Mya jerked up her shoulder, wrenching her right hand through the iron restraint. Bones cracked and blood flooded over her fingers, but her hand came free. She snatched Kittal’s wrist clumsily with a disjointed thumb and squeezed hard. Beneath her fingers, a bone snapped.
Kittal screamed, and the skin-peeling device clattered to the floor.
Lakshmi stumbled back as Mya wrenched her other hand free. Jerking Kittal closer, she strained to reach his throat with her left hand, but an iron band still pinned her upper arm to the slab. Her bloody fingers only stretched far enough to grasp the lapel of his coat. She yanked it hard.
“Dose her! Now!” Kittal screeched, flailing at her as Alchemists scrambled to their master’s aid.
Releasing Kittal’s wrist, Mya reached for his throat. Her thumb popped back into joint, giving her a proper grip. A damp cloth came down on her face, but she held her breath. She grabbed onto something and squeezed. Bone crunched under her fingers, but Kittal’s scream told her it wasn’t his neck. She released her grip and reached again.
Something punched into Mya’s leg, and her senses reeled. She gasped, inhaling the acrid fumes of the cloth over her face. Mya fought to stay conscious as her grip turned to water. Feebly she flailed, trying to reach Kittal, anything to keep him from using that vile device to strip away her skin.
The shouts and screams faded as the drugs overwhelmed her and darkness engulfed her mind. Mya wondered if she would ever wake again, and thought that perhaps it would be better if she didn’t.
The imperial guards at the palace gates were surprised to see Dee again so soon, but ushered his carriage on to the inner courtyard nonetheless.
So far, so good.
The driver steered around the outer court to the small postern door where he and Mya had previously been admitted. Dee stepped out and found himself facing a scowling lieutenant he recognized from his previous visit. Ithross had taken Dee’s rudeness as an affront to the crown, and apparently his officers shared that opinion.
“You’ll have to wait for the captain.” Her voice wasn’t exactly belligerent, but it wasn’t friendly either.
“It’s urgent,” Dee said, but he could see by her expression that his urgency didn’t equate to theirs.
“The captain’s been summoned.”
Dee nodded and stood as still as he could. Showing impatience would only make this harder. Finally Ithross arrived, flanked by a brace of guards. The captain’s hard expression made the lieutenant’s seem welcoming.
Time to eat crow, Dee.
Dee bowed respectfully. “Captain Ithross, I—”
“What do you want?”
Dee swallowed hard. “Other than to apologize for my previous outburst, sir, I’ve come to request the emperor’s help in finding Miss Moirin.”
“Really?” The captain’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought we’d done enough already.”
Dee took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m afraid I was overwrought earlier. You must understand that Miss Moirin is very important to me, as I believe she is to the emperor.”
“The emperor is busy. You can’t expect the sovereign of Tsing to jump every time you have a request.”
“I don’t. In fact, there’s no need to disturb His Majesty at all. I need to speak with Master Keyfur. May I…please?”
For a long moment, Dee wondered if Ithross would refuse out of hand, but the man’s professionalism finally won out over his temper. “Come ahead then. I’ll see if Master Keyfur’s available and if he’ll see you. You’ll have to wait.”
“Thank you, Captain. Please tell Master Keyfur that Miss Moirin’s life hangs in the balance.”
Ithross deposited Dee in a small waiting room, stationed two guards to watch him, and stalked off.
Dee waited, worrying and cursing his previous behavior. One didn’t spout off to an emperor without repercussions.
The door opened and Keyfur strode in, robes swirling, feather bobbing behind his ear, a worried expression on his face.
“Master Dee! The captain said it was urgent, that something’s happened to Miss Moirin.” His frown deepened as he extended a hand. “I hope nothing dire.”
Dee shook the hand. “I’m afraid so, sir. She’s been kidnapped. I need your help to—”
“Please, Master Dee.” Keyfur glanced at the guards. “Let’s discuss this in the privacy of my quarters.”
“Oh. Of course.”
