Weapon of Fear (46 page)

Duveau
.

Mya
dropped to her knees, searching the litter of bloody metal until she found what
she was looking for.  Plucking the black sphere from the gore, she glanced to
the prince and his dying mage.

Maybe
…

O
utside the magical barrier, steel
and gold fell in a clangorous hail.  Keyfur’s lonely wailing chant against the
sudden silence jolted Arbuckle out of his stupor.  The wizard’s voice broke,
and the scintillating barrier vanished.  Arbuckle forced his muscles into
motion and caught Keyfur as the mage’s knees folded.  Blood pulsed from the
ends of the poor man’s ravaged arms.

“Help!”
the prince screamed, clutching at the bleeding stumps to staunch the flow. 
“Get a healer!”

“My…lord…” 
Keyfur’s eyes fluttered, his dark skin sheened with sweat.  “I’m…”

“Hang
on, Keyfur!  We’ll get you help.”  Arbuckle clenched his hands hard on the
bleeding wrists and looked up to see Tennison and Ithross dashing toward him.

“Milord! 
Are you hurt?”  Tennison fell to his knees, his eyes wide, Ithross at his
heels.

“I’m
fine, but Keyfur’s bleeding.  Get a healer, Tennison!  Now!”

“At
once, milord!”  His secretary lunged up and dashed away.

“Imperial
Guard, to me!”  Ithross waved over a guard and gestured toward the bleeding
mage.  “Let us take care of him, Milord.  You should be out of here.  It’s not
safe for you.”

“I’m
fine
!” Arbuckle snapped, looking around at the chaos of blood and
twisted metal, nobles and courtiers still fleeing in panic.  “I’ll stay with
him.  Get a godsdamned healer here now!”

The
strange elation of being alive clashed with the guilt that sustaining his life
had cost so many others their own.  He stared down into Keyfur’s sickly gray
face, at the drooping eyes and shallow breath, death hovering there. 
No… 
Please…
  He felt the man’s thin pulse racing under his grasp, weaker every
moment.

“Milord
Prince!”

Arbuckle
looked up to see a cordon of grim imperial guards surrounding a woman in snug
black clothing spattered with blood.  The sight of her seemed surreal, like a
dark spirt or angel of death.  Who was she?

“Milord!” 
Something glistened in her outstretched hand.  “I may have something to help
him.”

Two
guards made to grab her arms.

“Wait!” 
Ithross strode to her, sword in hand.  “I saw you!  You killed Duveau.  Why?”

“Because
I was
ordered
to!”  The woman waved impatiently at Keyfur.  “There’s no
time for explanations!”

“Let
her through!  If she killed Duveau, then surely she’s not here to kill me!” 
Arbuckle felt the wizard’s pulse weakening.  “Now, Captain!”

“Give
it to me!” Ithross commanded, extending his hand.

The
woman pressed a tiny black sphere into the captain’s palm.  “I don’t’ know what
it does, milord, but Duveau wanted desperately to put it in his mouth after I
stabbed him.” 

Ithross
quickly knelt and poked the sphere between Keyfur’s lips.

Nothing
happened.

“Why
isn’t it working?”  Arbuckle looked at the woman hopelessly.

“I
don’t…”  Glancing around, the woman hurried to the shattered tables that had
held all the accoutrements of the ceremony.  Snatching up a fallen bottle of
sacramental wine, she handed it to Ithross.  “Make him swallow it.”

“Do
it!” Arbuckle ordered.

Ithross
pulled the crystal stopper and poured some into the injured wizard’s mouth,
then held his nose.  Keyfur coughed and swallowed, then drew a ragged breath. 
His eyes suddenly flung wide.

“Lords
of Light!”  Arbuckle released his grip on the wizard’s wrists and stared in
shock.

Flesh
flowed like melting wax, forming over the bleeding stumps.  The skin there
bulged into buds that grew into tiny hands.  As the miniature members grew,
Keyfur lifted his arms and stared in wonder.  His newly forming hands fleshed
out to their original size, hale and unblemished, in a matter of seconds.

