Weapon of Fear

by Chris A. Jackson

  Paxal had never actually shown a dislike for Dee, but didn’t really consider him much more than a secretary. Then Dee’s dalliance with Moirin, the Thieves Guild spy who had used their affair to snoop on Mya, had soured his reputation even more.

  “Dee!” Sereth strode into the stable carrying a pair of saddlebags. “Don’t forget this.”

  “Thanks, sir.” Dee took the bags, and the weight threatened to drag him out of the saddle. “Gods, did you rob Duke Mir’s treasury?”

  “Not at all.” Sereth shrugged, as stone-faced as ever. “Just what was in the guild coffers and the quarterly profits that we’d normally send to the Grandmaster. Since we don’t have a Grandmaster anymore, and I’m not about to hand anything over to that bastard Hoseph, I thought I’d put it to good use. If you need more, send a courier.”

  “I’ll send one anyway, as soon as we know something.” Dee secured the heavy bags to the saddle, then tugged the reins to bring his spirited mount under control. The gelding didn’t appreciate the additional weight.

  “Do that.” Sereth held out a hand. “Good luck, and be careful.”

  “We will.” Dee shook the proffered hand, trying not to wince at Sereth’s iron grip.

  He had hoped to take some muscle on the trip, an Enforcer or two to make up for his lack of bulk or skill with a blade, but speed was more important than prowess. Also, the guild was shorthanded on Blades and Enforcers since Lad and Mya killed so many in the recent war between the factions. The rest were needed here in case Hoseph returned with reinforcements. So all I’ve got is a crotchety old fart who probably hasn’t been on a horse in twenty years. He sighed, resigned to his fate.

  “Ready, Pax?”

  “I was ready an hour ago. Let’s get this floor show on the stage.” Paxal kicked his gelding, and the horse fairly leapt forward.

  “So long, Master Sereth. I’ll send word.”

  “Take care, Dee.” Sereth slapped Dee’s gelding on the flank. “And don’t get robbed on the road.”

  “Right!” Dee kept his mount to a canter until they were through Twailin’s west gate. Once the cobbles gave way to hard-packed earth, he and Paxal let their horses have their heads. Dee leaned over the gelding’s neck and relaxed into the rhythm, the morning sun warming his back.

  Six or seven days to Tsing, unless we find them on the road. Dee kicked his horse harder. He’d be happy if they found Lad and Mya alive, considering that the entire guild would also be looking for them.

  At the approaching clatter of hooves and wheels on cobbles, Hoseph looked up from under the raised cowl of his robe. He’d positioned himself on the primary avenue about a block from the palace, close enough to watch all the traffic coming and going, but not so close as to draw the attention of the imperial guard. Like so many others coming and going from the palace, this carriage bore an elaborate coat of arms upon its door. Unlike the others, however, this was the one the priest had been waiting for. Hoseph peered from his shadowed hiding place into the carriage as it passed, fixing the interior in his mind. Duke Tessifus rode alone, his gaze straight ahead, ignorant that he was being observed.

  Hoseph smiled. “Perfect.” Clutching the silver skull in his sleeve, he vanished in a swirl of ebony mists, already visualizing his destination.

  Arriving within a moving target was tricky, but the astonishment on Duke Tessifus’ face was quite delicious. Hoseph forestalled the duke’s imminent shout with a raised hand and a cold threat.

  “If you want to see your sons again, you’ll remain absolutely quiet, Milord Duke.”

  “My sons!” Tessifus jerked a jeweled dagger from his belt. “Tell me what you’ve done with them or I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”

  “What did I say about being quiet? Are you so eager to put your sons in danger?” Hoseph drew back his cowl and favored the duke with a dangerous scowl.

  Recognition slowly spread across the duke’s face, and the dagger sagged in his grasp. “You’re the priest! Hoseph! The traitor…"

  Hoseph’s pique flared, but he held his tongue. After all, the duke was under a lot of stress. Stressed, but not stupid. According to guild spies, Tessifus was following the instructions left by Lady T’s Blades when they kidnapped the boys: “Do not contact the authorities. Do not conduct your own search. Do not make us hurt your sons.”

