Weapon of Fear (36 page)

“Seven?”

“Aye,
the emperor’s, the empress’, and five more for princes and princesses.  They
called this passage the Emperor’s Eyes.  Word is, he spied on his family usin’
this.”

“Which
emperor?

“Dunno. 
One of the early ones, when they were still buildin’, I guess.  Come on.”

They
tried two bedchambers to no avail.  At the third, he stopped at the door and
glanced at Mya.  She pressed her ear to the stone and heard breathing.

“Someone’s
sleeping inside.”

“Right. 
Quiet now.  Not a sound.”

She
nodded, and he worked the catch that opened the door.  It swung silently
inward.  Dim lamplight revealed a wide fireplace, a four poster bed, several
dressers and cabinets, and a small bookshelf.  It also revealed a sleeping
crown prince.

Finally
!

Mya
eased forward and retrieved the note she’d prepared from the list Lady T had
given her.  She’d included a few details about Hoseph as well.

The
prince half reclined against his pillow, a book open in his lap.  The flame in
his bedside lamp barely sputtered.

Mya
regarded him for a moment.  He looked younger close up, his beard lighter, the
lines around his eyes smoothed in sleep.  She placed the bound note against his
book and eased her hand away.

The
Gnome tugged at her sleeve and jerked his head toward the secret passage,
impatient to go.  She hadn’t known he was right behind her, probably ready to
lop her head off if she tried to assassinate Arbuckle.  She nodded, but looked
back at the crown prince again, wondering why this man was so different from
his father, the tyrant?

The
crown prince stirred in his sleep.  The book shifted, and the note rolled
away.  His eyes fluttered in the dim light, and one hand groped for the lamp.

Shit!

Without
willful thought, Mya’s hands moved.  One extinguished the lamp, and the other
clapped over the waking prince’s mouth.

S
hadows invaded the darkness and
coalesced into a man. 

Hoseph
stood perfectly still, an ear cocked close to the building’s back door to
listen.  Other than a persistent ringing in his ears, he heard only a faint
murmur of voices from inside, but not loud enough for them to be just inside
the door.  He didn’t know if this was a school, orphanage, or if Mya had simply
invited street children to live there as cover, but he had little doubt that
she would post a night watch of some kind.  There were no lights to be seen
now, but earlier, from the burned-out building across the street, he’d watched
three lights on the third floor wink out.  He felt sure that Mya slept in one
of those rooms.  None of the drapes had been open, and the old man had closed
the shutters on the first floor at sunset, so Hoseph had gained only a bare
glimpse into the back hallway when one of the children returned.  A glimpse was
all he needed.  Steeling his nerves, he stepped into the Sphere of Shadow, then
into the inn’s back hallway.

After
a brief bout of dizziness, he heard a clink of crockery and a whisper from an
opening to his left.  The kitchen, no doubt.  At this time of night, the cook
wouldn’t be working.  Hoseph didn’t care who was making the noise unless it was
Mya was sneaking a midnight snack, but, he had to make sure.  He’d check every
room in the place until he found her.

Invoking
the talisman, he rematerialized just beyond the kitchen door.  Waiting until
another surge of dizziness and a stab of pain behind his eyes subsided, he peered
around the corner.

Low
lamplight revealed two rough-and-tumble children at the kitchen table.  They
tore chunks from a loaf of bread, trading a knife back and forth to slather on
butter from a pot.  Happily, they munched away and chatted in whispers.

Some
sentries
.  Hoseph
suppressed a sneer. 
If this is the best Mya can do, killing her will be
easy
.

The
memory of the fight in the emperor’s interrogation chamber tempered his
confidence.  There would be nothing easy about killing Mya.  Anyone who could survive
a fight with blademasters could murder a priest of Demia in an instant.  He
needed to remain vigilant.

Hoseph
took a step down the hall, and a floorboard creaked faintly underfoot.  He
froze.  The two children in the kitchen seemed not to notice, but he couldn’t
risk discovery.  Despite the effects invoking his talisman was having on him,
he had to use it.

