Weapon of Fear (12 page)

“Yes,
Milord Prince.”

“Now,
Captain Norwood, what brought you halfway across the kingdom to warn my father
of a threat to his life?”

“An
investigation into a noble’s death in Twailin led me to believe that there was
a spy in the palace.”  Norwood swallowed audibly.  “I was wrong, milord.”

“What
do you mean?  There was no spy?”

“Not
exactly, milord.  When I told the emperor of my suspicions, he…told me that he
was the master of the Assassins Guild.”

“What?”
Arbuckle lowered his cup, the porcelain clacking against the saucer as his hand
shook.  He looked to Keyfur for confirmation.

The
mage nodded, his eyes wide.  “He speaks the truth, milord.”

Arbuckle
had thought that no revelation about his father could be worse than what he had
already learned, but this…the emperor of Tsing as master of a guild of murderers?

“It
seems impossible.”  Arbuckle motioned Tennison forward, and his secretary
dutifully topped up his and Norwood’s cups with fine single-malt whiskey. 
Arbuckle sipped, taking strength from the heady concoction.  “Go on, Captain
Norwood.  Please start at the beginning and spare no detail.”

Two
hours later, Arbuckle knew the truth, or at least, as much as Captain Norwood
could provide.  The crown prince didn’t know what sickened him more, hearing
what the captain had endured, or what his father had revealed to his captive
about his empire-wide syndicate of organized assassination and terror.  Norwood
had obviously not been meant to leave the dungeons alive.  What was more, the
priest Hoseph had been transformed from suspect to full-blown accomplice as the
emperor’s right-hand man in this society of death.  But still unanswered was
the question: who killed Tynean Tsing and his five blademasters?

Norwood
rubbed his eyes and shook his head, downing the last of his cup of whisky-laced
blackbrew.  “I wish I could tell you more, Milord Prince, but I can’t.  I
passed out, and woke in the care of the priests.”

Arbuckle
glanced once more to Keyfur, and received a nod in reply.  The captain was
telling the truth.

“Well,
that’s it then.  Tennison, provide Captain Norwood with a room in the palace
and see that he has every comfort.  Also, post a guard at his door for his
protection.  Master Keyfur, if you would be so good as to tell Archmage Duveau
to send a fast message to Duke Mir in Twailin informing him that his Royal
Guard Captain is here.”  Turning to Norwood, he asked, “Will you need
transportation home?”

“I
came in a carriage, and…there was a dog inside, a mastiff that I’m quite fond
of.”  Norwood looked beseechingly at the crown prince.  “I’d like to know if
he’s all right.”

Ithross
surprised them all with a wry laugh.  “The dog’s quite well, Captain, but I’m
glad you’ve shown up to claim him.  He nearly bit off the stableman’s hand when
they tried to remove him from the carriage, so they decided to let him stay
inside.  They’ve been feeding him from the kitchens.  I’m afraid the carriage
is a bit of a mess.”

“There
you are, Captain, everything safe and sound.  Why don’t you go down to the
stables and see to your dog while a room is readied for you.”

“Thank
you, milord.  Thank you!”

“My
pleasure, Captain.”  Arbuckle stood and extended a hand.  “I’m sorry for what
you endured at my father’s hand.  Anything I can provide to make your rest here
easier, just ask.”

“Milord,
I…”  Norwood took his hand tentatively and shook it.  “You’ve already done more
than enough.  I’m sorry for…what happened.”

“No
more than I, Captain.  No more than I.”

L
ad was right.  It’ll take years to
learn this city
! 
Mya paused at yet another corner and checked the street name on the lamp post. 
Archer Street, which means I’m back in Midtown, I think
.  Checking the
map in the guidebook, she frowned.  Midtown, yes, but not where she had thought
she was.  Looking around, she noted several distinctive landmarks—Landstead’s
Fabric Warehouse, Redeye Tavern, Teeny Weenie Sausages—and committed them to
memory.  She had spent most of yesterday, after her meeting with Lady T,
exploring the Heights District, and had continued her rambles this morning.  Though
it was tedious, she was making progress.

She
was having better luck assessing the mood of the citizens.  Mya stopped at
blackbrew cafés and pubs every hour or so.  It surprised her how many were
open, since most of the larger businesses had boarded their doors and windows
against looters.  Sustenance aside, the cafés and pubs served her well.  They
buzzed with all kinds of conversation and rumors.

Observations
of other pedestrians also offered perspective.  There were few nobles about,
and those who were out surrounded themselves with well-armed muscle.  She hoped
Lady T took note.  Hiring out Enforcers as bodyguards would be lucrative.

As
for the commoners out and about, she had grouped them into three broad
categories: troublemakers, quiet hopefuls, and nutters.  The first were the
most dangerous.  They wandered the streets in gangs, sometimes drinking, loud
and scornful, inciting revenge or even random violence against the nobility,
constabulary, and military.  She’d even seen them accosting those who merely
looked affluent.

