Weapon of Fear (34 page)

“You
think she would lie to you?”  Dee took her hat and placed it on the rack.  She
hadn’t put her makeup back on, of course, but the lace veil hid her features
well enough.

“Not
really, but it’s possible.”  Mya held up a small tube.  “I was thinking about
this on the way back, too.  She had it ready.  The names of the conspiracy.  I
keep thinking it’s too good to be true.  What if she’s playing me, giving me a
list of people she’s hoping I’ll kill?  I don’t know Tsing’s politics.  Some of
these could be Arbuckle’s supporters.”

“But
you know three of them, right?  Seoli, Ingstrom and…what was the magistrate’s
name?”

“Graving. 
Yes, they’re on the list, but I have no way to confirm the others.  I couldn’t
see faces well through her draperies.”

“If
the whole thing’s a lie, what about Duveau?  Could she be trying to get you to
kill him, too?  Remove Arbuckle’s protection, like the blademasters?”

“Maybe,
but I don’t see how.”  She shook her head.  “It doesn’t seem likely to be a lie
for two reasons: one, if I found out, she knows I’d kill her; two, I have no
way to get to Duveau.”

“So,
if it’s
not
a lie, you’re still planning to take the list to the prince?”

“Yes.” 
Mya finished with the buttons of her dress and stepped behind her dressing
screen.  The dress flew over the top of the screen, followed by her pettiskirts. 
“I’m sorry about the pettiskirts, but I had to use them to scrub off my
makeup.  Hand me my robe will you?”

“No
worries, Miss Mya.  It’ll launder out easily enough.”  He plucked the dress from
the screen and handed her the robe.  As her hand reached around to take the
garment, he saw that her wrist and forearm were wrapped in close-fitting black
cloth. 
Strange undergarments…
  He wondered if it was a bandage or
something, but she’d mentioned no injury.  Well, he wasn’t going to ask.  Mya
had her secrets, and he wasn’t about to pry.

She
stepped out from behind the screen, covered her from neck to wrist to ankles by
the voluminous robe, and held up the tiny scroll case.  “So, we assume this is
genuine and get it to the prince.”

“You’re
sure about breaking into the
palace
, Miss Mya?  It seems so…”

“I’m
sure, Dee.”  She bit her lip, and Dee didn’t think she was sure at all.  “I’ll
leave word at the tinker’s shop that I need to see the Gnome again.  I can’t
wait any longer.”

“As
you wish, Miss Mya, but…”

“But
what?”  She fixed him with a pleading look.  “
Tell
me, Dee.  I want your
opinion.”

Well
that’s a first…
 
“All right.  It’s too dangerous.  You shouldn’t trust a thief.  He could give
you false information, set you up.”

“That’s
funny, he said the same thing about trusting an assassin.”  Mya smirked and
nudged him toward the door.  “Don’t worry, Dee.  I’m not trusting him
implicitly, and I can take care of myself.  Now get out of here.  I’ve got to
get cleaned up.”

“Very
well, Miss Mya.  I’ve put hot water in the wash room.”  He left with her soiled
pettiskirts draped over one arm and his concern for her undiminished.  She took
horrible chances, and he could tell she was afraid, especially of Hoseph, but
she insisted on going on.  He had failed Mya once, and she’d still trusted
him.  All he could do was to try his hardest not to fail her again.

“Y
er late.”

Mya
suppressed the urge to whirl and lash out.  Even when she knew he was going to
show up, she hadn’t heard the gnome’s approach.  She turned casually and put
the little jade carving of a duck back on the shelf.  “I’ve been waiting for
ten minutes.  How could I be late?”

The
gnome squinted up at her from under his cap and wrinkled his prodigious nose. 
“Hand me down that bag ’o cherry wood blend, would ye?”

“Sure.” 
She retrieved the bag of tobacco and handed it down.  “Must be challenging
being so short.”

“Only
when I’m in a shop run by one ’o ye longlegs.”  He picked a pipe off a lower
shelf, examined its workmanship, and sniffed the bowl.  “Follow me, but keep
yer distance.”

“All
right.”  She picked the jade duck off the shelf and strolled to the front of
the smoke shop while the gnome paid for his pipe and tobacco.  At the counter,
the shopkeeper greeted her with a smile.

“Half
a crown.  Would you like that wrapped up?”

“No,
thank you.”  Mya paid for the little carving and left the shop, duck in hand.

She
had little difficulty following the gnome.  The streets of the Dreggars Quarter
were busy, even though most people displaced by the Night of Flame had moved
back to Midtown, but his size and distinctive cap marked him well.  Of course,
he wanted her to follow him.  She imagined he could vanish readily enough if he
so chose.  Three blocks from the smoke shop, he paused at a stair that
descended to the basement of a brick building.  With a discreet glance back, he
trundled down the steps.

