Weapon of Fear (8 page)

“I’m
here to see Lady T.”

“The
lady’s not taking visitors today.  If you leave your name and address, her
secretary will make an appointment for you.”

Straightforward
without being blunt or rude, obviously well-enough trained to pass as an
employee of a noble house
. 
Mya was impressed.  Enforcers weren’t usually so subtle.

“She’ll
see me.”  Mya gestured with her hand so the sun glinted off the gold-laced
obsidian ring.

The
two men stared at her finger, then glanced at one another.  Mya wondered if
they knew the import of what they saw, and if they even knew the Grandmaster
was dead.  She doubted they’d recognize the Grandmaster’s ring; only the
guildmasters had known his identity.  They might assume she was a guildmaster
from another city.  Mya didn’t really care, as long as she got in to see Lady
T.

“Your
name?”

“Mya.”

“Come
with me.”  One Enforcer stepped back while the other opened the door and
ushered her inside.

“Thank
you.”

Mya
refrained from gaping in awe as she stepped inside.  The resplendent foyer
soared three stories high, all white marble and gold leaf.  Sunlight through
the tall windows glinted off an enormous crystal chandelier.  Across the broad
expanse of floor a grandiose staircase arched and twisted like a great white serpent
to the upper landings, edged by balustrades of white marble. 

Two
more Enforcers manned the hall. Mya’s escort muttered to one, “Tell her she’s
got a visitor.  She wears a guildmaster’s ring, but I don’t recognize her or
her name.”  The woman turned and strode up the stairs without a word.

So
the enforcer had misinterpreted the ring’s significance, and didn’t know her
name.  Mya didn’t know if that was good or bad, but it was interesting.

“Nice
place,” Mya said casually.  The men just stared at her, so she resigned herself
to wait in silence.  She didn’t have to wait long before the messenger
returned.

“Lady
T will see you.  This way.”

“Thank
you.”  Mya followed the woman’s broad, straight back up two flights of stairs,
then down a short hall to a pair of double doors, and stopped while her escort
rapped on the door.

This
is it
.

“Enter,”
called a lady’s voice from within.  The Enforcer pushed both doors open and
stepped back, waving Mya in with a smile.

Mya
hesitated, her well-developed sense of paranoia staying her progress.  For five
years she had relied on Lad to warn her of danger, but Lad was gone; she had to
rely on herself now.  Heightening her senses, she heard the scuff of boots
behind the doors, then the whisper of metal on leather as blades were drawn.  That
didn’t worry Mya; no assassin could harm her.  But if Hoseph lurked behind one
of those doors, ready to kill her with a touch…  She’d have to rely on her
speed.  Steeling her nerves, Mya took one step forward, stopping in the
doorway. “Good morning, milady.”

Lady
T stood behind an ornate desk, garbed only in a simple dressing gown.  Smiling,
she raised a small crossbow and aimed it at Mya’s heart.  “Goodbye, Mrs.
Addington.”

To
any normal person, the guildmaster would seem to be standing stock still, but
Mya saw her finger twitch as she tried and failed to pull the trigger.  The
woman’s jaw clenched, the tension deforming the smug curve of her lips.  In the
silence, Mya heard the steady cadence of the woman’s heart begin to race.  Four
more heartbeats pounded from behind the two open doors.

“That’s
not a very polite way to greet a guest.”  Mya held up her hand and wiggled her
ring finger, then glanced left and right.  “How about some privacy so we can
talk?”

Lady
T dropped the crossbow onto her desk and waved a hand. “Everyone out!  Now!”

Two
assassins emerged from behind each door, three sheathing swords and daggers,
one hefting a crossbow. 
No Hoseph
.  Stepping past them without concern,
Mya scanned the rest of the room. 
Still no Hoseph
.  She breathed
easier.  The assassins hurried out, and the doors closed.

Lady
T stared at her.  “How did you do it?”

