Weapon of Pain (Weapon of Flesh Series Book 5)

by Chris A. Jackson

  Mya lifted the boy onto the seat where he curled up and promptly started snoring softly.

  “Well! That went just about as well as it could have, don’t you think?”

  “You’re still bleeding.” Dee pointed at the crossbow bolt sticking through her calf.

  “I’d forgotten about that. Thanks.” Mya snapped the bolt off and jerked it out. The wound closed in moments. Remembering the second bolt she took, she inspected the bloody hole in in her jacket. “I wish I hadn’t ruined this jacket. I kind of like it.”

  “I wish you weren’t so reckless.” Dee’s scowl vied with relief on his face.

  “Good thing I was.” She gestured to the sleeping boy. “They were going to kill him. Five more seconds and we’d be bringing his corpse to the palace.”

  “I guess you’re right.” Dee breathed deep, clenching and unclenching his hands to still their trembling.

  Nerves. Mya smiled and nudged his knee. “You did well, Dee. The practice paid off.”

  He snorted a short laugh. “Nice to know I’m useful somewhere besides between the sheets!” He clenched his hands again.

  Dee’s sharp tone caught Mya off guard. She examined him, partly concerned, partly confused. Nerves…it’s just nerves. “You’re useful lots of places, Dee. Just relax. It’s over.”

  “No, it’s not.” Dee flung a hand toward the boy. “He was the easy one. They’ll be ready for us next time, and we don’t even know where to look.”

  Mya leaned back, trying to relax and keep her attention focused while her pounding heart slowed. “True, but one is better than none.”

  Chapter XII

  A frantic knock on the library door snapped Arbuckle’s attention from his work. The insightful phrase he’d been crafting scattered like ashes on a breeze.

  “Damn it, Tennison. I thought we were not to be disturbed!” He threw himself back in his chair and gazed sullenly at his beleaguered secretary. Dozens of books and hundreds of sheets of parchment littered the table between them, testimony to their efforts to craft the perfect document, his nascent New Accords.

  “I’m sorry, Majesty.” Tennison frowned at the door and put down the book he’d been reading. “I told the guards to allow no interruptions unless there was an emergency.”

  “An emergency…” Arbuckle looked to the door, a thousand scenarios of disaster trundling through his mind.

  Another knock, even more insistent, and the two imperial guards stationed there looked uncertain. They would not open the door without permission, of course, but they knew, as Arbuckle did, that the guards outside would not have allowed anyone to knock if it wasn’t a matter of dire import.

  Arbuckle swallowed his trepidation and waved a hand. “See what it is.”

  Truth be told, the interruption was not wholly unwelcome. He and Tennison had been working nearly without stop for days, postponing appointments, audiences, and social events alike. They’d made good progress, but the deeper they delved into matters of law, the more the emperor wished he had been born a commoner. Arbuckle’s eyes felt like they’d been rolled in sand, and his back ached from sitting hunched over pen and parchment for untold hours.

  The guards opened the door to admit a harried Captain Ithross, his face sheened with sweat.

  “Your Majesty!” The captain bowed low, heaving breath. “Forgive the interruption, but a…uh…your hunting expedition has bagged a prize.”

  “My hunting expedition?” Arbuckle’s mind stumbled, still befuddled with a thousand details of imperial law. “What are you…”

  “Yes, Majesty!” Ithross glanced significantly over his shoulder at the guards. “The young miss you contracted has arrived with…something you need to see.”

  The “young miss” could only mean Miss Moirin.

  “She recovered…” Arbuckle caught himself, realizing why Ithross was being cagy. The guards assigned to the door were not of the trusted few privy to the details of the kidnappings. “…what We wished her to find?”

  “One of them, Majesty. The…um…quarry is out of sorts, but undamaged.”

  “Well, We should like to see this!” Arbuckle stood stiffly. Tennison lurched to his feet, but the emperor raised a forestalling hand. “Stay here, Tennison. We’ve got many more hours of work yet tonight. You needn’t come along.”

  “Thank you, Majesty.” The secretary sat down and picked up the tome he had been reading.

