Weapon of Vengeance (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy) (5 page)

“Things could be worse for us, you know.”  Hensen’s
voice snapped her back to the moment.  He swept a hand in an arc to indicate
the view.  “We should take what enjoyment we can, don’t you think?”

“I do, sir.”  Kiesha gazed out at the scarlet sunset
fading into a star-studded, deep-blue veil overhead.  Street lamps flickered
below, a terrestrial starscape outlining the dark, sinuous track of the river. 
Thousands lived their entire lives down there, never even visiting the vaunted
heights of the upper city.  She knew that this was what Hensen meant by his
comment.  A laugh drew her attention back to the strutting nobles, the
pretentious prigs with whom Hensen endeavored to socialize.  Kiesha smiled
sweetly through her disgust.  If they ever learned what her father really did
for money, they’d run him out of town tarred and tied to a burning lodge pole.

So many lies
…

Her entire life was nothing but a tangled web of
interconnected falsehoods.  Her clothes, her manners, her training, even her
obedience to the man who had sired her.  Every day, she continued to live that
lie.  How could she not?  It was all she had ever known; a father who would not
even acknowledge their tie of blood.  Was it any wonder that she accepted
Hoseph’s offer to spy?  Suddenly spiteful, Kiesha secretly hoped that Hensen
would one day discover her betrayal.  Even if he killed her for a traitor, it
would be worth it just to see the shock on his face.

“Do you, my dear?”

“I’m sorry, sir?”  Hensen’s question caught her off
guard.

“Do you take enjoyment?”

“In what, sir?”

He looked at her with a furrowed brow.  “In
anything
,
my dear.”

What the hell is he talking about
?  Her face must have shown her
confusion. 

He squeezed her arm and shook his head.  “Never
mind.”  He tugged her toward the restaurant.  “Shall we eat?”

“Of course, sir.”

Their destination shone with a riot of colors,
trellised in an array of flowers lit by cunningly mounted lamps, as resplendent
as the gaudily clad customers.  The upper floors sported glorious balconies
where diners could take in the view.  Luscious aromas wafted forth and, despite
her foul mood, Kiesha’s mouth started to water.

“Welcome to
The Overlook
, Master Hensen. 
It’s been too long since we enjoyed the pleasure of your company.” The hostess
beamed at him, stunningly encased in a black sheath evening gown so low-cut
that her toes might be visible in the cleft between her breasts if she bent
over at the proper angle.  She summoned a waiter with a snap of her fingers. 
“Sergei, take over here while I
personally
show Master Hensen to his
table.”

Nice of you to notice me, bitch
…  Kiesha bridled her spite and
followed.

The hostess batted her eyes and gently touched
Hensen’s arm as she guided them to an ingenious device that lifted them up two
floors without them having to climb a single step.  Hensen flirted back, of
course.  Kiesha would have summoned a physician to check him for brain fever if
he hadn’t.  Once seated at a prominent balcony table, Hensen produced a
gold-embossed card from his waistcoat pocket and handed it to the woman.

“I wonder if you might call on me at your
convenience.”  He smiled like a crocodile. “I’m planning a private function,
and I think it would benefit from a lady’s touch.” 

“It would be my pleasure, Master Hensen.”  Tucking
the card into her voluminous cleavage, the hostess placed Hensen’s napkin in
his lap with a practiced flourish and, if her father’s spreading smile was any
indication, a subtle caress.

“Delightful.  Thank you, my dear.”  He watched her
walk away, entranced by the swing of her hips.  Finally, after his conquest
passed out of view, the Master Thief returned his attention to Kiesha.  “Well,
that was invigorating, wasn’t it?”

“If you say so, sir.”  Hensen’s dalliances disgusted
her.  His paramours came and went more often than the seasons.  Occasionally
they would stay for months, but more often they lasted only weeks.  In fact,
Jeremy, his most recent, left only yesterday in a huff.  Twenty-four hours was
about right, as far as her father’s usual period of mourning went.

