Weapon of Fear (29 page)

“Know
that if you deliberately take someone’s life, you’ll pay with your own,” Prince
Arbuckle said to the hushed crowd.  “But when the ultimate justice is required,
this new device will assure that punishment is swift and precise.  No longer
will anyone suffer a slow, torturous death on the gallows or whipping post.” 
He turned to the doomed former baron.  “Uldric Ledwig, may the Gods of Light
have mercy on your soul.”

The
sneer on Ledwig’s face dissolved into disbelief, then fear, and he began to
struggle in earnest as his guard dragged him to the apparatus.

An
owl hooted once…twice…thrice, and Mya dragged her gaze from the spectacle on
the platform to the rooftops.  The call meant they’d spotted something.  Other
calls rang out in as if all the birds in the city had converged on the plaza.

What? 
Where?
  Mya caught
sight of Nestor atop the westernmost building, hooting away at the top of his
lungs.  To the east, Digger did the same.  The urchins chirped and whistled, and
they all pointed at the building to the north, the building directly behind the
platform…and the prince.

Mya’s
heart leapt as she scanned the windows. 
There!
  On the fourth floor, in
the fifth window from the right, an old man in a red shirt had sat alone for an
hour.  He was gone.  Now there stood a tall man in plain workman’s clothing. 
There was nothing remarkable about him except that he wasn’t leaning out the
window.  He was standing back about three feet.  Slowly, he raised a long,
narrow rod.

Gods
damn it all to the Nine Hells!
 He was going to shoot while everyone’s attention was on the execution.

Mya
might have reached an assassin in the eastern or western buildings before they
could carry out their lethal task, but the northern buildings were blocked by a
solid wall of soldiers, guards and constables.  She had only one hope to
prevent the attack.

“Assassin!”
she screamed, pointing at the window.  A few people nearby stared at her
curiously, but her warning was drowned out by the roar of the crowd as Ledwig
was locked into the contraption.

Damn
!  She looked back to the assassin,
and movement caught her eye.  Just above the assassin’s window, Knock peered
down from the rooftop.  Her oversized teeth prevented the girl from whistling
as the other urchins did, but she understood the twittering language.  She
waved to her friends, turned, and pushed her way through the rooftop crowd and
out of Mya’s sight.

Oh,
no!
  Mya’s
intention had been to use the urchins as spies, never for them to actually
confront anyone.  As good as Knock was with her club, she was no match for a
professional assassin.

She
cried out, “Assassin!  In the window!  Look for the gods’ sake!” but no guard
looked.  They scanned the crowd, but not the windows behind the stage.

The
prince stood with one hand uplifted.  The crowd pressed in around Mya, cheering
madly, bloodlust in their cries.  Shoving aside a portly man to her right, she
raised one arm to wave wildly.

“Assassin! 
In the window!”

One
of the imperial guards on the platform looked at Mya and turned where she
frantically pointed.

Prince
Arbuckle slashed down with his hand, signaling the knight to pull on the
restraining cord.  The gleaming blade fell.

In
the window, the assassin heaved a deep breath and put the rod to his lips…and blew. 
Mya watched the dart fly, incapable of changing its trajectory.

Movement
on the stage.  Mya watched the guard she had alerted throw himself at the
prince.  The dart struck him in the neck.  Crown Prince Arbuckle stumbled, but
retained his feet, turning to stare at the guard who fell writhing to the
platform.

Four
armored knights tackled the crown prince.

Mya
glanced up and saw the assassin grimace at his fouled shot and load another
dart.  He drew a deep breath and took aim, but then jerked around toward
something in the apartment behind him.

Oh,
no…  Knock!
  Mya’s
heart leapt into her throat.

Suddenly,
the assassin hurtled backward out the window, arms windmilling.  The platform
blocked Mya’s view, but she heard something that sounded like a melon smashing
on the cobblestones.  When she looked back up to the window, there was no one
there.

Knock?

The
crowd’s collective gasp drew Mya’s gaze back to the platform.  She didn’t know
if the crowd’s reaction had been due to the falling assassin, or the Ledwig’s
head being struck from his shoulders.  She could see little except the crowd of
knights and guards hustling the prince down the stairs and into the waiting
carriage.  At least he was alive.

With
a sigh of relief mixed with trepidation, Mya turned and started weaving her way
through the crowd.  Her plan hadn’t worked out the way she’d expected, but it
had worked nonetheless.  Now she had to find out if all her urchins were still
alive.

