Weapon of Fear (16 page)

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.

“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.

M
ya 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.

From
Kittal’s Midtown apothecary, she had taken a carriage to the Heights where the
Master Inquisitor posed as the proprietress of an elegant bath house.  Inhaling
the heady aromas of exotic oils as she followed an attendant through the
establishment, Mya had wished she could slip into one of the baths and float
among the lotus blossoms, or have a massage to loosen her tense muscles.  One
of the disadvantages of being covered neck to wrist to ankle in magical runic
tattoos, however, was that she could never bare her skin to anyone.

Master
Inquisitor Lakshmi surprised her.  A gracious older woman with a maternal air,
she had received Mya with seemingly genuine hospitality, the golden sequins on
her sari swaying gently as she personally poured tea into shallow ceramic bowls
and offered Mya sweet cakes on a silver platter.

The
hospitality had shattered when she said, “I wish you the best of luck, but I’m
afraid that until Lady T identifies you as our new Grandmaster, I can’t even
consider helping you.”

It
all boils down to Lady T. 
Mya
had given the woman three days to get the word out, and she had apparently done
nothing.  Mya couldn’t tolerate that degree of insolence.  It was time to
confront this problem.

By
the time she reached Lady T’s neighborhood, the late-afternoon sun tinted the
buildings a golden hue, casting deep shadows between them.  She strolled by the
house, stopping some way beyond to drop a copper into the outstretched cup of a
young beggar.

“Anything
to report, Digger?”

“The
lady went out this afternoon in a carriage.  Hasn’t come back yet.”

“Black-and-white
horses pulling it?”

“Yeah.”

Mya
fumed.  She wanted to get this over with.  “All right.  When she returns, fetch
me at the café two blocks down the hill.  Where’s Gimp?”

“Out
back.  Look under the bushes.”

“Got
it.”  Mya continued on, turning at the corner to go around the house.

The
entire back of the mansion was lined with manicured bougainvillea, their
inch-long thorns a formidable barrier against prowlers.  Surely the girl
wouldn’t try to hide beneath those; she’d be torn to shreds.  Mya strolled on,
scanning the shadows.  At the end of the block, across the street from the back
of Lady T’s house, she spied a short wrought-iron gate that opened into a courtyard
garden.  Beneath one of the two lush shrubberies that flanked the gate hunkered
the girl with a twisted leg.  Mya would have missed her if she hadn’t known
what to look for. 

Stopping
to lace her shoe, she winked at the girl.  “See anything good, Gimp?”

“Aye,
miss,” the girl whispered.  “I seen the lady at them windows there earlier, and
then a carriage leavin’.  Careful, there’s two watchmen inside the carriage
gate.”

Mya
glanced to the wide, wrought-iron gate that undoubtedly led to Lady T’s inner
courtyard and stable.  Two thick figures lounged against the sides of the arch,
one smoking a pipe. 
Sloppy, but good for me
.  She gave Gimp directions
to the café, finished with her shoe, and headed for a well-deserved cup of
blackbrew and a sweet roll.

As
the day settled into evening, Mya’s head buzzed with blackbrew, and her teeth
felt sticky from the sweet pastries.  She wished she’d brought something to
read, but she hadn’t expected to have so much free time to sit and stew in the
juices of her frustration.  Finally the bang of the door and the plaintive
voice of a street urchin announced her deliverance.

“Got
any stale buns?”  Digger caught her eye.

“Get
out of here!”  The shopkeeper rounded the counter, but Digger was already out
the door.

Leaving
a coin on the table, Mya went out into the darkening street.  Digger shuffled
away, then turned into an alley.  Mya followed and pretended to twist an ankle
at the corner of the alley.

“She’s
home.” he announced.

“Alone?”

“Yep.”

“Good.”

Mya
headed toward Lady T’s house.  Crossing the last street, she heard the twitter
of a bird—Gimp—though she couldn’t remember what the particular call meant. 
Circling to the adjacent block, she hopped a low gate on the opposite side of
the courtyard garden and flitted through the shadows to where Gimp crouched.

“Gimp,
what did you see?”

The
girl blinked at Mya’s surprise arrival, and whispered through the gate.  “The
carriage came back, then the lights in that room started actin’ funny.”  She
pointed a grimy finger to a third-floor window at the back of Lady T’s house. 
“Them ones, where I seen the lady before.”

“Funny
how?”

“Watch… 
There!”

The
light behind the gauzy curtains faded, then brightened, as if someone inside
turned the lamp down, then up again.

“That
is
odd.  How many times has that happened?”

Gimp
looked down at her fingers, folded three down.  “Maybe that many.  Seven.”

Mya
patted the girl on the shoulder.  “I’m going up there.  You keep watching, and
do your bird whistle if you see anyone coming around.”

“But
how are you—”

“No
questions, Gimp.  Just watch.”

“Yes,
miss.  Careful.  Them two are still watchin’.”  Gimp pointed to the carriage
gate.

“Thanks.”

Mya
was no burglar, but she knew how to case targets.  Looking up at the
illuminated windows, she gauged the angle to the carriage gate.  The watchers
inside the gate wouldn’t be able to see the back of the building, but they
could certainly see the street, so she couldn’t just dash across from here.  If
she approached along the thorny hedge, the angle and the shadows should conceal
her.

The
first-floor windows were dark and barred, but the second- and third-floor
weren’t, with jutting stone sills and lintels.  Mya plotted her path up the
side of the building, thanking Lad once again for showing her exactly what her
magically enhance strength and coordination could accomplish.  She felt another
pang at the memory of their brief time together; platonic though it had been,
she had felt a synergy with him that she had felt with no other human being.