Dee followed Keyfur through the palace on a long and winding path, escorted by imperial guards. Ithross hadn’t reappeared, but he had no doubt that the captain would be summoned—and furious—if Dee stepped one inch out of line.
Keyfur finally stopped before a door like any one of the hundreds they’d already passed and pressed a hand to its center, ignoring the latch. The door opened without even a click.
“Please, please, come in.” Keyfur ushering Dee through, then held up a hand to the guards. “Wait here.”
At first glance, the large chamber resembled the parlor of a rich, eccentric packrat. Attractive paintings adorning the walls, an ornately woven carpet underfoot, a plush chair near a low table, and myriad shelves and bookcases crowded with all kinds of tombs and knickknacks. Then he took a step forward, and it all went…weird.
Dee caught movement from the corner of his eye. A chair that had been in the corner now stood at the table alongside the other one. A nearby painting of a colorful garden of flowers changed to a seascape before his eyes. The door seemed much farther away than it should be, and he had the strangest dread that it would vanish entirely. He took another step, and the intricate pattern on the carpet writhed and shifted.
Just like Mya’s tattoos.
“What is all this stuff?”
Keyfur gazed around the apartment. “Aside from my own things, I’m not sure. I recently inherited all kinds of enchanted doo-dads from my late colleagues—wizards do love their toys—but I haven’t had a chance to figure them out yet. I’ve been too busy learning to do all the work that used to be split up amongst all the members of the Imperial Retinue. But come, have a seat and a cup of blackbrew. You look positively done in, and we can’t have you fainting dead away.”
Dee crept over to the proffered seat carefully, afraid that he might sink into the carpet and disappear. Sitting, he nearly leapt up as the chair adjusted to accommodate the contours of his backside.
The wizard sat opposite him and poured a cup of blackbrew from a silver service that Dee would have sworn had not been on the table a moment ago. He passed a fine porcelain cup over.
“Thank you.” He sipped the blackbrew. It was delicious. “It’s been a long night.”
“So I understand.” Keyfur waved to a silver plate of sugared dainties. “Pastry?”
Mya loved pastries… Dee’s stomach clenched as he realized that he’d thought of her in the past tense—She loves pastries! He shook his head. “No, thank you.”
“Well then, what can I do to help you find Miss Moirin?”
Dee decided to be straightforward. “The only person I know capable of tracking her down is in Twailin. Can you magically transport me to Twailin, then bring us both back?”
Keyfur looked bewildered. “No, I can’t. Why would you think I could?”
“W…w…why not?” Dee felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “You’re the emperor’s wizard! Hoseph can travel magically. I’ve seen him do it! I’ve even heard of an alchemist who can do it by drinking a potion.”
“Really? A potion? Let me make a note to look into that.” Keyfur twiddled his finger in the air as if writing, and a pen across the room scratched on a sheet of parchment. “Unfortunately, High Priest Hoseph’s abilities are divine in origin, while mine are arcane. Very different magics. The former archmage, Master Duveau, could travel instantly by passing through stone, and I’ve heard of others who can do so through living wood, and even a few who can create a rift in… But never mind. Suffice to say that I haven’t that skill. Wizards tend to be specialized. My speci
alty is the manipulation of air, light, color, and, to a lesser extent, charms over the human mind.”
“Damn it!” Dee resisted the impulse to throw his cup of blackbrew against the wall, and carefully put it down on the table. “If we don’t find Moirin soon, they’ll kill her. We need this man to help us, but we can’t wait the month it would take to send a message and get him back here. Isn’t there anything you can do?”
“Wait a minute.” Keyfur snapped his fingers. “Twailin…Twailin…Woefler!”
“Woefler?”
“Master Woefler, Duke Mir’s wizard. He can travel magically.”
Dee heart leapt into this throat, then just as quickly sank back into this stomach. “But it would still take at least a week to get word to him.”
“Oh, no, that’s easy!” Keyfur bounced to his feet and strode to a golden lectern set with a scroll mounted vertically on two spindles. Pulling a quill pen from the inkwell beside the scroll, he waved it at Dee. “This is highly secret, Master Dee. You won’t remember my use of it once you’ve left here.”
