Weapon of Vengeance (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy)

by Jackson, Chris A.

  “How so?”

  “No matter what you did, Wiggen wore the ring. That was the reason she was killed. The moment I put the ring on her finger, I signed a contract on her life.”

  “You couldn’t have known.”

  “You would have.” The pain in his voice felt like a knife slipping between her ribs. “You think like an assassin. I don’t.”

  “Then go through with our plan. You have a chance at freedom! It’s more than anyone else in the guild will ever get.”

  “I’ll stick to our plan. Don’t worry.”

  “Good.” She tried to take a deep breath, failed, and glanced at the wall clock. “It’s time to go.”

  Lady T awaited them in the lobby of the Drake and Lion, tapping her frilled parasol on the marble floor. She looked nervous. About me or seeing the Grandmaster? Lad wondered. At their approach, she turned, and her face shifted from nervous to contemptuous in the flick of an eye. Not about me, then.

  Her dark eyes took them in from head to toe, and she nodded in grudging approval. “I trust your cane isn’t a sword. I said no weapons.”

  “No weapons, but I see that you’re wearing four.”

  “Six actually.” Smiling slyly, she gestured to the door. “Shall we?”

  “Yes.” Lad held out his arm, and Mya put her hand on it. They’d fallen into this routine so thoroughly over the past two weeks that it almost felt natural, her fingers resting there.

  The inn’s doorman did his duty, and they followed Lady T onto the street. Her carriage made the one that Dee had chartered look like a tinker’s wagon in comparison. The wood and brass gleamed, and ornate filigree glittered in the evening sun. A pair of golden lion heads roared on the forward corner posts, and the coat of arms of the Noble House of Monjhi adorned the carriage doors. Four perfectly matched geldings stood in the traces like marble statues topped with feathery headdresses. Two liveried footmen held the door and handed the ladies up into the carriage. Lad followed, swallowing his apprehension. Lad and Mya sat side by side, facing their guide. He held his cane between his knees, his hands clenched on the brass bird head.

  “You look nervous.” Lady T smiled as if she had a secret.

  Is she goading me? Lad tried for a serene smile in returned. “I don’t like carriages. They’re nothing but coffins with wheels.” He twirled his finger as they lurched into motion. “Restricted movement, too much noise, confinement, and motion. I’ve killed in them before.”

  “And you, Mya? Why are you afraid?” Lady T’s expression as she looked at Mya told Lad for certain that she was baiting.

  Mya smiled. “I’m a Master Hunter being summoned to meet the Grandmaster, milady. I’d be a fool not to be worried.”

  “Yes. Yes, you would be.”

  They fell into uneasy silence as the team labored up the steep cobbled streets. The clatter of hooves and iron-rimmed wheels on stone echoed off the buildings. Lad fixed his gaze out the window and tried not to obsess about the pending meeting. When that didn’t work, he resorted to his long-practiced discipline for easing tension, clenching and relaxing each muscle in his body one by one. By the time he’d progressed through the sequence twice, the carriage had reached its destination, and he felt somewhat calmer.

  “Here we are.” Lady T opened the door and stepped out.

  Lad followed, and found that they’d stopped where a wide avenue dead-ended at the bottom of the steep bluff. High atop the limestone cliffs towered the sheer stone walls of the Imperial Palace. Before them stood the largest wine shop Lad had ever seen. A bas relief of twining vines and bulging grapes decorated huge arched wooden doors, the name on the sign covered in gold leaf.

  “Vin’ ju’ Tsing. I’ve read of this place,” Mya said in a conversational tone. “They’re famous. The oldest winery in the empire. The caverns where they age the wine are delved far back into the bluff.”

  “You’re quite learned.” Lady T tapped her parasol against the cobbles—A nervous habit?—and led them to the front door. Two doormen swung the doors wide, and they entered the shop’s cool interior.

  “Lady T! You honor our humble establishment once again.” A man in a dress coat, the winery crest embossed on the breast pocket, approached and bowed deeply. A ring of heavy brass keys dangled from his belt. “Your usual accommodations?”

  “Please, Joffie. I’m entertaining my friends, the Addingtons, and I thought I’d showcase a few of your fine vintages.” She gestured to Lad and Mya as if they were long-lost cousins.