Arbuckle
grunted as the knights slammed into him, dragging him down behind a ring of
tall shields.  He couldn’t see, but he heard shrieks and cries shrilling from
the crowd.  He’d seen the guard fall after knocking him aside, but didn’t
understand what had happened.  He’d been looking at Ledwig when the blade fell.

Close
by, Ithross shouted orders.  “To the carriage!  Shields up!  Guard the prince!”

“What’s
going on?”  Arbuckle struggled to keep his feet as the knights hauled him
bodily from the platform, down the steps, and toward his waiting carriage. 
“What happened?”

“An
assassin, milord,” replied one of the knights grimly.  “Rebley’s down.  I think
he saved your life.”

“Gods
of Light.”  Arbuckle’s knees felt weak as they thrust him up into the carriage.

Verul
came in next, propelled by Captain Ithross.  The scribe landed on the floor and
stayed there, scratching madly in his ledger.  Two imperial guards trundled in
next, planting themselves on either side of Arbuckle.  A knight was the last to
enter, sitting on the opposite seat and slamming shut the door.  With a crack
of the whip and the clash of hooves on cobbles, the carriage surged into
motion.

As
they passed the platform, Arbuckle peered out the carriage window at Ludwig’s
headless corpse lying behind the guillotine.  A little farther on, he saw a man
lying on the street, his head misshapen and drenched with blood.  One of the
guards grabbed Arbuckle’s shoulder and thrust him gently back against the seat
while the other drew the curtain.

“Best
not show yourself, milord.  There might be another assassin.”

Arbuckle
swallowed hard.  “Gods…”  He blinked and swallowed again, bile burning the back
of his throat.  “Do they hate me so?”

“Not
the commoners, milord.”  Verul looked up from his ledger.  “You just won the
heart of every commoner in Tsing.  They’ll love you as they’ve not loved an
emperor in generations.”

“They’ll
love me for killing a man.”  Arbuckle closed his eyes, but all he could see was
Ledwig’s head as it toppled into the waiting basket.  Ledwig might have been a
murderous fool, but that didn’t change the fact that he had just died at
Arbuckle’s command.

“They’ll
love you for bringing them justice, milord.  It was long overdue.”

“I
don’t understand how anyone gets used to seeing someone die, even if they
deserved it.”  He swallowed hard.  “I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

“Comes
with practice, milord.”  It was the knight who spoke, low and sad.  “You get
used to seeing death.  Guilty, innocent, rich, poor…it doesn’t matter.  Death
is death.”

Arbuckle
hoped he would never become inured to seeing such things.  If he did, he might
think there was nothing wrong with lopping off a man’s head.  He mused as they
rode in silence back to the palace.  This was the second attempt on his life,
and his second stroke of luck.  He tried to ignore the old adage that kept
whispering in his head.

Third
time’s the charm
.

M
ya checked to make sure she hadn’t
picked up a shadow on her way back to the Dreggars Quarter.  Satisfied, she
ducked into the stable, muttering a silent prayer to no god in particular that
she would find all her urchins safe and sound.  She’s seen none of them during
her way back across the river, but the streets were pretty crowded.  After
recovering her stashed clothes and changing back into a drab dress, she’d
stopped at several shops to pick up something special to celebrate their
success.

If
they’re all alive
.

Digger
met her just inside, his face split in a grimy grin.  “We did good, didn’t we?”
His eyes gleamed as he took the parcels and handed them over to the others. 
“You brought us a right
feast
!”

Feast
was a relative term: a bottle of cheap wine, a loaf of bread, a dried sausage,
and a wedge of sharp cheese.  Mya scanned the faces as they started dividing up
the food.  They were all there, all alive, and all grinning as if they’d just
saved the entire empire of Tsing.  Who could know?  Maybe they had.

With
the weight of concern lifting from her stomach, she fixed them with a stern
look.  “Well, you didn’t exactly follow the
plan
…”

The
fallen smiles and wide, worried eyes twisted Mya’s gut.  A flash of memory
surfaced: a sharp rebuke, not pretty enough, not fast enough, not smart enough…
Her urchins didn’t deserve that from her.

“…but
you
did
save Prince Arbuckle’s life, so yes, you did well.  In fact, you
probably saved the whole city.  You know better than anyone what would have
happened if the prince died.”

Their
renewed grins seems to light up the entire stable, and they resumed divvying up
the food.  Nails drew the cork from the bottle with his teeth, and they laughed
at the rich pop.

“That’s
why we saved him, ain’t it?”  Nestor happily stuffed bread and cheese into his
mouth and spoke as he chewed. “Don’t give a fart for them rich types, but he’s
a good’n, ain’t he?”

