Weapon of Vengeance (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy) (27 page)

Their driver slowed to allow a coach approaching
from the opposite direction to pull into the drive.  As the coach turned, Lad
saw a familiar coat of arms emblazoned on the door.  The coach stopped, and a massive
dog hopped out, followed by a broad-shouldered man in uniform.  Recognition hit
Lad like a hammer blow.

Norwood
!

“Drive on!”  He didn’t think Norwood could identify
him, but he wasn’t about to take the risk.  Lad thumped the roof of the
carriage with his cane, and shouted again.  “Drive on!  They’re too busy. 
We’ll stop at the next village.”

“Aye, sir!”  The whip cracked, and the carriage
surged forward.

“Lad, what—”

“Look at the coach!”  He leaned back in the seat,
wary of curious eyes.  “Familiar?”

Mya glanced out.  “Shit!”  She, too, leaned back out
of view.  There was no point in taking chances; Mya was well known in certain
areas of Twailin.  “He must be investigating Patino.”

That made sense.  The captain had weeks to wait for
an answer from Tsing, just like Lad did, so he was out asking questions,
looking for motives, doing his job.

“Rotten luck that he’s right where we wanted to
stop.”  He glanced back.  “Maybe he knows something we don’t.”

“I can’t imagine he tells you everything.”

“What?”

“Norwood
is
your informant, isn’t he?”  The
corner of her mouth twitched.  He’d seen that enough to know she was
suppressing amusement.  Lad was not amused.

“Yes, he is.  When did you figure that out?”

She shrugged.  “When I had people watching Norwood’s
house, one of them noticed the open attic vent.  They hadn’t seen a thing, and
I don’t know anyone else who could have done that, so I assumed you visited
him.  When you told us about Patino’s murder, I assumed you had visited him
again.  It’s quite a risk.”

“Not really.”  It piqued Lad that she had figured
him out, and he wasn’t about to justify his actions to her.  “Have you told any
of the other masters?”

“Of course not!”

Lad watched her for tells, and saw none.  The
carriage rumbled on for a few long minutes before Mya spoke again.

“You really should tell the other masters that
Norwood was the assassin’s target.  It changes things.”

“Not that much.  I don’t want anyone to know.  Just
like Hensen’s contract to protect us.  If they make the connection, they might
think it…treasonous.”

“As long as you’re not selling out the guild, I
don’t see why they would.”  She cocked an eyebrow.  “You’re not, are you?”

He glared at her.  “No.” 

“Good.”  Mya opened her book.  “So, Norwood’s
hunting Patino’s killer, too.  That could complicate things.”

“Yes.” Lad gazed out the window, wondering what he
would do if Norwood found Kiesha before he did.  “Yes, it could.”

T
he
carriage rumbled up yet another hill, and Lad sighed.  Thoroughly sick of
traveling, he wanted nothing more than to arrive in Tsing.

Until recently, the ever-changing scenery had helped
to capture his attention.  The rolling pastures around Farthane had given way
to the sweeping hills of lake country, then a deep forest of old-growth oaks so
draped with moss that they looked like hoary gray giants.  Then they’d climbed
the torturously steep Forendell Pass, through craggy mountains and hidden
vales, where the way-inns were high-walled and fortified against marauding
bands of ogres.  Though none could say when the last attack had occurred, right
now, Lad would have welcomed such a distraction.

For the last two days they had traversed long
valleys between rolling hills, each the same as the next, a seemingly endless
progression of cultivated land.  The farther west they progressed, the more the
countryside seemed…wrong, almost industrial.  All the land was either
cultivated or pastured, the few wooded areas nothing but unnatural rows of
planted trees.

The carriage leveled out as they crested the hill. 
They were supposed to arrive in Tsing today, but thus far, Lad had seen no
evidence of the city.  He glanced out the window, and the vista ahead struck
his mind like a bolt of lightning.

“Stop!”  Lad banged the roof with the head of his
walking stick.  “Stop the carriage!”

“What?”  Mya jerked up from a half slumber as they
lurched to a halt.

Lad ignored her.  He flung open the door and stepped
out, wide eyed and slack jawed at what lay before him.

“Finally,” Mya said as she stepped up beside him. 
“The sea.”

In the distance, the ocean stretched to infinity,
sparkling blue and never ending, fading into a distance so misty that he
couldn’t tell where the water stopped and the sky began.  But it wasn’t the sea
that struck Lad so profoundly.

“Tsing…” Lad whispered, trying to take it all in. 
“Impossible…”

“I guess the book really doesn’t do it justice.”

