“Well, I’ll be damned.” Jingles increased his pace as he rounded a corner. If he got back to the South Docks District quickly, he might even get supper tonight.
“So, we’ve decided to leave.” Wiggen clutched Lad’s hand and blinked back the tears as they faced the shocked faces of her family. Keeping the secret of their decision from her family all day had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done. Lad had come home early, but they had been busy with the dinner rush, and she’d had to wait even longer. Now, after stammering through a recitation of the events that had led to their decision, it seemed that everyone felt as badly as she did. Tears trickled down Josie’s cheeks, and Forbish frowned so hard that his first chin receded into his second. Tika and Ponce were more vocal in their disapproval.
“You can’t leave, Lad!”
“You’re not done training us yet!”
“You promise to teach us that trick with the dagger!”
“Where will you go?”
“How will you live?”
“Hush, you two!” Josie sniffed and glared at the twins. “You’ll wake the guests. And weren’t you listening? They can’t tell us where they’re going. It’d be too dangerous, for them and us.”
“Josie’s right, I’m afraid.” Lad gave the twins an encouraging smile. “We’re not leaving quite yet. I can show you the dagger trick.”
“Why delay?” Forbish asked, taking Josie’s hand in his and giving it a comforting pat. “If there’s danger, why not leave right now?”
Wiggen glanced at Lad. He’d been oddly reticent when he’d told her that they couldn’t leave immediately. He had to help Mya get settled with new bodyguards, he’d claimed, but…there was something he wasn’t saying. Usually so forthcoming, Lad had avoided her eyes, and several times she had turned to find him staring at her with a disconcerting expression. It’s something to do with Mya, she thought, suspicious as always of the woman’s motives.
“Lad has some things to wrap up before we go, but it shouldn’t take long.” She gave them a smile that she hoped looked more confident than it felt. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine. We’ve saved every bit of money Lad’s earned over the last five years. We’ve got plenty to open an inn of our own somewhere.”
“Somewhere quiet, where Lissa can grow up safe.” Lad’s hopeful whisper eased her aching heart, and Wiggen squeezed his hand.
“But what about us?” Tika argued.
“Yeah. What are we going to do without you two?”
“We’ll be able to contact you eventually,” Wiggen promised. “Once things settle down, maybe in a year or so.”
“A year?”
“That’s forever!”
“Quiet, now. This is for the best.” Forbish released Josie’s hand and stepped forward to embrace his daughter. His thick arms felt good around her shoulders, comforting and safe. Wiggen wished such a simple thing could really make her safe, but she knew better.
“I’m sorry, Father.” She pressed her face into his shoulder, willing herself not to cry.
“Don’t be sorry, Wiggen. Just find someplace safe.”
If any safe place exists in this world. Wiggen wished desperately that there was another answer, but her heart belonged with Lad, and if he had to leave, then she and Lissa would leave with him. She just never thought that doing the right thing would make everyone she loved so miserable.
Chapter XVIII
So, you’ve got your assignments.” Mya checked the names of her four best senior journeymen off her list as she recapped their orders. “Kara, report to Neera at her estate in Barleycorn Heights. Simi, you’re going to the Docks District to help Youtrin. Vic, you’re with Patrice. I assume you know where her brothel is in West Crescent.” That got a chuckle. “And lastly, Pictor, you’ve got Horice. His townhouse is in Eastmarket, near the river, but he works out of that armory on Ironmonger Street.” She looked up at them. “And you all know what to look for.”
“Yes, Miss Mya.” Pictor was senior among them, and technically her second, though they had never gotten along very well. Ten years her senior, he obviously felt that he should be Master Hunter. He was good at his job, however, and loyal. “A thug with broken fingers on both hands, and anyone who’s expert with a blowgun and poison.”
“Right. Other than finding these two people, I don’t want you to poke your noses into the other masters’ business at all. You do as you’re told, when and how you’re told to do it. You all know your jobs. I’m relying on you to do them without having to come back to me for help, but if you or any of your people feel threatened, you let me know. Got it?”
