Weapon of Fear

by Chris A. Jackson

  “And how might I speak to one of these dwarves? I’d like to get the entire layout of the palace for my book.”

  Silence prompted Mya to look up from her journal. The dwarf stared at her with narrowed eyes and one bushy brow raised, his tankard poised halfway to his lips.

  “And why might you be wantin’ a layout of the palace?”

  Suspicious little toadstool… She tried to look innocent.

  “I’m hoping the new emperor will be willing to have visitors, escorted tours to show the common folk what a beautiful and historic structure the palace is. But to interest people, I need floorplans and drawings of the grand rooms.”

  The dwarf’s eyes remained narrow, as hard as stone and every bit as yielding.

  “Well, if you don’t know anyone I can speak to…” She started to rise from her barstool.

  “Now hold on a second. You don’t have ta leave just yet.” He raised two fingers to the bartender. “I never said I didn’t know anyone who could help ya.”

  Mya sat back down and stared at him, trying to figure out what kind of game he was playing. Was this just a ploy to get her to keep buying him ale? A moment later, the bartender delivered two new foaming tankards. Mya held up a coin.

  “Who?”

  “Just pay the man, lassie, and don’t get yer knickers in a wad.” The dwarf pulled both tankards close, waiting until Mya had paid and the bartender walked away before speaking again. “Now, I don’t know what you mean ta do with this information, and frankly, it don’t matter ta me, but I won’t involve dwarves in any shifty plots.”

  “Shifty plots? I don’t under—” She stopped at his raised hand.

  “I don’t care, and I don’t want ta know. But I can give you a hint where ta start.”

  “So…you’re saying there’s someone else who can help me? Someone not a dwarf?”

  “Oh, aye, there is. He’s not a dwarf, he’s a scoundrel.” The dwarf quaffed half a tankard of ale. “Now, I’m not accusin’, but I ain’t born yesterday, either.”

  “Scoundrel?”

  “Aye, scoundrel. They call him the Gnome. That little rat probably knows the layout of every building in the city. Least ways he’s burgled most of ’em, some probably more’n once!” The dwarf laughed hard, finished his tankard, and started on the next. “The Gnome’s been burglin’ this city longer than most tall folks been breathin’. It’s said he stole a jewel from Tynean Tsing I’s very crown not five feet from the man sleepin’ in his bed!”

  “Oh, come on!” Mya rued the notion of plying a dwarf with alcohol for information. All she was getting was tall tales.

  “I’m tellin’ ya true, I am!” He looked indignant. “Look it up in yer books!”

  “So what’s this gnome’s name?”

  “The Gnome. That’s all folks know him as. You want to talk to him, you ask around a few tinker shops in the Dreggars Quarter and tell ’em where you can be found. The Gnome’ll find you if he’s interested. It’ll cost you, though; he don’t do nothin’ fer free.”

  “All right. Thanks for your time.”

  “And thank you for the ale. You ever need a nice marble headstone, you let me know.”

  “I’m sure I’ll need one someday, but hopefully not soon.” Mya jingled her much-lightened purse as she left the tavern. Buying ale for dwarves had turned out to be expensive, and she’d still have to pay this gnome, if she could find him.

  Maybe he needs someone killed, and we could barter services.

  Turning up an alley, Mya froze. Two figures struggled in the shadows. A heavy-set man pressed a slim woman against the rough brick wall, her dirty skirts lifted to expose one grimy leg. Her face turned toward the street, and she saw Mya watching. With a smile and knowing wink, she let out a particularly enthusiastic shriek of encouragement.

  Mya turned on her heel and hurried away, the parody of lovemaking fixed in her mind’s eye.

  Prostitution seemed to be a major trade in Tsing. She’d seen both men and women peddling flesh all over the city. At least she’d never have to resort to selling herself for money. Killing was easier than sex with strangers. Besides, who would pay to have sex with a tattooed monster?

  Mya strode back toward the Dulcimer, not knowing what else to do. Should she canvas the entire Dreggars Quarter, knocking on gnome-sized doors? And if she did find the Gnome, how could she afford him? She wouldn’t steal, wouldn’t whore, and plying her trade as a killer required contacts she didn’t have. She needed a solution that would allow her to maintain her dignity.

