Weapon of Vengeance (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy)

by Jackson, Chris A.

  “Does this,” Mya inclined her head toward the fracas, “happen often here?”

  “Of course not, Mrs. Addingdon.” The receptionist looked aghast. “The Drake and Lion prides itself on the efficacy of its attendants. Rest assured, that one will be duly punished for his clumsiness.”

  Mya opened her mouth to say that she meant the beating, not the inadvertent bump that sent the lady’s handbag to the floor, then thought better of it.

  “Ah, here we are! Addington. A suite for two, lodgings for your servants and coachman, and stabling. If you would sign here, sir.” The receptionist presented a piece of embossed parchment and a pen, and Lad signed without a word.

  “Excellent!” The receptionist beckoned a porter. “Jamis, show the Addingtons to their suite, and have their servants quartered.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jamis bowed to them and gestured. “This way, please.”

  The Enforcers with their own small bags were led toward the back of the lobby, while Jamis escorted Lad and Mya up the grand staircase, trailed by several porters hefting their trunks. As they rounded the first landing, Mya stole a glance back. The yellow-clad woman clutched the hapless, bleeding servant by the collar, dragging him to the front desk.

  “I demand this oaf be punished. Fifty lashes and a day in the stocks! He’s utterly useless!”

  “Of course, Lady Clovis. I’ll see to it personally. Let me assign another servant to your…”

  Mya reminded herself to take a closer look at the chapter on local laws in her Tsing book as the voices from the lobby faded. In Twailin, deliberately striking a noble was punishable by imprisonment at the least and hanging at the worst, depending on the severity of injury. Nobles enjoyed immunity from petty offenses, but could not assault commoners with impunity. How could things be so different here? She exchanged a glance with Lad and saw the same question in his eyes.

  Jamis turned off at the third landing and lead them to their suite. Escorting them inside, he directed the porters to stow the luggage, and presented Lad with keys.

  Oh, my! The room was lovely beyond Mya’s expectations. The outer room was furnished as a living area, with silk-upholstered chairs and divans grouped for cozy conversation. There was a large, ornate table for dining in front of one window, and a lower one better suited to sipping tea beside the divan. The walls sported stylish paintings, but none could compare with the view out the three large windows. Mya pulled aside the beautifully sheer drapes and gazed out across the city all the way to the bay.

  Finished with the luggage, the porters tipped their caps and bowed out of the suite. Jamis backed away with a sweeping bow. “If there is nothing else, sir…”

  “Actually, Jamis, could you stay for a moment? I’m unfamiliar with the city and have some questions.”

  Mya cringed. What’s he doing?

  “Of course, sir.” Jamis looked uncomfortable as the door closed behind the last porter.

  Mya shot Lad a warning glance, but too late.

  “That…occurrence in the lobby. How does it come about that a guest can assault one of the inn’s employees without consequence?”

  Jamis’ eyes widened and he stammered, “Lady Clovis is noble-born, sir,” as if that explained everything.

  “And that gives her the right to beat a free man with impunity?”

  “She may do as she wishes, milord, as any noble-born may.” Jamis looked confused.

  “I…see.” Lad looked stunned.

  “You’ll forgive our questions, Jamis,” Mya cut in with an easy smile. “We’re from Twailin, you see. Our customs are different there.”

  “Of course, ma’am.” He bowed.

  “We’ve had a very long trip, and we’re tired.” She pulled a silver crown from her purse. “For your trouble.”

  Jamis stared at the coin as if it would bite him. “Ma’am, please. I’m paid by the inn. I mustn’t take anything additional. If they found out, I’d be dismissed.”

  “Pardon my misunderstanding.” Mya smiled disarmingly to hide her astonishment, and put the coin away. Fired for accepting a tip? What the... “Once again, my provincial roots are showing. We Twailins often give a little something extra for exemplary service.”

  “I…I see,” he stammered. “Please, ma’am. I meant no offense.”

  “None was taken.” She opened the door and let Jamis escape. “Please arrange for a bath for the two of us. We’re a little road dusty, I’m afraid.”

