Weapon of Vengeance (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy) (19 page)

Lad considered for a moment, then said, “Very well.”

“Patino was killed with magic.”

That caught Lad off guard, but the darkness and the
cloth over his face hid his surprise.  Kiesha might be a thief and an assassin,
but by all accounts, she was no mage.  “Why do you think it was magic?”

“The duke’s wizard told me.  Apparently, Patino’s
soul was harvested…by a priest.”

Lad thought about it.  He wasn’t religious, but
living in a city with temples dedicated to nearly a dozen gods, one was
accustomed to seeing their devotees everywhere.  They had access to places
laymen didn’t.  It would be a good cover for an assassin.  But that didn’t
answer the Kiesha question.  “He’s sure it was a priest?”

“Or priestess, yes.  He was sure it was divine
magic, not arcane.  Death was painless and instant, so it looked natural.” 
Norwood’s eyes narrowed.  “So what was Patino involved in to get him murdered?”

“He contracted some people to interfere in the
recent war between the Assassins Guild factions.  One of those people
killed…someone very important to me.  The assassin’s vanished, but we
discovered a link to Patino.  It seems likely that the baron ordered the
killing.”

“Son of a…”  Norwood’s jaw clamped down hard on the
curse.  “What motive would he have to get involved in your guild war?”

“I have no idea.  Do you know if Patino was connected
to any organizations that might have an interest in the Assassins Guild?”  If
he was killed by a priest, maybe he was involved with a cult. 
Bemrin
probably has spies in half a dozen temples.  Maybe he can unearth something.

“I’m working on getting information about the
baron’s associations, but it’ll take time.”

“How much time?”

“I don’t know.  The inquiry has to travel to Tsing
and back.”  Norwood shrugged and glanced out the window.

Was that an evasion
?  Lad clenched his teeth.  “That
could take weeks.  I don’t
have
weeks, Captain.”

“Then look for yourself!”  Anger flared in Norwood’s
eyes.  “I don’t work for you!”

Lad gauged Norwood carefully.  The man could only be
pushed so far before he clammed up completely.  “I’ll make you a deal,
Captain.  If you agree to share whatever you learn about Patino with me, I’ll
respond in kind.”

Norwood glared for a few moments, seeming to fight
an inner battle, then finally relented.  “Fine.”

“Very well.  The black darts that were used in the
Fiveway Fountain killings were also used to kill my…friend.  The person who
fired those darts worked with Patino.  We discovered the dart maker, but he’s dead
and the murderer has vanished.  Now Patino’s dead.  I thought she might be
covering her tracks by killing Patino, but magic is not her method.” 
At
least not that we know of
.
  What other secrets might Kiesha have been
hiding from her father
?
  An association with a mysterious cult
?

“Her?  The assassin is a woman?”

Damn
!  Lad had not intended to give
up that bit of information.  “Yes.”

“Her name?”      

“I’m sorry, Captain, but I can’t tell you that.”  If
he provided Kiesha’s name and Norwood found her first, Lad might be cheated of
his vengeance.

“You said Patino contracted someone to interfere in
your guild war.  Who did he contract?”

Lad wasn’t about to give him Hensen’s name either,
but he had to give the captain something.  “As strange as it sounds, the
Thieves Guild.”

“You’re telling me Baron Patino transacted with the
Thieves Guild?”  Norwood frowned.  “I need a name to confirm this.”

“I can’t give you a name.  It would…complicate
things.” 
But if I ever have to eliminate Master Hensen, I now have a means.

“You’re not giving me much to go on.”

“And you’ve given me even less, Captain.”

The carriage lurched as it rounded a corner, and a
glance confirmed that this was Norwood’s street.  They didn’t have much longer.

“So now both of us have more questions than
answers.”  Norwood cursed under his breath.  “Marvelous!”

“We both have one more thing than we had before.” 
Lad hunkered back into the shadows as the carriage slowed.  “You know Patino
had some link to organized crime, and I know how he died, which changes my
theory on who killed him.  It also suggests that there might be a third party
involved in this.”  If Kiesha hadn’t killed Patino, then why was he murdered? 
Did this negate the connection between Wiggen’s death and Patino, or just make
it more convoluted?  Lad had a lot of thinking to do.

“All right.”  Norwood begrudged him a nod.  “If I
find out anything out about Patino, I’ll…hang a white handkerchief from my
bedroom window, and you can get in touch with me.  Just try not to scare the
shit out of me next time.”

“Fine.  Goodnight, Captain.”

Lad watched as Norwood exited the carriage, called
out, “Regular time tomorrow, Sergeant!” to the driver, and stomped up the walk
to his townhouse. 

But can I trust
him?  How much of what Norwood
told him was true?  He had no way to tell.  He’d gotten good information from
him in the past, and in the end, Lad had no choice but to trust the captain.

Lad settled against the carriage door, one hand on
the handle, intending to hop out at the first shadowed corner.  He watched
Norwood unlock the townhouse door as the carriage lurched into motion.  The
captain stepped inside, highlighted by a lamp in the front hall.  Then, as he
turned to close the door, a dark cloud formed behind him, coalescing into a
robed figure with one luminous hand outstretched.

No
!  As the townhouse door swung
shut, Lad moved.

“Cocky son of a bitch thinks he can pop in whenever
he wants…”  The irony of actually working with the Assassins Guild to try to
solve a murder didn’t escape Norwood, but he felt that the ends justified
breaking the rules in this case.  He’d obtained invaluable information. 
Knowing that Patino was involved with organized crime changed the whole focus
of his investigation.

