“Stone-something, I think. Stone-step fish, maybe?”
“Two-step stonefish.” Deadly indeed…
“Yes. You’re familiar with it?” Norwood sounded surprised.
“I’ve heard of it. What about the darts? Have you discovered who crafted them?”
“How do you know we’re looking?” Norwood’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Because I’m looking, too, and we happened to look in the same places.” Norwood scowled, and Lad saw the skepticism there. “Don’t worry, Captain. You’re my only informant within the Royal Guard.”
“I’m not your informant!” He flushed with anger, but finally answered. “No, we haven’t discovered the crafter, but we will. The darts are unusual enough that they should lead us to the killer.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Lad stood, tilting his head to keep his face in shadow. “I’d like my dart back please.”
Norwood threw it to him without a word.
“Thank you, Captain. Please put out the lamp.”
“One more question first. Did you ever find out who killed that wizard, Vonlith?”
“Yes, Captain, I did.”
“And would you mind telling me who it was, and why the man was killed?”
Lad wasn’t about to give up Mya, but he could give the Captain something. “Vonlith died, as most wizards do, because he knew too much. Knowledge can be deadly, Captain, which is why I won’t be telling you the name of the murderer.”
“You mean that if you told me, you’d have to kill me?”
“No, I wouldn’t kill you. If I told you, you’d go looking for the killer, and that would get you killed.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of the danger?”
“Because you have no notion of the danger I’m talking about, and no way to protect yourself from it.” He nodded to the lamp. “The light, Captain.”
Lad waited until the lamp was doused, then reached for the window frame.
“One last question!” Norwood seemed determined to get all he could out of his visitor, but Lad paused, balanced on the frame. “The battle near Fiveway Fountain, the one between the Assassins Guild factions: who won?”
“I did.”
Lad was out the window and up the drain pipe to the roof before Captain Norwood’s jaw dropped.
Chapter VII
Lad strode through the early morning streets of the Eastmarket District after another sleepless night. This one, however, hadn’t been due solely to obsessive thoughts about Wiggen. Since his meeting with Captain Norwood two nights ago, his mind had roiled like pit of vipers: darts and rings, toxins and poisons, assassins killing assassins.
Who can I trust? The list had become very short.
Could the Grandfather have ordered Wiggen’s death to free the guildmaster’s ring for Mya? Try as he might, Lad didn’t see how it was possible. The Grandmaster might be able to get a letter from Tsing to Twailin in days instead of weeks, but only minutes had elapsed between the discovery that Wiggen wore the ring and her death.
And she was shot in the back, he reminded himself. All the others were shot in the neck. Was that difference relevant? He didn’t know. What he did know was that there was a possibility—slim but undeniable—that the Grandmaster might have played a role in her death. The one person in the world I can’t kill.
Lad’s first thought had been to tell Mya and the other masters so they could include his supposition in their investigations, but careful consideration had changed his mind. If he told them of his suspicion, he’d have a rebellion on his hands in seconds. And while they might not be able to attack Lad directly, they could certainly denounce him to the Grandmaster. The trick, he’d realized, was to enlist their help without giving them the incriminating details. That task was what had brought him on this errand.
The shop that Enola had inherited from Neera came into sight, a large, three-story building on the corner. A mortar and pestle decorated the placard that jutted out above the door, The Perfect Solution written in broad gold letters beneath. Through the smoked glass windows he saw that they already had customers. He’d hoped to arrive before they were busy.
A thousand scents assaulted Lad as he pushed open the door. Herbs and oils, extracts and toxins, acids and caustics all vied for his olfactory attention. His eyes, however, had little trouble picking out what he was looking for.
The Master Alchemist bent over an elaborate calcinator, peering in at the smoldering contents. Glancing up, she noticed Lad, and her naturally pale face blanched even more. Her mouth shifted—Lad could almost see her forming the word “Master”—but a quick look around the busy shop stopped her. Enola blew out the alcohol burner under the calcinator and hurried up to the thick stone counter that separated the work area from the shelves of merchandise.
