Weapon of Fear (30 page)

 “Do
you think he’ll pursue this investigation to the fullest extent of his
capabilities?  I must admit, he doesn’t impress me.  His opinion of commoners
is barbaric.”

“He
is on the crude side, milord, but he does his job.”

“Don’t
you think that you and your own people might do a
better
job
investigating this?”

“No,
milord.”  He shook his head emphatically.  “My investigation of the first
assassination attempt was logical.  My people know the palace intimately and
are familiar with the staff.  But Dreyfus and his constables know the city high
and low: the streets and alleys, who makes trouble, who’s an informer.  They’re
experienced canvassing the neighborhoods.  The skills of an imperial guard are
not those of a city constable.”

Arbuckle
rubbed his eyes.  It hadn’t been a physically strenuous day, but his nerves
were stretched tighter than a harp’s strings.  He felt as if someone plucked a
note, he’d snap.  “I don’t mean to disparage Dreyfus, Captain, but he and I are
just…very dissimilar.  I have few people I can trust implicitly, Captain
Ithross.  I’m sure you understand that.”

“I
understand perfectly, milord.”

“Good. 
Now, back to this would-be assassination.  Tennison and I drew up a list of
those who would benefit most from my death or have been most displeased with my
leadership.  It’s reads like the Imperial Register.  What do you think about
arranging private interviews with each of the senior nobles and magistrates
with Archmage Duveau present to verify the truth of their statements?”

“I
think we can do that, milord.  Who would you like to see first?”

“Respectfully,
milord, I would like to suggest you rethink that strategy.”  Tennison stepped
forward, looking distraught.  “It would be dangerous in the extreme.”

Arbuckle
laughed shortly.  “More dangerous than the assassins already trying to kill
me?”

“Perhaps
not physically, but politically, to both you and the empire.  An emperor cannot
see to every detail of his empire.  You must rely on your nobles to enforce
your laws and carry out your will.  If they so choose, they can stonewall you
and undermine your authority at every turn.  To be successful, you must
engage
them, not estrange them with interrogations.”

Arbuckle
shook his head and crooked a wry smile.  “Of course, you’re right, Tennison. 
Fear and paranoia seem to be getting the better of me.  I’m not thinking
clearly.”

The
secretary nodded sympathetically.  “You have every right to be worried,
milord.”

“Perhaps
it would be wise for you to refrain from public appearances in the near
future.”  Despite his polite tone, Ithross didn’t look like he was making a
suggestion.  “The palace is safe, at least.”

“And
look like a coward?”  Arbuckle clenched his jaw.

“Captain
Ithross has a point, milord,” said Tennison.  “You have no public events
scheduled, and it’s well known that we’re busy planning the coronation.  No one
expects you to be out and about the city.”

Ithross
nodded gratefully to the secretary.  “Milord, you can still make appearances in
the safety of the palace where we can control the situation.  You have a dinner
scheduled this very evening.  I suggest you make an appearance and show
everyone you’re safe and unafraid.  We can’t disregard the fact that attempts
have
been made on your life, but we needn’t keep you locked in your chambers.”

Arbuckle
nodded reluctantly.  Right now, being locked in his chambers had a certain
appeal.  He waved at the weapons on the table.  “Get these out of here.”  The
last thing he needed was a reminder that someone wanted him dead.

“You
missed again!”  Hoseph paced Lady T’s sitting room, livid at the lost
opportunity.  “You complain that we can’t kill Arbuckle because we have no one
in the palace, but when he shows himself in public in front of thousands of
people, your assassin
still
failed.  What kind of incompetents do you
hire?”

Lady
T sipped a glass of pale wine, her poise intact.  “Foirin was the best shot in
the guild.  He could shoot a sparrow out of the air.  You know nothing of the
difficulties of pulling off a proper assassination.  A crowd of thousands makes
a job
more
difficult, not easier.”

“Then
what went wrong?”

“His
shot was true, but an imperial guard stepped in front of Arbuckle at the last
moment, intercepting the dart.”

“So,
his failure was not in marksmanship, but in his inability to remain
unobserved?”

Lady
T shook her head.  “He shouldn’t have
been
observed.  I had people posted
throughout the plaza.  The guard was looking forward until someone in the crowd
yelled something that drew his attention to the windows.  Apparently, the guard
looked right at Foirin before diving into the path of the dart.”

“So,
why didn’t he take a second shot?”

“He…” 
The guildmaster paused, pursing her lips.  “…fell.”

Hoseph
stared at her, openmouthed.  “He fell out of the
window
?”

“It
seems more likely that he was pushed, but my people saw no one.”  Lady T threw
back the rest of her wine in a very unladylike manner and slammed the glass
down on the table. 

