Weapon of Vengeance (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy) (13 page)

“
What
?”  Lad fought the urge to strangle the
truth out of the Blade.  What did Lissa have to do with this?  “I’ll
never
forget how that felt, Sereth.  Now explain yourself!”

“Yes, Master.  I ask you to remember, because our
situations are similar.”

“Similar?”  Frustration surged into anger.  Lad’s
hand shot out and grasped the front of Sereth’s shirt.  He jerked the Blade
forward until their noses were barely an inch apart.  “Stop talking in
riddles!  What in the Nine Hells is going on?”

“My wife has been held hostage by the Thieves Guild
for more than two years.”

“Your…” Lad’s fury quenched as if he had fallen into
an ice-bound river.  He hadn’t even known Sereth had a wife.  He opened his
hand, and the Blade stumbled back a step. 
Two years
…  “Why would they
keep—”

“I’ve been spying for them, Master.”  Sereth’s words
came in a rush now, as if he was afraid that Lad would kill him before he had
told his story.  “They took her, and blackmailed me into spying for them.  When
I refused to give them any more information, they threatened to…to do horrible
things to her.”

“What does this have to do with Wiggen’s murderer?”

“I was following one of their spies, the woman who
was my contact, in hopes that she’d lead me to my wife.  Instead, she went to
the gnome’s shop.  After she left, I investigated and found the gnome
murdered.  I didn’t understand why she would kill a gnome toymaker, but then I
discovered the darts.”  Sereth swallowed and the muscles of his jaw clenched
briefly.  He took a shuddering breath and continued.  “I remembered that I’d
told her where the masters were going to exchange your daughter for Mya.  I
didn’t know then that she was a killer, but when I saw how professionally the
gnome had been murdered, and then found the darts, it all made sense.  She must
have been the one who killed your wife.”

“You…”  A chill trickled down Lad’s spine.  “You
told them where to find us…”

“Yes, Master.”

Lad reached out faster than a striking viper, not to
grasp Sereth’s shirt again, but his throat.  The Blade’s life pulsed beneath
his fingers.  He thought of all the delicate bones that would shatter if he
just closed his hand.  Sereth stood there helpless, unable to fight, and from
the look of resolve upon his dark features, ready to die.

“I should kill you.”

“My life is yours, Master,” Sereth rasped.  “That’s
why I asked you to remember how it felt to have your daughter held captive.  If
anyone could understand why I betrayed the guild, it would be you.”

“And you think that will keep me from killing you?”

“No, Master, but at least you’d know why.  I had no
idea they’d kill Wiggen.”

Was that the truth?  In the end, it didn’t matter. 
Wiggen was dead.  Killing Sereth wouldn’t bring her back.  It would only
prevent Lad from ever exacting vengeance on the person responsible for her
death.

“You’ll tell me this woman’s name and where to find
her. 
Then
I’ll decide whether or not to break your neck.”

Sereth’s throat flexed under Lad’s fingers.  “Yes,
Master.  Her name is Kiesha.  She works directly for the master of the Thieves
Guild, a man named Hensen.  They live in a townhouse on Four Bells Avenue, here
in Barleycorn Heights, two blocks south of the river on the east side of the
street.  It’s the largest house on the block.  If you want to catch her, you
should act quickly.  She knows you’re hunting Wiggen’s killer, and she’s
running scared.”

Sereth took as deep a breath as he could with Lad’s
hand around his throat, his eyes now resigned.  “If you intend to spend my
life, sir, I’d ask that you please find my wife and free her.  Hensen knows
where she’s being kept.”

“But if you’re dead, they have no reason to keep
her, do they?”

“No, sir, but she knows too much.  They might kill
her to keep her quiet.”

Lad stared at the Master Blade.  Now he recognized
the look in Sereth’s eyes.  It wasn’t fear for his life.  It was fear for the
life of a loved one. 
His wife
…  Knowing what that felt like opened
Lad’s hand.  The Master Blade gasped a breath and staggered back.  Lad hadn’t
ruled out killing Sereth yet, but he needed information first.

“Why did you tell me this?  Why not bargain with the
Thieves Guild, your silence for your wife?  You spied for them when you worked
for Horice, why not now?”

