Weapon of Blood (22 page)

“I thought about that, but it just
doesn’t make sense.  As far as I know, she’s had nothing to do with Vonlith for
five years.  And if she did it to try to protect me, to keep my identity a
secret, it certainly didn’t work.  It only brought the captain of the Royal Guard
to the inn.”  He rubbed his eyes with hands that were actually shaking.  “I’ve
either got to follow this through, find out who killed Vonlith, who just tried
to kill me,
and
who saved my life, all of which will be dangerous,
or
…”

“Or what?”  Wiggen didn’t like the tone
of his voice.

“Or we leave Twailin.”

 “Leave?”  It felt like a kick in the
stomach.  “Leave father?”

“I know you’d hate it, Wiggen, but
think.”  He took her hands in his and squeezed gently.  “They’re targeting me
now, not just Mya.  Someone killed Vonlith, and it looks like I might be next
on the list.  My first responsibility is to protect you and Lissa, and I can’t
do that if I’m dead.”

“But…gods, Lad, do we have to
leave
?” 
The thought of leaving her father brought as much pain as the thought of losing
Lad.  Forbish had worked so hard to keep his family and this inn together. 
Now, just when everything was going well, they had to leave?

Lad grasped her shoulders.  “I don’t want
to, Wiggen.”  He kissed her forehead and drew her into his arms.  “But leaving
might be the only answer.”

“The only answer?”  Wiggen nestled into
Lad’s shoulder, inhaled the scent that was uniquely him, and thought hard.  She
loved her father and Josie and the twins.  She had been born and raised in the
inn, and knew nothing else.  Then she tried to imagine living here without Lad…and
couldn’t.  There
was
only one answer.

“When?”  She couldn’t believe she had
said it, but the decision brought a measure of peace.  Everything would be all
right.  They’d get by.  Wiggen pushed him back and wiped away her tears.  “When
will we leave?”

“Soon.  I’ll tell Mya tomorrow.”

“You think you
should
tell her? 
Why not just go?”

“She’s a Hunter, Wiggen.  If we
disappear, she’ll set every Hunter in the guild after us, and, trust me, they’d
find us eventually, no matter where we went.  I need to make sure I leave on
good terms with her.  Losing my protection will scare her, and that’s when
she’s most dangerous.”

“Mya scared?”  Wiggen didn’t bother
disguising her disbelief.

“She
always
scared,” Lad said
softly, his voice tinged with pity.

“So am I.”  Wiggen pulled him into her
arms and held him as if she would never let go.  Lad brushed her hair with his
fingers and kissed her neck.  His tenderness, his love for her, gave her
strength.

“Okay, tell her.”  She raised her face to
him and smiled through her tears.  “But until morning, you’re mine.”

“I’m always yours, Wiggen.”  Lad pulled
her into a deep, passionate kiss, his hands entwined in her hair.

“Yes,” she murmured between their parted
lips.  “Always…”

Bodies entwined in the lamplight, skin on
skin, flesh on flesh…

So beautiful
…

The rain dampened any sounds Mya might
have heard through the thin pane of glass, but she could see clearly enough.

Keep an eye on Lad
.  It had seemed a reasonable precaution.  Crouched on
the back wall of the inn courtyard, hidden in the shadows of a moonless night
and torrential rain, she watched.  She felt no discomfort, no chill, even
though her clothes were soaked through.  The wrappings beneath her clothes kept
her comfortable, safe from the elements as they kept her secret safe from
discovery.

“But not from this,” she whispered, her
gaze fixed upon the couple as they moved together: one body, one flesh.  She
could not pull her eyes away, could not feign disinterest or even disgust.  But
watching the only man she cared about making love to another woman felt like
being slowly torn apart.  This was a pain to which she was not immune.

This
, she thought as she wiped the rain from her face,
this is what I
want
.

This wasn’t just sex.  This was love
exemplified in physical form.  This was what her life lacked, what she longed
for but never dared allow herself to feel.  She watched every move, every kiss,
every caress, and each one deepened her loneliness.

Only when Lad and Wiggen finally lay
quiet in each other’s arms, spent and sated, warm and safe, did Mya stir. 
Wiping the water from her face, she dropped from the wall and headed for home. 
Only later, after wiping the wetness away once again, did she realize that it
had stopped raining some time ago.

Chapter
XIV

S
ereth stared at
Jud’s broken fingers, crooked, bruised, and painful, if the sweat running down
the assassin’s face was any indication. 