“Yes, Miss Mya,” they answered.
“All right. Report to the other masters first thing in the morning, and give them my regards. Go.” She watched them file out. The loss of so many of her people, even temporarily, made her feel as exposed as a bug on a white tablecloth. Shaking off the uncomfortable sensation, she glared down at her empty blackbrew cup. She lifted the pot, but it was empty, too. “Gods, what time is it? Mika!”
The hulking door guard ducked in amidst the noise of the drinking and gaming patrons down the hall. “Yes, Miss?”
“How late is it?”
“Near midnight, I think, Miss.”
“Where the hells is Dee?”
“Dunno, Miss. Want me to get him?”
“Have Paxal fetch him. And have him bring me another pot of blackbrew as well.”
“Yes, Miss.”
The door closed, and Mya blinked her tired eyes before returning to the papers in front of her. She pored over her lists, checking off items and circling others. She’d been over everything three times already, but directing her energy toward work calmed her nerves. After her discussion with Lad, she had sent him home early, still so angry that she had to fight the urge to slap him for being such an idiot.
He kept the godsdamned ring. He kept it for himself!
They’d gone over the details of Lad’s stalkers, the assassination attempt, and the masters’ meeting. Lad had mentioned Norwood’s investigation, but Mya had managed to switch the subject. She knew Vonlith’s death wasn’t relevant to the rest of these baffling goings-on, and didn’t want Lad digging into it any further than he apparently already had.
Damn it, Mya! Why did you have to kill him? He already had your money, for the gods’ sake! He wasn’t going to brag to his cronies about how he’d tattooed the Master Hunter of the Assassins Guild with magical runes. But she knew why she had done it. The reason was the same one it had always been.
Fear.
Vonlith had given her the magic, and as he had when Lad fought Saliez, he could take it away. Though it had only been a temporary suspension of the runes’ powers, it had been enough to allow Lad to kill the Grandfather, and could be enough to allow someone to kill her. She would not tolerate anyone holding that kind of threat over her head.
The door opened without a knock. She knew instantly from the look on Paxal’s face that something was wrong.
“What?”
“We’ve got a problem, Miss.”
“With what?”
“Well, with Dee, but I think you’ll want to see this.”
“Dee?” She was up and around the table in a flash. “What’s wrong with Dee? Is he all right?”
“Easier if you just come see, Miss Mya.” He waved her through the door. Mika fell in behind them. “Third floor, south wing, third door on the left.”
“I know.” In fact, it was her old room.
Mya took the stairs two at a time with Mika close behind. Paxal was still one floor below, ascending as quickly as his old legs could climb, when she reached the third-floor landing. One glance down the hall told her something dire had occurred. Two of her Hunters guarded Dee’s door with their hands on their weapons, their faces like stone. She forced herself to approach slowly, quelling the desire to burst in and find out what was wrong.
“Where’s Dee?”
“Inside, Miss Mya.” The guards stepped aside.
The smell of vomit and urine hit her as she opened the door. Dee sat nude on the edge of the bed. He didn’t even look up when Mya walked in. His eyes never left the dead woman on the floor.
The barmaid, Moirin, lay equally nude in a contorted position near Dee’s desk, a rumpled dress clutched in one hand. A pool of vomit stained the rug near her mouth, and a dark puddle of moisture attested to the fact that she had voided her bladder when she died. Red contusions encircled her throat like a necklace.
“I found them like this, Miss Mya.”
Paxal stood behind her, breathing hard. Nodding, she drew her eyes from the spectacle of Moirin’s body to see that the floor beyond the desk was strewn with letters. Her letters.
“Godsdamnit!” Mya stepped around the corpse and peered down at one of the letters. It was addressed to her and still sealed, but other letters, already opened, along with reports and Dee’s notes from their conversations, lay scattered about. Atop the desk, the metal coffer where Dee kept her correspondence sat with its lid open.
