Weapon of Vengeance (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy) (31 page)

“Who are you?” Mya asked, gauging the figures
emerging from the shadows.

“Another unwelcome question,” said a man behind
them.  Steel wisped against leather as a dagger left its sheath.  “Curiosity
killed the cat, they say.”

“Good thing we’re not cats.”  She immediately
regretted the reflexive quip.  This could go wrong too easily.

“You got a smart mouth.”  The leader shifted his
attention to Lad.  “You need to shut her up.”

“If you figure out how to do that, let me know.” 
Lad shot Mya a wry look, and she gaped at him.

A joke from Lad
?  A frisson tingled up Mya’s
spine.  Lad wasn’t afraid, and these thugs were used to being feared
.  All
right then. If that’s how he wants to play this
…  “Three behind and four in
front?  You think you need so many to shut me up?”

“I know
exactly
how to shut you up.”  The
leader drew the dagger he’d been fondling.  “And I know exactly how to keep you
from asking any more questions.”

“We don’t want trouble.”  Lad eased into a ready
stance.

“We don’t?”  Mya flashed a dangerous grin and turned
her back to Lad, her shoulder blades brushing his.  “Can’t we have a
little
trouble?”

 “No trouble.  Now, who do you work for and what’s
your territory?”

 “You’ve already found trouble.”  The leader of the
thugs snapped his fingers, and his people fanned out, circling the pair of
assassins.  “The only question now is how much pain you need to shut you up.”

“You don’t want to try that, friend.”  Lad shifted. 
She could feel his heightened readiness like a high-pitched vibration up her
spine.  Long nights of practice had attuned her to his every move.  She shifted
to accommodate his stance.  “Who do you work for?”

“I’m not your
friend
.  Your questions aren’t
welcome here, and neither are you.”

“Our first night in Tsing, and we’ve already worn
out our welcome.”  Mya tsked as she gauged the three people facing her: one man
with a staff, and a man and a woman holding daggers.  Mya licked her lips, and
decided which would be the first to die.
 Staff man.  He’s got reach, and
he’ll use it.

“Don’t kill anyone, Mya.”

Lad’s order caught her off guard.  He sounded
serious.

“Why not?”  She rose onto the balls of her feet, the
energy of her runes humming beneath her skin.

“Because they can’t answer our questions if they’re
dead.”  Lad shifted left, and she moved with him. This brought one more foe
into Mya’s range, a woman with a chain locked to her wrist, a spiked ball
dangling from the end.

Her first, then
…  “We’re still asking
questions?”  This fight would be a lot harder without killing.  Her opponents
stopped, shifted positions, and advanced again, chain woman now between the
dagger wielders.

“Please, Mya.”

“Fine.”  Chain woman began spinning her weapon in a
figure eight.  “Ruin my fun.”

The attacks came in a flurry of steel and wood.

The thugs were good, well trained and used to fighting
together, but they had never faced anything like Lad or Mya.  Staff and chain
came at Mya simultaneously, hardwood whirling down at her head and steel
lashing up at her groin.  She caught the end of the staff in one hand, and used
its momentum to flip sideways so the spiked ball missed her hip by an inch. 
Snatching the chain, she jerked hard, at the same time snapping the staff in
half with her foot.  Staff man stumbled back, and chain woman was pulled
forward.  Mya cracked the broken end of the staff across the bridge of chain
woman’s nose.  When Mya’s feet touched back down, chain woman landed flat on
her back, out cold, her face a mass of blood.

One down
.

A concussion from behind Mya shivered her spine with
its force.  Only Lad hit that hard.  Mya wasn’t surprised to hear a body fall
to the ground.  Lad’s leg brushed hers, and she moved to guard his flank as he
moved to guard hers.

Perfect
…

The pair wielding daggers lunged, one high, one
low.  Mya dropped into a ground-sweeping spin, her foot tripping both
assailants.  Pushing herself up off the ground with her hands, she continued
her spin, and caught a glimpse of Lad.  He spun also, deflecting attacks with
his feet.  Their eyes met, and he flung out a hand to her.