Gods, how I’d love to do that to
Hensen!
he thought. 
Tie him down
and break those delicate fingers of his one by one
…

Five minutes was all Sereth had been
allowed with his beloved Jinny.  Only five minutes to hold her soft hands, touch
her hair, whisper how sorry he was.  Not a single word of accusation passed her
lips, but Sereth felt like he was drowning in guilt whenever he saw her.  He
was beginning to despair at ever breaking free from the master thief’s
control.  He knew the trap he was in: the more information he brought Hensen,
the more information Hensen wanted.

Jud winced as the guild healer
straightened one of his broken fingers.  To the man’s credit, he didn’t
scream.  His face streamed with sweat, but Sereth didn’t think it was entirely
due to the pain.  Jud was an Enforcer; he probably knew pain better than he
knew his own name.  But the glares of four irate master assassins were enough
to make anyone sweat.

“It went off like clockwork as far as I
could tell.  We had four teams set up around the
Golden Cockerel
, and
got word when he stepped out the front door.  He bought the whole ‘damsel in
distress’ ploy hook, line, and sinker.  He ran me off,” Jud nodded toward his injured
hands, “and I went straight to the rendezvous.  But Bertie didn’t show.  He
must have killed her.”

“Perhaps Bertie succeeded, and he killed
her before he died.”  Patrice cocked an eyebrow in Neera’s direction.

“Possible.  The toxin is swift, but
doesn’t kill instantly.  He could have had time to kill her, given what we know
of his abilities.  Alternatively, if she failed, he may have taken her to Mya
for questioning.”

“We should send someone to have a look.”

“We’ve already lost one person tonight,”
Youtrin countered with a derisive glance at Horice.  “We’ve got people in the
City Guard who’ll tell us what happened.  We’ll just have to wait until
morning.”  Turning to the healer, he said, “Take Jud out, and see that his
hands heal well.  I’d hate to lose a good man.”

“Thank you, Master.”  Jud stood and
followed the healer out of the room.

The masters seated themselves at the
table in the center of the room, Horice at the head, since he was hosting the
meeting.  Sereth stepped over to the door and snapped his fingers at the
apprentice Blade who waited in the corridor.  The girl bore a tray with crystal
glasses and two bottles of fine wine.  Setting it on the table by Horice’s
elbow, she waited for Sereth’s nod before scurrying out.  Taking up his
protective stance behind his master’s chair, Sereth concentrated on the
conversation.

Neera sat back in her chair and cocked
her head in thought.  “It intrigues me that this weapon shows such compassion. 
He used only non-lethal force to persuade Jud to leave.  He could just as
easily have killed him.”

“Mya must have told him not to kill
anyone unnecessarily,” Horice hypothesized.  “My people have told me that when
she took over, Mya set new rules for her faction; more persuasion, less
violence.  Like that nonsense about
public opinion
she’s always trying
to foist onto the rest of us.”

Youtrin laughed scornfully, and even his
huge bodyguard smiled at the ridiculous notion of a gentle Assassins Guild. 
Enforcers lived by violence and intimidation, not goodwill.

“As much as I hate to work without all
the facts,” Patrice said, “I think that we need to assume that the attempt
failed, and concentrate on the real problem here.  Mya.  Is she apt to
retaliate for this attack on her bodyguard?”

“Against who?” asked Horice.  “Even if
she assumes one of us was behind it, she doesn’t know which one.”

“Unless she’s got Bertie,” Youtrin
protested.

Neera waved her hand.  “Worrying about
retaliation is pointless until we know if Mya has Bertie, and we’ll know that
soon enough.”

“So, Mya’s protected from
us
because she’s wearing the ring, and protected from anyone we might hire from outside
the guild by a bodyguard who’s not only seemingly invincible, but now also wary.” 
Horice reached for a bottle of wine, wrenched the cork free, and filled his
glass with the crimson liquid.  “What now?”

“I say we tell Mya the truth.”

They all looked at Patrice as if she’d
just admitted to being a spy for the Royal Guard.

“Tell her we know she wears the
guildmaster’s ring?”  Horice gave a snort of disbelief and quaffed half of his
glass of wine.  “She’d kill us all, and we’d be unable to touch her!”

“Not
that
much truth, Horice.” 
The Master Inquisitor tapped her rouged lips, a behavior Sereth was beginning
to recognize as habitual when the woman was deep in thought.  “Tell her of our
concerns that the guild is being destroyed by our seemingly intractable lack of
cooperation.  Even
she
can’t disagree with that.  Then tell her that we’ve
decided to hold a vote to forge a new guildmaster’s ring and elect a new
leader.”

“You want to bring her into a
meeting
?” 
Youtrin shifted in his seat.  “Sit in a room with an assassin we can’t fight,
not to mention her unbeatable bodyguard?  That’s beyond dangerous.  It’s
stupid!”

