Weapon of Fear (26 page)

Mya
looked at the note in her hand—

The
Mug and Muffin
.  Two
hours after highsun today.  Alone.

The Gnome

—then
up at the sign swinging in the afternoon breeze.  This was the place.

Situated
near the top of the Long Stair, the
Mug and Muffin
catered to the
longshoremen and shipwrights who made their way from the Dreggars Quarter to
the shipyards and docks below the bluff every morning.  Thankfully, the smell
of wood dust and tar drifting up on the breeze didn’t overwhelm the aroma of
strong blackbrew and fresh-baked pastries that wafted through the shop door as
it opened.  Mya’s stomach growled.

The
man exiting the shop tipped his hat to her.  Mya ignored him; he was too tall
to be the person she was here to meet.

The
note had been handed to her at the third tinker’s shop she revisited that
morning.  The shopkeeper denied knowing who had given it to him, and she hadn’t
pressed the issue, afraid that undue curiosity might scare off the Gnome.

Pausing
at the door, she scanned the tiny café professionally, but neither saw nor
heard anything that raised her suspicions. 
No turning back now, Mya. 
She
walked in with one hand on the dagger secreted in the pocket of her dress.

“Help
ya, Miss?”  The proprietor’s pearly teeth gleamed as he grinned at her.

“Just
a cup of blackbrew and a nibble, if you please.”  She looked at the pastry
case.  “One of those sweet rolls will be perfect.”

“Cream
and sugar in your blackbrew?”

“Just
cream.”

“Sit
anywhere you like.  With you in two shakes.”

High-backed
booths lined one wall, a long counter with stools the other.  There were three
other customers, one at the counter near the door, and two sharing the nearest
booth.  None were gnomes.  The only other door was behind the counter.  Mya
picked the far booth and sat with her back to the corner and a view of both
doors and the entire room.

A
moment later the shopkeeper stepped up with a tray.  “There you are.  Three
pennies, if you please.”

“Thank
you.  Here you go.”  Mya placed four pennies in his outstretched hand.

Pulling
her guide book from her bag, she settled in as if stopping for a snack and a
little reading.  She sipped her blackbrew, piping hot and strong, and popped a
bite of the sticky pastry into her mouth.  It was delicious.  Licking her
fingers, she chased the bite with another swallow of blackbrew, and opened her
book.

“Ye
must be new ta Tsing.”

The
voice startled Mya so badly she slopped blackbrew over the edge of her cup.  In
the corner of the booth across from her sat a diminutive fellow who seemed to
have materialized out of thin air.  He was so short that his chin barely
cleared the edge of the table, so she could only see a nose big enough for
someone thrice his size and a gray cap pulled low to shade large eyes.

You
let down your guard, Mya
—
for
a sweet roll, no less
—
and you could’ve been killed
.

She
wiped up the spilled blackbrew with a napkin and put her cup down.  “Yes, I am
new to the city.  How did you know?” 

“One,
yer readin’ a book what tells ye about the city, and two, ye tipped.”  He
reached across the table and nipped a bite of her pastry.  “Where ye from?”

“Why
does that matter?”

His
dark eyes gleamed up at her.  “I’m a mite choosey about who I work for, so if
ye won’t be answerin’ me questions, I’ll just be leavin’…”

“Twailin.” 
Giving a truthful answer went against Mya’s instincts, but she needed this
information.  Gimp had reported more flickering lights at Lady T’s last night. 
The conspirators had apparently convened another meeting.  Mya couldn’t spend
her life dangling from the mansion windowsill in hopes of catching them planning.

“Long
way ta come fer a visit.”

“I’m
not visiting.  I’ll be staying.”  She tried to appear calm, sipping her
blackbrew and pinching off another bite of her pastry.

“Why?”

“I’ve
secured a position here that may turn out to be beneficial, but I find myself
in need of your services.”

“So
I understand.”  He nipped another bite of pastry.  “Wha’da ye need?”

“I
was told you know the layout of the palace.”

His
oversized eyes widened.  “Why’d ye want ta know that?”

“That’s
my business.”