Yes
!

Clasping wrists, they combined their rotation,
spinning around their clenched hands.  Mya leveled a roundhouse kick to the
temple of one of Lad’s opponents, pulling her blow to keep from breaking his
neck.  He went down hard.

No killing..
.

Bone crunched as Lad struck down one of Mya’s foes. 
Something flicked her hair.  She heard the slap of a hand against metal near
her ear, and a dagger spun into the darkness.  Lad had just saved her life.

Their spin continued, then Lad released his grasp,
and Mya reluctantly let go.  They were back to their original opponents. 
Dagger woman was down, clutching her chest.  Dagger man rolled aside, and
flipped to his feet in a remarkable display of agility, though he didn’t
attack.  Mya stopped her spin and centered herself, reflexively aligning her stance
with Lad’s.

So perfect
…

Staff man lunged at her, now wielding two daggers. 
Mya grabbed his wrists, wrenched his arms in opposite directions to pull him
in, and smashed her forehead into his nose.  He fell like a steer in a
slaughterhouse, and Mya snatched his blades.  Behind her, a wet pop heralded a
hoarse cry.  A shoulder or hip had been wrenched out of joint.  Lad had
probably just immobilized his last foe.

Mya’s last opponent backed away, flipped his blade,
and threw.  The dagger tumbled end-over-end in the lamplight, as slow as a
falling feather to her accelerated senses. 
Never throw a knife at a monster
…  
She threw both of her stolen blades, and caught the oncoming dagger by the hilt
an inch before it pierced her chest.  …
you’ll just piss her off
.

Dagger man went down with both blades lodged hilt
deep in his shoulders.

Silence…save for labored breathing, moans of pain,
and nine distinct heartbeats.

No killing
.

Mya turned to find Lad holding the leader’s
dislocated arm behind his back, and the man’s own dagger at his throat.  She
grinned.  “We’re having all
kinds
of fun tonight!”

“
Fun
?” 

She couldn’t interpret the look on Lad’s face. 
Anger
? 
Disgust
?  He shook his head and cast the man’s dagger away. 

“Now about those questions…”

“You’re both dead for this!” the man spat between
gasps of pain.  “The guild will have your heads!”

“
Which
guild?”  Mya approached the man,
brandishing the dagger, her lips pulling back from her teeth in a snarl.  “If
you like your eyes, you’ll tell us.”

“Which guild do you think?”

“Well, you don’t look like a teamster or
longshoreman to me.”

Of course he was reluctant to tell them; admitting
that you were in the Assassins Guild was usually a death sentence.  But the way
these thugs had fought, it couldn’t be anything else.

Mya held her hand up before the man’s face, the
obsidian master’s ring glinting on her finger.  “Maybe you should have answered
our questions
before
you attacked us, idiot.”

The man’s eyes widened and his clenched jaw dropped
open.  “You…  You’re g
uild
?”

“Yes.  See how easy it is to ask questions and get
answers?”  Lad released his hold on the man’s wrist and stepped to Mya’s side. 
“Now, who are you?  Which guild and faction do you belong to?  And who ordered
you to attack us?”

The man’s eyes flicked to Lad’s hand and widened
even further when he saw the gold and obsidian on his finger.  “I’m Borlic,
journeyman Enforcer in the Tsing Assassins Guild.  Nobody
ordered
me to
attack you.  I’ve standing orders to handle anyone who asks too many questions
in my area.”  He swallowed and winced as he tried to move his arm.  The
shoulder was still out of joint.  “Who
are
you?”

“I’m the Twailin Guildmaster, and this is my Master
Hunter.  We’re here to meet with the Grandmaster.”

“Twailin?”  The man’s eyes widened.  “Twailin
doesn’t
have
a guildmaster.”

“He’s new.”  Mya tossed the dagger away and turned
to Lad.  “Maybe we
should
kill him.  He doesn’t seem too quick on the
uptake.”

