Weapon of Blood (24 page)

“Thank you.”  He cracked the seal with
his eating knife, flipped open the letter and read.

Hensen had always prided himself on
maintaining his poise. 
You must be like a swan
, his old master had told
him when he was but a boy. 
Beautiful, regal, and calm above the surface where
people can see.  Only beneath, where they cannot see, are you allowed to paddle
like there is an alligator ready to bite you in the ass.

Hensen didn’t react to the letter’s
content, but he felt like he should check his hind quarters for tooth marks.

“Sir?  Are you all right?”

The thief chided himself; staring
wide-eyed at the letter without so much as a twitch was a reaction in itself. 
Dropping the letter, he reached for his tea.

“I’m fine, my dear.”  He took a careful
sip and returned the cup to the saucer without so much as a tremor.  Proud of
his achievement, he considered the letter again. “We do, however, have a
concern.”  He passed the letter to her.  “Baron Patino has thanked us for our
acceptance of his contract, and also appreciates our interest in his affairs. 
He asks if we wish to know any additional details about his personal life,
lovers or associations.”

“But how could he
know
?”  Her
eyes, wide with shock, scanned the letter.

She’s even more beautiful when she’s
terrified
, Hensen thought
, though
she really should learn to be a swan
.  “Possibilities come to mind, none
particularly pleasant.  Either his people are better than ours, which I find
hard to fathom, or he has eyes in our camp.”

“A
spy
?”  Kiesha swallowed, the
smooth muscles of her throat moving in waves.  “A spy
inside
the Thieves
Guild?”

“So it would seem, my dear.  But that’s
not the half of it.”  Hensen withdrew a tiny silver flask from his waistcoat
and unscrewed the lid, then poured half the contents into his tea and stirred
it.  Tucking the flask back into his pocket, he sipped the mixture of dark tea
and spiced rum.  As the warmth seeped from his stomach outward, calming his
jangling nerves, he sighed and explained.  “By sending this letter, he has told
us two things: he knows we are watching him, and he does not care.”

“So…what do we do, sir?”

“Other than sit and drink spiked tea, you
mean?”  He gave her a little smile, which seemed to reduce her state of terror
to a simple case of dread.

“Yes, sir, besides that.”

“We do exactly as our contract states, my
dear.”  He sipped the brew again, enjoying the mixture of flavors, the heat
easing down his throat, and the feeling of exhilaration brought on by danger.

“Should we pull our surveillance on Baron
Patino?”

“Oh, by no means, my dear!  If we do
that, we show fear.” 
We must be swans
, he thought,
but we must be
vigilant for hungry reptiles
.  “We play the game, my dear.  And we play it
very, very carefully.”

Chapter
XV

A
rare break in
the rain left Twailin looking as fresh as a newly minted coin.  Her cobbled
streets shone as if they’d been freshly scrubbed, and the sun-glittered
minarets of the Duke’s Palace thrust into the sky like golden spears high atop
the bluff.  The beautiful spring day drew the city’s populace out of their
homes in a bustle of life that Lad had not seen in months.  Vendors hawked
wares from their carts, tinkers hammered on pots or turned their wrenches at
the backs of their colorful wagons, and couples strolled arm in arm, smiling at
the bright, beautiful day.  Even Mya wore brighter colors today, though to Lad
she still looked like an assassin.  Her blousy purple shirt fluttered in the
breeze, but couldn’t hide the daggers at her hips, and his practiced eye caught
the glint of another beneath the fold of her right trouser leg where it was
tucked into her high, soft boot.

The bustle, the colors, the voices and
clatter, all brought back memories of Lad’s first day in the city.  He recalled
how it had seemed like such a wonder, such a miracle.  It still did.

Leave Twailin
…

He loved this city; his life revolved
around it.  In reality, this was the place of his birth, the place where he
became a human being.  Twailin was the mother and father he had never known. 
Leaving it would be like leaving his family.  However, the choice looming over
his head—leave Twailin or risk losing everyone he loved—was no choice.  He
didn’t want Lissa to grow up without a father, as he had.  Every street, alley,
pub and shop of this miraculous place would be forever etched in his memory,
but in the end, Twailin was just a city.  There were other cities, other places
they could live.