  “Of course. This way, please.”

  They followed him through the racks of bottles to a thick, iron-bound door at the back of the shop. Joffie worked a brass key in a door, and ushered them inside. The temperature dropped as they entered a long tunnel. Joffie plucked a lantern from a peg and struck it with one of his keys. A glow crystal flared to life within, and he handed the light to Lady T.

  “I trust you know your way, milady.” He bowed low.

  “I do. Thank you, Joffie.” She ushered them forward, and the door closed behind them.

  “The shop’s a front?” The cavern had been hewn from the living stone, the walls polished smooth. Rows of barrels, each wider than Lad was tall, stretched into the darkness, and the air smelled of oak and wine.

  “Not at all.” Lady T gestured to the barrels. “The guild bought the winery decades ago. It brings in quite a good income, but even Joffie doesn’t know who really owns it.”

  “I see,” Lad said. It made sense, considering the secrecy around the Grandmaster’s identity. “Will the Grandmaster meet us here?”

  “Hardly.” Lady T stopped at the eighteenth barrel on the left, and bent to press her ring into a seemingly undistinguished spot on the support block of the massive tun. The wedge of stone receded into the floor, and the huge barrel rolled two feet to the right, revealing a dark passage. She handed the lamp to Lad. “Please proceed and wait on the other side. I have to secure the door.”

  Lad didn’t need the lantern, of course, but complied. He and Mya stepped through a short, narrow passage and into a featureless square room. A loud click and rumble signified the wine barrel rolling back into place.

  Lady T arrived. “Cozy, isn’t it?” Despite her smile and casual manner, her voice trembled with anxiety, and her hand quivered slightly as she raised it and pressed her guildmaster’s ring into a tiny niche where two of the walls met. A seam opened in the middle of the north wall, so fine a joining that even Lad had not noticed it. The thick slabs of stone moved aside without a sound. Beyond, a smooth passage stretched into darkness.

  “Of course,” Mya said, nodding to the wall. “Only guildmasters meet with the Grandmaster, so the passage is keyed to their rings.”

  “The stonework…” Lad ran a finger down the edge of the block that had moved. As smooth as glass and not a hint of wear. He’d been trained to recognize such workmanship…and the traps they concealed. “Dwarven?”

  “You’re both observant.” Lady T put her lantern on the floor and gestured into the passage. “If you would step inside, I’ll close the door.”

  Mya flinched as cool white light—sourceless and casting no shadows—lit the passage. Magic. It seemed to Lad an extravagance when a simple torch or glow crystal would do.

  “This way.” Lady T strode past them without looking back, the strange illumination brightening before her as she went.

  “Not that there’s any other way to go,” Mya whispered so quietly that only the two of them could hear.

  “Come on,” he whispered back, and they proceeded side by side. The strange illumination brightened before them and faded behind, so that they seemed to walk but never get anywhere.

  After several minutes, Lad looked around curiously. He had assumed that the passage would turn east into the hill of the Heights District, perhaps emerging in one of the lavish estates. And yet, his unerring sense of direction told him that the path continued north, angling upward at a precise angle into the bluff.

  Where the hell are
we going?

  On and on they walked. No one spoke, each lost in their own thoughts. For Lad’s part, he wondered about Mya, her evasions, her promise to help him. Was it real, or was she plotting something to her own advantage? What would her fear motivate her to do? Could he trust her?

  At last they reached a switchback in the tunnel, and Lad’s suspicions were confirmed. The maps from Mya’s book clear in his head, he stopped and looked up.

  Mya stopped as well, looking back at him askance. “What?”

  Lady T halted and turned, her mien impatient. “Is there a problem?”

  “We’re under the palace.”

  The Tsing guildmaster’s features twitched with surprise, quickly lapsing back to irritation. “Yes, we are. Now follow me. We mustn’t keep the Grandmaster waiting.” She strode on without another glance back.

  Lad’s mind whirled. The Grandmaster resided in the palace? It struck him as the ultimate audacity, or the pinnacle of foolishness. Why? Who was he? A royal adviser, guard, servant, or chamberlain? Lad could no longer contain his curiosity.

  “Who is he?”

  Lady T didn’t even look back. “Patience. You’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Why not just tell us?”