Stop
it!  Focus!

Mya
backed into the deep shadows of the garden, stripped down to her wrappings, and
hid her clothing and shoes beneath a bush.  Her pale face and hands might be a
problem, but she had no way to darken them.  Leaving the garden by the opposite
end, she dashed around the block and across the street behind Lady T’s house. 
Thankfully, it was late enough that she could avoid the occasional pedestrian
by keeping to the shadows.  Mya eased down the street close to the thorn hedge,
listening for any sign that the watchers had spotted her.  Nothing.

Beneath
the illuminated window, she leapt up and over the bougainvillea to the
first-floor window.  The thick bars offered a perfect perch for her to listen
for a moment.  Hearing nothing, she launched herself up to the second-story,
catching the windowsill.  One hard jerk brought her up to stand on the sill,
her palms braced on the stone frame.  Leaning back as far as she could without
falling, she looked overhead to the lit window.  People inside probably
wouldn’t see her peering in through the drapes if she didn’t make herself
obvious. 

Careful
now
.

Thrusting
with her legs, she leapt and clamped onto the sill of the third-story window. 
Mya hung there a moment to listen.  No shouts of alarm from the watchers or
whistle from Gimp meant she hadn’t been seen yet.  She felt horribly exposed
hanging in the open, but, a glance left and right confirmed that there were no
passersby.

Pulling
herself up, Mya peered through the casement.  The gauzy drapes hazed her view,
but she recognized the sitting room where she’d spoken with Lady T.  The scene
within, however, furrowed her brow.

A
party
?

A handful
of well-dressed people sipped drinks out of crystal glasses and ate tidbits off
of silver trays.  Digger had said that Lady T arrived home alone.

So
where did they come from
?

Cocking
her head, she could just make out their muffled voices through the glass.

“Really,
Lady T, don’t you have
servants
to attend us?”  A short man in a silk
brocade jacket picked a dainty off a tray held by his hostess.  “Perhaps after
spending all of your money on your
title
and this
lovely
home,
you can’t afford any?”

Lady
T inclined her head graciously despite the man’s snide comment.  “Security
demands sacrifices, Duke Seoli.  This is not the type of meeting one wants
discussed in the kitchen.” 

“What’s
the world coming to when one can’t trust one’s own servants?” complained a
stately older woman as she ineptly poured wine from a decanter.  “All this
cloak-and-dagger nonsense is silly.  I don’t know why you insisted upon it,
Graving.”

“In
this, Duchess Ingstrom, I wouldn’t trust my own mother.”  A portly man whom Mya
assumed to be Graving plucked a tidbit from the tray, popped it into his mouth,
and reached for another.

The
duchess sniffed.  “It’s a wonder you magistrates trust anyone, dealing with
commoners
every day.  But such secrecy for mere politics is—”

The
conversation ceased as the light suddenly dimmed.  Mya’s eyes locked onto one
corner of the room where a whirl of shadow obscured the glow of the nearby lamps. 
The shadows cleared, and the radiance was restored, illuminating a man in gray
robes and woman in a severe black dress, neither of whom had been there a
moment ago.

Remembering
the swirling black mists during their fight in the imperial dungeons, Mya
immediately thought of Hoseph, but she didn’t recognize this bald man. 
Another
priest?

Her
attention followed the woman in black as she jerked her hand from the man’s
grasp and hurried to the sideboard, her face white with horror.  Grabbing a
decanter, she splashed a measure of liquor into a tumbler and knocked it back.

“Hells
below, what a
horrid
way to travel!” 

“The
gall
!”  Duke Seoli glared at the woman.  “Have you no manners at all? 
You’re in the house of a noble of the realm!”

“I
take no offense, Duke.”  Lady T nodded and gestured graciously to the woman. 
“All are welcome in my home, noble and magistrate alike.  And since you so
accurately pointed out my lack of servants to attend us, I encourage everyone
to feel free to help themselves.  Let’s not quibble about propriety.”

“Thank
you, Lady.”  The woman’s hand shook as she poured another stout drink.  “I
certainly meant no offence.”

Mya
ignored the sniping nobles, her eyes drawn back to the man in gray robes. 
Squinting through the drapes, she studied his angular features and realized
that she’d been fooled by a thin disguise. 
It
is
Hoseph!
 
Lowering herself until only her eyes and dark hair edged above the sill, she
examined her nemesis.  She’d given her urchins an inaccurate description of the
priest, and wondered now if he’d been lurking around her inn under their noses
in this new disguise. 
Probably not.  I’m still alive.

“Lords
and ladies, distinguished magistrates, we can ill afford dissension amongst
ourselves.  The future of the empire depends on us.”  Hoseph nodded toward the
portly man chewing yet another savory.  “Chief Magistrate Graving has
identified each and every one of you as loyalists who esteem the great empire
of Tsing.  We share a common goal here tonight: to oppose the dangerous
policies of that weakling upstart Arbuckle.  We must set aside our differences
for the common good!”

What
a crock of bullshit
,
Mya thought.

“What’s
your
role in this?” demanded a thin-nosed man in satin breeches and
jacket.  “Other than whisking us all around the city, I mean.  Being seen with
a wanted fugitive would ruin me.”

Despite
Hoseph’s static smile, Mya could see the twitch of his jaw muscles as he
clenched his teeth.

“You
know me only as the emperor’s spiritual advisor.  His Majesty also entrusted me
with deeper responsibilities.”  He made a grandiose gesture.  “One cannot
maintain control over the unruly masses wielding only an iron fist.  The
emperor also had a…more subtle organization to root out subversion and apply
pressure when and where necessary.  You might consider us as the emperor’s
secret constabulary.”