“I
hope so.”  Mya honestly didn’t know much about the prince, aside from seeing
him during his two appearances in the plaza.

“He
lopped off that baron’s head right enough!”  Nails took a swig from the bottle
and passed it to eager hands. “Kept his promise to bring justice.”

“That
he did.”  Mya cared less about the prince’s promises for justice than she did
about making Assassins Guild into the organization she wanted it to be.  To do
that, she needed the city not burned down.  And to keep it from burning, she
needed the prince alive.  That, of course, begged the question of how her
urchins had managed to accomplish that feat.

“How
did you spot the assassin?”  Eyes flicked up to her as they continued to gorge
themselves. “And for that matter, how did you tell Knock what to do?  I didn’t
quite follow your whistles.”

Digger
shrugged.  “We did what you told us.  We looked for people who weren’t doin’
what they should be doin’.  That old man in the window was watchin’, then he
just disappeared, like he fell off his chair or somethin’.  Then another man
was there, but he didn’t look right.  He wasn’t smilin’, stood back from the
window instead of leanin’ out like everyone else, and he had that stick in his
hand.”

Gimp
took up the tale.  “So Digger whistled at us, an’ we whistled to each other. 
Knock was right near the bloke, so she went after him.”

“Knock! 
Knock!”  The half-breed girl leapt up, hunched her shoulder, and pantomimed
giving a great shove.  The twisted smile on her face no longer seemed gruesome
to Mya.  She supposed she had become accustomed to it.

“You
could have gotten hurt,” Mya argued.  “He was bigger than you.”

Digger
grinned and shrugged.  “We’re used to everyone bein’ bigger than us.”

Mya
had to admit that he had a point.  Survival on the streets meant constant
danger.  Growing up homeless, poor, and starving, the urchins had probably seen
more evil than most people did their entire lives.  Still, that didn’t mean she
wanted to put them in even more danger.  That they would throw themselves at
assassins, risking their lives in return for a few pitiful meals, made her feel
cold for recruiting them in the first place.

You’ve
got a good heart…
 
She wondered if Lad’s claim had been just wishful thinking.

“Here.” 
Tiny held a slice of sausage and hunk of bread out to her, a smile on his grimy
face.  “You have some, too.”

Startled,
Mya stared at him, at all the children.  They had so little—only what she
brought them—yet they were willing to share with her.  They might not have
homes in the proper sense, but they all cared for one another.  They were a
family, not of blood, but of necessity, and they considered her a part of that
family.

“No.” 
Mya cleared her throat and stood.  “No, the feast is yours for a job well
done.  Good job today, all of you.  Now, eat hearty and get some rest.  I’ll
see whoever’s on night watch at the back door of the
Dulcimer
after
sunset.”

“Yes,
Miss Mya,” they chimed, grinning and munching happily.

Mya
stalked the Dreggars Quarter, intending to get a feel for how the commoners
were responding to Ledwig’s execution, but she couldn’t get the children off
her mind. 
Don’t get too attached.
 
Caring for someone will only get
you hurt
.  That had been true her entire life: her mother…the guild…Lad... 
Why should now be any different?  Gradually, she calmed her thoughts and put
her mind to her task. 
You have a job to do, Mya.  Stop being maudlin and do
it!

The
Dreggars Quarter buzzed like a kicked bee hive.  Rumors of Ledwig’s execution
had spread like wildfire, and the mood varied from disbelief to awe to outright
revelry.  Even those skeptical of Arbuckle’s promises of justice and rights for
commoners couldn’t deny that he’d kept his word.  Many couldn’t believe a noble
had actually been executed for murdering a commoner, having never seen the like. 
Those old enough to remember the time before the reign of Tynean Tsing II had
known justice once, when commoners were treated like people, not livestock. 
The populace had gotten a true taste of justice, and weren’t about to revert to
the way things were.

Before
Mya knew it, the afternoon had passed to evening.  Dusk washed the sky with
color, incongruously beautiful above the shabby neighborhoods.  She arrived
back at the
Tin Dulcimer
as evening deepened to night.  As usual, she
stopped at the door to survey the posterboard for news of the day.  The
announcement of the sentencing was gone, probably taken as a souvenir.  It had
been replaced by the announcement of Ledwig’s execution.  She scanned the other
news, and was about to go in when her eyes settled on a new flier, a simple
personal notice with a most curious headline.

Golden
Cockerel Lost

Seeking
experienced Hunter to recover this valuable creature.