Mya’s skin tingled with a sudden flood of anger, an urge to lash out surging through her. Now of all times, with the wolves at her door, something like this? Dee, she thought murderously, what the hells have you done?
Whirling toward the bed, she took in his frozen gaze, the saliva trailing from the corner of his mouth. Reaching for a dagger, she stepped toward the bed…and stopped. No! She clenched her fists and took a deep breath, forcing her heart to slow and her thoughts to calm. No, she couldn’t kill Dee; that was something the Grandfather would have done. She was not the Grandfather. What she really needed from Dee was information.
“Dee? What happened here?”
Only a shallow sigh and a fleeting grimace told Mya that he had heard her. His blank stare, not to mention the fact that he hadn’t even tried to cover himself, left her wondering if he was spelled, poisoned, or if his wits had simply fled.
Slowly she walked around the bed, examining every detail: clothing tossed aside, Dee’s daggers on one night table, a bottle of wine and two glasses on the other. She sniffed each glass. Even her enhanced senses couldn’t tell the two apart, but the heady aroma of the red wine would mask the odor of a subtle poison or potion. She sniffed the bottle, too, but learned nothing new. She walked back to face her assistant.
“Dee? I need you to answer me. What happened here?”
“I’m…sorry,” he whispered.
“Sorry?” You will be sorry, she thought, then bit back her temper again. “Sorry for what, Dee? What happened?”
“She’s…dead.” He blinked and his face contorted into a mien of pain and regret.
“I see that she’s dead, Dee. What happened? Did you kill her?”
“I…don’t know.” He swallowed and blinked again. “I didn’t mean for her to die. She…she…” His voice trailed off to nothing.
“Damn it, Dee, I need to know what happened here!”
He didn’t respond.
I don’t have time for this shit! she thought. I won’t kill him, but a little righteous fury might knock some sense back into him.
Mya whirled to the door and made a shooing motion. “Out! Everyone.” Paxal opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a glare. “I need to know what happened here, Pax, and I don’t have time to screw around. Out!”
They all retreated. She closed and bolted the door.
Two long strides took her to the bed, and her open palm left a handprint on the side of Dee’s face. She’d been careful with the blow; hard enough to get his attention, but not hard enough to break his neck. His head snapped around with the impact, but at least it diverted his attention from Moirin’s corpse.
“Get up!”
An instant of panic registered in his eyes. “Mya! I…” He fumbled off the bed, clutching at the sheet to cover himself. “I’m sorry, Miss! I…” His eyes drifted toward Moirin’s corpse, but Mya brought his attention back to her with another slap, not as hard as the first, but lightning quick.
“Look at me, not that whore!”
Dee stiffened and glared at her, his lip curling in a sneer. For a moment Mya thought he might strike her. Then she noticed his fingers twitching futilely on the sheet clutched in his hands. He couldn’t strike her, couldn’t even attempt to, preempted by the magic of the master’s ring on her finger. That power, that feeling of utter dominance over someone else, made her want to vomit. She bit back the visceral reflex and focused on her assistant.
Dee might be angry with her, but he was more cognizant of what was going on. He was trembling now, and fear shone in his eyes; he knew that Mya could have him executed for allowing such a breach of security. Fortunately for Dee, she needed information more than she needed to see him dead.
“Tell me what happened here, Dee. How did she die?”
“I… Yes, Miss Mya. She took poison, I think.”
“Poison? What do you mean? When?”
“When I caught her looking at your letters.”
“Start from the beginning, Dee.” Mya lowered her voice, trying to remain calm. If Moirin had been looking at her letters… “What happened?”
“We…um…have been seeing each other for some time, Miss Mya. She works…worked here. Her name was Moirin.”
“Okay, that’s a start. I know who she was and that you’ve been seeing her. There’s no problem there. What happened this evening?”