Hoseph
flicked in and out of the shadows to the bottom of the servants’ stairs, then
again up to the first landing.  There he steadied himself, pressing his thumbs
to his temples to massage away the pain behind his eyes, and listened again. 
Nothing penetrated the persistent ringing in his ears that seemed to grow
louder now in the silence.

Leaning
out into the hall of the second floor, he saw no one in the faint glow of a
street lamp through the draperies at the end of the hall.  Foregoing his
talisman for now, he crept down the hallway, testing each board as he put his
foot down.  The first doorknob turned easily in his hand, and the hinges
creaked faintly as he opened the door.  The room was too dark to see anything,
so Hoseph flared  Demia’s pearly radiance in his palm.  Empty.  The bed was without
linens, the curtains drawn closed.

Hoseph
checked every room on the second floor.  All were empty and unused.  This
wasn’t a school or orphanage after all, not with so many empty rooms.  Mya was
simply using a few street children as cover and cheap security.

Back
at the stairs, he doused the glow of magic and flicked in and out of shadow to
the next landing.  At the top, he paused again until the pain faded, then
peered into a hallway lit by a wall lamp turned low.  The doors here were
farther apart, the rooms apparently larger.

Naturally,
she’d pick the best for her own.

He
considered the lighted windows he’d seen from outside and discerned which of
the doors must belong to those rooms.  Three rooms: Mya, the old man he’d seen
earlier, and…who else?  The only other adults he’d seen were the two servants
who had left with the setting of the sun.  No matter.  He would find Mya.  If
the others got in his way, he’d kill them as well.

He
blinked through the shadows to the nearest of the three doors and put his hand
on the knob.  It wouldn’t turn.  Bending, he peered through the keyhole.  The
dim lamp on the bedside table illuminated a bed.  The coverlet draped across a
sleeping body topped with a mop of dark hair.

Mya!

Movement
drew his gaze to a small boy sitting cross legged beside the bed.  He rocked
gently forward and back as he bent over something in his hands.  The child was
watching over her, a human guard dog to alert Mya if anyone broke into her
room.

What
a vile creature you are to use children so
.

The
child presented a problem.  He might be small, but he could not doubt sound an
alarm, waking Mya.  Hoseph saw only one solution.

It’s
her own fault
, he
rationalized. 
A woman who uses children to guard against assassins must
expect them to be treated as combatants
.  She left him no choice.

Hoseph
flicked into the room behind the boy and invoked Demia’s blessing. 
May your
soul find its final home
.

A
quiet gasp of surprise and a brief stiffening were all the boy could manage
before his soul fled his body.  Hoseph lowered the tiny corpse to the floor. 
He had done what he had to do.  The child was in a better place now, free of
pain and the life of ridicule and prejudice that he would have had to endure.

Hoseph
felt no such pity for Mya.

Stepping
over the child’s body, a floorboard creaked faintly underfoot.  He winced, but
Mya didn’t stir.  Demia’s blessing flared in Hoseph’s hand as he prepared to
send her soul to whichever of the Nine Hells best suited her.  But as he
reached out, the pearly light illuminated the angular features and strong nose
of a man.

Not
Mya!

In
fact, Hoseph recognized the man as Lad’s assistant.  The man who had foiled his
attempt in Twailin to kill the traitorous Sereth.

How
did he get here?  Where
—

“Knock!”

Hoseph
whirled.  In the pearly light of Demia’s power, he glimpsed a hellish face,
contorted and snarling.  Then something smashed into his shoulder with stunning
force, pulping flesh and snapping bone.  His magic faded, and the darkness of
the room spun around him for an instant before he hit the wall and slid to the
floor.  Pain blazed through his shock as the broken bone in his arm grated.  He
heard a shout, then the dreadful creature loomed out of the darkness.

“Knock!”
it screamed as it raised a club high, ready to smash Hoseph’s skull.

The
invocation of soul searching burst from Hoseph’s lips as if Demia herself
raised a hand to intervene.  Divine magic pulsed outward from the priest,
lashing through the fearsome creature.  Its scream rattled Hoseph’s ears, but
the club fell from its grasp and it stumbled back.  Hoseph struggled to stand,
and noticed Dee flailing in a tangled blanket.  If he could dispose of these
two quickly, he might still be able to kill Mya when she came running to help
her friends.  Death glowing in his hand, Hoseph stepped forward.