There’s only one Wiggen, one Lissa
…

Mya stopped her brisk pace at a fruit
vendor and picked out two ripe mangoes.  She tossed one to Lad, flipped a penny
to the shopkeeper, and continued on their way.  She produced a tiny knife from
her belt and started to peel the tough skin from the fruit in strips, holding
it to avoid the dripping juice.  Lad simply stripped the rind back with his
teeth and bit into the flesh, ignoring the sweet, sticky nectar that escaped
his lips.

As he followed her stiff back, he
realized that Mya had been strangely quiet all morning.  Usually she chatted,
telling him their schedule, which people they would meet with, what to watch
for, but today she had a distant, almost brusque manner.

Is she angry about last night’s
argument? 
They had argued before,
and she had never held a grudge.  Was it about the assassination attempt?  He
still didn’t think that Mya had tried to have him killed.  It was more likely
that his savior had been one of her Hunters watching out for him. 
She hasn’t
mentioned it, but that could be why she’s acting strangely.
  He decided not
to mention it.  At least not yet.  He had more important things to tell her.

Lad watched everything as they walked,
even more vigilant than usual with the memory of his brush with death so
fresh.  Still, his mind spun away on his real dilemma. 
I’ve got to tell her
I’m leaving,
but how will she react?
  It didn’t bode well that she
already seemed upset.

A clattering wagon approached, the canvas
sides rolled up to display copper pots and pans, all jingling and jangling in a
musical cacophony.  The vendor sang out his jaunty rhyme to the crowds:
“Copper, copper, pots!  Copper, copper pans!  Better’n tin.  Better’n gold! 
Best in all the lands!”

Tuppence Way was narrow, so pedestrians,
Lad and Mya included, crowded to the side to avoid the wagon.  As the noisy
vehicle passed, one of its wheels dropped into the hole where a cobble was
missing, pitching the wagon to one side.  The mule snorted, the vendor shouted,
and several pots clattered to the cobbles.  In an instant, Lad observed it all
and dismissed it as harmless…until a figure darted toward them.

On such a bright, sunny day, amid
bustling happy crowds, the threat of assassins seemed remote.  A good killer
would know this, however, and might hope that the festive atmosphere would
lower their guard.  Lad certainly knew this, and his partially eaten mango
plopped to the street.

Lad moved… 
Step, turn, pivot
.

When an attack is imminent, position
yourself to greatest advantage.  Remember!

His position, between the commotion and
Mya, might not be to
his
best advantage, but it was to hers.  His job
was to protect her life, and he was far better able than she to meet an
assassin’s assault.

Assess the threat at hand, but do not
commit until the appropriate action is determined.  Remember!

The figure, a small boy, dashed toward
the wagon, grabbed a fallen pot and scurried away; a clumsy bit of thievery…or
a distraction.

Noise and motion are often used to
hide an attack.  Remember!

Lad spun, his eyes scanning the crowd,
the buildings, the roofs.  Beside him, he saw Mya mirror his motion, her drawn
dagger glinting in the sun.  They ended up back to back, Mya’s shoulder blades
pressed against his.  They stood poised for several heartbeats, waiting for an
attack.

Nothing happened.  No assassin struck
from the shadows, no arrows flew from the rooftops.

“It’s nothing, Mya.”  Lad stepped away
and turned toward her, glimpsing her swift resheathing of her dagger. 
She’s
fast
!  The thought prompted a memory of her performance in the alley days
ago.  Killing two trained assassins without getting a scratch was no easy
task.  His eyebrows drew together thoughtfully.

Mya straightened and noticed Lad looking
at her.  Nudging her fallen fruit with her toe, she gave a bark of nervous
laughter.  “Little bastard ruined a perfectly good mango.  Come on, we need to
get out of here.”

They turned away from the ranting pot
maker as he recovered his fallen wears.  A small crowd of onlookers had stopped
to gawk, and a few eyes lingered on them.  Lad could hear the whispered
suppositions, as he led the way up the street, still scanning, listening,
feeling the city around them.

Satisfied that no trouble followed, he
glanced back at Mya.  “You’re very quick.”

“I’ve been training a little.”  Her
defensive glare took him aback, but she quickly looked away.  “I’ve got to
spend my money on
something
, don’t I?”