“Yes, it
is
dangerous, which is
why we must placate her.  We must hint, at the very least, that we’ll back her
bid for the guildmaster’s position.  She is, after all, the most successful of
us.”

Youtrin didn’t seem convinced.  “If she
wears the ring, how can she allow us to forge a new one?”

“She can’t,” Patrice countered with a sly
smile.  “This is why we must give her the chance to destroy the ring.”

“Destroy it?  How can she do that if she
can’t even take it off?”

“Horice, please.”  Neera dismissed the
Master Blade’s concern with a wave.  “She could order that bodyguard of hers to
cut it off.  He’s not bound by a guild blood contract, so there would be no
problem.”  She turned to Patrice with a nod of affirmation.  “If she knows we plan
to forge a ring, not destroying hers would bring her deceit out into the open. 
Then she would have to answer to the Grandmaster, who is the one force she
cannot flout with impunity.”

“Exactly.”  Patrice smiled like a viper. 
“And once the ring is destroyed, she’ll be vulnerable to a concerted attack.”

Sereth’s opinion of Patrice rose.  Even
Neera was following the Master Inquisitor’s lead. 
But she’d better not try
to force her hand
, he thought.
  Mya is no fool. If she gets wind of this
plot, all her talk of goodwill will be so much dust in the wind, and she’ll
send her weapon to kill them all.

“It will be interesting to see how far
she is willing to go to avoid forging a new ring.”  Neera swept her ancient
gaze from face to face.  “So, if no one is opposed to this course of action…” 
Youtrin looked least comfortable with the plan, but no one dissented.  “It’s
agreed then.”

The Master Alchemist turned to her
bodyguard.  “Have a message drafted.  Master Hunter Mya’s presence is required
for a meeting of the masters of the guild at—where is the next location?”  At
Yotrin’s raised hand, she continued.  “At Youtrin’s warehouse, two hours past
noon tomorrow—actually, it’s past midnight, so make that today.  The matter is
vital to the future of the guild.  Attendance is not optional.”

“This one better be worth being dragged
all the way down here,” Norwood mumbled to Sergeant Tamir as they approached
the City Guard captain. 

He got only a grunt in reply.  Neither of
them was happy about being summoned to the Westmarket District at this hour of
the morning.  The Royal Guard had already been called to six wild-goose chases
in the past four days.  Suspicious deaths, it seemed, were more common south of
the river than the captain had expected when he requested notification of
professional or peculiar killings.

The captain of the City Guard didn’t look
any happier.  A half dozen of his guardsmen stood in the shadowed alley behind
him.  The morning sun lighting the rooftops was warm enough to raise steam from
the shingles, but was not yet high enough to illuminate the streets.  A
guardsman guided a distraught woman from the alley, pointed her toward the
nearby pub, and stopped to report to his supervisor.

“The victim certainly looks like a
trollop, sir, but not one of the regulars here.  Betsy there worked last night
’til closing, and she’s never seen her around here.”

Norwood stopped short, directing his
rising ire at the captain.  “What’s a dead prostitute got to do with the Royal
Guard?”

“A dead prostitute and a dead
guardsman
,
Captain Norwood.”  He turned on his heel and entered the alley, and the cordon
of city guardsmen parted to let them pass.  The captain stopped and pointed
down at an odd scene.  “When one of my men falls dead with no discernible cause,
I call it
mighty
peculiar.”

The prostitute in question lay on her
side, her eyes open and staring up at the sky, an expression of surprise frozen
on her pale face.  Only a step away, a city guardsman was stretched out, face
down, his arms at his sides.

“Well, it’s peculiar, I’ll give you
that.”  Norwood peered at the woman’s face.  Her nose was bent, probably
broken, and her lip was split.  “Looks like your man picked a fight with the
wrong trollop,”

“My
man
, Captain, did nothing of
the kind!”  He gestured irritably to a glowering guardsman nearby.  “Tell him
what happened, Corporal Nix.”

“Yes, sir.”  The corporal cleared his
throat and began his recitation, obviously not for the first time that
morning.  “We arrived about two hours ago, after we was called by the pub
owner.  One of his maids found the body when she was takin’ out the night
waste.  We found the victim layin’ just like she is.  It was still pretty dark,
but we seen enough like this to think she’d been raped and beaten to death. 
Alan reached down to check how stiff she was, then yelped, turned, took one
step and fell over.  I never seen anythin’ like it.  I thought it might be
magic, a curse of some kind, so I sent a runner to fetch the captain.”