Weapon of Fear (47 page)

“Good. 
I think we’ll work well together, now that things are out in the open.”

Lady
T shrugged again, then her eyes narrowed slyly.  “Would you like me to drop you
at home?”

“If
you wish.  I live at—”

The
baroness opened a tiny door and called up to her driver, “The corner of Tanner
Street and Archer!”

“Yes,
milady!”

Mya
let the lady’s little power play slide by without comment.  It didn’t surprise
her that the guildmaster knew where she lived.  Hoseph had undoubtedly told
her.

They
continued on in silence.  There was nothing much more to discuss.  Mya stared
out at the setting sun, weary with the day’s events, but satisfied.  She’d
won.  With the guildmaster on her side, the guild was hers.  She rubbed the
ring Lad had put on her finger and smiled.  The hard part was over.

The
carriage rumbled to a stop before the orphanage, and one of the guards leapt
down to open the door for Mya.

She
got out, turning back to fix the guildmaster with a serious stare.  “Be
careful
,
milady.”

“You
know I will be.”

“Good. 
I’ll call on you tomorrow afternoon.”

“That
will be fine…” Lady T paused, then nodded respectfully, “…Grandmaster.”

Mya
smiled, nodded, and stepped back.  The Enforcer closed the carriage door and
clambered up to his post.

“Home,
driver!” Lady T called up, and the man applied his whip.

Mya’s
keen ears picked up an excited yell from inside her orphanage—“She’s home!”—and
the sound of feet pounding down stairs and across squeaky floors.  She watched
the beautiful team of horses lurch into motion, then turned to see Dee and
Paxal emerging from the doorway, flanked by smiling urchins. 
Home
… 

“No! 
Wait!  I—”

Mya
whirled at Lady T’s cry of alarm.  “Oh, gods…”  She was moving before she gave
it a second thought. 
Godsdamned deathtrap of a carriage!

The
driver reined in hard, and a guard leaned down to peer through the window. 
“Milady?

The
other guard leapt down, but Mya shoved him aside and wrenched open the carriage
door.  She caught a glimpse of black mist, quickly dissipating.  Lady T sat
staring at nothing, her face blank.

“No!” 
Mya whirled in case Hoseph popped in behind her, but found only the guard
staring wide-eyed at his dead mistress.  Lunging into the carriage, Mya clasped
Tara’s wrist, but felt no pulse.  No life. 
No soul
.  She stumbled out
of the carriage.  “Gods
damn
it to all Nine Hells!”

“What
happened?”  The guards looked at Mya, their dead guildmaster, then back to
Mya.  “Who killed her?  How did they—”

“It
was Hoseph.  I saw him fading away into mist.”

Recognition
dawned in the guards’ eyes.  They’d worked for Lady T long enough to know of
the high priest’s preternatural abilities.

Dee
and Pax hurried up, their eyes wide.  “What happened?”

Mya
nodded into the carriage.  “That bastard Hoseph murdered her.”  A thought
sparked, and she stepped up into the carriage once more.  “Gods damn him!  Her
ring’s gone!  He must have taken it.”

I
had it!  I had it all!
 
Mya stepped out of the carriage and clamped down on her raging emotions. 

Staring
at the guards, she pointed to their dead guildmaster.  “You heard what she said
to me!  When you opened the door and I stepped out, you heard it, didn’t you?” 
They evaded her gaze.  She strode up to the one who had opened the door and
grasped his shirt front.  “I don’t
care
if you were eavesdropping.  You
heard!  What did she say to me?”

“She…she
called you Grandmaster.”

“That’s
right!  You’re all Enforcers, and you
know
what that means.  You have no
guildmaster and I’m your Grandmaster, so listen closely.  You!”  Mya stabbed a
finger toward another of the guards.  “You’re going to summon constables and
report that Baroness Monjhi has been murdered by High Priest Hoseph, who is
also wanted for questioning in Emperor Tynean Tsing II’s murder.”

They
looked at her wide eyed.  “Tell the constables?”

“Yes.” 
She glared them down.  “Do it now!  Don’t move this carriage until they’re
here!”

The
guard ran off.

Mya
pointed at the second guard.  “You, send runners to all the masters.  Tell them
Hoseph murdered the guildmaster and took her ring.  Also tell them what you
heard, that I was acknowledged by Lady T as Grandmaster, and I’m naming Hoseph
a traitor and enemy to the Assassins Guild.  He’s to be killed on sight. 
Anyone conspiring with him will also be considered a traitor.  You got that?”

