Weapon of Vengeance (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy) (32 page)

A servant in the inn’s livery stood there
expectantly.  “Yes, sir?”

“Breakfast for two, please.  Eggs, toast, blackbrew,
sausages…whatever’s available.”

 “Very good, sir.  Be ready in half a glass.”

“That’s fine.”  He closed the door.

Lad changed into trousers and a light shirt, but
didn’t bother to button the top button and didn’t even touch the hated neck
cloth.  If they went out later he would have to dress in the full rig, but not
for breakfast in his own room.  He stared at his shoes for a moment, and
decided to wear his more comfortable pair, even though there was a bit of blood
on one from last night’s fight.

He’d relived the encounter in his mind a half-dozen
times on their way back to the inn last night, recalling the strangely
comfortable synchronicity he experienced fighting alongside Mya.  He’d enjoyed
exercising with her, honing their skills in tandem, and now it felt…natural to
have Mya at his back.  Her exuberance after the fight, however, her casual
bloodlust, disgusted him.

At least nobody died
.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.  He
answered it and admitted two white-clad servants with heavy trays.  Scents of
food and blackbrew swirled after the man and woman as they entered.

“At table, sir, or in the bedroom?”

“The table, please.”

The bedroom door opened and Mya emerged, her dress
loosely laced, her hair damp and slicked down.  “That smells wonderful!”

While the man arranged a white linen tablecloth and
arrayed napkins, utensils, and a tiny crystal vase with two yellow roses, the
woman stood aside, eyes fixed upon the floor, her arm trembling beneath the
heavily laden tray.

“Can I take that for you?” Lad asked.

She gaped at him in terror.  “No!  Please, sir.  We
could never allow a guest to help us.  It would be an unforgivable breech of
etiquette.”  She swallowed and looked down again.  “I mean no offense, sir, but
we’re forbidden.”

“No offense was taken.”  Lad backed away, exchanging
a glance with Mya as the waiter unloaded the tray.

Mya just shrugged and waited patiently as the waiter
poured fresh juice and blackbrew, removed the domed silver covers from their
plates, and positioned the cream, sugar, and marmalade just so.

Finished, the waiter bowed.  “Anything else, sir?”

“No.  Thank you.”

“My pleasure, sir.”  He turned to Mya and bowed
again.  “Ma’am.”

When the door closed behind the servants, Mya said,
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that stiff propriety.”  She took her seat
and quaffed a third of her cup of steaming blackbrew, sighing in bliss.

“It’s the fear that bothers me.”  Lad sat and sipped
the piping hot brew more carefully.  Mya’s magical runes evidently also blocked
the pain of a burned tongue.  “I’ve almost gotten used to Dee waiting on me,
but…being guildmaster…  I don’t like people to fear me.  It makes me feel…”

“Like a monster?”  Mya put her cup down too hard,
the fine porcelain rattling in the saucer.

“A little, I guess.”  He’d never thought of himself
as a monster.  A murderer, yes, but not really a monster.  “At least Dee
doesn’t seem to fear me anymore.  He knows I need his help, and tells me what I
need to hear.”

“Dee’s surprised me.  He seems to be very good at
whatever he does, except killing.”  Mya cut a piece of egg and perched it on a
slice of toast.  “But if we can convince the Grandmaster to give me your ring,
you won’t have to deal with Dee or being guildmaster anymore.”

“No,
you
will.”  Lad ate a piece of sausage,
thinking about their pending meeting with the Grandmaster.  Could they really
convince him that Lad had taken the ring by mistake?  Could he be free of the
Assassins Guild?  His stomach flipped at the thought—to be with Lissa…to be a
father again...  But if the Grandmaster ever found out that Mya had freed Lad,
there would undoubtedly be repercussions.  Nobody ever left the Assassins
Guild.  “And you’ll probably have to deal with—”

The knock on the door startled them both.  There was
enough foot traffic up and down the halls that neither of them paid much attention
to it.  They hadn’t summoned another servant, and an interruption by the inn’s
staff seemed unlikely.  Lad looked questioningly at Mya.

