Slipping inside, Kiesha gently pushed the door shut, inserted her key and turned it again. The clatter of the mechanism relocking made her cringe. If anyone saw her, they’d immediately inform Hensen, who would insist that she come in to dinner and give a report of her activities.
The far louder clatter of pots and pans set her mind to rest. The staff was busy preparing the evening meal. Slipping past the kitchen and scullery without anyone spotting her was easy. Up the service stairs and down the hall, she thought of where best to dispose of her weapon and darts. The river or the sewer? The former was farther, but more likely to keep the evidence lost.
Easing into her room, Kiesha closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Good evening, Kiesha. I trust you’re well.”
Hoseph’s greeting startled her at first, but then a flood of relief washed over her. He had gotten her message after all. Then she remembered why she’d gone to Patino in the first place, and the rest of her excruciating day, and anger supplanted all other emotions.
“No, I’m not well.” She sat on the edge of her bed without even looking at him, and plucked at the laces of her shoes. “I’ve been dancing on a frying pan, and you were nowhere to be found! You said you’d be in touch!”
“Calm down, and don’t bother taking off your shoes. We’re leaving directly.” He stood up from her dressing chair, his sanctimonious manner unaffected by her tirade.
“Leaving? I can’t leave right now. I’ve got things to do.”
“Don’t be petulant, Kiesha. I told you I’d take you to a safe place. Your recent activities have made it too dangerous for you to stay in Twailin.”
“My recent activities?” She gaped at his gall. “When you didn’t show up for a week, I decided to take matters into my own hands.”
“Yes. You contacted Baron Patino.” His lips pursed into a disagreeable moue. “That was not wise.”
“Well, at least it got your attention. If you’d given me some means to contact you myself, as I asked, I wouldn’t have had to go to Patino. You said you’d be in touch, and left me hanging. What did you expect me to do? Anyway, I don’t need rescuing anymore. I’ve been covering my tracks. I’ve a couple more things to do, then I should be safe.”
“What you’ve done is ruin a perfectly good operative, draw attention to yourself, and put your master’s interests in jeopardy.” He stepped toward her and held out one hand while flipping that creepy little skull into his other. “Now come along.”
Kiesha glared at him. He hadn’t listened to a thing she’d said. It was just like her father all over again. Well, she wasn’t going to kowtow any more, and there was no way in hell she was going to take his hand. When he said he’d take her to a safe place, she’d assumed it would be by carriage, not wafting through the cosmos like smoke on the breeze.
“No!” She leapt off the bed, reaching for the dagger she’d used to kill Ghulgen. Though she didn’t draw it, the solid hilt felt reassuring in her hand. “I’ve got one more thing I need to do tonight. There’s still evidence linking me to Wiggen’s death. I’ve got to get rid of it!”
Hoseph’s face darkened, and the muscles of his jaw bunched. “You’ve already done too much that you weren’t told to do! Our master doesn’t want initiative from you, only obedience. Now come here!”
He stepped forward, but she sidestepped again.
“If your master wanted a spy who didn’t think for herself, then you recruited the wrong woman!” She slipped the knife from its sheath and held it steady in front of her. “You may as well leave. I’m not going with you, and one scream will bring the house guards.”
The priest’s eyes flicked between the knife and her face. “You will not scream, Kiesha.” He looked more annoyed by her reaction than concerned about the dagger in her hand.
“Oh? What makes you think—”
With a single mumbled word, a chill flash of blackness burst forth from the little skull. Her mouth gaped to scream, but only a whimper escaped as despair crushed her heart. A lifetime of shame, guilt, and self-loathing sapped her anger, her strength, and her will to resist.
Hoseph stepped toward her, reaching out his hand, and she stumbled back, jerking her weapon out of reach. The dagger felt heavy, her grasp clumsy. He snatched her other wrist with a grip like a steel trap. Dark tendrils blossomed from the skull talisman, writhing to engulf him, snaking down his limbs and stretching out toward Kiesha. Where the tendrils touched, flesh faded into mist.