“I won’t?”
“No, you won’t.”
“You’re going to cast a spell on me?” Dee jumped up from his chair.
“I already have.” Keyfur shrugged. “Don’t worry, it’s very limited in scope, but absolutely necessary.”
It’s for Mya… “All right.” Dee joined the wizard at the lectern, studiously averting his eyes from the writhing carpet.
“With this, I can send a message to Master Woefler instantly.” Keyfur turned back to the scroll. “Just give me the name and address of this person you need, and Woefler can fetch him for us.”
“Ah, that might be a problem.” Woefler showing up at the Tap and Kettle and demanding that Lad come with him sounded like a great way to kill a wizard.
“Why?” Keyfur looked perplexed. “I’m sure Duke Mir will give his full cooperation. If he sends his royal guards to…”
Dee shook his head; guards would be even worse. This isn’t working out the way I expected. "This man is very particular about his privacy. I have to meet with him personally. Do you think Master Woefler could travel here to bring me to Twailin?”
“We can ask.” Keyfur began writing on the scroll. Though he dipped the quill in the pot as if to capture ink, no words appeared on the parchment. This lack didn’t seem to perturb the wizard, and he kept writing. “I’ll simply tell Woefler that a service for the emperor requires him to come here immediately. When he arrives, we can discuss your needs.”
“Thank you, Master Keyfur.” Dee watched as Keyfur finished the message and turned the spindles on the podium. “Now what?”
“Now we wait. My message will appear on Woefler’s scroll, and his return message will appear right here.”
The two men stood and watched the scroll.
Dee peered closely at the parchment, but it stayed blank. “It’s instantaneous, you say?”
“Yes. As soon as the words were written here, they appeared on his scroll.”
They watched some more.
“Of course,” Keyfur shifted uncomfortably, “if Woefler isn’t there to get the message…”
Dee groaned in frustration.
“Not to worry!” Keyfur said brightly. “I know he’s in the palace; I conversed with him just yesterday. I’ll send you a note as soon as I receive his reply. Where can I reach you?”
Dee was as likely to provide the location of Clemson’s new headquarters as he was Lad’s address. “Send a message to the Little Ditty Bakeshop on Wester Street in the Dreggars Quarter. They’ll make sure I get it. Anytime, day or night. I’ll come immediately.”
“Consider it done.” Keyfur waved Dee to the door. “Anything else?”
“Nothing I can think of right now.”
“Well, don’t hesitate to ask.” The door opened of its own accord, and the wizard ushered Dee out. “We’ll do our best to help you, Master Dee. We owe Miss Moirin so very much.”
“Thank you.”
En route to Clemson’s headquarters, Dee tried closing his eyes, but could find no peace. Images of Mya struggling against the tangling vines plagued him.
I’ve got to do something!
Dee wondered how long he’d have to wait for Keyfur’s summons. He blinked and shook his head against a little wave of dizziness. Strange, but he couldn’t remember how Keyfur was contacting Mir’s wizard. Well, it didn’t really matter how he did it, as long as Woefler got here soon.
Dee laid his head back and closed his eyes again. His mind now whirled with visions of the carpet in Keyfur’s quarters, how it writhed with magic.
If only it was a flying carpet, he thought as he fell toward sleep, I could fly off to Twailin to fetch Lad myself.
Chapter XXI
Blood.
Of all the odors in the world, that was not the one Mya wanted to wake to. She wondered if she’d dreamed it, some dark nightmare… Then she opened her eyes and reality made her nightmares pale in comparison.
My blood.
Kittal stood beside her slab with the skin-peeling device in hand. Blood dripped from the blades, and a roll of excised skin spiraled around the spiked spindle.
My skin. Nausea swelled in her throat.
“Perfect!” Kittal smiled. “Berta, bring the jar.”
“Yes, Master.” Berta—an older woman with a somber expression and hair bound in a severe braid—held a fluid-filled jar with a wide neck beneath the raw skin. A drop of blood plopped into the clear solution, tinting it the palest pink.