“The only person we’re expecting…”  The color
drained from Mya’s face, and she swallowed hard.

Lad knew perfectly well who they were expecting: the
Grandmaster’s representative.  He also knew that Mya dreaded the encounter, but
he wasn’t sure why.  The Grandmaster would be a fool to kill Mya for something
as trivial as burning his letter, and one did not rise to the head of the
Assassins Guild by being foolish.

Lad downed his blackbrew, and stood.  “I’ll get it.”

When Lad opened the door, he found himself staring
at a fine lady.  Middle-aged, yet still handsome, she was clothed in high
fashion, her jet-black hair arranged in a complex coif topped with a
lace-veiled hat.  Calm eyes scrutinized him from beneath the veil.  Decades of
training, however, revealed to Lad the truth: she was no fine lady.  Tiny scars
on her hands bespoke years wielding a blade.  The dress fit well, but Lad
detected an imbalance in the voluminous folds that denoted heavier objects
hidden within.  Then he recognized one of the rings on her fingers.  It matched
his perfectly.

Lad stepped back.  “Come in please.”

Her eyes assessed him as he had assessed her, and
she smiled.  “You must be Laurance Addington.”  She swept into the room with an
easy, relaxed air.  “And you’re Mya Addington.”

Mya stood and smoothed her dress. “Yes.”

Lad closed the door.  “And you are?”

“Lady Tara Monjhi.”  She nodded and smiled
pleasantly.  “You may call me Lady T.  Everyone does.  I’m your Tsing
counterpart, Lad.  The Grandmaster sent me to welcome you to the city.  But
I’ve been informed that you’ve already been exploring, including the Dreggars
Quarter.”

Lad walked to Mya’s side, considering how to reply. 
It wasn’t surprising that word of their conflict with the Enforcers reached the
local guildmaster.

“I was curious.”  Gesturing to their quickly cooling
breakfasts, he asked, “Can I offer you something?  Blackbrew, a scone?  The
mango juice is delicious.”

“No, thank you.”   She strolled around the room,
casually swinging the parasol that dangled from her wrist.  It reminded Lad of
Jingles’ cane, and he wondered if there was a blade in it.  “I wish you
wouldn’t have gone out on your own.  I could have arranged a tour to satisfy
your curiosity.”

“My apologies for injuring your people.”  Lad poured
blackbrew into his cup and lightened it with cream.  Mya, he noted, still stood
like a statue, her pulse pounding at her throat.  “They wouldn’t take no for an
answer.”

“Oh, that’s no matter.”  She waved a hand in
dismissal.  “They learned a valuable lesson.”

“Then I’m happy we could educate them for you.”  He
picked up a scone and took a small bite.  “I’m interested in how you do
business here.  Your Enforcer said you pay off the constables to do business
south of the river, but not north.  How does that work?”

“It works quite well.”  Her eyes narrowed.  “My
business practices are not up for discussion.  I don’t think they would be of
use to you in Twailin anyway.”

“Just curious.”  Lad shrugged.  She certainly wasn’t
as forthcoming as he’d hoped.  “So, you’re really a noble?  You have a title?”

“Yes, I
really
have a title.”  Her cheeks
flushed, betraying either embarrassment or ire.  “Purchased by the guild, of
course.  It opens many doors here in Tsing.”

“I imagine it does.”  He washed the bite down with
blackbrew.  “Tsing is very different than Twailin.  I’m sure you understand my
curiosity.”

“Of course I do.”  She regarded him again, and Lad
had difficulty reading her expression.  Disdain?  Smug superiority, maybe? 
“Aside from a warm welcome, I’m here to inform you about your appointment to
meet the Grandmaster.”  She turned away, staring out the window at the distant
bay.  “I will arrive here precisely at six tonight and personally escort you to
your meeting.”