“How
could anyone have even known he was there?  Who could have pushed him?”

“I
don’t know.”  She turned away to stare out her window at the city.

“What
about your people in the crowd?  Couldn’t they have acted?”

“That
was not the plan.”

“Well,
the
plan
obviously didn’t work.  Couldn’t they improvise?”

Lady
T rounded on him, her carefully cultivated patience gone.  “You weren’t there! 
You’re not an assassin!  If you think we’re so incompetent, then why not do it
yourself?  You could have popped in behind Arbuckle and killed him before any
of his guards could react.”

“And
get myself skewered in the process?”

“Ahhh!” 
Lady T raised an eyebrow.  “So, it finally comes out.  You value your own
skin
over the guild.  I thought as much.”

“I
don’t see you putting yourself out there.”

“It’s
not my
job
to put myself out there!  I have people for that, and I lost
one of my best today!”

They
faced off, two predators regarding each other with narrowed eyes.

Hoseph
breathed deep. 
Blessed shadow of death, soothe me
.  “Regardless of
blame, the failure remains.”

Lady
T shook her head.  “I don’t think it was a
failure
, actually.  I think
we were thwarted.”

“What?”

“Someone
spotted Foirin and pushed him.  There were only so many windows from which he
could get a clear shot.  I had a Hunter scout the plaza out last night, and he
reported seeing someone else there on a rooftop.  I think someone figured out
where we would place our marksman and stationed their own assassin in the
building.”

“Who?”

The
lady looked scathingly at Hoseph.  “Who do we know who has a vested interest in
thwarting the guild right now?”

There
was only one possible answer.  “Mya?”  Hoseph was confused.  “Why should she
care about Arbuckle?”

The
lady shrugged.  “She wants control of the guild.  Until she does, she may
simply choose to oppose us at every turn.  Since you’ve failed to kill her…”

Hoseph
flushed at the implication.  “I can’t
find
her, and
you
refuse to
have her followed.  If she’s actively opposing us in this, then she’s gone far
beyond being a mere nuisance.”

“You
know,” Lady T arched an eyebrow, “though the assassination was foiled, we may
yet salvage something from the day’s events.”

“What
are you talking about?  What can be
salvaged
?  Arbuckle’s alive and more
wary than ever.”

Lady
T’s eyes flashed.  “Yes, but he executed a
noble
for doing what nobles
have been doing for decades!  Each and every one of them must be wondering
whose head will roll into a basket next.  If that’s not incentive for our
conspirators to be more cooperative, I don’t know what is.”

“Yes.” 
Hoseph nodded as he considered the lady’s words.  “This might be exactly what
we need to convince them to help us find someone who can be persuaded to kill
Arbuckle.”

“Precisely.”

A
pretty little girl skipped out of
the door of the
Prickly Pair
and up the street, a small brown bottle
clutched in one hand.  A blue ribbon fluttered from blond curls that flipped
and bounced with every skip.  Her dress, though it didn’t fit perfectly, shone
clean and bright in the sunlight., and her cheeks were rosy and freshly
scrubbed.  Passersby either ignored her or smiled at her jaunty manner.

Halfway
up the next block, she turned into a dry goods store.  The bell on the door
jingled and the proprietor looked up, then away.  He’d seen the girl only
minutes before when her mother sent her up to the inn for a pint of sherry.  At
least, that was what he thought he’d seen.

“There
you are, Kit.  That was quick.”  Mya leaned down and took the pint bottle from the
girl’s hand.  Lowering her voice to a whisper, she asked, “What did you see?”

“Saw
that old codger just as you described him: not fat and not skinny, near bald
with some white hair around the sides and stickin’ out his ears, and a hook
nose what looked like it had been broke a while back.  Couldn’t see if he’d a
gap ‘tween his front teeth ‘cause he wasn’t smilin’.  He’s sittin’ at a table
in the common room.”

“Anyone
else around?”

“A
few.”  The girl rolled her eyes up as she thought.  “A fat man at the desk
where you come in.  A old man and lady sittin’ in the room on
that
side.”  She wiggled her right hand.  “An’ then in the common room along with
your fella, two more men at a table and a lady behind the bar flirtin’ with a
dark-haired gent with a face ta make a maid swoon.”

Mya
grinned at Kit’s description, so mature for a girl who couldn’t have been more
than seven.  “Perfect.  Thank you, Kit.”

So,
it sounded like Paxal was really there, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a trap. 
She had seen Hoseph transport a woman into Lady T’s sitting room, so he could
have brought Pax to Tsing to use as bait to lure her in for the kill.  She
might be paranoid, but paranoia had kept her alive through years of danger.