“No, I have more questions.”  Lad fixed the man with
a curious look.  “Do you pay the constables not to bother you?”

“Yes, but only south of the river.”

“Why not north of the river?”

“No need.”  The man shrugged, wincing in pain at the
motion.  “We don’t run rackets north of the river.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t
know
.  I’m just a journeyman.  They
don’t tell me how or why, they just tell me what to do.”

“Fair enough.”  Lad bit his lower lip and looked
around at the groaning and unconscious assassins.  “Sorry about the mess. 
Maybe next time you’ll answer a few simple questions before you start a fight.”

“Yeah, maybe.”  Borlic’s glare told them that he’d
no more follow their advice than he would sprout wings and fly away.

Idiot
…

“Let me take care of that arm.”

“Wait!  I—”

Lad grabbed the man’s wrist and planted a foot in
his armpit.  One hard jerk popped the bone back into the socket and elicited an
anguished cry from between the assassin’s clenched teeth.  When Lad released
his grip, Borlic crumpled to his knees, cradling his arm.

“Come on.”  Lad stepped over a fallen assassin and
walked away.

Mya hopped over the body and fell in beside him, her
steps bouncing with the lingering exhilaration of the fight.  A giddy
ebullience bubbled up from her stomach, and she couldn’t keep a smile off her
face.  “That was very nice of you, tending his arm like that.”

“It was the least I could do.”

“I still think we should have killed him.  They
started it, after all.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I don’t?”  She stared at him, suspicious of some
joke, but he was dead serious.

“You told me so just the other night.  Killing
someone doesn’t make you feel any better.”

Mya thought for a moment, the pleasant feeling
ebbing.  “Yes…  Yes, I did say that.”  She hated it when he used her own words
against her.

N
orwood’s
carriage plunged into darkness, swallowed by the tunnel that passed from the
Imperial Palace’s outer court to the inner.  The first heavy iron portcullis
rumbled down behind them, and the second rose only high enough to admit several
more palace guards.  The carriage jerked to a halt, and a heavy-set sergeant
rapped on the carriage door.  Norwood sighed.  They’d already been checked over
twice, but they were apparently going to be checked yet again.  At least now
Norwood knew what they would ask of him.

“I’m Captain Norwood of the Twailin Royal Guard. 
I’m here with vital news for the emperor.”  He held out his signet ring.  “This
should verify who I am readily enough.”

The sergeant took the ring and looked up at him
dubiously.  “Be just a moment.”  He walked away, under the portcullis,
undoubtedly to verify Norwood’s claim.

“Tight-arsed lot, aren’t they?”

Norwood scowled at Tamir’s comment.  “That’s enough,
Sergeant.  They’re charged with keeping the emperor safe.  They have to be
thorough.”

“Yes, sir.”

They waited.  The guard sergeant was back in only a
few minutes with the ring and a scrap of parchment.  “Here you are, sir. 
Present this to the commander of the inner court.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.”

“Best of luck to you, sir.”  The sergeant saluted
and signaled the men managing the portcullis.  The heavy grating rumbled up its
track, and the carriage clattered forward into the inner court.

“Son of a…”  Tamir clamped his jaw down on his
exclamation, but Norwood wouldn’t have faulted him.  This was his first sight
of the Imperial Palace inner court, too, and his breath caught in his throat.

“It’s something, isn’t it?”

“That’s putting it lightly, sir.”

The carriage circled the expansive parade ground. 
Perhaps a hundred imperial guards stood or marched about in rigid formations,
their tabards, helmets, and weapons glittering like gems in the sun.  The
palace itself loomed before them, a massive stone structure sporting hundreds
of gilded embrasures, lofty windows of stained glass, and towering spires of
polished white stone and gold. 

“At least now I know where my tax money goes.”

“One more comment like that, Sergeant, and I’ll
leave you in the carriage with Brutus!”