Mya’s voice seemed flat.  Lad couldn’t conceive how
she could be so blasé.  It was as if all the maps from the book had been laid
out before him, and life breathed into them.  The jumbled spires and lofty
edifices of Temple Hill, built of multi-hued stone and gilded with precious
metals, gleamed like gemstones.  Farther west, the Heights District shone like
a hill of white marble above middle-class Midtown and the poorer Dreggars
Quarter.  The brown smudge to the south must be the confusion of dilapidated
warehouses, tenements and shanties, that made up the Downwinds District.  Most
beautiful of all, the Imperial Palace thrust up from atop the high bluff like a
glistening white mountain.  The afternoon sun reflected from the gleaming walls
and towers like a beacon.  This ivory icon of the empire alone occupied more
space than any single Twailin district.  The entire city was girded by a high,
crenellated wall embellished with lofty towers, the whole bristling with siege
weaponry.  And the bay beyond sprouted a forest of masts, ships from all
corners of the world come to trade in this grandest of ports.

Lad simply couldn’t wrap his mind around a city so
vast.

“Bit of a shock, isn’t it, Master?” the Enforcer
holding the reins asked.

“Yes.”  Lad tried to imagine learning such a city. 
“It would take years…”

“What would take years?”

He looked at Mya and only then realized he’d spoken
aloud.  “To know this place.”  He shook his head, wondering if anyone could
ever truly know this city as he knew Twailin.

“Why would you
want
to?”

Her derision took him aback.  Was she serious or
being sarcastic?  Since they had started exercising together, Mya’s unease
around Lad had subsided, and she’d slipped back into her familiar cynicism. 
Her words now were sharper, and he realized that she had been grimly silent all
morning.  He supposed she was nervous about their meeting with the Grandmaster,
but how could she look at such a wonder with a jaded eye?  Lad longed to
explore the city, learn about the people, immerse himself in the essence of this
immense metropolis.

“It’s just a city.  A big, dirty, dangerous city.”

“No…” Lad didn’t know how to explain the city’s
appeal.  “It’s a living, breathing creature.  Now that I see it, I wish we had
more time to experience it.”

“I don’t.”  Without another glance, Mya reboarded
the carriage.

“Best move on, Master,” the driver called down. 
“Don’t want to be late for supper.”

“Right.”  Lad climbed back aboard, and they jostled
into motion, descending the long incline to the city of Tsing, heart and soul
of the empire.

Lad pored over maps again, tracing the route to
their inn.  They would enter through the River Gate, one of fourteen that
pierced the wall.  The carriage slowed, and he looked out to find a steady
stream of carts, wagons, coaches, and people afoot and ahorse slowing their
progress.  Thankfully, at this time of day, most of the traffic was going the
other way.

The gate itself was wide enough to accommodate four
wagons abreast.  Their carriage lined up behind others like it, while the
heavily laden wagons and carts queued to their right.  Each vehicle was being
stopped and inspected by constables.  Lad remembered from the book that all
goods brought into the city were valued and taxed. 

Finally, they arrived at the gate, and a dour-faced
guardsman with the imperial crest on his iron cap knocked on the carriage
door.  Lad, wearing the bored expression of the well-to-do that he’d long
practiced, leaned forward into the vehicle’s open window.

“Yes?”

“Names please?”

“Laurance and Mya Addington.  We’re from Twailin.”

“No title?”

“No.”

“Your purpose for visiting Tsing, sir?”

“Business.”

“What type of business?”

“Various imports.  I have contracts with several
guilds to be signed and ratified by a magistrate.”

“Not bringing in any goods now, are you?” The guardsman
looked into the carriage, his eyes lingering on Mya much longer than they had
on Lad.

“No.”

“And how long will you be staying?”

“No more than a few days, I should think.”

A cry rose up from the wagon parked beside their
coach, and several guards moved in to surround it.  From a hidden nook beneath
the wagon, a constable dragged a skinny girl with a heavy iron collar around
her neck.  A burly man jumped down from the wagon seat, but three swords were
drawn and in his face before he could intervene.  The constable speaking with
Lad glanced over, but the matter was already under control.  In moments they
had the wagon driver in manacles, the girl in custody, and the wagon pulled out
of the way.  Constables began systematically dismantling it, bundle by bundle.

“Smuggling slaves?”  Lad’s eyes were drawn to the
poor wretches the constables were dragging from the additional hidden nooks
within the cargo.  He knew slavery was legal, but that didn’t mean he had to
like it.