“I
do
say so, my dear, and that’s exactly
what I mean by enjoyment.  You need to smile occasionally, or this business
will make a bitter old shrew of you.”  He sipped iced water with lemon and
perused the menu.  “And we can’t have that.”

“No, sir.”  Kiesha looked at the menu, recalling her
recent similar suggestion to Sereth.  He had accused her of playing
manipulative games, but Kiesha had been sincere, both in her philosophy and her
attempt to seduce him.  It wasn’t love, of course.  Sereth was in pain, and
Kiesha felt her life was killing her.  Mightn’t they ease each other’s woes
with simple physical pleasure?  Her failure made it hurt all the more.  She
found Hensen’s sudden interest in her enjoyment astonishing, since he usually
only concerned himself with her obedience.

“I need your honest assessment, my dear.  I’d like
to know what you think.”

“I think she’s very beautiful, sir, but anyone who
wears a dress like that has probably seen more naked men than the scrub girls
at Kovi’s Bathhouse.”

“Kiesha!”  He shot a glare over the rim of his menu.

“I’m sorry, sir.  Was there something
else
you wanted my opinion on?”  She knew perfectly well that wasn’t what Hensen was
getting at, but she couldn’t resist the dig.  To mollify him, she risked a
tentative smile.  “You
did
tell me to find some enjoyment, didn’t you?”

“Ah, so I did.  Well played.”   He winked and went
back to his menu.  “No, I need your assessment of the city’s mood.  Our
opposition seems to have hit on something with this new business strategy, and
if we don’t adjust our own in some way, we’re going to find ourselves in dire
straits.”

“My assessment?”  His request took her aback. 
Hensen rarely asked her opinion.  She provided information, and he made the
decisions.  This was something new. 
Maybe he does care what I think
. 
The idea buoyed her mood as she considered what she’d seen during the last
week.  “I think it’s too early to tell how things are going to develop.  Our
opposition isn’t as weakened by the recent…infighting as we’d hoped.  Their
change in business strategy could cause us serious problems where our interests
overlap, but the affected operations bring in only a small percentage of our
total earnings.  The public’s opinion of our opposition has improved, but
again, this only works to our disadvantage where we overlap.  We provide many
services that our opposition doesn’t.  In these, we should be unaffected.”

“So, we hold the fort and wait.”

“And watch, sir.  We mustn’t forget that.”

“Of course.”  His eyes flicked up, then back to the
menu.  “And the investigation into their guildmaster’s recent loss?   Has it
borne any fruit?”

“Not yet, sir.  I’m watching that as well.”  Kiesha
focused on her menu, hoping Hensen wouldn’t probe.  She hadn’t told him about
Sereth’s ultimatum.  Her failure there would only earn her punishment, and she
still had the upper hand—Sereth wouldn’t dare do anything that might result in
harm to his precious wife.  She was sure she could convince the Master Blade to
be reasonable and cooperate again.  Thankfully, the arrival of their waiter
precluded further questions.

“It’s about time.”  Hensen glanced at the waiter and
squinted.

Kiesha knew that look, and cringed.  The fellow’s
suit was wrinkled, his chin sported the shadow of whiskers, and an errant curl
had escaped from his otherwise neatly clubbed hair.  She found him cute, in a
frazzled sort of way.

“Have you made a decision yet, sir?”

“Yes…”  Hensen closed his menu and dropped it on the
table as if offended.  “I’ll have the crayfish and mussels in garlic cream
sauce.”

“And you, ma’am?”  He picked up the dropped menu and
turned to Kiesha.

“The pork medallions in port wine sauce, please.”  Kiesha
handed over her menu.

“Very good.”  The waiter started to leave, but
Hensen cleared his throat.

“We would like
wine
, dear boy.  Please have
the steward pick out something nice to accompany each of our meals.  And there
is one more thing.”

“Yes, sir?”

“You are rude and incompetent.  Proper decorum
requires that you take the lady’s order
first
.  Your manners are
abysmal, your personal grooming abysmal, and your clothing disheveled.”   The
volume of Hensen’s voice drew glances from several nearby tables.  Nobles
sneered, and one young lady giggled behind her hand.  “Please have the
proprietor see to your appearance.  Your slovenly attire and unkempt appearance
have nearly ruined my appetite.”