“By
it
, I assume you mean kill the Grandmaster, and the answer is, I
didn’t.  Lad did.”  She smiled.  “I just killed four of His Majesty’s
blademasters.”

“Which
again begs the question:
how
?  Lad was constrained by his guildmaster’s
ring.”  Lady T sat down at her desk, scrutinizing Mya with a raised eyebrow. 
“And I simply can’t believe that
you
killed four blademasters.”

“Then
don’t.  That doesn’t make them any less dead, but,” she wiggled her finger
again, the ring glinting in the sunlight streaming through the window, “to the
victor go the spoils.”

“I
thought you said that
Lad
killed the Grandmaster.”

Mya
shrugged.  “He did.  Then I killed him.  I deserved this promotion more than he
did.”  This was the story they had agreed on this before Lad left Tsing.  It
was Mya’s gift to him: only if the guild thought him dead could he hope to live
a normal life.

“You
can’t be serious.”  Lady T looked incredulous.  “You honestly think putting
that ring on your finger makes you
Grandmaster
?”

Mya
smiled wryly and dropped into the chair in front of the desk.  “I
am
serious, but I’m not so naïve that I think I can do it alone.  That’s why I
need your help.”

“Yes,
you
would
need my help.”  Lady T settled back, still wary but her
belligerence waning.  “But what makes you think I’ll give it?”

“Simple. 
You’ll help me or you’ll die.”

Mya
heard Lady T’s heart skip a beat, though the guildmaster’s face remained
composed.  Not for the first time Mya felt the loss of Lad.  He was much better
at interpreting people’s tells, those unconscious tics and reactions that
revealed a person’s true thoughts and feelings.  He had read Mya’s for years
without her knowing.

Lady
T shifted in her seat.  “You just admitted that you need me.  I’m too valuable
to you to just throw away.”

“You’re
valuable
if
you help me.  With your backing, assuming control of the
guild will be straightforward.  Without it…” Mya shrugged, “…it will be more
difficult.  I’m sure one of your faction masters has sufficient ambition to
step up and cooperate.  If they’re so loyal as to rebel at your side, well, the
guild exists in many other cities.  Who says the Grandmaster has to rule from Tsing? 
The point is: if you’re not an asset, you’re a liability.  Eliminating
liabilities is just good business.”

Muscles
knotted beneath the satin skin of Lady T’s jaw.  “What kind of business do you
expect to run?  Without the emperor—”

“We’ll
all be better off!”  Mya slapped her hand on the desk, and Lady T jerked. 
“Admit it!  You were terrified of the Grandmaster.”  She leaned back.  “You’ll
find me a much more lenient boss than that sadistic pig.  Besides, he was just
using the guild to further his own cause.”

“The
system worked for forty years.”

“It
worked well for the emperor, but not so well for the guild.”

Lady
T’s eyes widened as she spread her hands, encompassing the luxurious
surroundings.  “Not so well?  I beg to differ.”

“Under
your
imperial
Grandmaster, the guild stagnated.  When was the last time
you exploited new territory or started a new operation?  You don’t know what to
do beyond what you’ve always done!  As it is, you’re scraping the bottom of the
barrel by only operating south of the river.  The
real
wealth of Tsing
is
north
of the river, but the emperor forbade fleecing his precious
aristocracy because he wanted them fat, dumb, and happy.”

Lady
T recoiled as if she’d been slapped.

“Don’t
take that title of yours too seriously,
Lady
!”
 
Mya laughed. 
“It’s a bought thing, no more part of you than a pair of shoes or a fancy
gown.”

“Not
that I’d expect a commoner from Twailin to understand, but the Assassins Guild
isn’t just about profit.  We have power.  We control the empire.”

Mya
shook her head.  “You’re just parroting the Grandmaster’s lie.  Power doesn’t
come from flogging the mule.  Eventually the mule is going to balk.  True power
is coaxing the mule so skillfully that it doesn’t even realize it’s the one
doing all the work.  Are you familiar with what we’ve done in Twailin?”