“Not your business, sir.”  The constable scowled and
continued in a bored monotone.  “By city ordinance, only constables, military,
and nobility may wear blades longer than three hands in public.  All others
must be stowed away until you leave the city.  It’s also illegal to carry
readied bows or crossbows.  They must be unstrung or dismantled and stowed.  Do
you or your men carry any prohibited weapons?”

“No, sir.  I read about the laws, and we already
have them packed away.”  The ordinance seemed strange, but meant nothing to
Lad, since he never carried a weapon anyway.  His Enforcers weren’t happy about
it, but could manage with daggers and fists if there was trouble.

The constable nodded to the cane in Lad’s hand. 
“That’s not a sword, is it?”

“No.  Just a walking stick.”

“Let’s have a look.”  Lad handed over the stick
without hesitation and, after prodding and twisting the brass head to no avail,
the constable handed it back.

“You have lodgings arranged?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re familiar with the city?”

“No, but my driver is.”

“Fine.”  The constable stepped back and pitched his
voice up to the driver.  “I’d advise you to get north of the river and stay
there, you hear?”

“Aye, constable.”

“Very well, then.  Move on.”

The carriage clattered forward.

“They’re certainly efficient.”  Mya’s tone sounded
less than appreciative, if not quite cynical.

“Yes, they are.”  Lad watched out the window.  “And
numerous.”

At the first major intersection beyond the gate, two
more constables directed traffic, and as they turned right onto a broad bridge
over the river that divided the city, Lad saw four more posted at each end.

North of the river, constables patrolled the streets
in squads of four.  The people’s reaction to them was far from easy.  Citizens
went out of their way to avoid the squads, passing with quick steps and
downcast eyes.  Even so, Lad noted more than one instance of constables
stopping passersby for questioning, and the worry and fear in the eyes of those
being questioned.

A squad of six horsemen clattered past, fully armed
and armored, the imperial crest gleaming on barding and tabards.  The rider in
the fore wore plate armor and a rippling cape of blue and gold. 
A knight
? 
Commoners fairly fled from their path, their haunted gazes following the riders
until they were out of sight, and even then they hurried on with worried
glances over their shoulders.

“Something’s different here.”  Lad glanced at Mya,
then back out the window.  “They’re all afraid.”

“They’re commoners.”  Mya said the term like it
explained everything.  When Lad just stared at her, she sighed and elaborated. 
“They’re
always
afraid.”

“Not like this.”  He knew what she meant.  He’d
worked for the Assassins Guild long enough to know the common folks’ fear of
those against whom they couldn’t defend, but this was different.  “Look at
them.”

She did, and after a while she shrugged.  “I suppose
it is different.  In Twailin they’re afraid of
us
.  Here they seem to be
afraid of constables.”

“Yes, but it’s a lot worse.”  Even Twailin at the
height of the recent guild war and the Royal Guard crackdown hadn’t felt this
oppressive.  “This isn’t like Twailin at all.  Just look at their eyes.”

Mya looked, and just shrugged again.  “They just
look like commoners to me.”

Perhaps Mya had been at the top of that food chain
for too long to notice, but Lad had been around his family, had seen the
suppressed fear they lived with every day of their lives.  This was worse.  Lad
lapsed into silence, but continued watching as they progressed deeper into
Midtown. 

The air became close, thick with the odors of a
quarter-million people living in close proximity.  The few times they glimpsed
the river, he saw that the further west they progressed, the thicker it ran
with filth.  At times the stench of tanneries or abattoirs wafted in from
across the river to the south, where the air hung low and yellow-gray with
smoke.  It grew warmer, and the breeze lessened.  Lad began to sweat.  He
loosened his collar and glanced at Mya.  Despite her thick layers of feminine
finery, she appeared to be fresh and unaffected.

“Don’t you
ever
sweat?”

Mya gaped at him for a moment, then laughed
shortly.  “That’s
not
something you ask a lady, Lad.  And, no.”  She
pulled up the cuff of her sleeve to show him the edge of her black wrappings. 
“I’m perfectly comfortable.  Remember?”

“Right.”  He recalled that her enchanted wrappings
kept her cool or warm regardless of temperature.  She’d suggested he purchase
something similar, but Lad wasn’t used to such luxuries.

Looking out the window again, he reflected on how
alike and different he and Mya were. 
Like Twailin and Tsing
, he
thought.  She was more worldly, wilier, and cynical.  And like Tsing, she was
steeped in fear.