Arbuckle
breathed a sigh of relief.  At least one life had been spared.

“Milord,
I—”  Keyfur’s eyes suddenly widened again, and he retched.  The black marble
fell from his mouth to the floor.

“What
in the names of all the gods…”  Arbuckle stared as Ithross scooped up the
mysterious sphere.

“It’s
a fleshforge, milord.”  Keyfur flexed his newly reforged hands and grinned in
delight.  “I had heard that Duveau possessed one, but I wasn’t sure.  How did
you get it?”

Everyone
turned to the mysterious woman in black.

“I…I
didn’t know.”  She shrugged and looked embarrassed.  “I just saw him trying to
swallow it and assumed…”

“Just
who might you be that you come to my aid, then save the life of my only
remaining wizard?”  Arbuckle accepted the help of several guards to stand.

“Moirin,
milord.  Lady Monjhi’s bodyguard.”  She curtsied and gestured toward a
dark-haired woman standing all alone in the nearly vacated Great Hall.  “I came
as her protector, but she ordered me to aid you.”

“It
was…quite amazing, milord, how she dealt with Duveau,” Ithross said.

“I’ve
no doubt.  Lady Monjhi!”  Arbuckle beckoned her to approach.  He remembered
seeing her in the company of his father once or twice, but they had never been
formally introduced.  “Your action saved my life!  You have my thanks!”

“It…was
the least I could do, milord.”  She curtsied low.

Tennison
hurried up with Master Corvecosi in tow

The
healer stared at the blood on Arbuckle’s clothes.  “Milord!  Are you injured?”

“No,
my good man, but there are many who are.  Please see to the wounded.”

“At
once, milord!”

“Might
we use this, milord?”  Ithross held up the tiny black sphere.

“It
may help, but its power to heal is not infinite.”  Keyfur plucked it from the
captain’s hand.  “If swallowed when its power is depleted, it’ll be destroyed
forever.”

“Use
it sparingly, then.  Master Keyfur, accompany Master Corvecosi and use this
fleshforge on anyone close to death.”  As the healer and wizard hurried off,
Arbuckle took a deep and cleansing breath.  “Gods of Light, I’m alive, thanks
to you, Lady Monjhi, and your amazing bodyguard.  Moirin, is it?”

“Yes,
milord.”  The woman in black curtsied again, a sardonic smile on her lips.  “I
was just doing as I was told.”

“Well,
regardless, you both have my gratitude.  As soon as we get this mess sorted out
and a crown on my head, you’ll know what the gratitude of an emperor means!” 
Arbuckle laughed.  He’d been granted a second chance at life, and was
determined to make the most of it.

“Milord,
you can’t seriously expect to continue with the coronation today!”  Tennison
looked aghast.  “The place is a shambles, and people have died!”

“The
Great Hall is a shambles, Tennison, and people have died for
me
today. 
They died to protect me, to keep me alive because they thought I would be a
good emperor.  If I delay my coronation, I risk wasting their dying efforts.” 
Arbuckle felt more certain about this than anything he’d done.  Straightening
his mantle, bloody though it was, he fixed his entourage with a steely glare. 
“I
will
be crowned emperor today!  Tell everyone that once I’ve changed
clothes, we’ll move the coronation to the south gardens and make the best of
it!  The injured will be cared for here.”

“At
once, milord!”  Tennison bowed and hurried off.

“Lady
Monjhi, I hope that you and your
amazing
young bodyguard will consent to
be my special guests at the reception afterword.”

“At
your pleasure, milord.  And please, call me Lady T.  All my friends do.”  The
lady’s glance slid sideways as she curtsied.  “May I request leave for my
bodyguard to don something more appropriate for a coronation?  Her gown was
ruined in the fracas.”

“Of
course.”  He waved away the details.  “Captain, have the ladies escorted to
someplace appropriate and summon the imperial tailor.”