“May I help you, sir?” Her strained smile and tremulous voice confirmed the subtle scent of fear that rose above the alchemical mélange.
Her fear roiled his stomach like the odor of rotten meat. He needed his masters to work with him, not fear him. A certain amount of fear was to be expected when someone held your life in their hands, but it was a poor substitute for devotion.
“I hope so.” Lad kept his face neutral. “I require your services. May we speak in private?”
“Of course.” Enola gestured, and he followed her into a cluttered office. Closing the door behind him, she turned and curtsied. “May…may I can help you with something, Master?”
“Yes. I need to know if you’ve ever used two-step stonefish toxin.”
“I…” Her face paled again. “Yes, I have.”
“Did you buy it somewhere here in Twailin?”
“No, Master. I extracted it myself from stonefish Master Youtrin smuggled in from Southaven. It’s a rather tricky process.”
Lad might have guessed. Enola was a gifted alchemist. It was no surprise that such delicate jobs had been entrusted to her.
“Did you know that Neera used it to try to kill me?”
“I did, Master.” There was still fear in her eyes, but no evasion.
Lad remembered just how close he had come to dying that night, and clenched his hands to keep them from around her neck. She was only doing her job…
“Why didn’t you inform me of this?”
“Why…” Enola wrung hands prematurely wizened from years of damaging chemicals, clearly flustered by his question. “The attempt failed, Master. I didn’t think it important to inform you. Did I do wrong?”
“As it turns out, the authorities recovered the poisoned ring and identified the toxin, so that makes it important.”
“Yes. They came asking questions about stonefish toxin. I told them nothing. I swear it.”
“I’m not here to find fault, but to make a point. It’s not for you to decide what is and isn’t important. That’s my job. But I can’t do my job if I don’t have all the information. So I need to know everything you know about the attempts on my life, Mya’s life, or the lives of my family. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly clear, Master.” She ducked her head, her hands clutched so hard her knuckles shone white. “I know that we sold sand-wasp venom to Horice about a month ago for an attempt to kill Mya. The month before, Neera sent someone to the Golden Cockerel to slip deadly nightshade into Mya’s food, but we found out that the old barkeep caught the girl and made her eat it herself. That’s all I can think of off the top of my head.”
So Paxal killed to protect Mya. Interesting. “There was a spy caught at the Golden Cockerel. She took poison rather than be interrogated. Was she one of Neera’s, too?”
“No, sir.” Enola looked up at him with honest curiosity. “But if the body’s still around, I might be able to extract the poison and find out what she took. Maybe I could trace it.”
“I think the body’s long gone. Ask Mya.”
“Yes, Master. I’ll be more forthright from now on.”
Her willingness to improve encouraged him. “It’s not your fault, Enola. The
factions have worked independently for so long that learning to cooperate again may come hard, but it’s essential. All the masters need to be open and upfront, both with me and each other.” The truth of that made him feel like a traitor for keeping his own secrets from them.
“Yes, sir. I’ll review my notebook and talk to my people to see what they know.”
“Do that. Now, do you have any stonefish toxin in stock?”
“Yes, Master. I have some in my private collection. I’ll get it for you!”
Enola rushed from the room before Lad could stop her. He hadn’t intended to take the poison with him, but only to tell her she might want to dispose of it, since the Royal Guard was looking for it. The sudden thought of using it on Wiggen’s killer, however, struck him as apropos. The perfect vengeance…
In less than two minutes Enola was back, proffering a tiny vial. “It doesn’t look like much, but this is enough to kill a dozen people. This needle”—she pointed to a sliver of metal within—“is affixed to the cap, and hollowed to hold a single dose. Simply take off the cap, run the tip of the needle over whatever you want envenomed—dagger, arrowhead, whatever—and you’re ready to go. I designed it myself.”