Paranoia
and Lad
.  She
snapped her mind back to focus as Kit tugged her skirt.

“Do
I get to keep the dress?”  Kit twirled and the bright material billowed.  “I
like it.”

“That
depends on if this works out, Kit.  If this is a trap, and I’m dead in five
minutes, then yes, you can keep the dress.  Otherwise, no, because I’ll have to
sell it back so we can all eat.  Do you understand?”

“Yes.” 
Kit’s lower lip stuck out and she fingered the ribbon at her waist, as if
trying to equate how many meals she was wearing.

“Now,
we need to go, okay?”

“Okay.”

Out
on the street, Mya held Kit’s hand, hoping that nobody would expect an assassin
to be dressed as a matron walking with a little girl.  With her other hand, she
fingered the dagger in her pocket.  She had two more strapped to her thighs
under her dress.

Over
by the seawall, she spotted Digger, Twigs, and Nestor throwing stones into the
river.  Beyond the
Prickly Pair
, Nails and Gimp posed as beggars.  The
urchins had been keeping watch to make sure no obvious ambush awaited her.  A
couple of birds twittered from the alley behind the inn, Tiny and Knock
signaling all clear.

She
had given them all strict orders to stay out of the inn no matter what
happened.  Their job today was only to watch and whistle if they saw anything,
hopefully giving Mya adequate warning.

Hopefully.

One
last adjustment of her dress to make sure her weapons were in easy reach, and
she let go of Kit’s hand.  The girl stepped aside on the inn’s porch with her
back to the wall, just like she’d been told to do.  Mya nodded to her with a
smile, then opened the door to the
Prickly Pair
.

As
her eyes adjusted to the dim interior, she paused to listen.  The chatter of
unfamiliar voices, the clatter of pans in the kitchen, and the clink of plates
in the common room all seemed innocuous.  She heard no whisper of steel leaving
a sheath, no unconscious scuff of boot leather on the floor as someone shifted
an uncomfortable position.

The
innkeeper no longer sat at his desk, but that wasn’t unusual.  There was more
to running an inn than waiting for new customers to walk through the door.  Mya
glanced into the small sitting room to her right.  As Kit had told her, an
older couple sat there, the woman knitting, the man shelling nuts.  Neither
looked spry enough to be assassins.  Mya trod softly down the short hallway to
her left toward the common room, halting just before the entrance.  Leaning
forward, she saw two unfamiliar men sitting at a table, then…

The
breath caught in Mya’s throat.  Paxal sat at a table in the far corner,
cradling a mug between his veined hands.

Focus,
Mya!  Look for the trap!

She
leaned farther to scan the rest of the room.  The barmaid polished the counter
of the stool-lined bar, but there was no sign of her paramour.  Mya slipped her
hidden dagger from her pocket.  Hiding the blade behind her arm, she stepped
into the room.  Neither the barmaid nor the two men at the table even glanced
at her.

Softly,
she called, “Paxal?”

His
eyes flicked to her and widened, his mouth splitting into a gap-toothed grin. 
“My—gods!  Thank the Seven Heavens you’re all right!”  He rose to his feet, but
stopped when she raised a hand.

“Are
you all right, Pax?  Is everything okay?”

“Oh,
right as rain now that you’re here!”  He stepped around the table and no one
else in the room seemed concerned.

One
more glance behind her confirmed that no assassins had leapt from hiding, and
no murderous priest had materialized to take her life.

There
was no trap.

Relief
unlike anything Mya had ever felt flooded through her.  “Gods of Light, Pax!” 
Before she knew what she was doing, she was crushing the innkeeper in her
arms.  Laughter bubbled up unbidden.  “Gods, you’re a sight for sore eyes!” 
She released him and put away her dagger, then wrinkled her brow.  “What the
hell are you
doing
here?”

“Well,
we’re here to help, of course!  We never thought to find you so soon, but—”

“We?” 
Mya whirled at the scuff of footsteps behind her, damning herself for dropping
her guard.

“Nice
hat.”  The slim, dark-haired man couldn’t have been more familiar.

“Dee!” 
She flung her arms around him and hugged him tight.  Never had two faces been
more welcome.

“I
think she’s glad ta see ya.”

Paxal’s
quip snapped Mya back to her senses, and she released her grip.  “Sorry, I…” 
She straightened her dress

Dee
staggered and gasped breath.  “Any gladder and she’d have pinched me in half!”

A
heavy thud brought Mya around with her dagger back in her hand, but it was only
a scullery maid kicking open the kitchen door, her hands filled with a tray of
clean mugs.  Beyond her, a portly cook calmly stirred a pot on the stove with
no assassins in sight.  Finally, Mya’s sense of self-preservation reestablished
control over her wayward emotions.

