Keyfur followed the waiter through the busy café.

  Dee fell in behind the wizard, returning the hostess’ smile with a nod. He surveyed his surroundings, noting potential hiding spots and exits. Richly dressed patrons lunched at about half of the tables. Dee ignored the contemptuous glances cast his way.

  The Blue Room was, true to its name, painted a deep sapphire blue, the ceiling overhead the palest azure. It made Dee feel as if he was under the sea. The tablecloth, too, was blue, set off by
pure white porcelain settings and intricately cut crystal goblets. Platters of food crowded the table.

  A youngish-looking man stood from his chair, smiling as they came in. “Master Keyfur!” He rounded the table with a hand extended. “Good to see you looking well.”

  “And you, Master Woefler.” The two wizards shook hands amiably and Keyfur gestured to Dee. “This is Master Dee, assistant to Miss Moirin, that wonderful young woman you met at the coronation.”

  “Indeed!” Woefler extended a hand to Dee. “Well met, sir. You have a remarkable mistress.”

  “Thank you, Master Woefler. She’s the reason I need your help.”

  Woefler arched his eyebrows as he looked to Keyfur. “Your message said that the emperor required my presence?”

  “In a matter of speaking,” Keyfur assured him. “He’s ordered help for Master Dee from any and all of us.”

  “Well, I’m at your service, then.” Woefler gestured to the table. “Let’s sit and discuss this while we eat. I took the liberty of ordering us a meal. I always eat at The Hyacinth when I’m in Tsing, Master Dee. The food here is amazing.”

  Dee had to admit that the food looked and smelled delicious, but his stomach clenched, an unfortunate result of too much blackbrew, sweet rolls, and nerves. The thought of food made him wince.

  “Let me first ensure that our conversation remains private.” Keyfur drew a slim glass rod from his robes and proceeded to touch each of the walls, muttering all the while under his breath.

  Woefler’s eyes lit up. “Oh, so it’s a secret kind of mission, eh? I love secrets!”

  Dee clenched his teeth at the flippant remark. “My pardon, Master Woefler, but we don’t have time for lunch. Miss Moirin has been kidnapped. Master Keyfur said you could travel magically. I need you to take me to Twailin, then bring me and a colleague back to Tsing.”

  “My goodness!” Woefler’s eyes widened. “Well, I certainly understand your desire for haste, sir, but you must also understand that traveling by magic isn’t without cost. I must eat, rest, and prepare.”

  “Master Dee, please sit and eat.” Keyfur gestured to a chair. “Miss Moirin won’t benefit if you collapse from malnutrition and exhaustion.”

  Dee clenched his fists. “I’m not hungry. I’ll just wait for—”

  “Master Dee.” Woefler stood with his hands on his hips. “With or without you, I’m going to have a nice meal, relax for a time, and prepare for the arduous task of whisking you a thousand miles through the ether to Twailin. I’ll make you a deal. You sit down and share this meal with us, and I’ll give you something that will alleviate your exhaustion. Trust me; the time we spend here is not wasted.”

  Dee glanced at the table and his mouth watered at the sight and scent of the luscious fare. He felt his resolve weakening as reason battled with impatience. He nodded to the wizard. “I know nothing of magic, Master Woefler, but I need your help, so I’m in your hands. How soon we can travel?”

  “This evening, perhaps earlier.” Woefler poured pale wine into three glasses, and Keyfur began serving. “Taking others on such a journey is more taxing than traveling alone. I’ll need a full night’s rest before returning here with you and your associate.”

  Dee’s frustration flared again. “Is there no way to hurry this up? Is there some other wizard in Twailin I might contract to return us sooner?”

  “No one else in Twailin is capable of this spell.” Woefler sounded slightly affronted by the idea of being upstaged by another wizard. “This isn’t like conjuring pixies from a dandelion, my good man.”

  “Sorry.” Dee reluctantly sat. If he wanted anything from these wizards, he’d have to cooperate. “As I said, I don’t know anything about magic.”

  “Then you’ll have to trust in our expertise,” Keyfur said with his usual radiant smile. “Now eat something before you collapse.”

  “And here.” Woefler reached across the table and poured a tiny vial of white powder into Dee’s wine. “Drink this and you’ll feel like a newly minted gold crown.”

  Dee looked suspiciously at the wine, but relented. If he trusted the man to take him a thousand miles through some kind of magical passage, he may as well trust him to banish his fatigue with a potion. Sighing in contrition, he sampled the wine. It tasted perfectly normal, with a slightly tannic finish. Suddenly he was ravenous. He sampled a delicate breast of roast fowl, the flavors exploding in his mouth, and soon found himself eating with relish.

  The wizards chatted amiably for a time, and Dee found his fatigue slowly ebbing away. Finally, Woefler turned to him with a question.

  “Did Miss Moirin ever tell you how she saved the emperor’s life?”