  “Because it’s not my information to give.” Her clipped tone edged toward anger.

  “But—”

  Mya put a hand on Lad’s arm and shot him a warning glance. The fearful plea in her eyes silenced him. She was right; they would learn the Grandmaster’s identity soon enough, and badgering Lady T for information would only buy them trouble.

  They followed in silence.

  Another switchback, and the echo of their footsteps changed. They were coming to the end of the tunnel. Lad gauged that they’d ascended some two-hundred feet from the wine shop. The passage ended as it had begun, with a featureless wall. This time, Lad spotted the niche that would accommodate the guildmaster’s ring before Lady T raised her hand and pressed it home. Two massive stone slabs moved aside in utter silence. When the doors stopped moving, the light of the passage behind them extinguished.

  Ahead gaped another wide, stone corridor, but this one wasn’t dwarf-wrought. Imperfections betrayed the less-skilled stonework of men. The light here was the soft, warm flicker of wall-mounted lamps.

  “Come.” Lady T strode forward.

  Three swordsmen stepped from the shadows beyond the light.

  Lad tensed, and he heard Mya draw a sharp breath, but the swordsmen showed no signs of aggression. All were tall and lithe, with broad shoulders and hard eyes. They wore the livery of imperial guards, with an insignia on the left shoulder: a golden circle surrounding a blue and silver sword. Lad knew the device from his training: they were blademasters of Koss Godslayer. Trained from birth and imbued with their god’s gifts, they represented the apex of fighting prowess.

  “Blademasters? You’re kidding me.”

  Lad turned at the incredulity in Mya’s tone. She had evidently recognized them, too.

  “I have never kidded anyone in my life.” Lady T nodded to the blademasters. “Now these men will search you for weapons. I truly hope you followed my advice.”

  Two of the blademasters approached. The third stood back, his sharp eyes inspecting Lad and Mya as if he saw right through them. The search was professionally inquisitive and thorough. Lad wasn’t bothered in the slightest, even though they took his cane away, but he wondered how Mya would endure the search. She tolerated little more than a handshake from her closest associates. Though she stood completely still, the muscles of her neck tensed as the guard probed the folds of her dress, even forcing her legs apart to explore between. He inspected her shoes, her hat, and finally her unyielding corset. He rapped the hard stays with his knuckles and frowned.

  “They’re called stays.” Mya’s voice sounded stoic, but Lad knew her. The pounding pulse at her temple, the flush of her skin, and the imperceptible tremble of her chin gave her away. She was terrified. But in typical Mya fashion, she bluffed her way through. “I’ll take it off, if you like, but I don’t think the Grandmaster would appreciate meeting me if I was disrobed to the waist.” Her gaze slid over to Lady T. “Or maybe he would.”

  “Enough.” Lady T waved the blademasters back with a flicker of something akin to sympathy in her eyes. She had undoubtedly felt those probing fingers often enough. “A corset’s not a weapon, and neither of them can harm your master anyway. Take them to him; he’s waiting.”

  Their master? Lad’s mind raced. They’re imperial bodyguards! Since the empress had died decades ago, and there was only one heir, that narrowed possibilities down to two. Impossible…

  Lady T turned to Lad with a thin smile. “Good luck.”

  “Thank you,” he said, more out of habit than true gratitude.

  The Tsing guildmaster’s tense shoulders relaxed as she stepped into the passage leading back to the wine shop and the door closed silently behind her. Lad wondered why she had been so nervous.

  The lead blademaster gestured and turned. Lad and Mya fell in line behind him, and the other two flanked them as they started down the corridor.

  Lad tried to relax and focus. Think like an assassin. Remember the plan. Patience… The truth is coming.

  Chapter XXII

  It can’t be, Mya insisted to herself. She took as deep a breath as the thrice-cursed corset would allow, and let it out slowly, but still her heart hammered. The Grandmaster couldn’t be some low-level courtier or advisor. Lady T had mentioned the blademasters’ master. That meant either the person they’d been assigned to protect, or the head of their order. The notion of a mute, illiterate Grandmaster was ludicrous, and imperial guards were only assigned to the imperial family.

  The crown prince? But they were in the dungeon; the faint odor of human confinement confirmed it beyond doubt. What would a prince be doing in the dungeon?