“Is
this place really safe?”

“As
far as I could determine.”  Dee lowered his voice.  “I might not be much of an
assassin, but I know what one looks like.”

Mya
grinned at Dee’s self-deprecating comment.  “Maybe not, but you’re a
hell
of an assistant.  Now, how—”

“Ahem. 
I think we have company.”

Mya
followed Paxal’s gaze. 

Peering
around the door sill, a little girl with a blue ribbon in her hair bit her
lip.  “I know you said not to come in, but we wanted to know if you were dead.”

Mya
didn’t know whether to admonish Kit or laugh out loud at the girl’s
ill-concealed agenda.  “No, Kit, I’m not dead, so you can’t keep the dress.  I
need the cash.”

“I
think we can help with that.”  Dee kicked a saddlebag under the table, wincing
at the impact.  “Sereth sent a parcel for you.  I think you’ll be pleased.”

Pax
nodded toward the little girl, looking dubious.  “She’s with
you
?”

“I
think we’ve all got a lot of explaining to do,” Mya said.  “I know a safe place
to talk, and there are some people I want you to meet.”

Hoseph
ignored the pain behind his eyes and his pervasive fatigue; he didn’t have time
for it.  He considered the nobles and magistrates seated around Lady T’s
sitting room.  Their fear hung in the air like cheap cologne.  Leaving
Magistrate Ferrera in the Sphere of Shadow had caught their attention, and the
death Baron Ledwig had them on edge.  He had them just where he wanted them,
backed into a corner.  None had protested this hastily called meeting and,
though they sipped their wine and cast glances at one another, but not a single
eye rose to meet his.

Fear… 
Demia’s shadow, it’s sweet…

“Do
you see
now
that I was right about Prince Arbuckle?”  He let the
question hang, watching, waiting.

Duchess
Ingstrom looked up, her mouth set in a line so hard her lips shone white.  “The
man is a menace!”

“Why
didn’t you kill him when you had the chance?”  Duke Seoli downed his wine in a
gulp.  “You had the chance and you failed!”

 
Not
enough fear in that one…

 “We
did not, in fact, fail, Milord Duke.”  Lady T pursed her lips in an unpleasant
moue.  “We were thwarted.  The two are entirely different.”

“What?” 
Seoli looked like he’d been slapped.  “Who thwarted you?”

Hoseph
could have smiled…but didn’t.  He and Lady T had worked out this little lie
beforehand, and she brought it into play with consummate timing.

“We
don’t know exactly, but we believe Prince Arbuckle has agents working
throughout the city.”  Lady T put precisely the right amount of dread into her
claim.  “One of his operatives killed our man before he could deal the lethal
stroke.”

“Gods
and devils, he has people
watching
us?”  Baron Grenger, an impressively
wealthy lesser noble, downed his wine and smacked the glass down on the table
too hard, snapping the stem.  He glared at the piece left in his hand as if it
had betrayed him.  “I thought all this hush-hush was supposed to keep us safe!”

“We
don’t think his spies know of our association,” Hoseph interjected.  “We’ve
been careful, but we don’t know where they might be looking.  We must act
before they learn of us.  We need to devise a method to end this threat to our
way of life.  How long do you think it will be before each of you is forced
into that evil device Arbuckle has constructed to have your head lopped off?”

“He
can’t have us
all
executed.  An emperor needs the noble class to support
him.”  Duke Seoli looked more affronted than frightened.

“You
still don’t see it, do you?”  Hoseph stared at the man, amazed that someone
could ignore such clear threats to his own existence.  “As
emperor
,
Arbuckle can hand out titles like prizes at a country fair!  He’ll replace you
all with his commoner friends, and the empire will change forever.  An
anarchist state ruled by peasants!  He must be removed!”

“Our
argument has never been against his removal, Master Hoseph, but that’s supposed
to be
your
task.”  Duchess Ingstrom glanced sidelong at him.  Of all the
conspirators, she was the most level-headed and astute.  “We are
still
not spies.”

“You’re
asking one of us to put our neck under that dreadful blade.”  Duke Seoli
protested.

“Information
is all we’re ask for,” Lady T said calmly.  “Tell us what you know about what’s
happening in the palace.  Ask people who may know something about Arbuckle’s
state of mind, his confidants, anything and everything.  Seemingly
inconsequential details could give us the edge we need.  Duchess Ingstrom, Duke
Seoli, you both attended the banquet last night for the arriving provincial
dukes.  What occurred there?  Was anyone disgruntled enough to take matters
into their own hands?”