  “Lead on, Captain!” The emperor strode toward the door, his guards closing in to surround him and the captain in a protective cocoon of steel. “Ithross, have you notified the…other concerned person of this development?”

  “I sent a horse messenger the moment the parcel arrived.” In response to Arbuckle’s raised eyebrows—an imperial horse messenger clattering through the Heights District to Duke Tessifus’ mansion would not go unnoticed—the captain smiled reassuringly. “A trusted messenger, Majesty.”

  “Very good, Captain.” He had to trust Ithross to be discreet. If anyone in the palace was more paranoid than Arbuckle, it was the captain. “And the young miss? Is she here as well? We would very much like to thank her.”

  “Yes, Majesty. I thought it prudent to keep her under guard for now, at least until we confirm the…authenticity of the catch.”

  Arbuckle raised his eyebrows in admiration. He hadn’t considered that the boy Moirin recovered might not be the right one. For all they knew, this could be some elaborate ruse to get an infiltrator into the palace. There was, after all, a conspiracy to assassinate him.

  They wound through several corridors to a little-used audience chamber. Half a dozen guards stiffened to attention as the imperial entourage came into sight, shifting to clear the way to the door. Ithross paused and knocked.

  A guard lieutenant answered, glancing over her shoulder before stepping out and closing the door behind her. “All is secure, sir. All of the…delivery persons have been searched and sequestered in the adjoining chamber under guard. Master Corvecosi is attending the package.”

  “Good. You, you, and you,” Ithross pointed at several of the emperor’s guards, ones who were not privy to the operation to recover the Tessifus boys, “back to the barracks.”

  “Sir!” The squad hurried off without question. They had to know something secret was afoot, but they were well trained and followed their orders without question or comment.

  “I’ll await the package’s owner at the gate, Majesty, just to make sure he’s brought in quietly.”

  “Good thinking, Captain.” Ithross was definitely on top of the situation. “Carry on.”

  As Ithross bowed and hurried off, the lieutenant gestured to the door. “Please follow me, Majesty.” She opened the door and ushered him through.

  Subdued lamplight and tightly drawn curtains seemed incongruous for this late hour of the day, but Arbuckle took it as another sign of the captain’s attention to security. Though the room was on the second floor, Ithross was taking no chance that a passing gardener or footman might glimpse what was happening through the windows.

  Master Corvecosi knelt beside a cot. Atop the white linen sheet a boy lay still…too still. Arbuckle’s heart quickened as he hurried over, his guards close around him. “How is he, Master Corvecosi?”

  “Alive, reasonably well, and drugged senseless, Majesty.” The healer placed a hand briefly on the boy’s sweaty brow, then stood and bowed to his liege. “He’ll wake in time, probably with an addiction to opium.”

  “Opium? Why would anyone give opium to a child?”

  Corvecosi shook his head, his dark features cast in an unusual scowl of disapproval. “Apparently to keep him quiet, Majesty.”

  “Well, he’s alive anyway. Do whatever you can for him.”

  “Of course, Majesty.”

  “Well…” Arbuckle stepped back and sought out the guard lieutenant, a taut young woman with short-cropped hair and piercing eyes. “We’ll have to wait for the duke to arrive, so We might as well have a chat with—”

  A k
nock at the door interrupted him. At Arbuckle’s nod, the lieutenant opened it.

  Ithross stepped in. “Duke Tessifus, Majesty.” He stepped aside to avoid being bowled over by the distraught duke hot on his heels.

  The duke rushed across the chamber, a hoarse cry tearing from his throat. The guards tensed, but stood down at Arbuckle’s gesture. Tessifus ignored everyone except the boy lying on the cot.

  “Wexford!” He fell to his knees beside the cot and clutched his son’s limp hand. “Wex! Speak, lad. It’s your father.”

  “We suppose that confirms the boy’s identity,” Arbuckle whispered wryly to Ithross. “How in all creation did he get here so quickly?”

  “The duke dragged my messenger bodily from the saddle and stole his horse, Majesty.” Ithross grinned ruefully. “He about got shot from the saddle when he refused to stop at the gate, but the guards recognized both him and the horse in time.”

  “Well!” Arbuckle looked to the duke with new respect.