“Of course you will.”  She glanced at him,
irritation plain on her face.  Lad maintained a neutral mien.  If this was Lady
T’s idea of a warm welcome, she needed a lesson in manners.  Mya’s heartbeat
increased its cadence.  “Only guildmasters and,” Lad indicated Mya with a tip
of his cup, “people of special interest know the Grandmaster’s identity.  He
wasn’t likely to send a journeyman to escort us.”

“Quite right.”  Lady T’s ingratiating smile didn’t
reach her eyes.  She strolled to the door, her steps and carriage as smooth as
the lines of her elegant dress.  Resting a hand on the doorknob, she turned to
them and said, “Six o’clock sharp, and don’t wear any weapons.”

“Why not?”  It seemed an odd request.  “It’s not
like either of us could hurt the Grandmaster.”

“Because I said no weapons.”  Lady T’s gaze swept
them from hair to toes, and her upper lip curled to show perfect teeth.  “And try
not to dress like…commoners.”

“We’ll try to measure up to your exemplary
standards, Lady T.”  Lad’s smile was no more genuine than his visitor’s.

Her short laugh sounded like the bark of a small
dog.  “Good luck with that.”  Lad listened to her footsteps recede down the
hall.

“Were you
trying
to make her angry?”  Mya’s
whisper barely rose above her heartbeat, the terror in her eyes shining like
twin points of ice.

“No.  I was treating her exactly as she treated
me.”  He went back to his breakfast.  “I’m not her servant, and I’m not afraid
of her.”

“No, but you can bet that she’s the Grandmaster’s
favorite guildmaster.”  Mya crossed her arms as if hugging herself, her
shoulders hunched with tension.  “Pissing her off is just asking for trouble! 
If you want to have any hope of convincing the Grandmaster to give me your
ring, you’ve got to play up to him.”

“Him, yes.  Her, no.”  Lad ate a sausage.  “What do
you think about her title?”

“Knowing what we do about how Tsing works, I’d be
surprised if the guild
hadn’t
bought her a title.”  Mya paced, ignoring
her breakfast.  “They’re not hard to come by.  There are enough penniless nobles,
and you can’t
eat
a title.  Hell,
you
could buy one if you
wanted.”

“I don’t.”  The thought of money buying nobility
nauseated him.

Lad felt strangely calm.  The time of their meeting
was set, and they had a plan.  Soon he could get back to his investigation,
find Kiesha, and maybe even get his old life back.  He glanced up at Mya.  She
had begun biting her nails.

“Mya.  Are you all right?”

“No.”  She glanced at him, her eyes flinty.  “No,
I’m
not
all right.  Masters don’t meet the Grandmaster unless it’s
serious, Lad.  He could…he probably called me here to execute me for disobeying
him.  To make an example of me.”

“No.”  Lad stood and faced her.  The affable,
wise-cracking Mya of the past couple of weeks was nowhere to be found here, and
Lad felt sorry for her fear.  She’d helped him, and he owed her.  Lad had been
a wreck, but she had persisted despite his rebuffs, and helped him sleep, given
him focus, even hope.  He had to try to help her overcome her fear.  “He won’t
kill you, Mya.  You’re too valuable.  He wanted you to be guildmaster.  He
won’t throw you away just to make a point.”

“The Grandfather threw people away all the time!”

“Have you heard anything to make you think the
Grandmaster is like Saliez?”

“No.”  She let her breath out slowly, and the
tension in her shoulders eased a trifle.  “Ruthless and cunning is all I’ve
ever heard.”

“Then don’t worry so much.  We have a plan.  Sit
down and eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”  Mya went into the bedroom, not
quite slamming the door.

Lad sat, but his food had lost its appeal.  From
behind the door, he could hear Mya pacing, back and forth, back and forth
across the bedroom.  He hadn’t helped her very much.