Arbuckle
stirred as the book started to slide off his chest.  He’d fallen asleep reading
again.

Oh,
bother
…  Barely
awake, he struggled to open his sleep-gummed eyes as he reached out for the
bedside lamp.  Before he could touch it, the room plunged into darkness and a
hand clapped over his mouth.

Terror
lanced through the prince like a bolt of lightning, wrenching him to total
wakefulness.  He drew breath to scream, clawing at the hand on his mouth, but couldn’t
budge the iron grip.  Grabbing the slim wrist, he strained to pull it away, but
it moved not an inch.  At any moment, he expected a knife to slit his throat.

“Quiet,
prince!”  The bare whisper so close to his ear fueled the fear already ripping
through him.

Arbuckle
lashed out blindly, but another hand caught his wrist and forced his arm down
to his side.  The sheer strength of his attacker chilled his blood.  What was
this creature?

“Stop
that!  We’re not here to kill you, just to deliver a message.”  The grip on his
wrist eased and let go.  “If we wanted you dead, you would be, so just hold
still.”

The
prince froze, his mind racing.  We?  How many intruders were there?  And if they
weren’t here to kill him, then what?  Kidnapping, torture, ransom?  He could see
nothing in the darkness, only sensed the shape beside the bed.  If he could
knock over the lamp on the bedside table, maybe his guards would hear and come to
his rescue.  Before he could act on the plan, the voice whispered again.

“We
didn’t intend even to wake you, but brought you a note.”  He heard the rustle
of paper beside the book on the bed, and a roll of parchment was pressed into
his hand.  “It lists those involved in the plot to assassinate you.”

That
stopped Arbuckle cold, and he stopped struggling. 
Assassination?
  There
had been two attempts on his life already, and this person knew who was behind them. 
He reached up and tapped the hand covering his mouth.  He had questions…so many
questions.

“No,
prince.  I can’t stay to chat.”  The voice was clearer now, feminine with a
sardonic lilt.  “You must martial your allies, keep them close, and trust
no
one on that list!”  The iron grip on his mouth eased a trifle.  “I’m going to
release you, but if you cry out, we’ll have a problem.  Trust me, prince; we’re
here to help you.  Nod if you agree to remain quiet.”

Arbuckle
didn’t want to know what she’d do if he refused, so he nodded.

“Good. 
So long, prince.  Try to keep that royal head on your shoulders.”  The hand
slipped away, and the shadow in the darkness moved.

“Wait!”
he whispered.  “Who are you?  What—”

No
answer.  No sound of a footfall or a door closing, either.

Arbuckle
fumbled for the matches on the table and struck one.

The
room was empty.  Not a single sign that anyone had come or gone other than the
roll of parchment on the bed.

“Gods
of Light…”  Arbuckle lit the lamp, his hands shaking so badly that he burned
his fingers.  He turned up the flame and cast about the room, looking for any
sign of his visitors.  Nothing.  No gaping hidden passage, no open window. 
How
in the Nine Hells did they get in?

Arbuckle
drew breath to shout for his guards, but held it as the whispered words came
back to him.  “Trust no one on that list.”  He glared at the parchment tied
with black ribbon lying on his bed.  Did he dare open it?  Could it be a trap? 
Some dire magic to murder him?

If
we wanted you dead, you would be
…

Don’t
be an idiot, Arbuckle
. 
He snatched up the scroll and slipped off the ribbon.  The note didn’t say
anything the shadowy woman hadn’t already, but the list of names brought him up
short.

Five
nobles and three magistrates…  Graving he would have guessed, but Duchess
Ingstrom and Duke Seoli had both been trying to marry their daughters to him. 
It disturbed him to learn that people he’d met with over the past week—actually
had dined with—were planning to kill him.  He’d suspected, but now he knew…or
thought he knew. Could he trust this shadowy visitor?

She
didn’t kill you, Arbuckle
…

The
last lines of the note made his blood run cold.

High Priest Hoseph is their
ringleader.  He seeks to regain the power he lost with the death of your
father.  They plan to employ Archmage Duveau to kill you.  We don’t know how or
when, but the attempt will be before you are crowned emperor.