“I’m done living like that, Master.  I spied on
Horice because it didn’t seem like I had any choice.  He would have killed me
without listening to a word, and Jinny would have paid the price.  Now…I do
have a choice.  I’d rather trust you than them.  So if you decide to spend my
life, please, just see that Jinny is freed.”  Sereth closed his eyes.  “She’s
innocent, just like your daughter was innocent.  I was stupid to marry her. 
All I did was put her in danger.”

Was I stupid to marry Wiggen
?  Lad considered the notion and
rejected it outright.  He couldn’t conceive what his life would have been
without her.  There were many things he would have done differently if he had
the chance, but loving Wiggen wasn’t one of them.

“Love sometimes makes us stupid, Sereth, but without
it, what are we?”

The Blade’s eyes opened, and desperation vied with
hope within them. 

“I want answers, Sereth, not just revenge.  You’re
coming with me to find this Kiesha, and we’re going to find out what’s really
going on here.”

“Yes, Master.”  Sereth took another deep breath and
rubbed his throat.  “I can’t think of a motive for Kiesha to kill your wife. 
She’s Hensen’s personal assistant, so obviously the Thieves Guild is involved. 
You’ll have to ask Kiesha or Hensen.”

“We
will
ask.  But before we do, I need to
know exactly what you told them in the weeks before Wiggen’s death.”

Sereth answered directly, though he looked abashed. 
“They were interested in anything and everything to do with you and Mya.”

That stopped Lad in his tracks.  Realization slammed
through his mind: if Kiesha killed Wiggen, she also saved Lad’s life in that
rain-soaked alley.  He and Mya had surmised that the Grandmaster of the
Assassins Guild might be protecting them, but how could the Thieves Guild be connected? 
None of this made sense, but there was only one way to find out.

Lad strode to the door and opened it.  “Dee!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Bring my work clothes.  Sereth and I are going
out.”

N
o place is impregnable to a sufficiently skilled and
determined assassin.  Remember
!

Lad assessed Hensen’s home as he assessed anyplace
he wanted to break into.  A thin strip of well-manicured grass and a low
wrought-iron fence buffered the property from its neighbors.  The house was
twice the size of Lad’s, built of tremendous granite blocks set close and
polished smooth.  The windows gleamed and the latches looked freshly polished.  The
front door—as wide as Lad was tall, and half again as high—stood in a marble
portico lit by a hanging lantern.  At its center hung a gold-plated knocker
wrought in the likeness of an eagle, its talons gripping a crystal-studded
laurel wreath.  The overwhelming impression was rich, solid, and secure.

Lad picked out several different paths to the third
floor window that would normally have been his chosen point of entry. 
Unfortunately, this was the home of the most powerful thief in Twailin.  And
thieves were just as skilled at keeping people out as they were at breaking in.
 They had to assume every door, window, pane of glass, and air vent was
trapped.  Jimmying a latch to crawl through a window would likely be a quick
way to die.

Lad preferred working alone, but he couldn’t deny
that he needed Sereth’s help here.  The Master Blade knew the layout firsthand,
and only he could identify Hensen and Kiesha.  And yet, though Lad had resigned
himself to Sereth’s plan of entry, just the thought of it raised the hairs on
the back of his neck.  When Sereth first proposed it, Lad thought he was crazy.

“You’re seriously suggesting we just walk up and
knock?”

“Why not?”  Sereth had ticked the reasons off on his
fingers.  “Someone’s stationed in the front hall around the clock.  Hensen gets
reports at all hours.  And they know me.”

Lad remembered Norwood recounting the murder of
Vonlith.  Despite innumerable spells and magical traps, the runemage had fallen
prey to an acquaintance—Mya—who gained entry simply by knocking.  If the
straightforward approach worked for her, perhaps it would work for them also.

Back at his house, the idea seemed feasible.  Now
Lad was having doubts again.  “You’re sure someone will answer?  It’s well past
midnight, and there are no lights.”

“I’m sure, sir,” Sereth assured him.  “Remember, the
butlers wear daggers under their jackets, but this late, there might be a
regular guard on duty.  Whoever it is, don’t let them pull on a bell rope.”

“I remember.”  Lad glared at the Blade.  “And
you
remember: don’t kill anyone unless it’s absolutely necessary.  I don’t want to
start a guild war if I can avoid it.  We’re here for information, not blood.” 
The blood would come later, once he knew exactly who was responsible for
Wiggen’s death.  Kiesha may indeed have fired the lethal dart, but under whose
orders?

