Weapon of Blood (28 page)

“So, we’ve decided to leave.”  Wiggen
clutched Lad’s hand and blinked back the tears as they faced the shocked faces
of her family.  Keeping the secret of their decision from her family all day
had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done.  Lad had come home early,
but they had been busy with the dinner rush, and she’d had to wait even longer. 
Now, after stammering through a recitation of the events that had led to their
decision, it seemed that everyone felt as badly as she did.  Tears trickled
down Josie’s cheeks, and Forbish frowned so hard that his first chin receded
into his second.  Tika and Ponce were more vocal in their disapproval.

“You
can’t
leave, Lad!”

“You’re not done training us yet!”

“You promise to teach us that trick with
the dagger!”

“Where will you go?”

“How will you live?”

“Hush, you two!”  Josie sniffed and
glared at the twins.  “You’ll wake the guests.  And weren’t you listening? 
They can’t tell us where they’re going.  It’d be too dangerous, for them
and
us.”

“Josie’s right, I’m afraid.”  Lad gave
the twins an encouraging smile.  “We’re not leaving quite yet.  I can show you
the dagger trick.”

“Why delay?” Forbish asked, taking
Josie’s hand in his and giving it a comforting pat.  “If there’s danger, why
not leave right now?”

Wiggen glanced at Lad.  He’d been oddly
reticent when he’d told her that they couldn’t leave immediately.  He had to
help Mya get settled with new bodyguards, he’d claimed, but…there was something
he wasn’t saying.  Usually so forthcoming, Lad had avoided her eyes, and
several times she had turned to find him staring at her with a disconcerting
expression. 
It’s something to do with Mya
, she thought, suspicious as
always of the woman’s motives.

“Lad has some things to wrap up before we
go, but it shouldn’t take long.”  She gave them a smile that she hoped looked
more confident than it felt.  “Don’t worry.  We’ll be fine.  We’ve saved every
bit of money Lad’s earned over the last five years.  We’ve got plenty to open
an inn of our own somewhere.”

“Somewhere quiet, where Lissa can grow up
safe.”  Lad’s hopeful whisper eased her aching heart, and Wiggen squeezed his
hand.

“But what about us?” Tika argued.

“Yeah.  What are we going to do without
you two?”

“We’ll be able to contact you
eventually,” Wiggen promised.  “Once things settle down, maybe in a year or
so.”

“A year?”

“That’s forever!”

“Quiet, now.  This is for the best.” 
Forbish released Josie’s hand and stepped forward to embrace his daughter.  His
thick arms felt good around her shoulders, comforting and safe.  Wiggen wished
such a simple thing could really make her safe, but she knew better.

“I’m sorry, Father.”  She pressed her
face into his shoulder, willing herself not to cry.

“Don’t be sorry, Wiggen.  Just find
someplace safe.”

If any safe place exists in this world
.  Wiggen wished desperately that there was another
answer, but her heart belonged with Lad, and if he had to leave, then she and
Lissa would leave with him.  She just never thought that doing the right thing
would make everyone she loved so miserable.

Chapter
XVIII

S
o, you’ve got
your assignments.”  Mya checked the names of her four best senior journeymen
off her list as she recapped their orders.  “Kara, report to Neera at her
estate in Barleycorn Heights.  Simi, you’re going to the Docks District to help
Youtrin.  Vic, you’re with Patrice.  I assume you know where her brothel is in
West Crescent.”  That got a chuckle.  “And lastly, Pictor, you’ve got Horice. 
His townhouse is in Eastmarket, near the river, but he works out of that armory
on Ironmonger Street.”  She looked up at them.  “And you all know what to look
for.”

“Yes, Miss Mya.”  Pictor was senior among
them, and technically her second, though they had never gotten along very
well.  Ten years her senior, he obviously felt that he should be Master
Hunter.  He was good at his job, however, and loyal.  “A thug with broken
fingers on both hands, and anyone who’s expert with a blowgun and poison.”

“Right.  Other than finding these two
people, I don’t want you to poke your noses into the other masters’ business at
all.  You do as you’re told, when and how you’re told to do it.  You all know
your jobs.  I’m relying on you to do them without having to come back to me for
help, but if you or any of your people feel threatened, you let me know.  Got
it?”

“Yes, Miss Mya,” they answered.