Most
abundant were the quiet hopefuls.  They crowded the cafés, sipping tea and
blackbrew and discussing the future.  They seemed to be as frightened of the
troublemakers as they were of the nobility and constables.  They knew that
violence only led to more violence, and they’d already seen enough.  They spoke
of rights and justice.  Mya didn’t know whether to laugh at them or cheer them
on.

The
nutters were a small but vocal minority, throwing out cockeyed theories as to
who killed the emperor and what was to come.  Some preached pathetically alone
on street corners, while others gathered with their oddball peers at corner
tables in cafés and pubs, eyeing other patrons suspiciously and whispering their
convoluted conspiracies.  Mya just smiled and shook her head.  Even the most
farfetched seemed saner than the truth.

Turning
onto Archer Street and starting down the hill, Mya spotted yet another imminent
confrontation between a gang of troublemakers and a squad of constables.  This
was the fifth she’d witnessed this morning.  She stopped and leaned against a
building to watch.

“On
your way!” said the middle-aged corporal in charge.  His people wielded
truncheons, but wore swords at the ready.  “We don’t want any trouble from you
lot.”

“Trouble
from
us
?”  A motley young man in the fore of the throng stabbed a finger
at the closed shoe factory behind the constables.  His other hand held a stout
stick.  “What about the trouble we had from that son-of-a-bitch Count Renley
who owns this place.  He hires young-uns and beats ’em when they don’t work
fast enough!”

“An’
he’s sold others into slavery!” shouted a girl in a ragged skirt.  “My little
sister just disappeared outta there, an’ I never heard from her again!”

“There’ll
soon be legal ways of dealing with these problems,” the corporal promised.  “If
you’ve got a charge to make, you need to—”

“Legal
this!”  A cobblestone flew from the midst of the troublemakers and shattered a
second-story window.

That’s
it
, Mya thought.

The
troublemakers surged forward, met with shields and truncheons.  Four went down
in a flash, but one constable fell when a stone met with his nose. The corporal
blew a shrill note on a whistle.  Mya had heard many of those the past two
days, and knew it meant more constables would arrive soon.

Most
of the troublemakers scattered, but others fought on.  Still, the constables
hadn’t drawn swords.  During previous altercations, Mya had seen constables
holding back on lethal force, but making a lot of arrests.  She had overheard
more than one assertion of detainees being released with only a warning.

Either
this is the new justice, or they don’t have enough jail cells enough to hold
them all
.

Judging
it time to leave, Mya turned down a side street and hurried down the hill.  She
was in no danger, but didn’t want to be detained as a witness.  She tried to
look inconspicuous as another squad of constables rounded the corner ahead and
trotted toward the conflict, but they barely spared her a glance.

Enough
aimless wandering for today
. 
Learning the streets was one thing, but learning the
city
was a more
complex challenge.  She needed to find a local willing to help her.  She also
needed to find out if Lady T was following her orders.  Setting her mind on a
new goal, Mya headed down toward the river and Fivestone Bridge.

“Miss
Johens.”  The same slovenly sergeant she’d met before touched the rim of his
iron cap and grinned with tobacco-stained teeth.  “Done with your business so
early?”

“For
now, Sergeant.  Thank you for asking.”

“If
you need an escort back to the
Dulcimer
, I can assign my corporal to see
you there safe.”

Mya
considered the offer.  Constables
did
know the city like few others, and
this corporal was tall and admittedly good looking.  She might learn a lot…and even
teach him a thing or two.

Cozy
up to a constable
? 
Reality dashed her slim hopes of alleviating her loneliness. 
Don’t kid
yourself, Mya.  You’re a monster, and there would be questions you couldn’t
answer.

The
last thing she needed was a constable dogging her steps.  With a pained smile,
she said, “Thank you, but there’s no need, Sergeant.  It’s only a few blocks,
and I’m quite safe at this time of day.”

“I
wish you wouldn’t do that, Benj,” she heard the corporal mutter in a tone intended
not to be overheard.

“And
I wish you’d get loosen up and get laid.”  The sergeant hawked and spat into
the river.  “You don’t get some female company soon, you’re gonna end up a
bitter old man like me.”

“You’re
not that old,” the corporal countered, and the other constables snorted in
laughter.

Though
their attention grated on her nerves, their familiarity had an advantage.  This
morning the constables had simply waved her past, having seen her twice
yesterday going back and forth.

 
Mya stopped in at the
Tin Dulcimer
to use the chamber pot—she’d imbibed far
too many cups of blackbrew during her morning café hopping—and change clothes. 
She’d spent half the night altering her drabbest travelling dress into a
working woman’s outfit to better fit in with the less-affluent neighborhoods of
the Dreggars Quarter.  The rest of the night she’d once again spent with her
back in the corner, her daggers at the ready.

It
took her some time to find the pub where she and Lad had been waylaid by a team
of Enforcers their first night in Tsing. 
Only four days ago?
  It seemed
like years.  The poor thugs were probably still tending their wounds.  Mya
stood at the corner across from the pub watching passersby: working people,
mothers with children, and the occasional vagrant.  Half a lifetime in the
Assassins Guild had taught her exactly what to look for, and eventually she
spotted it.