Despite the success of the encounter, Norwood’s
hands trembled as he worked the key in the lock.  The speed and strength of his
visitor had shaken him badly.  Had he grown so slow in his years behind a desk
that an assassin could disarm and subdue him so easily? 

The latch clicked, and he stepped inside, cringing
at the aroma of boiled meat and cabbage filling the air.  It was the cook’s
night off, and his wife had made dinner.  Contemplating another tasteless meal
followed by a night of indigestion, he swung the door closed.  As he threw the
heavy deadbolt, the light of the hall lamp wavered, and the scuff of a boot on
the carpet behind him caught his ear.

A visitor
?   Nobody ever greeted him at
the front door when he arrived, not even those two flea-bitten dogs.  Curious,
Norwood turned, and the keys fell from his grasp.

A crimson-robed figure strode forward, face hidden
within a deep cowl.  His glowing outstretched hand, like a grim harbinger of
death, shocked Norwood into action.  The dagger he’d tried to draw in the
carriage leapt into his hand, and he slashed.  The blade sliced across the
outstretched palm, and the hand snapped back.  A curse escaped the dark recess
of the hood.

Norwood tried to step back, but in turning, his feet
crossed.  He tripped and fell against the door, the heavy brass hinge gouging
him between his shoulder blades.  The cloaked figure resumed its advance, the
pearly glow that engulfed the outstretched hand now tinged red with blood. 

Magic
!  Norwood recalled Woefler’s
phantasmal hand and dire words—
I could use this spell to reach into your
chest and grasp your heart
.  He reached for his sword, but the long blade
was caught between his backside and the door.  He couldn’t free it without moving
dangerously close to that deadly spell.

The door slammed open without warning, flinging
Norwood aside like a rag doll.  The ensorcelled hand missed him by a hair’s
breadth.  He hit the wall hard, but managed to keep both his dagger and his
feet, despite being rattled by the impact.

A figure burst through the shower of splintered
wood, a blur of black in the lamplight.  Impossibly fast, a foot lashed out to
strike Norwood’s assailant precisely at the elbow.  The joint snapped with a
sickening crunch, the impact spinning the crimson-clad attacker around. 
Another curse, or perhaps some dark invocation, hissed from beneath the hood. 
Shattered arm pressed to his abdomen, Norwood’s assailant backed away.

“Who are you?”

The assassin from the coach advanced, his voice
edged like a razor.  Norwood would have asked the same question had his mouth
not been as dry as a desert.  He settled for drawing his sword.

“The right hand of death!”  The words seemed more of
a threat than an answer.  With one unintelligible word, darkness writhed about
the assailant’s uninjured hand, spreading swiftly to engulf him.

The captain’s savior struck again, so fast that
Norwood could barely follow the movement.  His foot lashed through the swirling
darkness, scattering tendrils like blown smoke, but struck nothing.  There was
nothing left to hit.

“Damn!”  The assassin turned to Norwood, the light
of the hall lamp striking him fully in the face.  Though the dark cloth
concealed most of the man’s features, a curious pair of mica-hued eyes
reflected the light.  “Did he touch you?”

“No.”  Norwood shook his head and regained his
composure.  “No, I managed to keep him off me until you…arrived.”  He looked at
his dagger.  The tip bore a tiny streak of blood. 
Not so slow after all
,
he thought with satisfaction.  “We both marked him.”  He wiped his dagger clean
on his jacket and sheathed his weapons.

“I believe we’ve just met Patino’s killer, Captain.”

“You
think
?”  A harsh, nervous laugh escaped
his throat.  “And now I know how he got into the baron’s home.  This hall was
empty when I opened the door.  He must have popped in just like he popped
out.”  He remembered Woefler’s little trick in his office.  Evidently priests
could do it, too.

“And he obviously wants you dead.  The question is,
why?”

“Dear, is that you?”

The feminine voice from the back of the house spun
the assassin around, and he started for the door.  “Be careful, Captain. 
You’ve drawn the attention of some very deadly people.”

“Wait!”  Norwood felt the need to say…something.  After
all, the man had saved his life.  “I…um…  Well…thank you.”

“Thank me by staying alive, Captain.  Someone knows
you’re looking into Patino’s murder and doesn’t like it.”

“Right.”  Norwood blinked, startled by the suddenly
empty doorway.  The man was there, then he wasn’t. 

Other thoughts quickly distracted him.  That someone
wanted him dead was troubling enough, but that someone knew of the murder
investigation was even more disconcerting.  Besides himself, only Master
Woefler and Duke Mir knew that the death had been murder.  Where had the leak
occurred?  Then he realized that at least one more person knew: the man who had
just saved his life.

“What in the names of all the Gods of Light…  What
happened to the door?”

Norwood turned to find his wife standing in the
hall, her hands clutching a sodden dishcloth, her face livid.  Turning, he
examined the shattered casement.  The two-inch deadbolt had been knocked from
the frame, leaving a sizable divot in the oak beam and scattering splinters
down the hallway.  The door itself, also solid oak, was split its full length. 
He stared for a moment, trying to reconcile the force it would have taken to do
such damage.

Who the hell is this assassin
?

“I…It was an accident, my dear.”

“An accident?  The door is
ruined
!”

“Just some ruffians trying to break in, but I ran
them off,” he assured his wife.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll have the door fixed
tomorrow.”  He swung it closed, but it didn’t fit well.  He settled for hooking
the security chain.  “I’ll nail a board across it for tonight.”