  “Milord Duke, for the sake of your sons, put away that dagger and listen to me. First, I am no traitor and had nothing to do with the emperor’s death. In fact, I’m trying to salvage something from this catastrophe. But we need your help. We need you to do your duty.”

  Tessifus reared back. “Don’t insult me! I’ve always done my duty.”

  Hoseph nodded in acknowledgement. “And that includes your protests against Crown Prince Arbuckle’s edicts. Am I right?”

  “Of course. They risk economic collapse and rebellion.”

  “Exactly!” The conversation was going perfectly so far. Perhaps Tessifus would prove to be even more compliant than Hoseph had suspected. “Arbuckle is a weak fool. Tsing deserves better.”

  “I’ll petition—”

  “Petitions will do nothing! You’ve seen what a fanatic the prince is. He gives a speech, and riots follow. He can’t even wait until he’s on the throne to institute his changes. We need someone with the will to maintain Tynean Tsing’s legacy and the devotion to assure this empire’s rightful place in the world. We need you on the throne.”

  Tessifus shook his head. “Arbuckle will never abdicate.”

  “No,” Hoseph agreed, a complacent smile on his face. “He won’t abdicate.”

  The duke’s eyes widened. “I’ll not be a party to regicide,”

  “Arbuckle’s not emperor, Milord Duke, so his untimely death will not, in fact, be regicide.”

  “Don’t bandy words with me! I’ll not betray my oath to the empire.” The muscles in the duke’s jaw writhed, his teeth clenched so tight that Hoseph thought they might crack.

  “I’m not asking you to. I’m simply asking you to allow the crown to rest upon your own head rather than a witless fool’s. You’ll take no part in Arbuckle’s death, and there’ll be no subversion in your assumption of the throne since you’re the rightful heir. I’ll make you the most powerful man in the empire, Milord Duke.”

  Tessifus considered that for a moment. “Then why take my sons?”

  “To assure that you do as we wish once the crown rests on your brow.”

  “I demand that you return them to me immediately. My wife is frantic with worry.”

  Hoseph sighed. He had hoped too high. It was one thing to play to the duke’s ego, but now Tessifus seemed to think that he actually had a say in the matter.

  “Milord Duke, let me tell you about a lady I know. She’s an artist who creates masterpieces of pain. It takes her days to complete each individual work. Do you really want me to introduce your sons to her?”

  The duke just stared at him, shaking with rage.

  “If you continue to demand things, your duchess will begin to receive packages. A finger, a toe, a tongue… When she receives them all, your sons will have been returned in full.”

  The duke’s face blanched.

  “Your sons are quite safe for the time being, and will remain so as long as you do as instructed. The day you assume the throne, two of them will stand by your side.”

  “Two! Don’t you think people will be suspicious if all my heirs don’t reside in the palace with me?”

  “Not at all. The preservation of the royal bloodline is paramount. In troubled times, it’s commonplace for a younger heir to be raised in seclusion to ensure their safety. You can’t be too careful, you know. There are assassins everywhere.” Hoseph smiled at his little joke, though he knew the duke wouldn’t understand.

  “You really are a bastard,” Tessifus seethed.

  “No, Milord Duke.” Hoseph flipped Demia’s talisman into his hand. “I was the right hand of the emperor…and will be again.”

  Mya opene
d her eyes to bright sunlight streaming in the window…and smiled. She had slept through the night, really slept for the first time in days. Sitting up, she glanced over the foot of the bed. Gimp sat on the rug wrapped in a blanket. Beside her, Nestor huddled in another fast asleep. Her little guardians.

  “Good morning, Gimp.”

  “Morning Miss Mya.” The girl nudged her partner and Nestor bolted up, the blanket falling away from his skinny chest.

  “What?” Blinking and rubbing his eyes, he looked around. “Oh.”

  Mya got out of bed. “You two get dressed, and we’ll slip you out the back door. Your clothes should be dry by now.”

  Mya had insisted that her clandestine guests bathe to avoid giving themselves away with their odor. They’d been embarrassed at the suggestion, but complied readily enough if it meant a night spent in a real inn. They’d been enthralled by the Tin Dulcimer, looking around in amazement as she snuck them up the back stairs to her room.