  Lady T… Just one of the woman’s jeweled necklaces would support her for months. It wouldn’t be stealing…not really. As Grandmaster, the guild owed her a cut of the profits. She would demand her due or take it out in broken bones.

  But right now, I have a gnome to find. For that task, at least, she had help.

  She stopped at street vendors to buy sausage and a head of cabbage on the way back to the stable. She found her urchins awaiting her there, but their number seemed to have increased once again.

  “Wait.” She scanned the faces and noted a little boy even smaller even than Kit who she didn’t recognize. “Who’s this?”

  “That’s Tiny, Miss.” Digger stepped up, unrepentant about adding another to his cadre. “He’s quick and quiet. Knows the streets, and he don’t eat much.”

  Mya thought that the boy probably hadn’t eaten much in months. His eyes were sunken, his cheeks hollow, and the shift he wore hung on him like a tent. She gritted her teeth. She didn’t have time or resources to train and support the city’s entire urchin population.

  “Okay, but no more new friends, Digger. We have more than I can manage already, and the more of you there are, the more chance someone’s going to figure out that you’re working for me. Now eat. I need to talk to everyone.”

  “Yes, Miss Mya.”

  That was one instruction they never failed to follow. When they’d eaten, and she had their undivided attention, Mya told them what she needed.

  “I have to find a burglar called the Gnome. Have any of you heard of him?”

  Eyes went wide all around. “Oooh, he’s a legend! They say he can steal the skin right off a cat.”

  “Good. I was told to ask for him at the tinkers’ shops around the Dreggars Quarter. Do you know where those are?”

  “Oh, aye, Miss Mya.” Heads bobbed in affirmation.

  “Good! Point them out to me.” Mya opened her guide book to the map of the Dreggars Quarter. No one came forward, and she looked up into puzzled eyes.

  “What’s that?” Digger leaned forward, tracing the thin lines with a grimy finger.

  Mya closed her eyes for a moment. What she wouldn’t give to have her Hunters once again at her beck and call. Work with what you have, Mya.

  “It’s a map,” she explained. “It’s a picture of all the streets of the quarter. Each line is a street. See, we’re right here.” She pointed to the location of the stable.

  “How do you know?”

  “All the streets have names. See, this is ‘Willow Way’, and this is ‘River Bend Road’.”

  Digger stared into her eyes. “We know the street names, but how can a street be a line on a piece of paper? That don’t make no sense to me at all. How can we show you anything on that?”

  Mya sat back on her heels, disheartened by the boy’s bewilderment. “All right, if you can’t show me on a map, can you take me to them?”

  “Oh yeah! We can show you! We just have to actually,” Digger pantomimed pointing, “show you.”

  Mya nodded in understanding. “That’ll work. We start first thing in the morning.”

  As the urchins assigned to watch Lady T’s house trooped out, those assigned to watch Mya sleep tonight waited expectantly. There would be more whistling practice, and probably more staring at the ceiling before she slept. She hadn’t been sleeping well again, but not out of fear now. She’d dreamt of Lad a few times, and had a nightmare about her tattoos coming alive. She knew they were
just dreams. She needed to focus, to put her past behind her and think of what she had to do. Find this gnome, cut a deal, and figure out how to warn the prince.

  Easy…

  Hoseph emerged from the Sphere of Shadow and released Chief Magistrate Graving’s arm. The man stumbled and shook his head.

  “Gods of Light, I despise that.” Graving collapsed into a plush chair, pressing an embroidered handkerchief to his brow. “Feels like I’m being dragged to the bottom of the sea.”

  “As I’ve told you before, it’s perfectly safe.” Hoseph banished his dizziness and the nagging headache by sheer force of will as he regarded the gathered magistrates and nobles with veiled disappointment. It had taken untold trips through the shadows to convince them that this meeting was even necessary, and ferrying them to Lady T’s home had taxed him even further. The mounting fatigue pressed on him heavily. This so-called conspiracy had, so far, consisted of him doing all the work, and the nobles and magistrates doing nothing but complaining about his inability to kill Arbuckle. He was in no mood to put up with any more grumbling.