“No. 
You hire me, it becomes me business.”  His eyes narrowed and flicked over her,
lingering here and there, then following her left hand as it moved from her
plate to her mouth.  “Yer ring.  That what I think it is?”

“What
do you think it is?”

“I
think it means yer a killer.  How’d ye get it?”

“I
killed someone.”

“Yer
a killer, and ye want me ta get ye inta the palace?  Ye must be daft.”  He
started to move, but she held out a hand.

“Wait. 
I already know how to get in.  I just need to know the layout of the upper
floors.”

“Yer
lyin’.”

“No,
I’m not.  And I don’t need the layout so I can kill anyone.  I need it to
keep
someone from being killed.”

His
eyes narrowed again.  “Who?”

Mya
took a deep breath and prayed that he’d believe her.  “Crown Prince Arbuckle.”

“Horseshite!” 
The gnome made a face of disgust, derision, or disbelief, Mya couldn’t tell,
but he didn’t’ get up and walk out.  “Hold out yer hand.”

With
some trepidation, she complied.  He reached out one finger to touch the
Grandmaster’s ring, then snatched his hand back as if he had touched hot iron. 
He shook his head, muttering in a language Mya didn’t know.

“I
only know two rings anythin’ like that.  One’s on the finger of a blueblood
north of the river, but it ain’t quite so fancy.  This one I ain’t seen in
fifty years.  Why is that?”

Again,
telling him the truth felt wrong, but it might just convince him to help her. 
“Because the emperor was wearing it.”

“I
don’t believe ye.”

Mya
laughed.  “I didn’t quite believe it myself, but if you’ve lived in Tsing that
long, it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise.  Think about how the empire’s
been run during his reign.  Think of what’s happened to the Thieves Guild. 
Think of
how
it happened.”  She’d learned that the Thieves Guild had
been expunged from Tsing long ago, run out by the Assassins Guild and the
constabulary combined.  “And think how…” she wiggled her ring finger, “this
guild has been terrorizing commoners but leaving gentry and nobility alone.  It
was the perfect set up, and I ended it.”

“Aye…” 
He rubbed his prodigious nose and sniffed.  “Mayhap yer tellin’ me the truth,
and mayhap yer full of shite.  Either way, I got no reason to help ye.”

“You’ve
got two excellent reasons to help me.”

“Oh? 
And what might those be?”

“First,
I’ll pay you.”  Mya hoped he didn’t ask for any money up front; she still had
to figure out how to get some.  “Second,” she lowered her voice and glanced at
the proprietor, but the man seemed to be fully involved in cleaning his
blackbrew pots, “if the plot I’ve uncovered to assassinate Prince Arbuckle is
successful, everything north of the river will burn to the ground.  If that
doesn’t put a damper on your earnings, I don’t know what will.”

“Aye,
ya got that right enough.”  The gnome made another face, equally unreadable. 
“And how do ye plan ta stop his murder if I give ye what ye want?”

“I
plan to tell the prince who’s out to kill him.”

“Why
not just kill them plannin’ it?”

“Because
it’s not that easy.  If I miss just one, or if bodies start showing up, they’ll
know I’m onto them and make it even harder.” 
Not to mention the fact that I
can’t even
find
Hoseph!

“Aye,
good point.”  He chewed his lip and rubbed his nose.  "But if yer who ye
say ye are, then why not send yer people after all these folks at once?”

“My
people
are
these folks.”  She wiggled her ring finger again.  “I didn’t
get this the usual way, and we don’t quite see eye to eye yet.”

The
Gnome chuckled and squinted up at her.  “And why should I trust ye?”

“You
shouldn’t.”  Mya ate another bite of pastry and licked the sugar off her fingers. 
“You’d be a fool to trust an assassin you just met.  Look into it.  I’m sure
you have your sources.  But I can’t tell you everything I know until I’m sure
we’ve got a deal.”

“What
about yer name?  Can ye tell me that?”

Mya
hesitated for only an instant.  If the Gnome wanted to betray her, he’d do it
with or without her name.  There was only one assassin from Twailin wearing the
Grandmaster’s ring.  “I’m Mya.”

“I’ll
look inta this and get back to ye.”