  Gradually, the odor of confinement faded, and more enticing aromas filled the air. Meat, bread, spices; despite her fear, Mya’s mouth began to water. Her stomach had been too roiled to attempt lunch, and breakfast had been many hours ago.

  The blademaster led them to a pair of heavy double doors and knocked in a complex staccato. A latch clicked and the door opened. Yet another blademaster peered out, his hard eyes inspecting them.

  Four? Four blademasters? Mya’s head swam. It can’t be…

  The man stepped aside, pulling open the door and gesturing them inside. Mya’s breath came short, but she didn’t know if it was from the constricting corset or her fear of finally meeting the Grandmaster. Just don’t faint… She moved inexorably forward as if drawn by an invisible shackle and chain.

  The sight that met her eyes was unexpected, to say the least.

  A table stretched before them, the white linen cloth arrayed with porcelain plates, silver utensils, and crystal goblets. Four servants in simple white smocks stood before a sideboard heavy with silver-domed platters. To the left stood a man in crimson robes, the cowl pulled back to reveal a stern mien and dark eyes. Another blademaster—Five!—stood behind the high-backed chair at the end of the table. And in the chair sat an elderly man in blue and gold robes. Atop his silver hair rested a circlet of gold set with blood-red rubies.

  It can’t be…

  “Welcome.” Without rising, the silver-haired man gestured to the two other chairs at the table. “Guildmaster Lad, Master Hunter Mya, please join me. I am, as you may have already guessed, the master of our illustrious guild.”

  Mya stood stunned. She knew that face. How could she not? She saw it whenever she pulled a coin from her pocket. Emperor…and Grandmaster, she confirmed as she spied the gold and obsidian ring on his finger.

  She dropped into a deep curtsy, her eyes cast down. “Your Majesty.”

  Beside her, Lad stood like a statue, unbending. She dare not look up, though she longed to shake him out of his paralysis. This was much worse than she could have imagined. How could they conceive of manipulating the man who ruled the entire empir
e!

  “Well, I see that at least one of you recognizes me, and knows the proper deference to show an emperor.”

  “Emperor?” Lad sounded puzzled. “Your pardon, Grandmaster, but I don’t understand how…how you can be emperor and Grandmaster?”

  “How?” Annoyance edged the word. “Suffice to say that I am both emperor and Grandmaster. As such, your life is mine to spend, Guildmaster Lad. It would be wise to show proper respect.”

  “Of course.” Lad bowed briefly. “But…should I call you Your Majesty, or Grandmaster?

  Gods, he’s overdoing it! Their plan was for Lad to act naïve, not clueless. He ought to be good at it by now. He’d done it for five years as her bodyguard: simple, literal, and socially inept. It had led her to underestimate him. That was what they needed now, not blatant idiocy.

  “Ha!” The Grandmaster’s humorless bark of laughter startled Mya. “I was told that you had expanded your faculties beyond that of a simple weapon, but I daresay those tales were exaggerated!”

  “I meant no offense, Grandmaster.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you did.” Several heartbeats of silence. “No matter. We’re here to discuss guild business, so you’ll both address me as Grandmaster. In the unlikely event that you ever encounter me in public, however, you will address me as is befitting an emperor. Is that clear?”

  “Perfectly clear, Grandmaster.”

  “Good. Now, Lad, Mya, join me at table, and we’ll discuss a few things.”

  “Yes, Grandmaster.” Mya rose from her curtsy, but kept her eyes averted from the old man’s face, hoping that Lad’s poor first impression Lad wouldn’t doom her, too.

  The servants directed Mya to the seat to the Grandmaster’s left, and Lad to his right. The five blademasters stationed themselves behind and to each side of their master, and one each behind Lad and Mya. Without a word, the servants began to pour wine from crystal carafes into their goblets and plate out generous portions of food.

  “First, let me introduce my intermediary, Hoseph.” The Grandmaster indicated the crimson-robed man who hadn’t been invited to sit. Hoseph didn’t seem to regard the omission as a slight, but bowed in recognition. “As a high priest of Demia, he holds no rank within the guild, but his skills are indispensable. He will be your primary contact. Questions or requests for me will go through him. His voice is my voice, his commands are my commands. He is, you might say, my right hand.”