  “Wine, Chief Magistrate?” Lady T smiled and proffered a decanter, playing her role of gracious hostess.

  Hoseph regretted the need for all this posturing, but Lady T’s poise helped moderate between the pompous nobles and surly magistrates. Left to his own devices, Hoseph would motivate them quite differently.

  “Now that we’re all here, what is the dire emergency?” Duke Seoli demanded.

  “The emergency, Milord Duke, is our need for information from you. You might have noticed that Arbuckle’s blademasters are no more.” He allowed himself a smug smile.

  “You arranged that?” Duchess Ingstrom stared at him in disbelief. “How?”

  “Are you complaining, milady?” Graving narrowed his piggish eyes at the duchess and sipped his wine. “What does it matter how Master Hoseph accomplished the feat? They’re gone, and the plan can move forward.”

  “I was there, Magistrate Graving.” The duchess’ hand trembled as she lifted her wine glass. “It was a dreadful spectacle.”

  “It was a stroke of genius, and leaves Arbuckle vulnerable.” Graving raised his glass to Hoseph in salute. “So, when do you put the bastard in his grave?”

  “That is, indeed, the next step,” Hoseph acknowledged. “We need information from within the palace. Since I’m obviously not welcome there, and minor nobles”—he nodded toward Lady T—“must await an invitation to visit, it’s up to you senior nobles and magistrates, who can access the palace freely, to glean what we need. We simply want you to—”

  “Spy for you?” Magistrate Ferrera reached for the decanter conveniently placed beside her and poured another whiskey. The woman obviously substituted alcohol for courage. “We’re not your spies!”

  “We’ve been doing exactly what you asked us to do by opposing Arbuckle’s attempts to change the law.” Duchess Ingstrom glared first at Hoseph, then Lady T. “Now you’re telling us we have to do more?”

  Seoli flipped his hand dismissively at Hoseph. “It’s your job to rid us of the Arbuckle.”

  “We’re not asking you to put a dagger in his heart, Milord Duke.” Lady T maintained her calm demeanor. “We simply need information. We have no resources in the palace.”

  “What about this secret constabulary of yours? Have them infiltrate the palace staff.” Graving smoothed his jacket over his ample belly and glowered.

  “That’s impossible at this juncture.” Hoseph shared a glance with Lady T. They had agreed not to disclose the failed assassination attempt. No need to invite more criticism. “After the loss of the blademasters, security has been heightened. We’ve learned that all menials are being questioned by the Imperial Retinue of Wizards.” Hoseph noted their discomfort at the mention of wizards. “You, however, are beyond reproach and can come and go as you please.”

  “Then you should have put someone in place before you did away with the blademasters!” Ferrera’s sneer would have curdled milk. “Instead, you want to risk our lives!”

  Graving shook his head, his frown doubling his number of chins. “My colleague is correct. We’re not your spies. We’ve opposed Arbuckle on every turn, as instructed. Asking too many questions would be dangerous.”

  “Asking the proper questions of the right people need not be dangerous at all,” Lady T explained. “Besides, we’re interested in what’s going on at the highest level, behind the scenes. Installing someone as a lowly maid won’t tell us how to get close enough to the crown prince to kill him.”

  “He’s still surrounded by the Imperial Guard. Getting near him will be impossible.” Magistrate Ferrera downed her whiskey and reached for the decanter again.

  “But imperial guards are not blademasters.” Hoseph paced the room and all eyes followed him. Good; at least they’re listening. “We need to identify and make contact with someone willing and able to assassinate Arbuckle, someone with access who can be recruited or pressured into complying with our wishes.”

  Duke Seoli frowned and shook his head. “And risk our necks for daring to suggest regicide to the wrong person? Don’t be ridiculous!”

  “I must agree with Duke Seoli.” Duchess Ingstrom wrinkled her nose. “Whoever approaches a potential collaborator is as good as dead.”

  “You misunderstand,” Hoseph said. “I would be the one to actually broach the subject. All you need do is identify the person and deliver a message—discreetly, of course. A simple invitation to an unspecified meeting will not put anyone in danger.”