Mya
paused to examine something through a shop window, then followed.  At the
bottom of the stairwell stood an iron-bound door with a shiny bronze handle,
only four feet tall. 
Gnomes
…  She hoped the height of the building’s
interior didn’t match the door.

The
door swung open.  “Come in.”

She
ducked through, stepping down into an airy cellar full of rows of crates,
barrels, and shelves of tiny bins all lined up in precise order.  At least the
ceiling was high enough that she wouldn’t have to stoop.  “Nice place you’ve
got here.”

“Ain’t
mine.”  He regarded her as he strode to the middle of the room to lean against
a shelf.  “I still don’t trust ye enough to take ye to me own place, let alone
the palace.”

“You’ve
had almost a week.”

“Aye,
and yers ain’t the only job I’ve got.”

She
had one thing that might jog him into action.  “I have the names of the
conspirators who are planning to kill the crown prince.”  She enjoyed the
surprise on his face at her pronouncement.  “I know who they’re going to use to
assassinate him, and I can warn him.  If you don’t help me, they’ll probably
succeed.”

“Tell
me, and I’ll get a note to him.”  Mistrust hung on his homely features like a
mask.

“Not
a chance.”  She shook her head.  “You’ve given me no reason to trust you that
much.”

“So,
I don’t trust ye, and ye don’t trust me.”  His prodigious nose wrinkled.

“But
both of us want to save this prince’s life, even if it’s only so we both have
customers to fleece.  So, how do we do it?”

“We’ll
have ta go in together, but I want some insurance that yer not gonna just
murder the man, then me as well.”

Mya
squinted down at his inscrutable face.  He’d clearly thought this through, and
she knew this wouldn’t be a trifling point.  “What kind of insurance?”

“This
kind.”  He pulled a small metal ring from a pocket.  It looked like a cheap
steel bracelet.

“What’s
that?”

“My
insurance.”  He whispered a word with the guttural intonation of his mother
tongue, and the ring expanded in radius.  Pulling a stout shaft of hardwood
from a nearby bin, he looped the ring over it and spoke another word.  The ring
constricted to fit snugly around the post.

“Ye
wear this around yer neck, see.”  He tapped it with a finger.  “Won’t hurt ye
unless I want it to.”

Mya
swallowed.  “And if I betray you…”

Holding
the shaft upright, he said another word in gnomish, and the metal ring suddenly
constricted, sheering off the top of the post.  He caught the end before it hit
the floor and put it on a shelf, then proffered the shaft in his hand.  Atop it
sat the metal ring, now barely large enough to fit a pin through.

Mya
swallowed.  She doubted even her magical tattoos could save her from the
constricting metal ring.  “That’s asking me to trust you a lot.”

“Aye,
but no more’n I’m trustin’ ye.”  He nodded to her skirts.  “Ye don’t move like
a thief, but I don’t doubt fer a second that ye could put one ’o them daggers
in my eye before I could blink it.”

“Even
before you could kill me with that thing.”  She nodded to the ring in his
hand.  “So, that won’t save your life.”

“No,
but it’d take yers right enough.”  He shrugged and pocketed the ring.  “And if
I don’t come home, me wife says that word.”

“You’re
married?”

“Aye?” 
He squinted at her.  “What of it?”

“Just
surprised.”

“Why?”

“Because
loved ones can be used against you.  They’re a liability.”

“Fer
killers, maybe.  Not so much fer burglars.”  He shrugged again.  “Ye gotta
trust someone eventually.”

Mya
thought about that.  Who did she really trust?  The list was depressingly
short: Lad, Dee, Paxal, and to a lesser extent, Sereth.  The other Twailin
Masters even less.  She trusted her urchins not to stab her in the back, but not
enough to confide her deep, dark secrets.  Trusting this gnome with her life
grated against her innate paranoia, but she couldn’t think of a motive for him
to murder her out of hand, and with his lack of love for the Assassins Guild,
there seemed little chance of him conspiring with someone to kill her.

He
put the ring in his pocket.  “Ye in or not?”

Mya
had little choice.  “Fine.  We go in together.  I can get us into the dungeons,
but I’m not going to tell you how yet.”

“The
dungeons?”  His face scrunched into a mass of wrinkles.  “Why couldn’t ye have
a nice tunnel into the loo?”

“Blame
the dwarves who built the place.  Is that a problem?”

“Not
really.”

“Good. 
Now, how do we find the prince?”

“Aye,
well, there’s only two or three places he could be sleepin’.”

“And
we’re just going to walk in?”

“Nay,
lass!”  He squinted at her and winked.  “We’re gonna use one of the secret
passages, but I’m not gonna tell you where they are.”

Mya
really shouldn’t have been surprised.  If there was a secret passage into the
palace, there were probably more within.  “When?”

“Ye
busy tonight?”

“I
am now.”  She couldn’t suppress a grin.

“Meet
me here an hour before midnight, and dress proper.”  He nodded to her hard
shoes.  “No toe pinchers.”