“All right.  Report to the other masters
first thing in the morning, and give them my regards.  Go.”  She watched them
file out.  The loss of so many of her people, even temporarily, made her feel
as exposed as a bug on a white tablecloth.  Shaking off the uncomfortable
sensation, she glared down at her empty blackbrew cup.  She lifted the pot, but
it was empty, too.  “Gods, what time is it?  Mika!”

The hulking door guard ducked in amidst
the noise of the drinking and gaming patrons down the hall.  “Yes, Miss?”

“How late is it?”

“Near midnight, I think, Miss.”

“Where the hells is Dee?”

“Dunno, Miss.  Want me to get him?”

“Have Paxal fetch him.  And have him
bring me another pot of blackbrew as well.”

“Yes, Miss.”

The door closed, and Mya blinked her
tired eyes before returning to the papers in front of her.  She pored over her
lists, checking off items and circling others.  She’d been over everything
three times already, but directing her energy toward work calmed her nerves. 
After her discussion with Lad, she had sent him home early, still so angry that
she had to fight the urge to slap him for being such an idiot.

He kept the godsdamned ring.  He kept
it for himself!

They’d gone over the details of Lad’s
stalkers, the assassination attempt, and the masters’ meeting.  Lad had
mentioned Norwood’s investigation, but Mya had managed to switch the subject. 
She
knew Vonlith’s death wasn’t relevant to the rest of these baffling goings-on,
and didn’t want Lad digging into it any further than he apparently already had.

Damn it, Mya!  Why did you have to
kill him?
 
He already had your
money, for the gods’ sake!
 
He wasn’t going to brag to his cronies about
how he’d tattooed the Master Hunter of the Assassins Guild with magical runes.
 
But she knew why she had done it.  The reason was the same one it had always
been.

Fear.

Vonlith had given her the magic, and as
he had when Lad fought Saliez, he could take it away.  Though it had only been
a temporary suspension of the runes’ powers, it had been enough to allow Lad to
kill the Grandfather, and could be enough to allow someone to kill her.  She
would not tolerate anyone holding that kind of threat over her head.

The door opened without a knock.  She
knew instantly from the look on Paxal’s face that something was wrong.

“What?”

“We’ve got a problem, Miss.”

“With what?”

“Well, with Dee, but I think you’ll want
to see this.”

“Dee?”  She was up and around the table
in a flash.  “What’s wrong with Dee?  Is he all right?”

“Easier if you just come see, Miss Mya.” 
He waved her through the door.  Mika fell in behind them.  “Third floor, south
wing, third door on the left.”

“I know.”  In fact, it was her old room.

Mya took the stairs two at a time with
Mika close behind.  Paxal was still one floor below, ascending as quickly as
his old legs could climb, when she reached the third-floor landing.  One glance
down the hall told her something dire had occurred.  Two of her Hunters guarded
Dee’s door with their hands on their weapons, their faces like stone.  She
forced herself to approach slowly, quelling the desire to burst in and find out
what was wrong.

“Where’s Dee?”

“Inside, Miss Mya.”  The guards stepped
aside.

The smell of vomit and urine hit her as
she opened the door.  Dee sat nude on the edge of the bed.  He didn’t even look
up when Mya walked in.  His eyes never left the dead woman on the floor.

The barmaid, Moirin, lay equally nude in
a contorted position near Dee’s desk, a rumpled dress clutched in one hand.  A
pool of vomit stained the rug near her mouth, and a dark puddle of moisture
attested to the fact that she had voided her bladder when she died.  Red
contusions encircled her throat like a necklace.

“I found them like this, Miss Mya.”

Paxal stood behind her, breathing hard. 
Nodding, she drew her eyes from the spectacle of Moirin’s body to see that the
floor beyond the desk was strewn with letters. 
Her
letters.

“Gods
damn
it!”  Mya stepped around
the corpse and peered down at one of the letters.  It was addressed to her and
still sealed, but other letters, already opened, along with reports and Dee’s
notes from their conversations, lay scattered about.  Atop the desk, the metal
coffer where Dee kept her correspondence sat with its lid open.

Mya’s skin tingled with a sudden flood of
anger, an urge to lash out surging through her.  Now of all times, with the
wolves at her door, something like this? 
Dee
, she thought murderously,
what
the hells have you done
?