“More than a little.”  He nodded back up
the street.  “Back there, you did exactly as I did, scanning for threats, ready
to meet them.  That’s more than a little training.”

“Yes, well…”  She shrugged casually. 
“I’ve been training a lot.  It kept me alive the other night, didn’t it?”

“You’re right.”  Lad saw the opening to
broach the subject of his leaving, and took it.  “You’ll be fine without me.”

“What?”  Mya stopped so suddenly that he
took two paces before he realized that he no longer heard her footsteps behind
him.  When he turned back to look at her, the astonishment in her eyes almost
made him smile.  For once, he had truly caught her off guard.  “What did you
say?”

“I’m leaving, Mya.”

“No.”  He watched her face transform,
tried to read the fleeting emotions there and failed.  Finally, her features
hardened, her lips pressed in a thin line. 
That
he could read; she was
angry.  “No, you’re not leaving, Lad.  Our agreement—”

“Our agreement was made almost five
years
ago, Mya.  You’re safer now.  You’ve been training and your skills are very
good, as you just demonstrated.  Besides, you now have dozens of trustworthy
Hunters to protect you.  You don’t need me.”

“Safer now?  Are you
insane
?”  Her
shrill question drew a few glances from passersby.  She noticed the attention
and resumed walking, her pace faster, her strides stiff.  “How do you figure
I’m
safer
now than before, Lad?  The last attack was the worst yet! 
Were you not
there
?”

“I was there, Mya, but two good Hunters
could have protected you as well as I did.”  He wasn’t going to back down.  If
he wanted a life for his family, they had to leave.  He countered with the
argument he’d been rehearsing all morning, and hoped she’d buy it.    “The
issue is not my protection of you, but yours of me.  You can’t control Norwood,
and you can’t keep him from investigating Vonlith’s death.  Vonlith worked for
the Grandfather.  Eventually, Norwood’s going to find me.”

“So what?   We can beat anyone he sends
after you, and I’ve got enough people watching to know when he’s going to try
it.  Hells, I can tell you what he had for his godsdamned breakfast!  Norwood’s
no danger to you, Lad.  You’ve got to trust me on that!”

“It’s not just that, Mya.”  Lad grasped
her arm and pulled her into an adjacent alley for a measure of privacy.  The
pounding of her heart sounded loud and fast in his ears, and her face was
flushed.  He had never seen her so agitated.  She was even more upset than he
had expected.  It was clear that his Norwood argument wasn’t working, so he
decided on another tack.  Watching her reaction closely, he said, “Someone
tried to kill me last night.”

“What?  When?”

Her surprise seemed genuine, which in
turn surprised him.  But if Mya didn’t know about last night’s assassination
attempt, then who tried to kill him, and who saved his life?

“Last night, about three blocks from the
Golden
Cockerel
.”  Still, her astonishment seemed authentic.

“Tell me what happened.  Everything. 
Right
now
!”

“I thought you might already know…”  A
quick shake of her head in denial, no guile or deception in her eyes, only
something he couldn’t quite identify. 
Worry?  For me?
  He continued. 
“A man was beating a prostitute, and I stopped him.  She held out a hand for me
to help her up, but before I could, someone shot her with a poisoned dart.”

“Shot her, or shot at you and hit her?”

“At first I thought it was intended for
me, but it hit her right in the neck, too accurate for chance.  When I looked
more closely, I found a poisoned ring on her finger…on the hand she had offered
to me.  Whoever shot her saved my life.”

“That’s…”  Her voice trailed off,
questions in her eyes.

“I thought maybe you sent one of your
Hunters to look out for me.”

Mya shook her head slowly.  “Who would
do
that?”

“Kill me or save me?”

“A poisoned ring…”  She glanced down at
her own hand, and shot him a quick look of irony, “That’s professional.  I’d be
willing to bet that one of the other masters is behind the attack, but who’s
looking out for you?”

“If it wasn’t you, I don’t know, Mya, but
it’s really not the issue.”  He gritted his teeth and reaffirmed his resolve. 
“I’m leaving because I want a life for my family, a life where my daughter
won’t wake up every morning wondering if her father was killed last night, or
if it’s safe to step out her front door.”