“Vaguely.” 
The noblewoman’s lip curled in derision.  “A
beneficent
guild.”

“Not
quite, but we treat the common people as our customers, not our chattel, and
we’re hiring out blades and enforcers as security services to the likes of you,
rich nobles and aristocrats who fear for their safety…from the likes of
us
.” 
Mya smirked at the glimmer of interest in Lady T’s eyes.  “You’ve been milking
the poor and letting the rich off the hook at the behest of your Imperial Grandmaster,
not because it was good for the guild, but because it was good for his regime! 
In Twailin, we’re making far more gold milking the rich and charging the poor
fair rates for honest services.”

“
Honest
?” 
Lady T laughed a single sharp note.  “We’re the
Assassins
Guild, my
dear.”

“And
what makes you think we should be dishonest assassins?  We perform numerous
services, one of which is killing people.  It works better than the system
you’ve got.”

“So
you came here to kill the Grandmaster and usurp his position so you can put
your
better
system into place?”

“Is
that
really
what you think?”  Mya knew that Lady T was no fool; one
didn’t get to be guildmaster by being stupid. 
So why is she fighting me on
this
? 
Does she want the Grandmaster position for herself
?  But Mya
knew that every negotiation required give as well as take.  “We didn’t come
here intending to kill anyone, but we also weren’t going to just lie down and
die at the Grandmaster’s command.  When push came to shove…we shoved back.”

“Then
you shoved Lad.”

“That
relationship was…complicated.”  Mya wasn’t about to give the woman details. 
“Lad was never truly a part of the Assassins Guild.  He had signed no blood
contract.  He was too dangerous.  It was best to get rid of him.  But none of
that matters.  Are you with me, or do I stick that crossbow bolt through your
heart?”

Lady
T considered for a moment.  “You give me little choice, and you make it
sound…almost interesting.”

“Then
you’ll work with me?”  Mya took care to say ‘with’, not ‘for.’

“It’s
not that simple.”  Lady T drummed her fingers on the desk.  “There’s still
Hoseph to consider.  If I oppose him, I’m just as dead as if you kill me right
here and now.”

I
wondered when he would enter the conversation
.  “Yes, there is Hoseph.  I need to talk with him
about all this, too.  I don’t suppose you know where he is, do you?”

“No,
but he’s not likely to listen to anything you have to say.”  Lady T’s lips
pursed, as if she was considering how much to say, or how to lie.  “He came by
briefly to inform me of what happened, then left to contact the provincial
guildmasters.  He’s martialing the guild to hunt you down.”

So
much for recruiting him
. 
Now I’ve got to kill him
before he kills me
.  Mya hid her
disappointment with a cold smile.  “
He’s
martialing the guild?  The
Grandmaster said that Hoseph wasn’t a member of the Assassins Guild.  How does
he come out on top of this?  Is he giving you orders now?”

Lady
T’s nostrils flared and her tone became indignant.  “He
doesn’t
give me
orders!  He’s…making suggestions.”

“He’s
been the emperor’s weapon too long.  He thinks he’s in charge.”  Mya leaned on
the desk, riveting the woman with her gaze.  “Set him up so I can kill him, and
he’ll never give you another order.”

“No,
but you will.”

“The
difference is,
I’m
actually a blood-contracted member of the Assassins
Guild,
and
I wear the Grandmaster’s ring.  That brings us back to your
two options.  You can profit by our arrangement, or die.  Your choice.”  Mya
stood, pulled a folded parchment out of a pocket, and dropped it on the desk. 
“These are the changes I want made to guild operations.  See that you implement
them.  I’ll be in touch.”

Ignoring
the lady’s glare, Mya left the office without another word.  The meeting could
have gone more smoothly, but all in all, she was pleased with her first
encounter. 
One assassin down, only about another thousand to win over
.