  “At once, ma’am.”

  Mya closed the door behind him and leaned against it, shaking her head. “That was...” She fell silent, at an utter loss for words.

  “Bizarre,” Lad finished for her. He took off his jacket and began to pace. “Did you hear what he said about the noble-born? They can abuse anyone they wish with no provocation or consequence! No wonder everyone’s afraid.”

  “But to fear being punished for accepting a tip?”

  “How could anyone live like that? Why don’t they just leave?”

  “No money, no means, and no place to go, I suppose.” Mya shrugged. Having escaped from her own torturous childhood and making a life for herself from her own wits and skill, she found it hard to sympathize. “I’d heard that the laws here are harsh and enforced without mercy, but this is beyond heavy-handed. It’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s also dangerous.” Lad went to the window and looked out at the city. “People can only be brutalized so much before they rebel.”

  “No wonder they won’t let anyone carry a sword. Commoners with daggers and cudgels wouldn’t stand a chance against constables in mail and armored knights. They’re beaten into submission, and have nothing to fight back with.”

  “I want to go out tonight.”

  Lad’s statement caught Mya off guard. “Where?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I want to have a look around. Maybe south of the river.”

  “We were warned not to go there.”

  “Exactly.” Lad glanced at her, his eyes hard. “That’s why I want to go. Are you going to sit here and read a book all night, or come with me?”

  “Are you kidding?” Mya’s heart skipped a beat with excitement. Her greatest pleasure these last two weeks had been their nightly exercise. She wasn’t about to miss a chance to go out with him, regardless of where they went or what they did. “Just try to go without me.”

  A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. It was Jamis, along with a team of servants carrying the biggest copper tub she’d ever seen. Several more servants carried steaming buckets of water.

  “Your bath, ma’am.”

  “Oh. Come in.”

  They set the tub in front of one of the windows, where the afternoon sun made the copper gleam. Jamis unfolded a little brass table and arrayed on it thick, cotton towels, several types of brushes, and soaps in various colors and scents. Bucket after bucket of hot water splashed into the tub, the clouds of rising steam smelling of rose petals.

  “That’s the biggest tub I’ve ever seen,” Mya said with an involuntary grin.

  Jamis looked horrified. “You said for two, ma’am. If you’d prefer, we can bring a smaller one.”

  “Oh, no! This is fine. A tub for two is just what I asked for.” The last thing Mya wanted was to get him in trouble for mistaking her remark. Besides, the startled look on Lad’s face was priceless.

  “Would you like bath attendants?” Jamis asked.

  “No, thank you. We can manage.”

  “Will you be dining in the dining room, or would you prefer dinner to be brought up?”

  “Here would be nice. We’re a bit tired from our trip.”

  “As you wish. I’ll bring up a menu presently.”

  “Oh, just pick out something nice for us, Jamis. We trust your judgment, and we’re not picky. Give us an hour.”

  His flash of surprise this time was followed by a tentative smile. “Very good, ma’am. Dinner in an hour.

  “Thank you.”

  Jamis shooed the other servants from
the room, bowed once again, and closed the door behind him.

  Lad stared at the tub, an anxious look on his face. Mya would have laughed, his thoughts were so readable, but she dared not for fear of shattering their fragile trust. For her part, she gazed at the great, steaming basin with regret; sharing it with Lad would have to remain a fantasy.

  “You first.” She sighed as she headed for the bedroom. “I’ll unpack.”

  “All right.” Lad started untying his neck cloth. “I’ll hurry so the water doesn’t cool.”

  “Take your time,” she said as she closed the bedroom door.

  Mya smiled at the sound of splashing from beyond the door. Opening her trunk, she drew out her dresses and hung them to air. At the bottom lay a pair of dark trousers, soft boots, a shirt of deep crimson, and her four best daggers. These she arranged on the bed for later. The night might turn out to be interesting after all.

  Chapter XIX

  Lad froze, invisible in the shadowed alley, Mya a half step behind. The clatter of metal from just ahead told them another squad of constables was near.