“Ingenious.” Lad liked the invention, but liked the twitch across her lips and a slight squaring of her shoulders more. He plucked the vial from her fingers and tucked it into a pocket. “Only one more thing: have you finished compiling that list of large purchases of white scorpion venom?”
Enola’s face fell and she swallowed heavily. “Not yet, Master. I’m having trouble—”
“This is why we’re a guild. Ask for help. Work with Jingles if you need muscle, Mya if you need someone found, and Bemrin if you need to get the truth out of a contact. Clear?”
“Perfectly clear, Master.”
“Good. Then we’re done.” He followed her out to the front of the shop, where he thanked her for her assistance, and they exchanged pleasantries.
Outside, Lad gulped a breath of fresh air in an attempt to banish the stifling atmosphere of the shop. He hadn’t learned anything new, but at least he’d alleviated some of Enola’s fear, which seemed to motivate her.
What next? What am I missing? Think! If he could just keep his thoughts from wandering, he might have a chance to find Wiggen’s killer before he had to go to Tsing.
“It’s been a godsdamned week! Where the hell is Hoseph?”
Kiesha scanned the bustling crowds of the Westmarket bazaar, looking for faces she didn’t want to see. With Royal Guards and the Assassins Guild scouring the town, asking questions about black darts, she was getting nervous. It was only a matter of time before the garrote tightened and she was found out. How ironic that the very weapon she’d used to take so many lives might lead to her own death. She never thought she’d rue her choice of weapon. She had wanted the best, the most lethal one-shot-kill weapon she could get. How foolish she’d been, in retrospect, to have such unique if admittedly effective projectiles crafted.
I have to get out of here! Hoseph had promised to be in touch, to help her flee, but he’d left her dangling like a corpse on a gibbet. She cursed him silently for not providing her with a means to contact him. Patino has a way. Well, if she had to go through Patino, so be it.
Kiesha touched the wide silk choker that concealed the wound from Sereth’s knife. It matched her fashionable gown perfectly. For a little while, she would be just one of the many gentry who had traversed the river on this fine summer day to attend the bazaar. She could think of no better venue to approach her quarry.
Gaily colored tents filled the public square, each fronted by a merchant hawking fabrics, trinkets, spices, or jewelry. The bazaar was more of a social event than serious shopping for the rich from Hightown and The Bluff districts. Here, they could titter over their lace-gloved hands at the quaint merchandise.
Kiesha searched the crowds. She knew Patino’s face and habits from her investigation for Hensen. Unfortunately, she had never actually met him. She would have to bluff an introduction, but she wasn’t worried; it was just another lie.
There!
The baron strolled through the bazaar as if he owned it, smiling and nodding to his peers. He was alone, save for the hawk-faced bodyguard following discreetly a few paces behind.
Got to be quick, before the lout steps in.
Kiesha planned her approach to take advantage of Patino’s reputation as a lady’s man. She took a perverse pleasure in using the beautiful clothes that Hensen provided her for such a clandestine purpose. Painting on a brilliant smile, she set forth to intercept her prey.
“Baron Patino! How very lovely to see you!”
“My dear, you look stunning today!” As Patino leaned over her gloved hand to kiss it, she noticed his gaze lingering at the cleavage revealed by her fashionably low neckline.
“Oh, you flatterer!” She batted her eyelashes and slapped her hand playfully against his chest. The bodyguard stepped forward, but the baron waved him away.
“What brings you out on this beautiful sunny day, my dear?”
“How could I stay indoors in such weather? After so much rain, I feel as if I’m bursting forth like a flower in bloom.” Kiesha flung her head back and her arms out, knowing exactly the effect it would have on the man. He responded as if following stage directions, stepping in close to offer his arm, which she gratefully accepted. “I must say, you look quite dashing in that hat. Is it new?”
“Why, thank you. Yes, it is.” Though obviously delighted to be promenading with such a beautiful young woman, Baron Patino’s eyes clouded with consternation. Leaning in close, he lowered his voice and said, “I must apologize, my dear, but I don’t quite remember where we’ve met before.”