“Yes, sir.”

The carriage rolled to a stop, and Brutus heaved his
bulk up from his spot on the floor, his stubby tail twitching.

“Not this time, Brutus.”  Norwood held out a hand,
palm toward the dog’s nose.  “Stay!”

Brutus eyed him dubiously and whined.

“Sorry, boy.”  The captain followed Tamir out of the
carriage, unfolding his legs gingerly.  His backside was numb from the long
ride.  They’d pushed hard since Farthane, but a broken wheel had delayed them
half a day.  They’d left the last way-inn well before sunrise this morning to
arrive in Tsing early.  Norwood was exhausted, but he vowed not to rest until
he delivered his message to the emperor.

Spies in the palace.  Who would
believe it
?  The
answer was easy: no one.  That was why Norwood had no intention of mentioning
spies until he was in the imperial presence.  He hoped that an urgent message
that concerned the safety of the emperor would get him inside the palace, but
he’d never attempted anything like this before.  He shuddered to consider what
could happen if his message arrived too late, if the “right hand of death”
somehow gained access to the emperor.

A dozen imperial guards approached in tight
formation, a grim-faced commander at the fore.

“They certainly have this place buttoned up tight.” 
Tamir stood at parade rest beside his captain, looking worried.

“They do indeed.”

Norwood knew the sociopolitical situation in Tsing,
his position affording him news that others rarely heard.  Tynean Tsing II had
not exactly ingratiated himself with the general populace, and the iron-clad
security surrounding the palace was a direct result.  Thankfully, Duke Mir
despised the heavy-handed practices employed in the central empire, and fought
tooth and nail to maintain his own less strict system.

The commander, dressed in breastplate, greaves,
steel gauntlets, and gleaming helm, saluted Norwood’s rank insignia, and
Norwood saluted back.  This was where he would have to pull out all the stops. 
Not being in the same chain of command, the captain could not order the
guardsman to let him see the emperor.  However, the insignia on his collar did
command respect, and he hoped that the man would recognize that they were, in
truth, brothers in arms, with the empire’s best interests at heart. 

 “I’m Commander Ithross.  May I help you, Captain?”

“Yes, you may.  I’m Captain Norwood of the Twailin
Royal Guard.”  He handed over the note from the gate guard.

Ithross scanned the note, and an eyebrow rose
skeptically.

Norwood tried not to interpret the reaction too
suspiciously.  He had to walk a fine line between discretion and urgency.  Not
just anyone could be the spy he sought.  It had to be someone highly placed, or
with special access, an imperial page or secretary, maybe.  The chance of an
Imperial Guard commander being involved was miniscule, but he had tipped his
hand just by riding through the gate. The spy knew who Norwood was, and might
already know that he was here.

Norwood forged ahead.  “I’ve critical news for the
emperor’s ear alone.  We’ve ridden halfway across the empire to deliver it.  It
may concern His Majesty’s safety.”

The commander looked up from the note.  “
May
concern?”

Norwood was bristled at the man’s tone.  “That’s
right.  Isn’t it your job to ensure the emperor’s safety?”

The commander’s face hardened.  “Yes it is, Captain,
but let me tell you for your own good that you had better be damned
sure
this concerns His Majesty’s safety before I submit your name for an unscheduled
audience.  Emperor Tynean is not a temperate man.”

Norwood nodded, taking the advice in the spirit in
which it was given.  “Your advice is well received, commander.  Rest assured,
His Majesty will want to hear what I have to say.”

“You’d be better off writing your message down and
letting me deliver it to the emperor’s secretary.”  He gestured to the lathered
team in the traces of Norwood’s coach.  “Looks like you’ve traveled hard.  I
can put you up in comfortable quarters while you wait for the reply.”

“Thank you for the offer, but no, Commander.” 
Norwood’s resolve firmed, despite the temptation.  “I must speak to His Majesty
personally, and as soon as possible.”