“M
ilord, Tennison is here to see
you.”  Baris’ tentative announcement stirred Arbuckle from his worried musing,
but he couldn’t answer, couldn’t tear his gaze from the smoke trailing up into
the sky.

“I
don’t want to talk to anyone.” 
My fault...my city…why…I don’t understand
…

Captain
Ithross had informed him of the unrest shortly after dinner.  Arbuckle had
watched from his balcony throughout most of the night and into the morning, his
astonishment transforming to horror as fire after fire—eighteen so far—blossomed
in the Midtown and Heights districts.  He felt sick.  Though all had been
contained, there was no denying that the impetus for the riots had been his
fault. 
Why would the promise of justice precipitate such acts of
destruction?

“He’s
insistent, milord.”  Baris sounded miserable.  “And your breakfast has gone
cold.”

“I’m
not hungry.”  Arbuckle signed and rubbed his aching eyes. 
I’ve got to face
this
.  “All right, Baris.  Let him in.”  He strode into his sitting room,
the cold breakfast on the table roiling his stomach.

“Milord
Prince.”  Tennison entered the room looking nervous and bowed.  “I apologize
for disturbing you so early, but several of the senior nobles and magistrates
insist on meeting with you as soon as possible.”

“No
doubt.” 
They probably want to lynch me
.  He dreaded facing them, but there
was no putting them off.  They deserved to know what was being done. 
“Tennison, tell the nobles I’ll meet with them immediately.  Baris, my
clothes.”

“Milord
Prince, if I may be so bold to suggest…”  Tennison took a hesitant step
forward, urgency transforming his face.

“Yes,
of course.  I need
someone
to tell me when I’m making mistakes.”

“Milord,
this meeting is crucial.  You mustn’t rush into it without forethought.” 
Tennison gestured toward the uneaten breakfast.  “Gather your thoughts.  Eat
something.”

“If
as you say this meeting is crucial, keeping the nobles waiting will only...”
Tennison was already shaking his head.  “What?”

“If
you indulge them by rushing to their demand for an audience, you set a bad
precedent.  You show that you can be manipulated.  Make them wait an hour,
collect your thoughts, and arrive looking rested and alert.  Thus, you show
them that you’re in control.  An emperor must demand respect.”

“I’m
not emperor yet.”

“No,
but in time, milord.  Your father was feared, but you are…kinder.  The nobles
will try to take advantage of that.”

Arbuckle
looked at Tennison with a new appreciation.  The man had a point.  He knew the
deadly dance of court politics far better than his prince.  “An hour it is. 
And Tennison, never hesitate to give me your opinion.”

“Milord
Prince.”  The secretary smiled, bowed, and left.

“Clothes
and a quick shave, Baris.  I’ll eat and review Captain Ithross’ reports.”  He
sat at the table and a hovering footman poured blackbrew into a dainty
porcelain cup.

An
hour later, Arbuckle strode into the audience chamber, dressed, groomed, and
reasonably alert.  A score of nobles clustered there, looking impatient and a not
a little disheveled. 
Damned if Tennison wasn’t right
.  Just by appearing
calm and in control, Arbuckle gained the upper hand.

He
spotted Duke Tessifus, his nearest cousin and next in line for the throne.  If
rule went to the most qualified, Tessifus would win hands down.  He was twenty
years Arbuckle’s senior and much better versed in government.  Arbuckle,
however, was crown prince.  The line of inheritance was clear.

To
one side stood a cluster of black-robed magistrates, Arbuckle’s judges and
legal advisors.  Somber men and women all, they didn’t mingle with the nobles. 
For forty years they’d been meting out Tynean Tsing II’s justice. 
No wonder
they’re grim
.

At
the herald’s announcement, the room fell silent and everyone bowed.  Mounting
the low dais, Arbuckle lowered himself onto the cushioned chair.  He’d never
sat there before, and found it less comfortable than it looked. 
I had
better get used to it
.