“N….no!” A deathly chill shuddered through her as she watched her captive hand swallowed up.
With a strength born of terror, she clutched the dagger so tightly her knuckles whitened. Her very first knife-fighting lesson came back to her then. Put the point into a vital spot, and you’re done.
Bending all her will, Kiesha thrust the blade into Hoseph’s chest. Too late. The dagger pierced only the black mist. There was nothing left to stab. One last moment of panic, and the coldness of the grave pulled Kiesha into darkness.
“Master?”
Lad blinked. In front of him lay the list of names that Enola had provided. He remembered starting to review it, wondering if the owner of one of these names had killed Wiggen. Then, nothing…
How long this time? It had been early evening when he sat to read the list. Now it was full dark outside, and his back and neck ached from sitting at the desk. Hours, at least.
Looking up to Dee standing at the study door, he asked, “What is it?”
“Master Sereth is here, sir. He says it’s urgent.”
“What’s the hour?” Lad stood and stretched, vertebrae popping with each twist.
“Near midnight, sir.”
Four or five hours, then… He clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw ached. This has to stop! I have to focus! Forcing himself past the exhaustion, past the memories, he realized what Dee had said. Sereth…urgent…near midnight… “Bring him here.”
“Yes, sir.” Dee left, and a moment later returned with the Master Blade in tow.
At first glance, Lad could see that Sereth was upset. He was also sporting a recently broken nose. Usually the most stoic of the masters, the Blade’s face was rigid with tension, his eyes wide with worry and fear. Curiously, one of Sereth’s six daggers was missing. He also wasn’t wearing his rapier, and he clutched a small wooden box protectively. Lad’s senses heightened at the irregularities.
“Thank you for seeing me, Master.” Sereth bowed, stiff and jerky, so unlike his customary fluid and precise movements that it screamed apprehension.
This is serious. “What is it?”
The Blade cast a glance at Dee. “Alone, if you please, Master.”
The strange request put Lad even more on edge. He had come to trust Dee more than he trusted most of the masters. His assistant saw more sensitive guild business than Sereth ever would. Despite his unease, he could think of no reason to refuse. After all, Dee was not a bodyguard, and Sereth could no more hurt Lad than he could pluck out his own eyes.
“Very well. Dee, wait outside.”
“As you wish, Master.” Dee bowed and left the room, his face stiffly expressionless. Lad heard him take five steps down the hall and stop there, close enough to quickly answer a summons, but far enough to give them privacy.
Lad nodded to Sereth. “Now, what is it?”
“The contents of this box will explain much, Master.” He held out the container.
Lad’s suspicion flared. Could this be a trap? The master’s ring prevented Sereth from raising a hand to harm him, but what about handing over a lethal gift? Maybe he was being paranoid, but Lad was no longer just Mya’s bodyguard. As guildmaster, he was a target, and he wasn’t going to risk his life to ignorance, especially with Sereth acting so strangely.
“Take the lid off yourself.”
“Of course, Master.”
Sereth flipped open the lid without hesitation or any hint of evasion, and again held out the box. Convinced there was no threat, and consumed by cu
riosity, Lad took it.
Inside, black darts gleamed in the lamplight, identical to the one that had killed Wiggen. Lad’s mind spun, and his hands trembled so badly that the contents of the box rattled. Among the darts lay a number of springs, cylinders, pins, and tiny needles. Disassembled darts, apparently. Or preassembled! Hope surged. Sereth had discovered the crafter.
“Where did you get this?”
Sereth hesitated, still clearly uneasy. “A gnome’s shop in The Sprawls. A toymaker. I found him with his throat slit.”
“What?” Lad’s hope plummeted. With the crafter dead, the trail to Wiggen’s murderer was broken. “We have to find out who killed him! Pull in all the—”
“Master, please.” Sereth held up trembling hands. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I know who killed the gnome, and I know who murdered your wife.”
The box fell from Lad’s hands.
Vengeance…
Darts and components skittered across the rug like deadly black spiders. A scalding wave of heat flooded through him, igniting a visceral urge to strike out, to kill. He clenched his hands at his sides and stepped toward Sereth. “Tell me! Now!”
