Weapon of Fear (15 page)

“What
are
you, lady?”  The boy took a step back and the others with him. 
“Knock put you down.  Nobody gets up when Knock puts ’em down.”

Monster
…  “You don’t want to know what I
am.”

She
watched as the lead boy pulled the crippled girl to her feet and tried to wipe
her bloody forehead clean with his filthy shirt tail.  Stick boy helped pluck
glass splinters from the hand of the boy who had wielded the broken bottle,
while the crossbreed girl watched over her companions protectively.  They might
be homeless urchins, but they were tough and they were loyal.

And
they were leaving.  Slowly, they slunk back into the shadows.

“Wait!” 
Mya surprised herself with the outburst. 
Loyalty…desperation…street
smart…hungry
!  “I have a proposal for you!”

They
stopped but didn’t come back.  Mya pulled another coin out of her pouch and
held it up.  She had to be frugal if she wanted her money to last until she had
won over the guild, but this seemed a smart investment.

“You
already have one crown.  That should feed you well enough for a while, but if
you want to eat every day, come work for me.”

The
urchins inched forward.

“What
kind of work?” asked the lead boy.

“Knock!” 
The girl who had nearly spattered Mya’s brains across the street grinned and
smacked her stick into her palm.

Mya
held up a forestalling hand.  “Not exactly that kind of work.  I need someone I
can trust to watch while I sleep.  Someone’s trying to kill me.”

“Kill
you
?”  The boy shook his head.  “Dunno if I want to fight nobody who
could kill you.  Knock put you down, and you popped up like you was some spring
toy!”

“You
wouldn’t have to fight, just watch and warn me.”  Mya’s mind spun as she
considered other ways in which she might use the urchins.  Street kids like
these were ubiquitous in a city like Tsing, utterly ignored as long as they
weren’t making trouble.  “And maybe do a little spying.  You can fight, and
you’re tough, but I need smart, too.  I need you to be quiet and sneaky and
watch people for me.  Do you think you can do that in exchange for food?  If it
works out, I’ll see about getting you a dry place to sleep and better clothes,
too.”

The
children looked at one another, more communication passing in their glances
than most people accomplished with whole sentences.  Each nodded in turn.

“Okay.” 
The lead boy hooked a thumb at himself.  “I’m Digger.”  He pointed to the
others in turn.  Nestor was the boy with the broken glass in his hand, and Gimp
the girl with the twisted leg.  The boy with the two sticks they called Twigs,
and the boy who had nearly put a nail through Mya’s skull was called, appropriately,
Nails.  The crossbreed girl, of course, was Knock.

“I’m
Mya.”  She looked them over and grimaced at their injuries.  “I hope I didn’t
do any permanent damage.”

“Nah.” 
Digger flexed his injured wrist.  “Nothin’ broke.  A few scratches.”

“Good.” 
She considered them. “Don’t the rest of you speak?”

“Not
to strangers.”  Digger tapped himself on the chest.  “I’m oldest.  I do the
talkin’.”

“Right.” 
She bit her lip, wondering how she could manage to get them all where she
needed them. If anyone saw her walking with a gaggle of urchins in tow like a
row of ducklings, there would be too many questions.  “You know where the
Tin
Dulcimer
is?”

“Sure. 
Big fancy inn near the river.”

No
one Mya knew would have called the
Dulcimer
fancy.  “Meet me in the
alley behind the inn.  I’ll bring food and we’ll talk.”

“Okay.” 
Digger nodded and the urchins followed him out of the alley.

Mya
grinned to herself as she trudged back to the inn, fingering the blood-stiff
hair on the back of her head and wondering if she’d been knocked silly.  Most
people wouldn’t give a bunch of street urchins very good odds against the
Assassins Guild, but they were street savvy and as tough as nails.  When she
was done training them, they’d be invisible and everywhere.  Six more pairs of
eyes for the cost of a few meals seemed like a solid investment.

“I
must
be crazy.”

L
eather creaked as Paxal lurched up
into the saddle.  At least Dee thought it was the saddle creaking, and not the
old innkeeper’s bones.

Dee
had visited the
Golden Cockerel
to tell Paxal that Lad and Mya were in
trouble, and ask him some questions.  He hadn’t expected the man to insist on
coming along.  He knew that the innkeeper cared deeply for Mya, but he seemed a
bit old to go running off on the spur of the moment.

“Are
you sure you’re up for this, Pax?  I’m going to be riding hard, changing horses
at the way inns for speed.”

“Horse
does most the work.”  Paxal didn’t even look up as he checked his saddlebags. 
“All I gotta do is stay in the saddle.”

“Right.” 
Dee mounted his own horse, gritting his teeth. 
This is
going to be a
long trip with him giving me the cold shoulder for a thousand miles
.

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
opened 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.