“Lords
and ladies, we have much to discuss.”  He gestured to the nobles.  “Please,
proceed.”

Duke
Tessifus stepped forward.  “Milord Prince Arbuckle.  On behalf of the nobles of
Tsing, I offer you our sincere condolences on the death of your father.  His
loss is a grave blow to us all.”

Arbuckle
now noticed that black mourning bands encircled every right arm but his own. 
Baris had offered him one, but he had refused.  He would not mourn a monster. 
“Thank you for your condolences.  Now, we have serious matters to discuss,
namely this city’s safety and security."

Several
of the nobles looked concerned, others shocked at his abrupt dismissal of the
emperor’s demise, but Tessifus merely nodded respectfully and took a short step
forward.

“Milord,
we request that you implement martial law immediately.  This uprising must be
put down by force.”

“The
incidents of last night were isolated and have been contained, cousin.  Martial
law is not necessary and would only escalate the unrest.”

 
“Witnesses say that the violence originated at the Imperial Plaza.  The
perpetrators were shouting ‘Down with the nobles,’ and ‘Justice for all’.  They
seem to be referring to your…um…speech.”

“You
think that
I
incited these acts of violence?” Arbuckle asked
incredulously.

“Not
deliberately, milord, but it’s rumored that you suggested equality between
nobles and commoners.”  Tessifus glowered.  “How can that
be
?”

Arbuckle
leaned forward.  “Equal
justice
, cousin.  The law must apply to everyone
alike or you risk rebellion.  Not a single kingdom or empire that ruled through
oppression and fear has survived.  Revolt is inevitable.  An empire is built not
only on the blood and sweat of the common people, but on their loyalty. 
Loyalty can’t be beaten into them with a lash, it must be encouraged with hope,
and peace, and
justice
.  My ancestors knew that, all the way down to my
father’s father.  It was Tynean Tsing II who perverted the relationship between
commoner and noble.  I intend to rectify that!”

“You
suggest that we kowtow to the unwashed mobs of the Downwind Quarter?” Tessifus
asked incredulously.  The nobles flanking him looked disgusted.  “Perhaps hand
over the treasury so that a charwoman can dress in silk and satin?”

“Of
course
not.”  Arbuckle clenched his teeth at the sarcastic question. 
“But the same charwoman should not be flogged for dropping a lump of coal on a
noble’s carpet.”

“Milord
Prince, our
safety
is at risk!”  Count Vetres lurched forward, his jowls
jiggling with the emotion of his outburst.  “All it takes is a single commoner
with a torch and a skin of oil to set a fire.  There are nearly a quarter of a
million
of them in this city.  We must have martial law!”

“Force
is not the answer, Count Vetres.”  Arbuckle compelled his voice to remain
calm.  “Our resident forces include twenty-thousand constables, knights,
squires, imperial guards, and soldiers within the walls of the city.  Another
ten thousand may be summoned within the span of a few days.  They will be used
only
to maintain order and round up troublemakers, not to institute widespread
oppression.”

“Pardon
me, Milord Prince.” Duchess Vainbridge stepped forward, a lace handkerchief
pressed to her powdered brow.  “Is there a shortage of
rope
in the
empire that we cannot hang the perpetrators of this violence?”

“That’s
right, put the rabble down!” another noble demanded.

“Stick
a few heads on pikes, and the rest will fall in line!”

“I’ll
secure my own safety with hired guards!”

“That
kind of thinking is what
put
us in this situation!”  Standing, Arbuckle
spread his hands for calm.  “Lords and ladies, we have control of this
situation.  Treating disgruntled people like rabid animals is
not
the
answer.  Of course you have the right to hire whatever security you deem
necessary, but the common folk must have rights, too.  I will not condone acts
of brutality.  They deserve the right to fair judgment and freedom from summary
abuse.”

Vetres
huffed, “Rights?  How can I maintain discipline among my servants if I have to
consider their rights?”