“I will, Master.” Sereth stood his ground. “I’ll tell you everything, but first I must ask you a favor.”
“A favor?” Lad’s teeth ground together. “What the hell are you talking about? Tell me who killed Wiggen this instant!”
“I’ll tell you, Master, though it may mean my life.”
“Your life is mine, Sereth!” Lad burned with the urge to break the Blade in half.
“Yes, Master.” Sereth’s jaw clenched, but his voice remained firm. “I only ask that you remember what it felt like when your daughter was held hostage.”
“What?” Lad fought the urge to strangle the truth out of the Blade. What did Lissa have to do with this? “I’ll never forget how that felt, Sereth. Now explain yourself!”
“Yes, Master. I ask you to remember, because our situations are similar.”
“Similar?” Frustration surged into anger. Lad’s hand shot out and grasped the front of Sereth’s shirt. He jerked the Blade forward until their noses were barely an inch apart. “Stop talking in riddles! What in the Nine Hells is going on?”
“My wife has been held hostage by the Thieves Guild for more than two years.”
“Your…” Lad’s fury quenched as if he had fallen into an ice-bound river. He hadn’t even known Sereth had a wife. He opened his hand, and the Blade stumbled back a step. Two years… “Why would they keep—”
“I’ve been spying for them, Master.” Sereth’s words came in a rush now, as if he was afraid that Lad would kill him before he had told his story. “They took her, and blackmailed me into spying for them. When I refused to give them any more information, they threatened to…to do horrible things to her.”
“What does this have to do with Wiggen’s murderer?”
“I was following one of their spies, the woman who was my contact, in hopes that she’d lead me to my wife. Instead, she went to the gnome’s shop. After she left, I investigated and found the gnome murdered. I didn’t understand why she would kill a gnome toymaker, but then I discovered the darts.” Sereth swallowed and the muscles of his jaw clenched briefly. He took a shuddering breath and continued. “I remembered that I’d told her where the masters were going to exchange your daughter for Mya. I didn’t know then that she was a killer, but when I saw how professionally the gnome had been murdered, and then found the darts, it all made sense. She must have been the one who killed your wife.”
“You…” A chill trickled down Lad’s spine. “You told them where to find us…”
“Yes, Master.”
Lad reached out faster than a striking viper, not to grasp Sereth’s shirt again, but his throat. The Blade’s life pulsed beneath his fingers. He thought of all the delicate bones that would shatter if he just closed his hand. Sereth stood there helpless, unable to fight, and from the look of resolve upon his dark features, ready to die.
“I should kill you.”
“My life is yours, Master,” Sereth rasped. “That’s why I asked you to remember how it felt to have your daughter held captive. If anyone could understand why I betrayed the guild, it would be you.”
“And you think that will keep me from killing you?”
“No, Master, but at least you’d know why. I had no idea they’d kill Wiggen.”
Was that the truth? In the end, it didn’t matter. Wiggen was dead. Killing Sereth wouldn’t bring her back. It would only prevent Lad from ever exacting vengeance on the person responsible for her death.
“You’ll tell me this woman’s name and where to find her. Then I’ll decide whether or not to break your neck.”
Sereth’s throat flexed under Lad’s fingers. “Yes, Master. Her name is Kiesha. She works directly for the master of the Thieves Guild, a man named Hensen. They live in a townhouse on Four Bells Avenue, here in Barleycorn Heights, two blocks south of the river on the east side of the street. It’s the largest house on the block. If you want to catch her, you should act quickly. She knows you’re hunting Wiggen’s killer, and she’s running scared.”
Sereth took as deep a breath as he could with Lad’s hand around his throat, his eyes now resigned. “If you intend to spend my life, sir, I’d ask that you please find my wife and free her. Hensen knows where she’s being kept.”
“But if you’re dead, they have no reason to keep her, do they?”
“No, sir, but she knows too much. They might kill her to keep her quiet.”