  If they think this inn is fancy, what would they make of the Drake and Lion? She remembered the marble columns and crystal chandeliers of the Heights inn where she had stayed with Lad with a twinge of heartache. She wished once again that things had turned out differently between them. Maybe it was just too soon. Maybe one day he’ll want someone…

  Gimp and Nestor scrambled up and pulled on their now-clean clothes, their dreadfully skinny bodies reminding her what real hunger looked like. Mya pulled a dress on over her wrappings—the urchins had been startled when she stripped down to sleep, unfamiliar with the concept of night clothes—pushed her feet into shoes, and ran her fingers through her hair.

  Love is a weakness...

  “Ready?”

  They nodded and grinned. She had promised them breakfast.

  Mya opened the door and surveyed the hallway before motioning for the children to follow. They scampered down the back stairs after her, waiting at the bottom as she checked the kitchen hallway.

  “All’s clear. I’ll meet you at the stable.” They crept out the door onto the side street and dashed away.

  Mya continued on to the common room and settled herself at a table. “Good morning, Dorid.”

  “Morning, Miss Ingrid.” The morning maid put a pot of blackbrew on the table. “I’ll just get your breakfast.”

  “Thank you. After breakfast, would you please wrap some sausage, cheese, and a loaf of bread for me? I’m meeting a couple of friends and aren’t sure if they’ll have eaten.” She couldn’t do this every day, but this once wouldn’t draw suspicion. She had a big day planned for her urchins.

  “No problem at all, Miss Ingrid.”

  A half hour later, the savory bundle tucked under her arm, Mya strolled down the street, glancing casually about. So far, no assassins had shadowed her, or if they had, she hadn’t spotted them. Two blocks from the inn, she ducked into an abandoned stable that smelled of moldy hay, pigeon droppings, and worse. The place looked empty, but she knew better.

  “Hello?”

  The urchins emerged from hiding. That was one thing she wouldn’t have to teach them. They’d probably been hiding all their lives.

  “I’m impressed! Are you always so stealthy?”

  “Never can tell who might be comin’, so we hide ‘til we know it’s safe.” Digger motioned the younger children forward.

  All eyes were fixed on the bundle under Mya’s arm. When she laid it out, Digger carefully proportioned it out equally, and they ate like ravenous wolves. Knowing they wouldn’t pay proper attention until they were finished, she waited, reviewing in her mind what she needed to teach them. When the last crumb vanished, she settled them down to begin.

  “All right, everyone take a seat. As I said, I need some help. I can’t be everyplace at once, and extra eyes might mean the difference between me succeeding at my job and being able to keep feeding you…or not.”

  “You keep feedin’ us, and we’re your own private army, Miss Mya.” Nails picked up his new nail-studded board and brandished it. “Just tell us what to do.”

  “First, you need to learn a few things. I’m a Hunter.” Mya smiled thinly. “So I’m going to teach you to hunt. Hunting is all about seeing things that other people miss…”

  Hours later, Mya had talked herself hoarse, but was pleased with the progress they’d made.

  “I’m going to test you now. Let’s say that I ask you to keep watch on the Tin Dulcimer in case someone is spying on my. Digger, what do you do first?”

  The boy rolled his eyes up and thought for a moment before answering. “I find someplace that has a good view of the street, settle down comfortable like I’m begging cause I’ll probably be there for a while, then watch for what’s not moving. That’s cause people just passin’ by are goin’ somewhere, but if someone’s watching the inn, then they’re not moving.”

  “Excellent! Gimp, what if someone approaches you when you’re keeping watch?”

  “I stick my cup out and beg for money!” She grinned. “That’s easy, ’cause that’s what I do anyway.”

  “Good. Nails, what if the constables tell you to move along?”

  “Caps.”

  Mya furrowed her brow. “Caps?”

  Nails nodded. “Caps is what we call constables. If you don’t call ’em caps, people’ll know you’re not from around here.”

  “Okay. That’s a great thing to know. Now, what do you do—”

  “I move along, circle round and come right back.”