  “What’s wrong? Why is he—” Tessifus looked around for the first time, his eyes focusing on Master Corvecosi.

  “He’s been drugged, milord, but he’ll be fine.” Corvecosi’s customary smile and soft manner reassured the distraught lord. “Time and love will bring him back.”

  “Oh, thank the gods!” The duke turned back to his son, but Arbuckle took the moment to interject.

  “Milord Duke, We must speak with you for just a moment. Your son is well, and this can’t wait.”

  “Majesty!” Tessifus lurched to his feet and bowed deeply. “Forgive me. How…who managed to rescue my boy? What about my other two sons?”

  “We can’t divulge anything yet, cousin, but rest assured that We have exquisitely competent people on this. Now, we’ve discussed this situation with Captain Ithross and decided that, for safety reasons, you and your entire family will move into the palace.”

  “But, Majesty,” the duke spoke hesitantly, “we have bodyguards and security, and—”

  “Not good enough, apparently.” Arbuckle swept the objection away with an imperial wave. “Captain Ithross, please explain the issue to the duke.”

  “Yes, Majesty. Duke Tessifus, you must understand that, though one of your sons is now safe, knowledge of his rescue could actually imperil the lives of his brothers. If word of the rescue gets out, the perpetrators may suspect that we know who they are, and they might do away with the…evidence.”

  “Do away with…” Tessifus swallowed and glanced nervously at his son.

  Arbuckle nodded. “Therefore, to keep this matter utterly secret, you and your family will move into the palace. You’ll stay until your two other sons have been rescued and the guilty brought to justice.”

  “But, Majesty, I—”

  “The issue is decided, cousin. Like it or not, you are the next in line for the throne. It will give Us peace of mind to know that you’re safe from undue influence should…something happen to Us.”

  “But the rumors…”

  “Leave that to Us.” Arbuckle grinned deviously, pleased with the scheme he had concocted. “Word will be leaked that We have tired of your relentless opposition to Our New Accords and decided to consult with you in their creation. Being an impatient man, We want you readily available, insisting that you and your family move into the palace. Let them spread rumors that We’re pressuring you into compliance. As long as the truth doesn’t get out, your sons have a chance of survival.”

  Tessifus looked aghast. “Majesty, you’ve done so much for me already. How can I…”

  “Cousin,” Arbuckle said quietly, placing a hand on Tessifus’ arm, “this isn’t about you or even me. It’s about the future of the empire.” He gestured to the unconscious boy. “If we both die, he will take the throne. It’s the empire that must survive. Right now that means you and your family must remain safe. That means here where We can protect you.”

  Finally Tessifus smiled—a weary, overwrought smile, but a smile nonetheless. “As you wish, Majesty. I’ll send a message to have our household moved to the palace. I daresay the duchess will be beside herself, at least until she sees Wex. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Thank Us by keeping this a secret, cousin.” Arbuckle fixed him with a level stare. “More lives than ours depend on it.”

  “I will, Majesty.”

  Tessifus bowed and turned back to his son. Arbuckle nodded to Corvecosi, confident that the healer would take care of the boy. He turned to Ithross and clapped the man on the shoulder, enjoying the startlement on the captain’s face.

  “Well done, Captain!”

  “I did little, Majesty,” he deferred, gesturing to the chamber’s other door. “Shall we thank the people who did?”

  “By all means.” Arbuckle strode for the door, eager to congratulate Miss Moirin on her success. When the captain opened the door and ushered him through, however, he stopped in puzzlement.

  Several imperial guards stood around two young men dressed in frilly finery. One of the men was tall and dark, his pants and lacy shirt bright and finely tailored, though he wore no jacket. The second young man was shorter and fair, his blonde hair intricately curled. Blood stained the sleeve of his brocade jacket and one pant leg.

  “Majesty,” the smaller man said, elbowing his companion.

  The taller fellow bowed stiffly, but the blond fellow curtsied with feminine grace.

  The emperor started in sudden recognition. “Miss Moirin! We didn’t recognize you.”

  She smiled briefly. “Pardon the disguise; a necessary affectation to secure the young lord’s safety and my anonymity.” She gestured to her companion. “This is my assistant, Dee. He helped me recover the boy.”