Lad stared at the Master Blade. Now he recognized the look in Sereth’s eyes. It wasn’t fear for his life. It was fear for the life of a loved one. His wife… Knowing what that felt like opened Lad’s hand. The Master Blade gasped a breath and staggered back. Lad hadn’t ruled out killing Sereth yet, but he needed information first.
“Why did you tell me this? Why not bargain with the Thieves Guild, your silence for your wife? You spied for them when you worked for Horice, why not now?”
“I’m done living like that, Master. I spied on Horice because it didn’t seem like I had any choice. He would have killed me without listening to a word, and Jinny would have paid the price. Now…I do have a choice. I’d rather trust you than them. So if you decide to spend my life, please, just see that Jinny is freed.” Sereth closed his eyes. “She’s innocent, just like your daughter was innocent. I was stupid to marry her. All I did was put her in danger.”
Was I stupid to marry Wiggen? Lad considered the notion and rejected it outright. He couldn’t conceive what his life would have been without her. There were many things he would have done differently if he had the chance, but loving Wiggen wasn’t one of them.
“Love sometimes makes us stupid, Sereth, but without it, what are we?”
The Blade’s eyes opened, and desperation vied with hope within them.
“I want answers, Sereth, not just revenge. You’re coming with me to find this Kiesha, and we’re going to find out what’s really going on here.”
“Yes, Master.” Sereth took another deep breath and rubbed his throat. “I can’t think of a motive for Kiesha to kill your wife. She’s Hensen’s personal assistant, so obviously the Thieves Guild is involved. You’ll have to ask Kiesha or Hensen.”
“We will ask. But before we do, I need to know exactly what you told them in the weeks before Wiggen’s death.”
Sereth answered directly, though he looked abashed. “They were interested in anything and everything to do with you and Mya.”
That stopped Lad in his tracks. Realization slammed through his mind: if Kiesha killed Wiggen, she also saved Lad’s life in that rain-soaked alley. He and Mya had surmised that the Grandmaster of the Assassins Guild might be protecting them, but how could the Thieves Guild be connected? None of this made sense, but there was only one way to find out.
Lad strode to the door and opened it. “Dee!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Bri
ng my work clothes. Sereth and I are going out.”
Chapter IX
No place is impregnable to a sufficiently skilled and determined assassin. Remember!
Lad assessed Hensen’s home as he assessed anyplace he wanted to break into. A thin strip of well-manicured grass and a low wrought-iron fence buffered the property from its neighbors. The house was twice the size of Lad’s, built of tremendous granite blocks set close and polished smooth. The windows gleamed and the latches looked freshly polished. The front door—as wide as Lad was tall, and half again as high—stood in a marble portico lit by a hanging lantern. At its center hung a gold-plated knocker wrought in the likeness of an eagle, its talons gripping a crystal-studded laurel wreath. The overwhelming impression was rich, solid, and secure.
Lad picked out several different paths to the third floor window that would normally have been his chosen point of entry. Unfortunately, this was the home of the most powerful thief in Twailin. And thieves were just as skilled at keeping people out as they were at breaking in. They had to assume every door, window, pane of glass, and air vent was trapped. Jimmying a latch to crawl through a window would likely be a quick way to die.
Lad preferred working alone, but he couldn’t deny that he needed Sereth’s help here. The Master Blade knew the layout firsthand, and only he could identify Hensen and Kiesha. And yet, though Lad had resigned himself to Sereth’s plan of entry, just the thought of it raised the hairs on the back of his neck. When Sereth first proposed it, Lad thought he was crazy.
“You’re seriously suggesting we just walk up and knock?”
“Why not?” Sereth had ticked the reasons off on his fingers. “Someone’s stationed in the front hall around the clock. Hensen gets reports at all hours. And they know me.”
Lad remembered Norwood recounting the murder of Vonlith. Despite innumerable spells and magical traps, the runemage had fallen prey to an acquaintance—Mya—who gained entry simply by knocking. If the straightforward approach worked for her, perhaps it would work for them also.
Weapon of Vengeance (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy) Page 12