Must be
familiar with Golden Cockerels.

See Paxal
at the Prickly Pair Inn

“Paxal?” 
Mya’s heart hammered.

It
couldn’t be a coincidence. 
But it could be a trap
.  Who in Tsing could
possibly know of her affiliation with the
Golden Cockerel
and Paxal? 
Hoseph?
 
Her blood chilled.  The priest could have wafted off to Twailin, discovered
where she lived, and learned of her relationship with the old innkeeper.  Her Hunters
would never talk to a stranger, but the whole neighborhood knew her, and they
knew she cared for Pax.

If
he’s harmed Pax, I’ll…

You’ll
what?  Kill him?
 
That task had already proven more difficult than she’d thought.

“Think,
Mya…”  Biting bit her lip, she stepped into the
Tin Dulcimer
.  Something
about this wasn’t right, and she quickly realized what it was. 
The Prickly
Pair…
  Of all the inns in Tsing, what was the chance that someone would set
up a trap
there
?  The only person who knew she’d stayed there was Lad, and
he was still on the road somewhere…wasn’t he?

Mya
considered going to the
Prickly Pair
immediately, but restrained her
curiosity.  Going off half-cocked was a good way to get killed.  She’d think
about it tonight and deal with it in the morning when she was well rested. 
Besides, she didn’t have to do this alone.  She had her little spies, and today
had given her an entirely new appreciation of their capabilities.  If this was
a trap, her urchins would be able to smoke it out.

Arbuckle
ran his fingers over the device that had nearly ended his life.  The long tube
was disguised as a walking stick, hollow and fitted with a cap on the bottom
and a concealed mouthpiece at the top.  Three slim darts lay beside it.  The
tips of two were smudged with green, the third with dried blood.

Rebley’s
blood
.

The
brave imperial guard had given his life for his prince.  Ithross insisted that
the man was only doing his duty and would have been proud of his sacrifice. 
That didn’t make him any less dead.  Arbuckle sighed at the cost of his
continued beating heart.

“The
assassin also had these.”  Ithross placed two daggers on the table then held up
a garrote.  “
This
he used to murder the man who lived in the apartment.”

Yet
another death on my conscience
.

“Professional,
milord, without a doubt.”  Chief Constable Dreyfus picked up one of the darts. 
“Poisoned, of course, and the toxin is—”

“Put
that down, if you please, Chief Constable.”  Captain Ithross’ knuckles whitened
on his sword hilt, and Arbuckle’s guards stepped between Dreyfus and the
prince.  “The prince’s life is
my
responsibility, and I’m feeling a
little twitchy right now.  None but imperial guards and knights may possess
weapons in his presence.”

Dreyfus
reddened and clenched his jaw, but put down the dart.  “As I was
saying
,
the toxin is deadly in even a tiny dose, and the tips of the darts are hollow
and thin enough to pierce chainmail.  This fellow had resources.  Nobody we’ve
talked to recognized him.  Of course, his face was…um…distorted from the fall.”

“I
don’t think a professional assassin would be clumsy enough to fall,” Ithross
said.  “He either jumped or was pushed.”

“Jumped?”

Dreyfus
shrugged.  “A possibility, milord.  He might’ve jumped to avoid capture and
questioning.”

Arbuckle
grimaced as he remembered the blood from the man’s shattered skull staining the
cobbles.  Then there was his wine steward, dead by his own hand.  What kind of
loyalty or fear could provoke suicide?  “If someone did push him, maybe they’ll
come forward.  Should we offer a reward?  Fifty gold crowns might prompt
someone to—”

Dreyfus’
harsh bark of laughter grated on the prince’s nerves.  “Pardon, milord, but if
you offer a reward, you’ll have every dung-kicking roustabout in the city on
the palace stoop swearing they saved your life.  They’ll lie, cheat, and steal
for a single silver crown, much less fifty
gold
.  We got one vague
description of a short, ugly fellow running out of the building after the
incident.  Maybe a dwarf.  We’re still questioning people, but most were
watching the…um…the execution.”  Dreyfus swallowed, looking decidedly
uncomfortable.

“Keep
asking questions, Chief Constable.  If someone did save my life today, I’d like
to thank them.”  Arbuckle gestured to the door.  “You’re dismissed.”

“Thank
you, milord.”  Dreyfus bowed and left the room, obviously relieved to vacate
the royal presence.

Arbuckle
turned to Ithross.  “Captain, what’s your opinion of Chief Constable Dreyfus?”

The
captain’s eyes widened.  “My opinion, milord?”