“Steady now.” Kittal unwound the crank, unraveling the strip of flesh.
Without warning, the dangling skin twitched. Berta gasped, sloshing the liquid in the jar.
“Careful!” Kittal snapped. “Kelsey, bring tongs!”
Another Alchemist used a pair of long-handled tongs to guide the wriggling skin into the liquid. As it immersed, the runes glowed the color of hot embers.
“A positive reaction to the concoction. Excellent!” Kittal lay the peeling device aside. “The runes remain potent.”
The Alchemists gathered around the table to see. Mya had the best view, whether she wanted it or not.
The skin had taken on a life of its own, writhing like an eel in the fluid-filled jar. The runic tattoos had always shifted and moved. Now they seemed to be straining to escape their prison of disembodied flesh.
Trying to come back to me… Mya swallowed hard and dismissed the fanciful thought. They weren’t alive, couldn’t think.
“Now we see if the graft will take.” Kittal turned toward another long table. “Tieg, keep an eye on her breathing and pulse. If either quickens, apply the cloth for a single breath. Kelsey, you take the jar, and don’t drop it! Berta, you’ve got the steadiest hands; you’ll assist with the sutures. Now, let’s get to it.”
Before the Alchemists closed in around the other table, Mya glimpsed Lakshmi laying there, her eyes closed in what must have been a drug-induced sleep. She was covered in a sheet except for her left leg, which had been relieved of a strip of flesh along the thigh.
Kittal hunched over the Master Inquisitor. “Kelsey, the graft.”
The young man reached into the jar with the forceps. It took him several tries to grasp one end of the squirming ribbon of flesh, but he eventually got a grip and lifted it out. Mya couldn’t see the operation, but she could hear readily enough.
“Ah, lay it right here. Clamp it down there. Good. Now, pass me the catgut.”
“Did you know they would move like this?” Berta asked, her voice uneasy.
“No,” Kittal admitted. “Their motility is astonishing, isn’t it?”
With her head turned as far as she could, Mya watched the Alchemists work, her thoughts deep and dark. My skin… My runes…
She had once thought to forgive Lakshmi and Kittal’s transgressions in favor of guild unity, but now… Though she might forgive an assassin for trying to kill her on the orders of their superior, these two were working of their own acc
ord, and their actions were beyond redemption. They’d crossed the line. This wasn’t war any longer; it was personal. She’d kill them for violating her like this.
But first I’ve got to get free.
Mya tested her bonds once again, but while she was asleep, her captors had moved the wrist band up to her forearm, so there would be no more pulling free. If she couldn’t rely on sheer strength, she’d have to devise an alternative plan. No matter how hard she considered, however, she came up blank.
“There! That’s the last stitch. Unguent, Felan.”
The junior Alchemist uncapped a large jar and passed it to Kittal. A moment later, a musky reek touched Mya’s nostrils. Along with the scents of blood and antiseptic, it made her want to retch.
Kittal called for bandages and pins next, and they wrapped Lakshmi’s leg. Finally he sighed and stepped back from the table.
“Berta, clean up. Felan, Tieg, take Lakshmi to her quarters. She’s to stay abed until morning. I’ll check to see how the graft is healing then. Stay with her until she comes around, then bring her a meal; she’ll need the energy.”
“Yes, Master.” The two young men transferred the Master Inquisitor to a stretcher and carried her from the room.
“What is it with you and Lakshmi?” Mya had talked her way in and out of situations for years before she had the physical enhancements granted by her tattoos. Now, she had nothing to lose by trying.
The Master Alchemist glanced over at Mya, pushing the glasses up on his nose with a bloody finger. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Dismissal wasn’t about to stop Mya. “Try me.”
Ignoring her, he began laving his hands in a shallow basin.
“What kind of hold does she have on you to make you betray your guild?”
Kittal dried his hands in silence, then turned his back on her to fiddle with something on another table.
Weapon of Pain (Weapon of Flesh Series Book 5) Page 30