  “You have Our gratitude. Both of you.” Arbuckle approached and extended a hand, aware of Ithross shifting nervously at his shoulder. He shook Moirin’s hand with a smile, then her companion’s. The fellow looked discomforted by the emperor’s familiarity. “The duke has been reunited with his son, but young Wexford is still all but unconscious. We daresay that’s a boon, for he won’t be able to give a description of his rescuers, will he?”

  “Wexford?” Dee whispered to Moirin, just too loudly to be covert.

  Moirin smiled thinly and elbowed him to silence. “Yes, Majesty, that is a stroke of luck.”

  Arbuckle ignored the man’s comment. “Have you any notion of where the other two boys are being held?”

  “I know who’s holding them, but not where.” She looked grim. “Finding them and recovering them will be doubly difficult now that they know we’re onto their plot.”

  “If they don’t just cut and run,” Dee added, drawing a thumb across his throat. He endured a glare from Moirin.

  “Yes, We’ve been worried about that risk, but We don’t think they’ll resort to such a drastic measure.” Arbuckle had been thinking about that a lot lately. “As long as they hold the boys, they still hold power over Duke Tessifus. And he is still the heir to the throne if they manage to kill Us. They won’t destroy their only advantage.”

  “I agree,” Moirin said.

  “So, you say you know who is behind this plot, besides Hoseph, of course?” Arbuckle considered the conspirators listed in the anonymous note. Are they truly guilty?

  “Yes, but I can’t say, I’m afraid.”

  “We understand. We’ll trust you to proceed, then. Let Us reiterate, if there’s anything you need to help find the boys—money, manpower, whatever We might be able to provide—you need but ask.”

  “Well, now that you—” A sharp elbow silenced Dee.

  She shook her head. “Thank you, Majesty, but we have everything we need for now. I’ll accept payment when the job is done and all three boys are returned.”

  “Of course.” Arbuckle hadn’t thought that his admiration for this young woman could increase, but her obvious commitment to rescuing the boys warmed his heart. The emperor gestured to her bloody sleeve. “At least let Our Imperial Healer tend to the wounds you received in the cour
se of your service to the empire.”

  Unease flashed across Moirin’s features before she bent in another curtsy. “I’m fine, Majesty, thank you, but I’m afraid we must be off. The longer we stay here, the more likely it is that someone will recognize me and suspect something. It’ll be even more difficult to recover the other boys with the culprit aware that an effort is being made to rescue them. If someone starts spreading rumors that I’m involved, it’ll be near impossible.”

  “We understand.” Arbuckle waved Ithross forward. “Captain, please see Miss Moirin and Master Dee out of the palace with as much discretion as can be managed.”

  “Yes, Majesty. This way, Miss Moirin.”

  “Your Majesty.” Moirin curtsied again.

  “You have Our best wishes for your health and success, Miss Moirin. Don’t hesitate to contact Us at need.”

  “We won’t,” Dee said, despite the glare Moirin shot him.

  They followed Ithross out, surrounded by guards, and the door closed behind them. Arbuckle had no illusions that rescuing the remaining boys would go as well as this one had, but Moirin seemed undaunted. She continued to impress him with her cool professionalism.

  What a shame she refused to be Our bodyguard, he mused as he followed his escort up the stairs. Such a capable woman watching over him would give him peace of mind. Eventually, he would take an empress and sire his own heirs, but before that happened, he would have to make sure he, and they, would be safe. But how?

  A remembrance of Miss Moirin in his arms as they danced during the coronation reception flashed into Arbuckle’s mind. She’d been a little unpracticed in the social graces, or perhaps nervous enough to make her seem so, but she’d been a more amiable partner than any of the nobles’ flighty daughters who’d been forced on him. What he truly needed was a woman like Moirin for his empress: capable, forthright, and dauntless. And woe to anyone who even considered harming her children.

  Arbuckle paused at the top of the stairs as the thought struck him. What an empress she would make! He smiled at the notion. She was, of course, a commoner, and the nobility would throw a fit, but it wasn’t unheard of for a commoner to be bequeathed noble status for service to the empire. If Moirin recovered all of Tessifus’ sons, a title might be an apt reward. Then…