“I’ll
be here.”

Hoseph
paced the roof of the Tsing Library, fingering the tiny silver skull that hung
within his sleeve and wondering if he’d been betrayed.  He’d picked this spot
as a place the archmage would undoubtedly know of and could easily access, and
where they wouldn’t be seen.  The Library was one of the tallest buildings in
the Heights District, it’s wide, flat roof visible only from the distant palace
walls and a few lofty temple spires.

But
Duveau was late.

He
reviewed all the reasons Duchess Ingstrom could have to betray him.  She might
barter Hoseph’s life in exchange for a provincial rulership or even an empress’
crown on her daughter’s head.

Motivation
indeed…and Archmage Duveau could be the one they send to take me
.

If
there was one person in the empire who could subdue Hoseph with little trouble,
it was Duveau.  Hoseph could vanish in a moment, but he didn’t know what magic
the archmage could wield.  He’d seen what the wizard had done to the seemingly
impenetrable door to the imperial dungeons.

Hoseph
paced, clenching his talisman and considering his own level of paranoia—
Too
much, or not enough
?—when suddenly Archmage Duveau emerged from one of the
ornate merlons that girded the rooftop.  The priest remembered what it had felt
like to travel through the dungeon stone and shivered.

Mild
surprise registered on the wizard’s face.  The note hadn’t specified who he was
meeting here.

Hoseph
nodded respectfully.  “Archmage Duveau.”

“Master
Hoseph.”  The archmage remained where he was, regarding his host with a blank
mien.  “Forgive my tardiness, but one cannot be too careful.”

“I
understand completely.  Rest assured, I mean you no harm.”

“You’ll
forgive me if I don’t take your words as…gospel.  You’re implicated in the
emperor’s death, you know.”

“Yes,
and the notion is utterly preposterous.”  Hoseph stifled his irritation.  “I
had no motive, no means, and couldn’t have fought His Majesty’s blademasters. 
If I had killed the emperor, why would I call for help?  Also, I was injured.”

“Yet
you fled.”

“Yes,
to avoid answering questions under your compulsion.  I know things that can’t
be divulged.”

“I
see.”  Duveau pursed his lips.  “Your note stated that you had an offer to
make.  Make it.”

“You’re
familiar with the legendary runemage, Corillian, I assume.”

Duveau’s
eyes widened with interest.  “I was not
familiar
with Corillian, I knew
him personally.  An brilliant runemage.  He personally taught me the rudiments
of rune magic.  Unfortunately, before we could proceed farther, he sought
seclusion.  No one I know has heard from him in years.  It was rumored that he
was dead, but the rumors were never confirmed.”

“He
is dead.”  Hoseph smiled without mirth.  He’d gauged the Archmage correctly.  The
fish was circling the bait.  “And I know
where
he sought seclusion.”

“Krakengul
Keep?”  The wide eyes narrowed as interest evolved into avarice. 

“Yes.” 
Hoseph had gauged the archmage correctly.

 “How
did you learn that?  Many have sought his refuge and failed.”

“An
associate of mine did business with Corillian.  When our people found his body,
we contracted a mage to identify him, then backtrack to his keep.  The
structure was completely sealed in an impenetrable magical field, but he
reported its location to us.”

“What
was this mage’s name?”  Duveau’s demanding tone and stiff body language spoke
volumes.  He wanted the secrets of the runemage.  He wanted them very badly.

The
fish taken the hook.  Now to set it.

“That
doesn’t matter.  The mage is dead.  But I know where the keep is.  I’ve seen
it.  It’s quite…impressive.”  On the Grandmaster’s orders, Hoseph had ventured
to Krakengul Keep to confirm the mage’s report.  Perched on the rim of the vast
caldera of the Bitter Sea, it was indeed impressive…and impenetrable.  Once the
mage had been killed, only Saliez, the Grandmaster, and Hoseph had been privy
to the location.  As the only survivor, Hoseph saw no reason not to barter this
valuable information for the good of the guild.

Duveau
frowned.  “And what do you want from me for this knowledge?”

Avarice
tinged with suspicion
,
Hoseph decided.  Now to see exactly how badly Duveau wanted the magic of his
dead associate.  He fingered Demia’s talisman, ready to flee if the
conversation took a dangerous turn.  “I want you to assassinate Prince
Arbuckle.”

Duveau
snorted in disbelief, then sobered.  “Good gods, you’re serious!”

“I
am.”  Hoseph raised a forestalling hand.  He had to persuade Duveau that his
motives weren’t simple revenge or the lust for power.  Since the wizard could
discern truth through magic, Hoseph chose his words carefully.  “Please, hear
me out.  During Tynean Tsing II’s reign we had order.  He was the only emperor
in history to have control over his own empire, not this chaos that Arbuckle is
inciting.  I intend to reestablish that order and control.”