  Dee swallowed before answering. “Yes. She killed Archmage Duveau.”

  “Oh, there’s more to the story than that!” Woefler grinned and raised a glass.

  “She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Keyfur’s eyes sparkled. “She saved my life as well.”

  “Her abilities are obviously augmented by magic. I suspected those black wrappings she wore under her dress, but I couldn’t very well ask her, could I?” Woefler looked at Dee expectantly.

  “No, you couldn’t.” Dee didn’t want to be rude, but he’d burn in the Nine Hells before he revealed Mya’s secrets. “She’s very guarded about that. You have to understand that if everyone knew what she could do, her livelihood would be at risk, if not her…life.” Dee’s throat closed on a bite of food and he swallowed hard. “Pardon me, but I’m not easy speaking of her…abilities like this.”

  “Oh, of course. Just professional curiosity, you understand.” Woefler waved it off without concern.

  They passed on to other subjects having nothing to do with Dee, Mya, or anything else pertinent to their plight. Dee finished his meal and his wine, but refused a second glass. Though the potion had banished his fatigue, it had fueled his impatience. He sipped water and fidgeted, but the wizards seemed insensible of his distress. He couldn’t rush them, couldn’t calm his jangling nerves, and couldn’t stop thinking about Mya in the hands of the Master Inquisitor.

  “And…done!” Arbuckle flourished his pen like a rapier and stabbed it into the inkwell.

  “Congratulations, Majesty!” Tennison grinned in shared triumph. “The New Accords are a fine set of laws. If I may be so bold, I believe your father would thoroughly disapprove.”

  The emperor laughed with a lighter heart than he’d felt for months. With assassins, murderous priests, kidnapped children, and Miss Moirin’s recent abduction, he’d had little to laugh about. “That, Tennison, is the highest praise We could ask for. We need to celebrate!” He waved to a waiting footman. “Fetch Us a bottle of sparkling wine and two goblets!”

  “Would you like me to summon Duke Tessifus, Majesty?” Tennison stood and took a step toward the door.

  “No, We would not!” Arbuckle stared at his secretary in surprise. “You’ll share this achievement with Us! By the Gods of Light, we’ve both put our life’s blood into this document! The good duke may have offered some suggestions, but we did the work!”

  “Majesty, I…” Tennison looked shocked. “I don’t think it’s appropriate that I—”

  “Sit down and quit protesting! We deserve this! We earned it!” Arbuckle clapped his ink-stained hand on the stack of parchment before him. “These accords will transfigure the empire and usher in a new era of justice, and you put as much work into them as We did. You have Our undying thanks.”

  “You did the lion’s share, Majesty,” the secretary said, looking embarrassed. “Your knowledge of history found precedents for the framework. Without that, we would have been lost.”

  Arbuckle sat back in his chair in contentment. “It is nice to know that Our years of being a bookworm weren’t wasted.”

  The footman hustled back through the door carrying a silver bucket sweating condensation, a dark bottle resting within. A second footman bearing two crystal goblets on a silver tray followed. The first extracted the bottle from the ice and exp
ertly drew the cork. The pop! echoed off the library walls, drawing another laugh from the emperor’s throat. Gods, it had been so long since he’d laughed…

  The footman expertly filled the two glasses, not spilling a drop, then proffered the tray first to Arbuckle, then to Tennison, who looked a little unsure about drinking with an emperor.

  “To Our New Accords.” Arbuckle raised his glass, and Tennison’s chimed sweetly against it.

  Arbuckle closed his eyes as he sipped, relishing the delicate flavor of the wine and the satisfaction of his long toil completed. For a moment, he purged his mind of worries. He’d been looking forward to this day for too long not to savor it.

  “So, We send it off to the archivists for a fair copy and enact it into law!”

  “I should review the document one more time for errors or omissions before we send it off, Majesty, but yes. The archivists will make it a work of art worthy of the laws within.”

  “How long do you think that will take?” Arbuckle turned to the imperial scribe seated in the corner. “Verul, what do you think?”

  Verul eyed the pile of parchment. “A month or so, I would say, Majesty.”

  “A month?” The emperor drummed his fingers on the table. “We can’t institute the laws for a month?”

  “Majesty, the laws can be instituted immediately,” Tennison explained. “Copies can be sent to the provincial dukes in a matter of days and posted on notice throughout the city. You should also make a formal announcement, but you needn’t wait for the archival copy to be completed.”

  “Well, then, We’ll read them out. Set a time and place, Tennison, and have announcements posted throughout the city. We think the Imperial Plaza would be appropriate.”

  “You’ll read them out in public, Majesty?” The secretary looked horrified. “Personally?”

  “Of course! Why not?”

  Tennison swallowed and put his glass down. “Because, Majesty, there’s still a certain…faction at large trying to assassinate you. They could take the opportunity of a public appearance to do so.”