“Yes,
milord!”  Ithross waved guards forward.

“Thank
you, milord.”

After
the lady and her bodyguard curtsied and hurried away in the company of two
imperial guards, Arbuckle allowed his cadre to usher him out of the Great
Hall.  Glancing back, he spied Duveau’s corpse sprawled on the flagstones, encircled
by guards.

What
could have seduced someone as formidable and upright as Duveau into betraying
me?
 
Is no one
above corruption?

The
thought sobered him.  His midnight visitor had been right about Duveau.  What
about the rest of the names on that list?  If a conspiracy to assassinate him
still existed, he dare not ignore it.  Today, however, he would be crowned
Emperor Tynean Tsing III, and rejoice in being alive.

Mya
sank back into the plush seat of Lady T’s carriage.  It had been a long day,
and she was both tired and wound as tight as a watch spring.  She stared at
Lady T as the footman closed the door, waiting until they had clattered through
the gates of the palace and onto the streets of Tsing before she spoke. 

“So,
Baroness
Monjhi, how did it feel to be personally toasted by the new
emperor?”  She raised her hand as if holding a goblet of wine.  “‘To Lady Tara
Monjhi, who risked her own life when she ordered her bodyguard to leave her
side in defense of her sovereign.’”

Tara
still seemed a little stunned by all that had transpired, but managed a wry
smile.  “You didn’t do so badly yourself.”

Mya
wasn’t sure if the guildmaster was referring to the emperor’s praise of Moirin
the bodyguard, or Mya’s timely murder of Duveau.  It didn’t matter.  It was
done.  She had succeeded and survived, and even profited.  Mya fingered the
necklace that rested upon the lace at her throat—amethysts surrounded by
diamonds—a king’s ransom in jewels.  It wasn’t as great a gift as Lady T’s new
barony, but it would support her for a long, long time.  And Dee had been right
about one more thing: she’d danced with an emperor.

“So,
Baroness,” Mya grinned, “how do you plan to deal with your newly acquired fame
and fortune?”

“Oh,
shut up.”  The lady’s glare was unfeigned.  “This will cause me no end of
strife with the nobility.  Do you think they’ll
welcome
the person who
saved the emperor and ruined their lives?  They’ll curse me every time their
servants act up and flout their newly acquired
rights
.  My name will be
‘Mud’ for a very long time.  And then there’s Hoseph.  He’ll try to kill me for
this.”

“Yes,
he will.”  Mya had been thinking about Hoseph.  “I guess that means that you’re
on my side now whether you like it or not.  I have a simple solution: help me
kill Hoseph first, and we get down to
real
guild business.  This city is
ripe for fleecing, and with a baroness touting our services, we’ll be raking in
more gold from your blue-blooded peers than you’ve ever seen before.”

“There
is that,” Lady T admitted with a frown.  “But until Hoseph is dead, I’m going
to need protection, and I mean
real
protection, every hour of every
day.”

Mya
screwed up her face.  “You’ve got the entire Tsing guild.  Isn’t that enough?”

“You
don’t understand.  He knows where I live.  Where I sleep!  He could pop in any
moment.”

“Stay
someplace safe until he’s dead.”

“I
can’t
just disappear.  I have a reputation to maintain, especially now that I’m a
baroness.  I’ll have to live in fear until I see his corpse.”

“Welcome
to my world,” Mya muttered, then added, “I suggest you keep your crossbow
handy.”

“I
always do.  But I don’t relish sleeping surrounded by heavily armed
Enforcers.”  Lady T turned away and looked out the window, watching the city
roll past.

After
a time, Mya asked the question she’d wanted answered for weeks.  “So, were you
playing both sides, waiting for either Hoseph or me to kill the other?”

Lady
T looked startled, then shrugged in resignation.  “What if I was?  You’ve
trumped my best card.  I’ve got nowhere to go now
but
with you. 
Tomorrow I’ll convene my people and name you Grandmaster.”