The
guard nodded and took off running. 

Dee
sidled up to her, his voice low.  “Mya, is calling in the constables a good
idea?” 

“I
don’t know, but I need all the allies I can get.”  Mya spoke through gritted
teeth.  She wanted to loose the scream raging to escape her throat. 
It was
mine!  The guild was mine, and now it’s gone!
  Without Lady T to vouch for
her, she’d have to start from scratch, win over the masters one by one.  “I
won’t be cheated out of the guild by that lunatic priest.  This is war!”

Emperor
Tynean Tsing III settled into his comfortable armchair feeling a strange
mixture of relief, trepidation, and crushing guilt.  He had survived the day
and gained his crown, but it had cost the lives of eleven members of his
knighthood and Imperial Guard, not to mention the entire Retinue of Wizards,
save one.  He wondered if Master Keyfur would consider taking the position of
archmage.

Many
nobles had been injured in the panic, but all were slated to recover.  Indeed,
most had managed to attend the coronation and reception and regale their peers
with stories exaggerated by the free-flowing wine.  Arbuckle knew the cost
could have been a lot higher.  Thanks to an intrepid few, he was alive and
finally emperor.  Now it was up to him to fulfill his promises to his people.

Baris
came help him get ready for bed.  “Sleepy, Your Majesty?”

“Exhausted.” 
The emperor rose and loosened his doublet.  “I can’t remember when I’ve been
more spent.”

“We,
Your Majesty.”  At Arbuckle’s raised eyebrows, his valet explained, “Your Majesty
must use the royal ‘We’ when referring to himself.”

“I
must…er…We must?”

“Yes,
Majesty.”  Baris smiled as he accepted his master’s doublet.  “It’s
tradition
.”

“Well,
We
mustn’t break tradition!”  Arbuckle chuckled and allowed Baris help
him doff his shirt and pants and don his nightshirt.  “Is there any tradition
that states the new emperor can’t have a nightcap?”

“None
whatsoever, Majesty.”

“Well,
We’re glad of that!”  Arbuckle poured himself a whiskey and placed it on his
night table.  Climbing into bed, he picked up the book he’d been trying to read
for more than a month.  With everything that had happened, he’d lost his
place.  Sighing, he flipped to page one and started anew.  This is how an
evening should be spent, with a good book and an easy-sipping whiskey.

A
knock sounded at the door.

The
emperor looked up from his reading, and Baris looked up from his tidying.  “Who
could it be at this time of night?”

Arbuckle
shivered as he realized that it was one month ago to the day, while reading
this very book, when a late-night knock on his door had set recent events in
motion.

“It
must be important, Majesty.  Word was left to not disturb you.”

“Best
answer it, then.”  The emperor put down his whiskey and book as Baris went to
the door.

It
opened to reveal a glowering Captain Ithross.  “Pardon, Your Majesty, but I
just received dire news that I thought you would want to know.”

Arbuckle’s
mind flashed through a hundred possible sources of bad news.  “What’s
happened?”

“There’s
been a murder.  Baroness Monjhi was killed in her carriage this evening on her
way home.”

“Oh,
gods!  Who…”

“Her
bodyguard witnessed the attack and reported that it was High Priest Hoseph,
your late father’s spiritual advisor, who committed the murder.”

“Hoseph!” 
Arbuckle’s stomach clenched.  “Gods
damn
that man to the Nine Hells!”

“Yes,
milor—er, Your Majesty.”  Ithross looked miserable.  “The constabulary’s been
notified, but we’ve been seeking him for a month with no luck.”

“Well,
keep looking.”  Arbuckle reached for his whiskey and downed it in one long
swallow.  “Damn it!  The baroness was a fine and noble woman.  He killed her
because she saved my life!  There’s no doubt of it!”

“It
seems likely, Majesty.”

The
pieces fit together in Arbuckle’s mind.  “Hoseph could have been behind the
other attempts on my life as well!”

“It’s
possible, Majesty.  He
was
involved in this…guild of assassins, after
all, according to Captain Norwood, and named in the warning you received as
ringleader of the conspiracy.”

“Yes. 
Thank you for bringing me word, Captain.  We’ve got to consider this
carefully.  I—  We want a full investigation.”  Arbuckle dismissed him with a
nod.

“Of
course, Majesty.”  Ithross ducked out, and Baris went with him.