“Don’t
take too long.  They may act soon.”

“Aye. 
Watch fer me note.”  The Gnome slipped out of the seat, dropped below the
table…and vanished.

Mya
had been listening, but it was like she’d gone momentarily deaf.  One moment
she could hear the gnome’s heart beating in his chest, and the next, it and he
were both gone.

“Sonofabitch…” 
The only other person she’d ever met who could move with such stealth was Lad.

Finishing
her blackbrew and pastry, she considered the little man.  Such a combination of
stealth and caution were admirable, and she smiled to think of the Gnome prying
a jewel from the imperial crown while the emperor slept.  After meeting him,
she had no doubt the story was true.

Maybe
he can teach
me
to move like that.

A
rbuckle entered the Great Hall to
the herald’s ringing announcement, feeling for all the world as if he was the
one on trial.  Sweeping his gaze across the dozens of attending nobles, he
wondered who among them might be plotting his death even now.  Days had passed
since the assassination attempt, but his stomach still quivered with the
memory.  Despite being surrounded by imperial guards and knights, he felt naked
without his blademasters. 

Don’t
let them see your fear
,
the prince reminded himself as he strode onto the dais and took his seat.

The
hall had been arranged to accommodate the trials.  To Arbuckle’s right, a
waist-high wooden rail surrounded three men sporting an undeniable family
resemblance.  Manacled at wrist and ankle and surrounded by constables, they
stood with shoulders slumped and eyes downcast.  To his left stood another
railing, but the prisoner behind it couldn’t have been more different.  Baron
Ledwig was a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair, the muscle of his youth still
evident in his broad shoulders.  He stood with his head held high, staring at
Arbuckle defiantly.  Though guarded, his hands and feet remained unfettered as
a privilege of his rank.  A row of witnesses sat between the two boxes.

As
far as Arbuckle could tell, all the senior nobles and magistrates had obeyed
his order to attend.  Disapproval painted their faces.  Only one noble in the
past thirty years had been charged by the crown, and that for treason against
the empire.  To charge Baron Ledwig with the murder of a commoner probably
seemed blasphemous to them, considering how many were either directly or
indirectly guilty of similar crimes.  If their gazes had been daggers, even a
cordon of blademasters could not have saved the prince.  Fortunately, all save
the guards had been disarmed before entering the Great Hall, one of the few of
his father’s edicts of which Arbuckle approved.

“Lords
and ladies of Tsing, honored magistrates, thank you for attending.  I have
called you to witness these trials—two crimes irrevocably linked—to demonstrate
how justice will be rendered during my reign.  No longer will imperial laws be
twisted to serve only the ruling classes. 
Anyone
charged with a crime
will be called to answer for his or her actions.”

Mutters
swept through the nobles, low and dangerous.  The imperial guards shifted, but
remained in place.  Arbuckle didn’t think there would be any trouble from the
crowd, but Captain Ithross had insisted on additional security.  Even more
guards were stationed in the corridor in case violence broke out.

With
a deep breath, Arbuckle commenced the proceedings.  “Tennison, read the first
charges.”

“Yes,
milord.”  Tennison unrolled a parchment and read in a voice loud enough to
reach the far corners of the chamber.  “Raul Walls, the charge of arson.  Vance
Walls, the charge of arson.  Torance Walls, the charges of arson, assault upon
a constable, and resistance to arrest.”

Arbuckle
turned to the accused.  “Raul, Vance, and Torance Walls, how plead you to the
charges levied against you here?”

The
three men looked at one another in surprise, then back to the prince.  “What do
you mean, milord?” asked one.

“Milord
Prince,” interrupted Graving, heaving his bulk out of his chair.  “The accused
were caught red-handed by a squad of constables.  What’s the use in asking them
how they plead?”

“Because
the law states that they have the right to do so, Chief Magistrate.”  Arbuckle
tied to maintain his composure.  “The protocols require that the accused enter
a plea, so they will.  Now, please sit down.”

The
Chief Magistrate obeyed, glaring first at the prince, then at the nobles as
someone tittered in amusement.  He had thrown the law in Arbuckle’s face, and
having it thrown right back at him undoubtedly galled Graving no end.