Kiesha’s face burned with embarrassment for the poor
man.

“I…uh…”  The young man’s face flushed red.

“Rest assured, I’ll be speaking to the proprietor
when I leave.”

The waiter stood up straighter and tugged his
jacket, the muscles of his jaw twitching.  “Yes,
sir
.”  He turned on his
heel and fled.

Kiesha kept her eyes down.  She’d been the focus of
her father’s public ridicule far too many times to find the exchange amusing. 
Hensen sipped his water as if nothing had occurred.  He probably felt it his
civic duty to humiliate the man.  Kiesha thought it abhorrent.  She wondered if
he’d done it to punish her for her comment about the hostess.

It would be just like him
…

Kiesha often wondered if she loved her father or
hated him.  Once more, he had lifted her hopes with his barest encouragement,
only to crush them into despair.  Hensen acted as if the entire world was
fashioned for his entertainment.  He could be sweet when it served his
purposes, but those times were rare. 

The problem
, she realized,
is that I both
love
and
hate him.

“Any other impressions, my dear?”  Hensen seemed
oblivious to her sudden shift in mood.

With a surge of hatred overwhelming her dwindling
love for him, she decided to play the one card she knew he feared above all
others.  It might earn her punishment, but frankly, right now she didn’t care.

“Yes, I do have something you need to hear.  It’s
about our friend who works for the opposition.”

“Yes?”

“I met with him yesterday, and he was more than a
little upset.”

“That sounds perfectly normal.  What news did he
have?”

“None.  He refused to give me anything at all.”

“What?”  Hensen’s eyes widened, then narrowed.  “Why
didn’t you tell me about this yesterday?”

“I was hoping to resolve the situation today, but it
didn’t work out.”  The lie came as easily as breathing.  “He’s still
stonewalling.”

“That’s not very smart of him.  Doesn’t he know
there will be consequences to his actions?”

“I made that clear to him, sir, but he said he
doesn’t care anymore.  He told me that if we don’t give him back what we took,”
she fixed her eyes on his, “
everybody
concerned would share the same
consequences.”

“Did he now?”  Incredulity arched Hensen’s brow,
creasing the powder on his skin into fine lines.

“Yes, sir.  And I think he’s serious.”  She sipped
her water, her throat suddenly dry.  Now for the final thrust.  “He said he
didn’t care if his supervisor discovered our…partnership.”

“And do you believe him?”  Lines of worry appeared
between his knitted brows.

Fear
…  There were few things that
Hensen truly feared, but Lad was definitely on that list.

“I don’t know, sir.  He’s in a very dangerous state
of mind.  He might—”  Kiesha stopped short as a man in an impeccable suit
approached the table, the owner of
The Overlook
himself.

“Well, well!”  Hensen smiled at the approaching
restaurateur.

“Master Hensen, let me apologize for your unpleasant
experience with our waitstaff.  The fellow was new, but will not have another
chance to displease
anyone
in my restaurant.  Let me make amends.”  A
flick of a finger summoned the wine steward, two bottles cradled in his arms.  Bowing,
the steward presented them for approval.  “Allow me to offer you these fine
vintages free of charge.”

“What a lovely sentiment.”  Hensen examined the
bottles and arched his plucked eyebrows.  “A very lovely sentiment indeed. 
Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure, Master Hensen.”  The restaurateur
left.  The steward drew the corks and poured their wine with all due ceremony,
then departed.

“To the fruits of our labors, my dear.”  Hensen
raised his glass to Kiesha, admiring the vintage’s light auburn hue in the
candlelight before taking an appreciative sip.

Kiesha raised her own glass a scant inch and sipped
the blood-red wine.  It was delicious, of course.  And all it had cost was one
young waiter’s job.  She wondered if her father realized how often his belligerent
actions made him new enemies, or if he simply didn’t care.