Two
Enforcers strolled down the street, too burly and cocky to be simple laborers
or dock workers.  Swords were illegal for commoners in the city, but they
sported daggers and short clubs.  Having decided on a straightforward approach,
Mya walked up to the pair without pause, which was enough to take them off
guard.

“You
work for Borlic?”

“Who
wants to know?”  One man’s hand drifted toward the dagger at his waist.

“Mya
from Twailin.”

The
Enforcers’ eyes widened and they subtly shifted their stances.  The hand moved
away from the dagger.

At
least they seem to know who I am now
.

Mya
raised her hands palms out in a gesture of harmlessness, and to make sure they
got a good look at the ring on her finger.  “I’m not here for trouble.  I just
need to speak with Borlic.  If you would be so kind as to point me in the right
direction…”

The
Enforcers shared a dubious glance, and the one who had spoken pointed up the
street.  “Two blocks up, there’s a cobbler’s shop.  Bull-Leather Soles.  Ask
for him there.”

“Thanks.” 
As Mya walked away, she cocked an ear to listen.

“If
she kills Borlic, it’s on your head.”

“What
was I supposed to do?  They said if we see her to just report.  If she’s going to Borlic, then he’ll
report, too.”

Their
words told her little, but she might get more from Borlic.  Mya pushed through
the door to the cobbler’s shop and told the woman behind the work table, “I’m
here to see Borlic.”

The
cobbler glanced up with a frown from the boot she was repairing.  “Who’s that?”

“I’m
sure you know him.”  Mya wasn’t about to blurt out guild business.  Most likely
the woman knew what was going on in her shop, but one never knew.  “He’s
probably wearing a sling on his arm.”

The
woman’s frown deepened.  “Up the stairs there.  First door on the left.”

“Thank
you.”

“You’d
best knock.  He’s been in a mood lately.”

Mya
climbed the steps, wondering if Borlic’s mood had to do with more than the
shoulder Lad had dislocated. 
Something like being told he had a new
Grandmaster, maybe
?  Heeding the cobbler’s advice, she knocked on the door
and waited.  The door opened, and a huge figure filled it.

“What
do you want?”  The woman in the doorway showed some interesting heritage, with
shoulders barely narrower than the portal, a flat face, jutting jaw, and
pronounced lower canines that flashed when she spoke. 

“I’m
Mya.  I need to speak with Borlic.”

Again,
subtle recognition and caution.  The mountainous woman stepped aside and waved
her in. 

Mya
immediately felt claustrophobic.  The room wasn’t large, which was no surprise,
since Borlic was only a journeyman.  Aside from the small desk, there was
barely enough room to accommodate the three Enforcers already there.  They
gazed at her as if deciding whether she’d would taste better roasted or raw. 
Mya would have felt threatened if any of them could have harmed her in the
slightest.

“What
can I…”  Borlic’s question trailed off as he recognized her.  He stood from
behind his desk, his good hand near the dagger at his belt.  The other arm, as
Mya had suspected, hung in a sling.  “What do you want?”

“How’s
the arm?”

“It
hurts.  Now what do you want?”

“Information. 
Where do I find the Master Enforcer?”

“Why
should I tell you?  You’re not my boss.”

So
that’s how it is
. 
Lady T had obviously not told the rank and file that Mya was Grandmaster.  She
raised her hand to show him the ring girding her finger.  “Actually, I’m your
boss’ boss’ boss.”

His
eyes widened, then narrowed.  “That’s not what I’ve been told.”

“
What
have
you been told?”
she asked with a cold smile.

“That
you’re not my boss.”  The muscles at Borlic’s jaw bunched and relaxed
rhythmically.  “Look, I’m not giving you an excuse to break my other arm.  You
got a beef with the guild, you talk to the masters.  The Master Enforcer’s name
is Clemson.  She’s got an office on the bluff overlooking the shipyards.” 
Borlic sat back down.  “You want someone to take you there?”

“That
would be perfect.”

“Jolee,
take her to Clemson.”

“Thank
you, Borlic.  You’ve been very helpful.”  Mya thought that Borlic would have
agreed to anything to get her out of his office.

The
walk across the Dreggars Quarter took about a quarter hour.  Hackneys didn’t
venture this far south of the river, and Mya doubted that her escort would have
fit into one even if she’d chosen to ride.  Mya pondered the huge woman’s
heritage as she hurried to keep up.  She’d seen crossbreeds before, but the
offspring of humans and other distantly related cousin-races were rare in
Twailin.  They seemed a bit more common in Tsing, though treated as
second-class citizens even by the commoners. 
Though they certainly make
good Enforcers…

Clemson’s
headquarters were housed in a chandlery.  The scents of wax, oil, and herbs
smelled like a perfumery compared to vile industrial odors that smothered the
rest of the quarter, and, indeed, most of the city.  It discomforted Mya to
realize that the stench of tannery sludge, offal, and open sewage hadn’t
bothered her as much the past couple of days.