Arbuckle
got up and poured himself another whiskey.  He knew he wouldn’t be able to
sleep after the news.  Standing at the window, he sipped the smooth liquor and
looked out over the city—
his
city, his empire—and wondered how many
assassins were out there.

My
father used to be one of them
.

“Is
anyone ever safe in this world?”  Emperor Tynean Tsing III downed his whiskey
and went to bed.  He lay awake a very long time, wondering if he would ever be
free of his father’s legacy.

In
the end, he knew it didn’t matter.

It
was time to make a legacy of his own.

H
oseph materialized in the soothing
darkness of his refuge, staggered, and collapsed to his knees.  Pain pulsed in
his head, and waves of dizziness threatened to empty his stomach.  Closing his
eyes, he waited until the pain and nausea eased, then struggled to his feet. 
His knees trembled, but held him.

One
more task…then I can rest.

He
called on Demia’s grace, and light flared and wavered in his trembling hand. 
The tiny skull hung from his sleeve on its chain, reflecting the pearly glow. 
He’d used the talisman extensively this afternoon, and paid the price. 
Necessary… 
I can rest later.
  He examined the silver skull, lurid in the flickering
flame, and wondered,
Is it killing me?

I
fear not Death for she is my ally.  She will claim me in the end, and I will
stand at Demia’s side.
 
The ancient mantra calmed him, but he still had work to do in this world, and
that work required him to travel through the Sphere of Shadow.

He’d
waited for Duveau to bring word of Arbuckle’s death, but the archmage never
arrived.  At the palace, he knew by the celebrations that something had gone
dreadfully wrong.  When he spotted Duchess Ingstrom’s carriage leaving early,
he went to her home to await word.

It
arrived in the form of a livid Duchess.

“What
in the Nine Hells does Lady T mean by ordering her bodyguard to save Arbuckle’s
life?”

“Bodyguard? 
What bodyguard?”

“The
skinny woman who can leap around like a court acrobat!  Moirin or something
from Twailin, she said her name was!  She killed Duveau!”

It
took little imagination to realize who this bodyguard must be. 
Mya!

Hoseph
had gone back to the palace to wait for the traitorous Twailin guildmaster to
leave, and followed her carriage.  When he materialized beside her, She’d tried
to explain, but he was through listening to her lies.  She’d paid for her
treason with her soul and her ring.  Next, Hoseph had visited each and every
master of the Tsing guild to decry Lady T’s betrayal and promise his support in
the coming conflict.  They had all eagerly eyed the guildmaster’s ring he proffered
as the promised prize for killing Mya.

Mya
…

She
had foiled him again and again, destroyed his elegant system of power, pushed
him to the brink of collapse.

Never
again… 
Hoseph
lurched to his desk and started gathering his things.
 One more thing to do
tonight before I can rest…

Into
his spare cloak he piled a few essential items: his razor, personal effects,
writing tools and parchment, and several priceless tomes from the guild
archives. 
So few possessions for one who will shape an empire. 
He tied
it tight and lay the bundle down in the center of the floor.

Demia’s
high priest gazed around the repository of dusty books and myriad scrolls.  For
decades he had preserved the guild’s history here, plotted the future.  No
more.

No
choice…

Hoseph
lifted the lamp from the desk and removed the brass cap on the filling spout. 
With a flick of his wrist, he dashed oil onto the shelves of bone-dry vellum. 
In his conversations with the masters he had finally understood what must be
done.  He couldn’t kill Mya himself, not with pain and fatigue plaguing him
every time he traversed the Sphere of Shadow.  He had to use the guild, but Mya
wore the Grandmasters ring, so no guild-bound assassin could touch her.  There
was only one solution.

They’ll
be guild-bound no more
.

Dropping
the empty lamp, Hoseph plucked a match from the desk drawer.  Flame blossomed
in his hand with a flick of his thumbnail.  He walked around the small room,
touching the match here and there until the fire roared and smoke whirled.

Finally,
Hoseph picked up his bundle and flicked the silver skull into his hand.  How
ironic it would be if this one time Demia’s talisman failed him.  He would burn
here, consumed by his own cleverness.

He
spoke the invocation, and the mists formed around him.

Thank
you, sweet Demia…

Hoseph
watched the blood contracts blazing and burning as the shadows consumed him. 
The guild assassins were free from constraint.

It
was open season, and Mya was the game of choice.