Weapon of Vengeance (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy) (29 page)

“But to fear being punished for accepting a
tip
?”

“How could anyone live like that?  Why don’t they
just leave?”

“No money, no means, and no place to go, I suppose.”
 Mya shrugged.  Having escaped from her own torturous childhood and making a
life for herself from her own wits and skill, she found it hard to sympathize. 
“I’d heard that the laws here are harsh and enforced without mercy, but this is
beyond heavy-handed.  It’s
ridiculous
.”

“It’s also dangerous.”  Lad went to the window and
looked out at the city.  “People can only be brutalized so much before they
rebel.”

“No wonder they won’t let anyone carry a sword. 
Commoners with daggers and cudgels wouldn’t stand a chance against constables
in mail and armored knights.  They’re beaten into submission, and have nothing
to fight back with.”

“I want to go out tonight.”

Lad’s statement caught Mya off guard.  “Where?”

“I don’t know yet, but I want to have a look
around.  Maybe south of the river.”

“We were warned not to go there.”

“Exactly.”  Lad glanced at her, his eyes hard. 
“That’s why I want to go.  Are you going to sit here and read a book all night,
or come with me?”

“Are you kidding?”  Mya’s heart skipped a beat with
excitement.  Her greatest pleasure these last two weeks had been their nightly
exercise.  She wasn’t about to miss a chance to go out with him, regardless of
where they went or what they did.  “Just try to go without me.”

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. 
It was Jamis, along with a team of servants carrying the biggest copper tub
she’d ever seen.  Several more servants carried steaming buckets of water.

“Your bath, ma’am.”

“Oh.  Come in.”

They set the tub in front of one of the windows,
where the afternoon sun made the copper gleam.  Jamis unfolded a little brass
table and arrayed on it thick, cotton towels, several types of brushes, and
soaps in various colors and scents.  Bucket after bucket of hot water splashed
into the tub, the clouds of rising steam smelling of rose petals.

“That’s the biggest tub I’ve ever seen,” Mya said
with an involuntary grin.

Jamis looked horrified.  “You said for two, ma’am. 
If you’d prefer, we can bring a smaller one.”

“Oh, no!  This is fine.  A tub for two is just what I
asked for.”  The last thing Mya wanted was to get him in trouble for mistaking
her remark.  Besides, the startled look on Lad’s face was priceless.

“Would you like bath attendants?” Jamis asked.

“No, thank you.  We can manage.”

“Will you be dining in the dining room, or would you
prefer dinner to be brought up?”

“Here would be nice.  We’re a bit tired from our
trip.”

“As you wish.  I’ll bring up a menu presently.”

“Oh, just pick out something nice for us, Jamis.  We
trust your judgment, and we’re not picky.  Give us an hour.”

His flash of surprise this time was followed by a
tentative smile.  “Very good, ma’am.  Dinner in an hour.

“Thank you.”

Jamis shooed the other servants from the room, bowed
once again, and closed the door behind him.

Lad stared at the tub, an anxious look on his face. 
Mya would have laughed, his thoughts were so readable, but she dared not for
fear of shattering their fragile trust.  For her part, she gazed at the great,
steaming basin with regret; sharing it with Lad would have to remain a fantasy.

“You first.”  She sighed as she headed for the
bedroom.  “I’ll unpack.”

“All right.”  Lad started untying his neck cloth. 
“I’ll hurry so the water doesn’t cool.”

“Take your time,” she said as she closed the bedroom
door.

Mya smiled at the sound of splashing from beyond the
door.  Opening her trunk, she drew out her dresses and hung them to air.  At
the bottom lay a pair of dark trousers, soft boots, a shirt of deep crimson,
and her four best daggers.  These she arranged on the bed for later.  The night
might turn out to be interesting after all.

L
ad
froze, invisible in the shadowed alley, Mya a half step behind.  The clatter of
metal from just ahead told them another squad of constables was near.

At least they’re noisy
.  Lad edged deeper into shadow,
cocking his head to pinpoint the squad’s location. 
Ahead and to the left,
crossing our path
.  He motioned to Mya that they would wait, rather than
skirt around the patrol as they had others.

They weren’t doing anything truly illegal, but they
didn’t want an encounter with the law.  Though it was near midnight, the
patrols hadn’t let up.  Few commoners walked the streets so late, and those who
did were apt to be stopped and questioned.  They had seen several exchanges, and
not all had ended peacefully.

Lad had considered using the rooftops for prowling,
but he didn’t know this city.  Plunging through a rotten roof would end their
night quickly.  The streets were safer, despite the patrols.  They’d evaded several
since leaving the
Drake and Lion
.  This one was right between them and
their goal: the Imperial Plaza.