Whirling toward the bed, she took in his
frozen gaze, the saliva trailing from the corner of his mouth.  Reaching for a
dagger, she stepped toward the bed…and stopped. 
No!
  She clenched her
fists and took a deep breath, forcing her heart to slow and her thoughts to
calm.  No, she couldn’t kill Dee; that was something the Grandfather would have
done.  She was
not
the Grandfather.  What she really needed from Dee was
information.

“Dee?  What happened here?”

Only a shallow sigh and a fleeting
grimace told Mya that he had heard her.  His blank stare, not to mention the
fact that he hadn’t even tried to cover himself, left her wondering if he was
spelled, poisoned, or if his wits had simply fled.

Slowly she walked around the bed,
examining every detail: clothing tossed aside, Dee’s daggers on one night
table, a bottle of wine and two glasses on the other.  She sniffed each glass. 
Even her enhanced senses couldn’t tell the two apart, but the heady aroma of
the red wine would mask the odor of a subtle poison or potion.  She sniffed the
bottle, too, but learned nothing new.  She walked back to face her assistant.

“Dee?  I need you to answer me.  What
happened here?”

“I’m…sorry,” he whispered.

“Sorry?” 
You
will
be sorry
,
she thought, then bit back her temper again.  “Sorry for what, Dee?  What
happened?”

“She’s…dead.”  He blinked and his face
contorted into a mien of pain and regret.

“I see that she’s dead, Dee.  What
happened?  Did you kill her?”

“I…don’t know.”  He swallowed and blinked
again.  “I didn’t mean for her to die.  She…she…”  His voice trailed off to
nothing.

“Damn it, Dee, I need to know what
happened
here!”

He didn’t respond.

I don’t have time for this shit!
she thought. 
I won’t kill him, but a little
righteous fury might knock some sense back into him.

Mya whirled to the door and made a
shooing motion.  “Out!  Everyone.”  Paxal opened his mouth to protest, but she
silenced him with a glare.  “I need to know what happened here, Pax, and I
don’t have time to screw around.  Out!”

They all retreated.  She closed and
bolted the door.

Two long strides took her to the bed, and
her open palm left a handprint on the side of Dee’s face.  She’d been careful
with the blow; hard enough to get his attention, but not hard enough to break
his neck.  His head snapped around with the impact, but at least it diverted
his attention from Moirin’s corpse.

“Get up!”

An instant of panic registered in his
eyes.  “Mya!  I…”  He fumbled off the bed, clutching at the sheet to cover
himself.  “I’m sorry, Miss!  I…”  His eyes drifted toward Moirin’s corpse, but
Mya brought his attention back to her with another slap, not as hard as the
first, but lightning quick.

“Look at me, not that whore!”

Dee stiffened and glared at her, his lip
curling in a sneer.  For a moment Mya thought he might strike her.  Then she
noticed his fingers twitching futilely on the sheet clutched in his hands.  He
couldn’t
strike her, couldn’t even attempt to, preempted by the magic of the master’s
ring on her finger.  That power, that feeling of utter dominance over someone
else, made her want to vomit.  She bit back the visceral reflex and focused on
her assistant.

Dee might be angry with her, but he was
more cognizant of what was going on.  He was trembling now, and fear shone in
his eyes; he knew that Mya could have him executed for allowing such a breach
of security.  Fortunately for Dee, she needed information more than she needed
to see him dead.

“Tell me what happened here, Dee.  How
did she die?”

“I…  Yes, Miss Mya.  She took poison, I
think.”

“Poison?  What do you mean?  When?”

“When I caught her looking at your
letters.”

“Start from the beginning, Dee.”  Mya
lowered her voice, trying to remain calm.  If Moirin had been looking at her
letters…  “What happened?”

“We…um…have been seeing each other for
some time, Miss Mya.  She works…worked here.  Her name was Moirin.”

“Okay, that’s a start.  I know who she
was and that you’ve been seeing her.  There’s no problem there.  What happened
this evening?”

“Well, she came up after her shift, when
I was waiting for you to call for me.”  He looked suddenly embarrassed, and
clutched the blanket a little closer.  “We…um…had a little romp, then a glass
of wine.  I guess I fell asleep.  When I woke, I saw her by the desk, peering
down at your letters.”  He swallowed and cleared his throat.  “I’d locked them
up like always in that double-lock iron box you gave me, and the keys were
still on the chain around my neck, but the box was open.  I asked her what she
was doing, and she jumped like she’d been stuck with a pin.”