Turning
back to the Walls brothers, the prince explained, “You may plead innocent or
guilty to the charges.  If you plead innocent, know that you must present
evidence to support your claim.”

The
three looked at one another again, then the man who appeared to be the eldest
stepped forward, his broad workman’s hands gripping the rail of the box.  His
knuckles were scabbed with dried blood, and his face was bruised.  “I’m Torance
Walls, milord, and I speak for me and my brothers.  We plead guilty.”  He
looked at Baron Ledwig with unabashed malice.  “We burnt that pig’s fancy house
for what he did to our sister, Macie, and we’d do it again.”

“Hang
them!” came an anonymous shout from amidst the nobles.

“Silence!” 
Arbuckle glared the hall to an uneasy quiet.  “The assembled will remain quiet,
or I will charge the offenders with contempt of the crown!”  He turned back to
the brothers.  “Now, Torance Walls, what do you believe Baron Ledwig did to
your sister?”

“He
killed her, milord.” The words caught in his throat.

“And
why did you not report your sister’s death to the authorities?”

“Because,
milord, as far as the
authorities
was concerned, beatin’ a chambermaid
to death ain’t a crime.”  The man squared his shoulders and met Arbuckle’s
eyes, sure of his fate and resigned to it.  “You say there’s gonna be justice
for commoners, but there ain’t.  Everyone knows that.  The only justice we ever
see is what we take for ourselves.”

Arbuckle
sat silent for a moment, allowing Torance Walls’ words to reverberate around
the cavernous chamber and watching the assembled nobles for their reactions. 
He saw only disgust, fear, and malice in their eyes.  It was time to show them
what they truly feared.

“
This
is why, lords and ladies, there must be justice for
everyone
.  A brother
will avenge his sister regardless of the law, so the law must be the
means
of his vengeance.  Without equal justice, without the same laws governing
nobles and commoners alike, we live by tyranny, risking rebellion and anarchy.”

“Only
because you’re too weak to enforce the law!”  A young man stood, his face
livid.  He pointed his finger at the Walls brothers.  “Hang that rabble for the
rest to see!  Show them what comes of breaking the law, and you’ll have order! 
Your father knew that, and ruled for forty years in peace!”

“The
baron’s son, milord,” whispered Tennison.

Arbuckle
saw the family resemblance in the young man’s hard eyes and cruel twist to the
mouth.

“Rest
assured, Lord Ledwig, these men will be sentenced for their crimes, as will
all
who break the laws of this empire!  Now, sit down.”

The
young man seethed, but sat.

“Tennison,
since these three men have pled guilty, please continue with the other
charges.”

Once
again, the secretary’s voice boomed out.  “Baron Uldric Ledwig, the charge of
murder.”

Another
murmur swept the assembled crowd.

“Baron
Ledwig.”  Arbuckle turned to the accused noble.  “You are charged with
murdering your chambermaid.  How do you plead?”

“Point
of Law, Milord Prince!”  Chief Magistrate Graving once again rose.

Arbuckle
sighed.  “State the precedent, Chief Magistrate.”

“In
year four of his reign,
Emperor
Tynean Tsing II instituted the Law of
Justifiable Punishment.  That law states that a noble may punish, by any means
they see fit, any servant or commoner for dereliction of duty, insult, assault,
or impugnment.”

“I’m
familiar with that law, Chief Magistrate.  Are you familiar with the Articles
of the Foundation, laid down by Arianus Tsing I when he founded this empire?”

Graving’s
gloating expression fell.  “I am, milord.”

“And
you no doubt know that
all
imperials law must comply with these basic
tenets?”

“I
do, milord.”

“State
for me the third Article.”

Reluctantly,
the chief magistrate recited, “No person of any station or class may take the
life of another, barring only conflict during war, insurrection, in the defense
of one’s self or property, or in the lawful pursuit of justice.”