  At least they’re noisy. Lad edged deeper into shadow, cocking his head to pinpoint the squad’s location. Ahead and to the left, crossing our path. He motioned to Mya that they would wait, rather than skirt around the patrol as they had others.

  They weren’t doing anything truly illegal, but they didn’t want an encounter with the law. Though it was near midnight, the patrols hadn’t let up. Few commoners walked the streets so late, and those who did were apt to be stopped and questioned. They had seen several exchanges, and not all had ended peacefully.

  Lad had considered using the rooftops for prowling, but he didn’t know this city. Plunging through a rotten roof would end their night quickly. The streets were safer, despite the patrols. They’d evaded several since leaving the Drake and Lion. This one was right between them and their goal: the Imperial Plaza.

  They’d perused Mya’s Tsing book during dinner, deciding where to explore. Over the centuries, the Imperial Plaza had served as an open market, a jousting arena, a venue for traveling fairs, and even a zoo. Its present incarnation, a public arena for punishment, drew Lad’s interest like a moth to a flame.

  The squad of constables clattered past without spotting them. Motioning Mya forward, he hurried on. The maps in the book were deceptive; Tsing on the ground proved to be much larger than Tsing on paper. What he’d thought would be a quick jaunt had already taken an hour.

  Finally, the street opened into a broad open space. At its center, three banners fluttered atop tall poles: the blue and gold flag of the empire, a deeper blue banner sporting the crest of the Imperial House of Tsing, and a long, black pennant set with a pair of silver scales denoting the Royal Magistracy, the judiciary arm of the government. Beneath the flags, the plaza was crowded with wooden structures: gallows, stocks, and tall posts sporting manacles.

  More than half were occupied.

  “What in the Nine Hells…”

  Though Mya’s whisper barely rose over the rustle of the fluttering flags, Lad gripped her arm and nodded toward the squads of guards patrolling the perimeter of the plaza. She fell silent, and they eased back into the shadows.

  While they waited for the nearest patrol to pass, Lad counted. Corpses dangled from six of the ten gallows. Offenders were restrained in more than half of the score of pillories. In the small forest of whipping posts—there were at least fifty—wretched forms sagged in their manacles, their backs stripped and bleeding from the lash.

  “Justice.” Lad spat the word like a curse.

  “What?” Mya whispered, glancing nervously at the patrol.

  “I said justice.” The display made him sick. “I’ll wager that fellow from the inn’s here somewhere. Fifty lashes for dropping Lady Clovis’ handbag.”

  Mya’s eyes flicked over the forlorn shapes. “Why haven’t we ever heard anything about this?”

  “Fear.” Lad nodded to the gallows. “Maybe those are the dissidents. I don’t know. Twailin’s a long way from here. Maybe the truth is lost in the miles.”

  The patrol neared, the guards talking amongst themselves. Though they paid no attention to the unfortunates inside the plaza, they cast sharp glances outward.

  Lad gauged the squads, their pace and position. This was going to be dangerous, but Lad had to have a closer look. Grasping Mya’s arm, he nodded toward the close patrol, and whispered for her ears only. “Wait for them to pass. Be ready.”

  “Ready.”

  The constables strolled by an easy stone’s throw away, their eyes passing over the shadows that concealed the assassins. Lad squeezed Mya’s arm. “Come on.”

  They edged out of the shadows into the dappled light of the street lamps and dashed across the wide avenue that bordered the plaza. Lad kept one eye on the patrol, but none looked back.

  Crouching low, they ducked amongst the pillories. Only when they had crept far enough in that they were no longer visible from the avenue did they slow and stop. Next to them, a man sagged heavily from the wooden stocks. Lad quietly read the parchment tacked to the face board.

  “Forin Masterson, for insolence to a Noble-Born, five days in the pillory and seventy-five lashes.” He touched the cool flesh of the man’s flayed back, but he didn’t respond. He was dead.

  “Good Gods of Light.” Mya sounded sick.

  They moved on to another.