  “Good. Twigs, what if someone looks at you suspiciously?”

  “Pick my nose or scratch my bum!” he replied. The others chuckled and grinned.

  “Okaaay. That ought to get someone to ignore you. Basically, anything you can do to look like an innocent kid on the street is good. And Knock…” Mya was stumped. The girl looked as eager to help as the others, but her unusual looks—was a cross between a dwarf and an ogre even possible?—made her conspicuous. Besides, how could she ever give a report with her one-word vocabulary? “Knock, I’m going to find a special job for you.”

  “Knock knock!”

  “Nestor, what do you do once your watch is over?”

  “Come back here and report.” The answer was prompt, but the boy hung his head.

  “That’s right, Nestor, so what’s wrong?”

  “You said we had to tell you how many people we see, but…I don’t know my numbers. Never had no teachin’.”

  “Ah.” Mya’s heart sank. She had more to teach them than she thought. She smoothed over the dirt in front of her and drew a single line. “This is one…”

  After spending much of the afternoon learning their numbers, most could count to ten using their fingers. Judging them ready for some exercise, they hit the streets.

  “Okay, I want you to all follow me, but I don’t want anyone to know you’re doing it, including me. If you can keep track of me for two hours, we’ll get sweet rolls.” She stood up and brushed the straw from her dress. “Go.”

  Mya was amazed.

  The urchins knew the Dreggars and Downwind Quarters like the backs of their hands. They paced her, leapfrogging ahead and hiding in all manner of ways. She rarely caught a glimpse of them, and thought she’d lost them twice. They would separate and converge and separate again, as if they could read each other’s minds. An hour into their game of cat and mice, Mya saw Nestor cup his hands over his mouth as he turned to dash down a side street. A whistle like a chickadee rang out from there, and she realized how they were signaling one another, their messages twittering through the air with no one else on the streets the wiser.

  Wily little rats…I’ll have to get them to teach me their signals. She hid her smile and stopped in a bakery for sweet rolls. The sun was setting when she and her wards straggled back to the stable. Weary but heartened, Mya watched as they feasted on the treats. She had intended to visit the remaining two Assassins Guild masters this afternoon, but didn’t regret putting it off. The work she had done here might make all the difference.

&n
bsp; “Tomorrow I want to take you across the river, but I’m worried about getting you across the bridge.”

  Digger grinned. “Never you mind, Miss Mya. We know how to get over the bridges. Plenty of kids work over in the Midtown factories makin’ rich folks shoes and such. We just go along with the rest. Nobody pays no attention to us. ’Cept for Knock. They…uh…don’t like her over there.”

  All the kids cast commiserating looks at the girl, but Knock just grinned and slapped her axe handle against her palm.

  Mya laughed. “All right! I’ll meet you here with breakfast, then we’ll head out. Knock, you’ll watch the inn while we’re gone. Remember, one of you is always watching the inn during the night. When you’re off watch, sleep. Who’s got bed-watch duty tonight?”

  Twigs and Nails raised their hands.

  “Watch my room window. When you see me open it, come to the back door.”

  “We’ll be there, Miss Mya. Do we have to have a bath, too?” Twigs frowned.

  “Yes.” Sleeping in the filthy stable left a thick reek. “And I want you to start teaching me your whistles. I know you’re sending signals, and I need to be able to understand them.”

  “Oh, sure!” Twigs grinned and nudged Nails, obviously elated that they would be actually teaching her something.

  Mya bid them goodbye and left the stable. As always, she watched for stalkers on her way back to the inn. She hadn’t spotted any yet, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Mya was putting a lot of faith in these kids to keep her safe, but they had accomplished so much today. For the first time since Lad had slid the Grandmaster’s ring onto her finger, she felt a bit of hope. She wasn’t alone anymore.

  Chapter IX

  Mya stomped down the street of the Heights District, not caring that her aggressive stride belied her genteel appearance. Her visits to the last two masters had put her in a foul mood.

  The Master Alchemist, a skeletally thin man named Kittal, had stonewalled her completely. Rude and inhospitable, he had refused to give her even the time of day until Lady T informed him that Mya was the new Grandmaster.