They’d perused Mya’s Tsing book during dinner,
deciding where to explore.  Over the centuries, the Imperial Plaza had served
as an open market, a jousting arena, a venue for traveling fairs, and even a
zoo.  Its present incarnation, a public arena for punishment, drew Lad’s interest
like a moth to a flame.

  The squad of constables clattered past without
spotting them.  Motioning Mya forward, he hurried on.  The maps in the book
were deceptive; Tsing on the ground proved to be much larger than Tsing on
paper.  What he’d thought would be a quick jaunt had already taken an hour.

Finally, the street opened into a broad open space. 
At its center, three banners fluttered atop tall poles: the blue and gold flag
of the empire, a deeper blue banner sporting the crest of the Imperial House of
Tsing, and a long, black pennant set with a pair of silver scales denoting the
Royal Magistracy, the judiciary arm of the government.  Beneath the flags, the
plaza was crowded with wooden structures: gallows, stocks, and tall posts
sporting manacles.

More than half were occupied.

“What in the Nine Hells…”

Though Mya’s whisper barely rose over the rustle of
the fluttering flags, Lad gripped her arm and nodded toward the squads of
guards patrolling the perimeter of the plaza.  She fell silent, and they eased
back into the shadows.

While they waited for the nearest patrol to pass,
Lad counted.  Corpses dangled from six of the ten gallows.  Offenders were
restrained in more than half of the score of pillories.  In the small forest of
whipping posts—there were at least fifty—wretched forms sagged in their
manacles, their backs stripped and bleeding from the lash.

“Justice.”  Lad spat the word like a curse.

“What?” Mya whispered, glancing nervously at the
patrol.

“I said
justice
.”  The display made him
sick.  “I’ll wager that fellow from the inn’s here somewhere.  Fifty lashes for
dropping Lady Clovis’ handbag.”

Mya’s eyes flicked over the forlorn shapes.  “Why
haven’t we ever heard anything about this?”

“Fear.”  Lad nodded to the gallows.  “Maybe those
are the dissidents.  I don’t know.  Twailin’s a long way from here.  Maybe the
truth is lost in the miles.”

The patrol neared, the guards talking amongst
themselves.   Though they paid no attention to the unfortunates inside the
plaza, they cast sharp glances outward.

Lad gauged the squads, their pace and position. 
This was going to be dangerous, but Lad had to have a closer look.  Grasping
Mya’s arm, he nodded toward the close patrol, and whispered for her ears only. 
“Wait for them to pass.  Be ready.”

“Ready.”

The constables strolled by an easy stone’s throw
away, their eyes passing over the shadows that concealed the assassins.  Lad
squeezed Mya’s arm.  “Come on.”

They edged out of the shadows into the dappled light
of the street lamps and dashed across the wide avenue that bordered the plaza. 
Lad kept one eye on the patrol, but none looked back.

Crouching low, they ducked amongst the pillories. 
Only when they had crept far enough in that they were no longer visible from
the avenue did they slow and stop.  Next to them, a man sagged heavily from the
wooden stocks.  Lad quietly read the parchment tacked to the face board.

“Forin Masterson, for insolence to a Noble-Born,
five days in the pillory and seventy-five lashes.”  He touched the cool flesh
of the man’s flayed back, but he didn’t respond.  He was dead.

“Good Gods of Light.”  Mya sounded sick.

They moved on to another.

“Juliana Tailor, for cheating a Noble-Born with poor
craftsmanship, one day of pillory and ten lashes.”  The woman’s dress was torn
down the back, her pale skin scarred by ten red, weeping wounds.  She stirred
as they passed, her swollen eyes blinking in the dark.

“Please...water…”

They had no water, and there was no well nearby. 
They crept on until they reached the first of the gallows.

“Fiona Lorent, for thievery from a Noble-Born, death
by hanging, public display of the body, and indenture of descendants for one
generation so all shall know her crime.”

“She stole food.”

Lad froze, and Mya drew a dagger.  Neither had
noticed the old man huddled in the darkness beneath the gallows.

“What?”

“She was a cook’s assistant in one of the noble
houses.”  The man’s wheezing voice sounded like the rustle of dried rushes. 
“She took food they was gonna throw away.  For that, they called her a thief
and hung her.  She took it for me, and they killed her for it.  I killed her. 
My own daughter.”

“You didn’t kill her.”  The vehemence in Mya’s voice
surprised Lad.  There was no cynicism or sarcasm, just anger.  She nodded
toward the three fluttering flags.  “
They
killed her.”