“By
treating them like human beings, not animals!”  Arbuckle sat back down, trying
to forcibly slow his pounding heart.  “If I had you flogged daily for
impudence, how would
you
react?”

Vetres
turned red.

Arbuckle
held up a hand to stave off any further protests, and looked gravely at the
assemblage.  “My father ruled through fear and oppression.  I will not.  I will
rule through justice for
everyone
.  The empire is mine to govern, and I
will change the laws that have brought us to the brink of rebellion.” 

The
nobles stared at him as if he’d said the sky was falling.  Arbuckle saw fear in
the eyes of some, anger in many more, but there were a few who looked hopeful,
and the crown prince dared to imagine that some shared his beliefs.

“Actually,
Milord Prince, with all due respect…you can’t.”  Chief Magistrate Graving
stepped forward, his long black robes rustling.  A confident smile crooked his
lips, but his sharp blue eyes shone cold.  “At least, not until you’re
emperor.  As crown prince, you have no power to institute new laws or dispel
existing laws without the support of two-thirds of the senior nobles within the
walls of the city.”  Graving swept his arm to indicate the attending nobles.

Arbuckle
sat stunned for a moment, struggling to keep his temper in check. 
Is that
right
?  He tried to remember the law—never his favorite subject—and
failed.  Graving undoubtedly knew the law to the letter.  A glance at the
nobles’ smug smiles told him he would never get the support he needed from
them.  He hadn’t thought this through before announcing his intentions.  His
negligence was now coming back to smite him.

He
could think of only one rebuttal.  “I
will
be emperor of this realm.”

“I
know
that, Milord Prince, but until you are, the laws must be upheld and enforced as
they‘re written.  Simply telling the commoners that they suddenly have rights
doesn’t make it so.  Nobles may still discipline their servants as they see
fit, and exact retribution from any commoner for impugnment as was decreed by
your father.  It is the
law
.”

“The
law will change,” Arbuckle fumed.

“Not
yet
, I’m afraid, Milord Prince.”  Graving folded his thick arms over his
thicker torso.

If
I could wring a concession from him
... 
Arbuckle swallowed his pride.  “Of course you’re right, Chief Magistrate
Graving, but our current situation is dire.  I
cannot
renege upon my
pledge to the commoners.  The result would be disastrous.  Until my coronation,
if you and the other magistrates would take into account that circumstances
will
change, and compensate in your judgements…”

The
chief magistrate was already shaking his head.  “Milord Prince, how would it
look if we, the magistrates charged with
upholding
the law, bypassed its
tenets in favor of one noble’s whim.  I’m afraid that, for the time being,
things
must
remain as they are.”

Arbuckle
managed a tight smile as he rose to his feet.  “We will speak of this again,
Chief Magistrate Graving.”

“As
your lordship commands.”  Graving bowed formally, and smiles spread through the
crowd of nobles.

Arbuckle
had been outmaneuvered in his first battle for a more-just empire.  Despondent,
he returned to his sitting room.  Pushing aside the paperwork that awaited him,
he went to his bookshelf and searched the titles for those he needed.

“Milord
Prince, may I be of assistance?”

Arbuckle
turned to see Tennison standing with his appointment book.  “What’s my schedule
for today?  I need to study.”

“You
have several hours free, milord.”  He tapped the book in his arms.  “More if
you wish it.”

“Good. 
I need several volumes from the library.  Books detailing every statute my
father instituted, interregnal jurisprudence, anything you can think of.

“I’ll
summon the palace librarian, milord.”  Tennison left, and Arbuckle got to work.

Two
hours later, with a pile of open volumes covering his desk and a sheaf of
notes, the crown prince felt like he was drowning in quicksand. 
I tipped my
hand before I knew all the cards
… 
They’re going to force me to renege,
and the commoners will revolt
. 
I’ll be forced to institute martial law
and call in the military…just as they want me to do.