The distant click of metal on metal caught Lad’s
ear.  He tapped Sereth’s shoulder, and they edged further back into the shadows
of the manicured hedge.  A moment later, a squad of city guardsmen rounded the
corner and strolled past.  In this upscale district, patrols were frequent.

When they’d gone, Lad whispered, “Your people are in
position?”  Another of Sereth’s suggestions; Blades had been assigned to watch
all possible exits, with orders to capture anyone who tried to escape.

Sereth checked his pocket watch.  “They’re ready,
Master.”

“Good.  Let’s go.”

Lad and Sereth crossed the street and approached the
house from an oblique angle.  Lad strolled casually, his senses on high alert. 
Though he detected no shifting shadows or subtle noises that might indicate
Thieves Guild watchers, he couldn’t detect their own people either.  Walking in
the open made his skin crawl.  Lad left Sereth before he could be seen by
anyone peering out through the front door viewing glass, and sidled up beside
the door with his back against the wall.

Pressing an ear against the doorjamb, Lad listened;
breathing, a single heartbeat, and the scuff of a boot on a rug.  Someone paced
inside, probably trying to stay awake and alert. 

Sereth walked right up to the viewing glass and
rapped the polished bronze clapper three times.  Lad held up a single finger
and pointed to the door.  Sereth nodded minutely.

Another boot scuff from inside, just beyond the door
now.  The guard was undoubtedly examining the late-night visitor through the
glass.  Sereth held his hands up in a submissive gesture.  He’d told Lad of his
failed attempt to forcefully rescue Jinny.  Hopefully, Hensen would be more
eager to continue receiving intelligence from his spy than to ban Sereth from
his house.

Four bolts clacked open, and a complex locking
mechanism clattered before the heavy door opened.  A length of a thick-linked
brass chain stopped it from opening more than three inches.  The voice from
inside sounded tired and irritated.

“What is it, Sereth?”

“I need to talk to Kiesha.”

“She’s sleeping.  Come back in the morning.”

Lad tensed as the door started to close, but Sereth
stomped his foot between the door and frame.

“Of
course
she’s sleeping, Worton.  The whole
damned city’s sleeping! 
I’d
be sleeping if I had any choice in the
matter, but your master made it quite clear that I do my job…or else.”  Sereth
fingered his broken nose and huffed in annoyance.  “If you don’t let me see
Kiesha, I guarantee that Hensen will have
your
balls in his egg cups for
breakfast, not mine.”

“Don’t threaten me.”

“Get Kiesha, and if you’re too timid to wake her, go
get Terrence or Jamesly and let them take the heat.”

Worton paused for two heartbeats before relenting.

“All right, but don’t think you can pull the same
shit on me that you did on Jamesly.  And you’re damn
right
I’m gonna
wake Terrence.  Wait there while I ring him.”

“Wait out in the street for another City Guard
patrol to come by?  Are you daft?”  Sereth glanced up and down the street
nervously.  “I’ll wait inside, or I’ll come back midmorning, and
you
can
explain to Hensen why he didn’t get my report sooner!”

“Fine!”  The man sounded irritated, but resigned. 
“Move your foot so I can let you in.”

Sereth complied, and the door closed.  The chain
rattled, and the door began to open again.

Lad moved in a blur.  This part of the plan they
agreed on.  Their first priority was silence.  He thrust the door open with one
hand and smacked the edge of the other into the guard’s throat just below the
larynx.  The blow wasn’t lethal, just enough to stun and silence any cry for
aid.

Worton stumbled back and raised a crossbow.  As his
finger tightened on the trigger, Lad plucked out the bolt, flipped it, and
poised the tip an inch from the startled guard’s eye.  The crack of the empty
crossbow was no louder than the bronze door knocker.

“One word and you’re dead!”

Ignoring the menace, the man dropped his crossbow
and tried to bat the bolt away while reaching for his sword with his free
hand.  Sereth lunged to catch the crossbow before it could clatter to the
floor.  Lad thrust the bolt through the guard’s sword hand, kicked him squarely
in the crotch, clapped a hand over his mouth, and caught him before he fell to
the floor.  Sereth closed and bolted the door, then lay the crossbow aside.

They were in.

