Weapon of Fear (24 page)

“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.