“We haven’t.” Kiesha squeezed his arm and smiled at his furrowing brow. “We do have a mutual acquaintance, though.”
“Oh?” A wisp of suspicion crossed his brow. “And who might that be?”
Maintaining her delighted façade, she lowered her voice even further, leaning in as if they were deep in a tête-à-tête. “Suffice it to say that we work for the same person, Baron.”
“Work?” Patino chuckled, looking honestly surprised. “My dear, I’m of noble blood. I don’t—”
“Oh, come now, Baron. Surely you remember our friend of the dreary crimson cloaks. He comes and goes like a breath of wind.”
Patino stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide. “Who the hell—”
The bodyguard stopped also, his eyes narrow, his hand resting on the sword at his waist.
Kiesha laughed as if she had shared a shocking joke, patted Patino’s arm, and tugged him back into step. “Now, now, Baron, we’re on the same side here. I just need you to contact our friend for me.”
“I don’t know who you are or what you’re talking about.” His voice, though barely audible, shook with intensity.
Is he suspicious of me, or just nervous about talking here? Kiesha wondered.
“I simply need to contact our mutual friend.” She smiled at him again and winked. “I know that you know who I mean, so there’s no point in continuing the charade.”
“I am a noble of the Royal House. The only person in this world I work for, my dear, is His Majesty, Tynean Tsing II!” His eyes narrowed, though the rest of his face remained as blank as a mummer’s mask.
She couldn’t fault the baron for not blurting out his association with the Assassins Guild, but he was taking the deception a bit too far. Breathing deeply to calm herself, she forced a smile, squeezed the baron’s arm, and stepped back. “Your loyalty does you credit, Baron. I’ll be sure to mention it to our mutual friend when I next see him. And it’s essential that I see him soon. Please contact him and tell him that Kiesha sends her regards, and that she must speak with him immediately.”
“I’ll do nothing of the kind.” He took her hand and kissed it, then hardened his grip on her fingers. “I will, however, mention your name when I next meet our friend. And I’ll tell him that you’re w
oefully indiscrete. If you are what you claim, you may only receive a reprimand.”
“I would welcome a reprimand, Baron Patino.” She smiled broadly, curtsied, and left him. At least he finally admitted to knowing Hoseph. She could only hope that he would contact him, even if only to complain about her. She didn’t care how angry Hoseph might be, she wanted out of this mess. But until she heard from him, what could she do but wait?
Kiesha fretted as she pretended to browse the bazaar, smiling at the merchants while her mind whirled through her dilemma. Nothing to do but wait… She had never been one to wait when action might solve a problem more readily.
Who else could she turn to? Certainly not Hensen. I can get a new assistant in a week… She wondered if she had unknown brothers or sisters waiting in the wings to take over if she met her end.
No Hoseph, no Hensen, no hope. Kiesha had only herself to rely on. It’s time I started covering my tracks.
“Who the hell is that?” Sereth watched Kiesha as she strolled through the bazaar in the company of an unknown nobleman. At least the man looked like a nobleman, though Sereth didn’t recognize the coat of arms on his fancy jacket.
“Pardon me, miss.” The pretty young girl arranging silk scarves in a stall’s display turned to him with a smile. “Who’s that fellow with the top hat there?”
“Oh, that’s Baron Patino! Rumor is he’s a lady’s man, and the baroness don’t even care. He’s always got some fancy bit o’ fluff on his arm. Bet you got a lady of your own who’d like a pretty scarf. You bargemen got a girl in every port, don’cha?”
Sereth smiled, passed her a silver half-crown and accepted the scarf she’d been showing him, all the while keeping an eye on Kiesha. Both of their disguises seemed to be working. While she blended in with the gentry, his canvas jacket and straw hat rendered him virtually invisible among the common folk. Bargemen were as common as cobbles in Twailin. No one gave them a second look.
Weapon of Vengeance (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy) Page 10