“Thank
you, Chief Magistrate.”  Arbuckle turned his attention to the rest of the
crowd.  “Lords and ladies, the Law of Justifiable Punishment does not—
cannot
—supersede
the Articles of the Foundation.  Murder is wrong, no matter the rank of the
perpetrator or victim.  When a murder victim has no advocate, it’s the duty of
the Imperial Court to seek justice.  It was the court’s duty to charge Baron
Ludwig with murder.  In the court’s dereliction, as ranking noble, I have done
so.”

Graving
apparently interpreted Arbuckle’s statement as an accusation.  “It’s been this
way for forty years, milord!  Nobles are not to be prosecuted for their actions
against commoners.  That is the order that came directly down from your father
the emperor.  That is how every magistrate is trained to execute the law!”

Trying
to cover your fat ass
. 
Arbuckle swallowed his disgust; this was neither the time nor place to deal
with Graving.

“My
father may have tolerated violations of the Articles of the Foundation, but I
will not.  Murder is a prosecutable offence for all. 
Any
violation of
the Articles of the Foundation will be prosecuted.  If the court neglects to do
its duty, be assured that I’ll personally take up the slack.”

Murmurs
broke out again, louder this time, “Preposterous!” and “Anarchist!” among the
exclamations.  Arbuckle raised a hand, and the herald banged his staff hard
upon the floor.

“Lords
and ladies, we must all live under the governance of the Articles of the
Foundation, nobles and commoners alike.  If we do not,
that
is when we
risk anarchy.  Now, let’s continue.  Baron Ledwig, how do you plea to the
charge of murder?”

“I
have no plea, milord, because no crime was committed.  It was justifiable
punishment.”

Frustration
threatened to choke Arbuckle.  “Did you not hear what I just said?  Murder is a
violation of the Articles of the Foundation.  These apply to
everyone
!”

“If
I had done this a month ago, it wouldn’t have been a crime.”

“It
would
have been a crime, whether you were charged or not!  Now, answer
me: Did you flog Macie Walls to death?”

“I
did, milord, as an example to the rest of them.”  The baron sneered at the
Walls brothers.  “When a bitch bites the hand that feeds her, she must be put
down, or she’ll bite again.”

“You
filthy piece of—”  The Walls brothers surged forward despite their chains.

“Silence!” 
Arbuckle surprised himself with the volume of his command.  “The accused will remain
silent until they are asked to speak, and you, Baron Ledwig, will be civil.”

“I
was unaware that I was required to be civil to
commoners
, milord.” 
Ledwig’s lip curled back from his teeth.  “Is
that
a law?”

Arbuckle
seethed.  Ledwig was just as arrogant as Lord MalEnthal had said.  “You were a
knight before you were given a barony, were you not?”

“Yes.”

“And
before that, a squire?”

“Yes.”

“And
before that?”

“I
was a soldier in your father’s army.”

“A
common
,
solder.  You held no title, and were commoner before you became a squire.  Tell
me, do you feel it was your right as a soldier to be treated with respect?”

“Yes. 
I was a soldier!  A representative of the Crown!”

“And
before you joined the army, as the son of a
tailor
, did you deserve
respect?”  He’d looked into the baron’s past with care.

The
muscles of Ledwig’s smooth jaw writhed.  “I
earned
my nobility in
service to this empire!  They didn’t.”  He pointed accusatively at the Walls
brothers.

“Then
try to
act
like a noble!  Now, what did Macie Walls do that resulted in
her…punishment.”

“Destruction
of my personal property, assault of my person, and impugnment of my honor,
milord.”  The baron nodded to a group of servants seated before them.  “There
were witnesses.”

“Very
well.”  Arbuckle surveyed the witnesses, apparently the entire staff of the
baron’s house.  “Who among you saw Macie Walls assault Baron Ledwig?”

Three
of the assembled tentatively raised their hands, one man, and two women.

“You
there.”  The elder woman stiffened at being singled out.  “Please stand, tell
us who you are, and give us your account of this assault.”

“Milord
Prince.”  The woman stood and curtsied.  She had a scar on the right side of
her face, from the corner of her eye to her jaw.  She fixed her eyes firmly on
the floor.  “I’m Libby, senior maid in the Ledwig household.  Macie was serving
tea for the baron and his friends.  When the baron…touched her, she slapped his
hand.  That was when she dropped the tea service.”