“Aye, because of me.”  The man’s head drooped, and
his shoulders shook with quiet sobs.

Lad touched Mya’s arm.  “Come on.  I’ve seen enough
here.  I need to find someone who can tell us what’s going on.”

“Good luck,” she said.  “They’re all too afraid.”

“I know.”

They waited among the pillories for the next patrol
to go by, then raced across the avenue back into the concealing gloom of a side
street.

“You still want to go south of the river?” Mya asked.

“Of course.”

“How did I know you were going to say that?”  Her
sarcasm was back.

“Because you know me, Mya.  You know I need an
answer.”

“Some answers can get you killed, you know.”

“I know.”  Lad picked up his pace to a slow, silent
jog.  “Now let’s figure out how to get over one of the bridges without being
spotted.”

Mya stared up at the massive structure spanning the
river and swallowed hard.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Of course not,” Lad said absently as he examined
the immense stone tower that jutted up at the river’s edge.

A hundred feet wide and twice as tall, the tower and
its twin anchored a bridge that spanned mouth of the river.  The span between
them wasn’t built for traffic.  There were plenty of bridges upriver for that, broad,
flat structures, well lit and well guarded.

This bridge was built for defense.  As part of the
city wall, the battlements bristled with siege engines, and could shield legions
of archers.  The crowning glory was a portcullis of a size Mya had never
dreamed possible.  It extended the entire width of the river, poised like the
fangs of a great dragon’s maw, ready to plunge into the river below.

Lad looked at Mya.  “There’s cover here.  We can get
across without being seen.  You can do this, Mya.  You sent me into more
difficult spots than this in Twailin.”

“I know I
can
do it, but…”  She swallowed
again and forced a smile.  “I’d just rather bluff, lie, cajole, or bribe my way
through.”

“That won’t work here.”  He nodded to the patrol
that had just passed.  “They’re gone.  Come on.”

Lad dashed across the wide avenue that bordered the
river before she could protest, vanishing into the shadow of the great tower.  Mya
followed, listening for a call of alarm.

Silence.

“Good,” Lad whispered.  “Don’t worry.  Just follow
me.”

Don’t worry, he says
…  She gritted her teeth.  “I’m
right behind you.”

They crept around the tower to a narrow walkway
bordering the river’s edge.  Mya wrinkled her nose against the stench of the
river.  She did
not
want to fall into that water.  Beneath the bridge,
they found the track through which the portcullis rose and fell.  A foot wide,
the iron-edged groove ran up the tower’s side and into the shadows of the
overhead span.

“Up,” Lad whispered, wedging his hands and feet in
the track.  “Careful, the iron is rusty.”

“Right.”  She watched him ascend like a spider
climbing a thread.  Mya knew that her runes would allow her to match Lad’s
feat, but she’d never applied her strength this way.  She mimicked his stance,
her hands and feet braced, and started up.  Progress was slow, but not as
strenuous as she thought it would be.  She reached the raised portcullis, and allowed
herself a grin of accomplishment.  The grin faded when she glanced back over
her shoulder to see Lad already a third of the way across the river, scrabbling
along like a monkey.

You can do this
…  Mya grasped the portcullis. 
The iron bar was as big around as her arm and covered in rust, making her grip
difficult, but she tightened her grip and followed Lad.

Pausing for a moment mid-span, she made the mistake
of looking down.  Black water flowed sluggishly past, ready to swallow her
should she fall.  
Don’t think about it
!  She forced her fears aside and
refocused on her task.

Hand over hand, foot over foot, she pulled herself
across.  When she finally reached the far side, she not only felt better, she
felt good, giddy with her success.  She descended and dropped lightly beside
Lad, barely breathing hard.

“Well, that was fun!”  Mya couldn’t suppress a grin.

“Yes.”  Lad looked at her and flashed a thin smile. 
“Don’t grin.  Someone might see your teeth in the dark.”

“Right.”  She closed her mouth, silently chastising
herself.  She knew better.  “Go ahead.  I’ll follow.”

Lad waited for yet another patrol to pass around a
corner and out of sight.  “Come on.”

Mya followed him into the Dreggars Quarter,
immediately noting the difference from the north side of the river.  Though
Midtown’s modest homes and shops had been a big step down from the Heights in
class and quality, this was a plummet into a whole new world.  Rusty iron
barred shop windows, paint peeled on cracked tenement doors, and, in a gutter,
a dead cat swarmed with flies and maggots.  Mya had seen worse in The Sprawls
district of Twailin, but not much worse, and the Downwind Quarter was reputed
to be even shoddier.  She hoped they didn’t go that far.