“Well, she came up after her shift, when I was waiting for you to call for me.” He looked suddenly embarrassed, and clutched the blanket a little closer. “We…um…had a little romp, then a glass of wine. I guess I fell asleep. When I woke, I saw her by the desk, peering down at your letters.” He swallowed and cleared his throat. “I’d locked them up like always in that double-lock iron box you gave me, and the keys were still on the chain around my neck, but the box was open. I asked her what she was doing, and she jumped like she’d been stuck with a pin.”
“I imagine she did. You caught her spying.”
“Yes, Miss Mya. I jumped up and grabbed her wrist, and that magnifier fell to the floor.” He pointed to a small glass disk not far from the woman’s outstretched hand. “I picked it up and... Well, if you have a look through it at one of the letters, you’ll know what I mean.”
Mya retrieved the glass and held it at arms-length over a sealed envelope. Every word of the letter within sprang to clarity in the lens.
“Magic! She was reading my letters!” The grandmaster’s letter! she realized with a flash of horror. Gods, if she worked for one of the other masters… Horice? Is that why he tried to have me killed? She thought back, but the timing seemed wrong. Then who?
“Yes, Mistress. I figured that as soon as I looked through the glass. Then I got angry. I…grabbed her by the throat.” Dee’s voice choked up and he blinked rapidly, shifting his gaze to the floor.
Mya followed his glance and took a closer look at the body. Under the stench of vomit and urine, she could detect the faint musk of the intimacy they’d shared. Dee, it seemed, had actually fallen for this woman. To discover that she was using him to spy, that she had betrayed him, then her suicide… Mya clenched her teeth against the sympathy that welled up from her gut.
“Go on, Dee. How did she die?”
“She wouldn’t tell me who put her up to it, so I figured I’d bring her to you.” His shoulders slumped, and he pointed to the crumpled dress. “I told her to get dressed, but she pulled something from a pocket and put it in her mouth. Then she fell and started shaking all over, like she was having some kind of fit. Before I could try to help her, she was dead.”
“Godsdamnit!” Mya began to pace, trying to think of all the correspondence that had passed over Dee’s desk in recent weeks that could incriminate or condemn her. If this woman was a spy for the Royal Guard, she might as well walk up to Duke Mir and confess her sins. If she worked for one of the other Assassins Guild masters, she might as well slit her own throat. But there was no way to know who Moirin had been workin
g for. Unless…
“I’m sorry, Miss Mya.”
“Sorry?” Mya stopped and glared at him. “You’ll be more than sorry if you don’t stop sniveling about a dead spy and put your head together, Dee! The only reason you’re not just as dead as your former girlfriend is because I need your help.”
“My help?”
“Yes, Dee, your help!” She recovered his trousers from beside the bed and flung them at him. “Now get dressed and start thinking, for the gods’ sake! Neither of us is going to sleep until I know every bit of correspondence that passed through your hands since you’ve been seeing Moirin. Everything! You understand?”
“Yes, Miss Mya!” He struggled into his trousers and started collecting the fallen papers, averting his eyes as he stepped carefully over the body of the woman with whom he’d recently made love.
“You keep a log of my correspondence, don’t you?”
“Of course, Miss Mya! A detailed log!”
“Good. Bring it down to my office. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“Yes, Miss Mya!”
She strode to the door and flung it open. Paxal, Mika and the two Hunters stood close by; they had undoubtedly heard every word through the door.
“Blackbrew, Miss Mya?”
“You guessed it, Pax. Lots of it, and some food. I’m afraid Dee and I are in for a late night. She glanced back over her shoulder at Moirin’s corpse. “We need to keep this quiet. Get rid of the body without a trace. She left immediately after her shift today, and nobody knows where she is. Got it?”
“I’ll see to it myself, Miss Mya.”
She looked at Paxal for a moment, realizing how much she relied on him. “And remind me to increase my own rent.” She nodded to the two Hunters. “You two, help Pax, and keep this under wraps.”
“Yes, Miss Mya.”
“Good.” She looked back again. Dee had finally managed to dress and gather his ledgers. “You ready, Dee?”
“Yes, Miss Mya.”
“Come on then,” she said as she looked him up and down, “and tuck in your shirt.”
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