Lad kept watch as Sereth gagged and bound their
captive.  The guard’s moan seemed loud to his hypersensitive ears, but he
detected no disturbance in the farther reaches of the house.  Glancing back, he
watched Sereth finish the knot in Worton’s gag, then stand and draw two
daggers.  The Blade nodded toward the stairs.

Lad silently led the way, Sereth’s tread barely
audible as he followed.  The low light of ornate wall lamps illuminated their
passage.  Pausing at the second floor landing to listen, he heard nothing to
indicate that an alarm had been sounded.  They continued up.  At the third
floor, they stopped again.  To the left, double doors at the end of the hall
led into Hensen’s bedroom.  Ahead, along the front of the house, was Hensen’s
office.  The two doors down the hall to the right were unknowns.

Never leave a potential threat
behind you.  Remember!

Lad pressed an ear to the office door and each of
the unknowns in turn, but heard nothing.  His heart sank a little; he’d hoped
that Kiesha slept behind one of them.

Not that easy
…

Lad turned to Hensen’s door.  Pressing an ear to the
thick oak planking, he discerned two muffled heartbeats and light, regular
breathing.  He held up two fingers to Sereth and pantomimed sleep.  The Blade
nodded.

The ornate brass thumb latch above the handle
depressed with a quiet click, but the door didn’t yield to gentle pressure. 
Lad released the latch and withdrew a set of fine picks from a pocket.  He
didn’t often practice lock picking, but he also didn’t lose skills once they
were learned.  Lad remembered every lesson he’d ever been taught as if they had
taken place yesterday.

The picks ticked against the double rows of
tumblers, an intricate lock indeed, but hardly beyond his skill.  When the last
tumbler clicked into place, the deadbolt turned easily.  Lad carefully
rewrapped the picks and slid them back into his pocket.  This time when he
depressed the latch, the door swung silently in on its hinges, but stopped
suddenly when a restraining chain came taut.  The clatter of the chain wasn’t
loud, but the easy cadence of breathing inside the room changed.  Either Hensen
or his companion had awakened.  Stealth had just been superseded by the need
for haste.

Lad reached through the gap in the door, grasped the
chain, and pulled.

Metal and wood screeched, but he was through the
portal in a flash, taking in the entire room in one sweeping glance. 

The woman sprawled on the near side of the huge bed
was just waking, and posed only an inconvenience rather than a threat.  Sereth
would deal with her.  On the far side of the bed an older man, presumably
Hensen, stretched out a hand.  Whether he was reaching for the sword propped
against the nightstand or one of the three bell ropes that dangled beside the
bedpost, Lad didn’t know.  All he knew was that he had to stop him.

Three steps and Lad leapt over the bed.  His
outstretched hand snatched Hensen’s wrist, but too late.  The master thief’s
fingers were already closing on the nearest of the three bell ropes.  Lad’s
momentum not only jerked the man right out of the bed, but also wrenched the
bell rope right out of the wall.  Lad landed and flipped Hensen facedown onto
the floor, pinned his arms behind his back, then lifted him to his feet.

Sereth had the startled woman’s face pressed into a
pillow to stifle her protests. “He pulled a bell rope?”

“Sereth?”  Hensen peered across the bed toward the
Blade’s voice, squinting in the dim light.  “Again?  I already told you—”

“Quiet!”  Lad twisted the thief’s pinned arms, not
enough to pop a shoulder out of the socket, but enough to elicit a gasp of
pain.

“Guards will be here in about thirty seconds.” 
Sereth whipped a short piece of rope around his captive’s wrists, tied it tight,
and let her go.  “Don’t scream, miss.  You’re boyfriend has already called in
his goons.”

“Bastards!” the woman spat as Sereth got up to close
and lock the door.  She rolled over and glared at each of them in turn,
apparently unconcerned with her state of undress.  “Don’t people
ever
get tired of barging in on you, Henny?”

“I’m sorry, my dear, but—”

“I said quiet!”  Lad twisted Hensen’s arms again. 
“Both of you.”

If the woman’s eyes had been daggers, Lad would have
had his hands full dodging them.

“You shut up or you get gagged.  Your choice.” 
Sereth withdrew another length of cord from a pocket.

She glared at him, but remained silent.

“Thought so.”  The Blade drew the blanket up to
cover her, and turned to Lad.  “The other night there were six guards: two
crossbows, four swords.”  Picking up the daggers he had dropped to tackle the
woman, he flipped one for throwing.  “Dead or alive?”