  “Until they refuse your offer and report the meeting and the origin of the message to Arbuckle.” Seoli shook his head again. “It’s too risky.”

  Hoseph raked the conspirators with a reproachful look. “So far, I’ve taken all the risks in this. If we’re all to benefit from our association, the risk must also be shared.”

  “You’re able to flit around like a breath of wind, Master Hoseph.” One of the lesser nobles glared at him accusatively. “If one of us is approached by the Imperial Guard, we can’t simply vanish!”

  “And we have much more to lose than you.” Duchess Ingstrom frowned at the signet ring on her finger. “Nobles convicted of treason forfeit their estates. An entire noble house can be disavowed, our families thrown into the street, our titles and lands sold to the highest bidder.” She glanced toward Lady T and said, “No offense intended, my dear.”

  “None taken.” Lady T’s calm tone belied the fire in her eyes.

  “Have a magistrate find your conspirator. All they stand to lose is a job.” Seoli pronounced the word as if it were personally repugnant.

  “This’s insane!” Magistrate Ferrera quaffed yet another whiskey. She hadn’t stopped since she arrived, and had begun to slur her words. “We’re all gonna end up dead! I wish I’d never joined this plan, and I want no part of it anymore!” She lurched to her feet and started for the door.

  Hoseph’s patience snapped. That’s enough!

  He flicked the silver skull into his hand and grabbed her arm, her scream of protest fading as he dragged her into the Sphere of Shadow. Through the gray veils he perceived Ferrera’s soul, wan and colorless, like the woman herself. She couldn’t struggle, couldn’t escape, but he could sense her panic through their connection. Ferrera had feared travel through the Sphere more than any of the others. She would learn very shortly that her fear was well founded.

  Travel with me no more, he thought, releasing his connection to her incorporeal being.

  Hoseph felt her drift away as the shadows shifted and swirled. Demia’s grace protected him and those with him in this realm of banished godlings and demons. Not so the unfortunate magistrate. A looming presence, darker than the surrounding shadows, thickened around her, enveloped her struggling essence. With a wrenching jolt, Magistrate Ferrera was gone. Without a twinge of guilt, Hoseph returned to Lady T’s sitting room.

  “Now, let’s get back to business.”

  Seroli stared aghast. “What did you do
with her?”

  “What else could I do? Hoseph shrugged. “You all heard her. She no longer wanted to be a part of our group, so…she’s not.”

  “Did you kill her?”

  “No, Duchess Ingstrom, I did not. I left her in the Sphere of Shadow." Hoseph smiled as they shrank back in response to his blasé admission. Perhaps now they’ll cooperate.

  Graving put down his wine to avoid spilling it. “If we should all disappear there’ll be an investigation.”

  “But you won’t, because everyone here is thoroughly committed to our cause. You should have taken more care in recruiting Magistrate Ferrera. She was unstable, undependable, and a liability to us all. Now, who will be placing our inquiries within the palace?”

  “There will be compensation for this service.” Lady T stepped up, flashing Hoseph a warning glance before she sweetened the pot. “Whoever brings us what we need will receive a boon: a title, lands, whatever they wish. We’re the ones putting Tessifus on the throne, and we’ll control his every move. Whatever you want, we can grant.”

  Silence hung heavy in the room, and Hoseph measured their avarice against their fear. As he knew all too well from working with the Grandmaster, fear nearly always won, but their fear of Arbuckle evidently exceeded their fear of him. Not one person—magistrate or noble—met his eye.

  “You disappoint me.” Hoseph glowered at them, but even his wrath seemed inadequate to motivate them. Cowards and fools, all of them. “If we don’t succeed before the coronation, the task will be much more difficult. Perhaps when Arbuckle has replaced all of you with commoners, you’ll realize your error.”

  Chapter XIII

  Arbuckle stepped from his bedchamber into the sitting room as and immediately felt cramped by the press of people. Ten imperial guards and an armored knight snapped to attention. Ithross had insisted on the increased security, determined that the loss of the blademasters wouldn’t put his sovereign at risk. The captain had chosen the guards not only for their loyalty, but also for their lack of familial ties.