  “Juliana Tailor, for cheating a Noble-Born with poor craftsmanship, one day of pillory and ten lashes.” The woman’s dress was torn down the back, her pale skin scarred by ten red, weeping wounds. She stirred as they passed, her swollen eyes blinking in the dark.

  “Please...water…”

  They had no water, and there was no well nearby. They crept on until they reached the first of the gallows.

  “Fiona Lorent, for thievery from a Noble-Born, death by hanging, public display of the body, and indenture of descendants for one generation so all shall know her crime.”

  “She stole food.”

  Lad froze, and Mya drew a dagger. Neither had noticed the old man huddled in the darkness beneath the gallows.

  “What?”

  “She was a cook’s assistant in one of the noble houses.” The man’s wheezing voice sounded like the rustle of dried rushes. “She took food they was gonna throw away. For that, they called her a thief and hung her. She took it for me, and they killed her for it. I killed her. My own daughter.”

  “You didn’t kill her.” The vehemence in Mya’s voice surprised Lad. There was no cynicism or sarcasm, just anger. She nodded toward the three fluttering flags. “They killed her.”

  “Aye, because of me.” The man’s head drooped, and his shoulders shook with quiet sobs.

  Lad touched Mya’s arm. “Come on. I’ve seen enough here. I need to find someone who can tell us what’s going on.”

  “Good luck,” she said. “They’re all too afraid.”

  “I know.”

  They waited among the pillories for the next patrol to go by, then raced across the avenue back into the concealing gloom of a side street.

  “You still want to go south of the river?” Mya asked.

  “Of course.”

  “How did I know you were going to say that?” Her sarcasm was back.

  “Because you know me, Mya. You know I need an answer.”

  “Some answers can get you killed, you know.”

  “I know.” Lad picked up his pace to a slow, silent jog. “Now let’s figure out how to get over one of the bridges without being spotted.”

  Mya stared up at the massive structure spanning the river and swallowed hard. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Of course not,” Lad said absently as he examined the immense stone tower that jutted up at the river’s edge.

  A hundred feet wide and twice as tall, the tower and its twin anchored a bridge that spanned mouth of the river. The span between them wasn’t built for traffic. There were plenty of bridges upriver for that
, broad, flat structures, well lit and well guarded.

  This bridge was built for defense. As part of the city wall, the battlements bristled with siege engines, and could shield legions of archers. The crowning glory was a portcullis of a size Mya had never dreamed possible. It extended the entire width of the river, poised like the fangs of a great dragon’s maw, ready to plunge into the river below.

  Lad looked at Mya. “There’s cover here. We can get across without being seen. You can do this, Mya. You sent me into more difficult spots than this in Twailin.”

  “I know I can do it, but…” She swallowed again and forced a smile. “I’d just rather bluff, lie, cajole, or bribe my way through.”

  “That won’t work here.” He nodded to the patrol that had just passed. “They’re gone. Come on.”

  Lad dashed across the wide avenue that bordered the river before she could protest, vanishing into the shadow of the great tower. Mya followed, listening for a call of alarm.

  Silence.

  “Good,” Lad whispered. “Don’t worry. Just follow me.”

  Don’t worry, he says… She gritted her teeth. “I’m right behind you.”

  They crept around the tower to a narrow walkway bordering the river’s edge. Mya wrinkled her nose against the stench of the river. She did not want to fall into that water. Beneath the bridge, they found the track through which the portcullis rose and fell. A foot wide, the iron-edged groove ran up the tower’s side and into the shadows of the overhead span.

  “Up,” Lad whispered, wedging his hands and feet in the track. “Careful, the iron is rusty.”

  “Right.” She watched him ascend like a spider climbing a thread. Mya knew that her runes would allow her to match Lad’s feat, but she’d never applied her strength this way. She mimicked his stance, her hands and feet braced, and started up. Progress was slow, but not as strenuous as she thought it would be. She reached the raised portcullis, and allowed herself a grin of accomplishment. The grin faded when she glanced back over her shoulder to see Lad already a third of the way across the river, scrabbling along like a monkey.