“It’s your head.”  The commander pointed to
Norwood’s sword.  “You may as well leave your weapons in your carriage, sir. 
Not so much as a paring knife is allowed in the imperial presence, and it’ll
save me the trouble of storing them away.”

“All right.”  He unbuckled his sword belt and handed
it to Tamir.  The sergeant stowed it in the carriage along with his own sword,
five daggers, a pair of brass knuckles, a garrote, and a set of throwing stars
that he had secreted behind his belt buckle.

At Norwood’s incredulous stare, he shrugged.  “Just
a few personal items, sir.”

“You must feel a stone lighter.”

“Yes, sir.”  Tamir’s face remained blank.

He knows I’ll order him to stay
behind if he mouths off
. 
Tamir had argued long and hard to accompany his commander into the Imperial
Palace, and the captain had finally agreed.  Having another pair of eyes when
there was a spy about could save the emperor’s life.

Norwood turned to Commander Ithross and waved toward
the looming doors of the palace.  “Lead on, Commander.”

The commander signaled his troop, and four guardsmen
fell in around them. “This way, sir.”

Norwood wasn’t surprised when Ithross led them to a
postern door in the corner of the courtyard.  He knew that only nobles rated an
entry through the front doors, but he was disappointed nonetheless.  The main
entry hall was said to be beautiful beyond compare.  Instead, they were ushered
through passages no more grandiose than the interior of the Twailin Royal Guard
headquarters.  Tamir muttered something under his breath about scullery maids and
chimney sweeps, but a glance from Norwood silenced him.  After a long walk
through a veritable labyrinth, the commander opened a door and led them into a
small sitting room.

“I’ll warn you, Captain,” he said, “the emperor’s
schedule is set weeks in advance.  He may not even see you today.  All I can do
is send a message that you’re here.”

“I understand, Commander, but please impress upon
His Majesty the fact that I bear news that could influence his safety and
certainly
concerns the security of the empire.”  Norwood’s tone brooked no argument.

“I’ll use your exact words, but you’ll still have to
wait.”

“I understand that.”

“Good.”  The commander gestured to the ornate
chairs.  “Make yourselves comfortable.”

At the commander’s signal, the four guards took station
at the room’s two exits, standing at parade rest, hands on their swords.  Tamir
looked around and opened his mouth, but a glare from Norwood shut him up.

“Have a seat, Sergeant.  We’ve got some waiting to
do.”

“Yes, sir.”

They sat down to wait.  Unfortunately for their
already sore backsides, the chairs were made for elegance, not comfort.

A sliver of sunlight crept across Lad’s face, and he
stirred from a deep, dream-laden sleep.

Wiggen
…

He refused to open his eyes, instead compelling the
memory of her…hair draped across her scarred cheek, lips curled in a smile,
eyes gleaming with love…

Oh, Wiggen
…

By sheer force of will, Lad rolled up from the
divan.  A glance at the wall clock told him it was midmorning.  They’d not
gotten back to their room until the small hours of the morning, and the stress
of the night’s events sent him into a deep and uninterrupted sleep rich with
dreams of Wiggen.

Striding to the window, he flipped the latch and
opened it wide, taking a deep breath…and instantly regretting it.  The morning
sea breeze wafted the stench of rotting fish and open sewage into the room. 
With a grimace of disgust, Lad slammed the window closed.

Doesn’t the wind ever blow the
stink away
? 
Granted, Twailin often stank, especially during the dry season when the river
no longer ran full enough to wash away all the detritus of the city, but
nothing like this.

The bedroom door opened.  Mya stood there in her
pajamas, her hair sticking up at all angles.  “We overslept.”

“We don’t have to catch a carriage today, so what
does it matter?”  He pulled the bell rope beside the door.  “Hungry?”

“Ravenous.”  She retreated back to the bedroom.

Lad tidied up his sleeping area, fluffing the
pillows and putting away the blanket.  The divan was more comfortable than
sleeping on the floor, at least.  A knock sounded at the door, and Lad answered
it.