Weapon of Vengeance (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy)

by Jackson, Chris A.

  “It doesn’t matter if I get out of here alive, Your Majesty. What matters is that you don’t.”

  The Grandmaster’s face paled, and his eyes gleamed with fear. This was probably the first time in his life that Tynean Tsing had been truly afraid. Lad tried to imagine him as a child, introduced so young to a world of blood, pain, and murder. It was something they had in common. The difference was, Lad was made not to feel, but Tynean Tsing was made to enjoy it.

  “I understand what you are.” Lad took another step, forcing the Grandmaster back until he bumped into a heavy wooden rack. “They made you a monster. They made me a monster.”

  “Here, take it!” The emperor thrust out the hand that bore the Grandmaster’s ring. “Cut it off and claim it!”

  “No.” The idea of putting on that ring made Lad want to retch. “As you said, Your Majesty, I’m merely a weapon. You can’t bargain with me. I understand what you are, but I can’t pity you. There’s no reprieve for what you’ve done.”

  “I can give you anything!” The Grandmaster sidestepped, bumping into the cage where Norwood hung unconscious. He looked back and startled at the captain’s blood-streaked face, then turned back to Lad. “Anything you want!”

  “Can you take away his pain?” Lad pointed to Norwood, then gestured to Kiesha. “Can you send her back to her father, whole and strong and beautiful?” His words caught in his throat. “Can you give Wiggen back to me?”

  “I didn’t kill your gods-damned wife!”

  “But you wielded the weapon that did.” Lad stepped within striking distance. “You think that keeping people in constant terror is how to rule them. You’re wrong.”

  “What do you know?” The emperor spat in Lad’s face and lunged.

  Lad caught it easily, crushing the Grandmaster’s hand on the hilt with his one good hand. “I know enough. I know love is stronger than fear.” He squeezed, and the old man’s eyes widened in pain. “And now you know fear.” He brought the dagger up until it stood before the emperor’s eyes. “You know the fear of the common man facing an abusive noble or a sadistic assassin, a man who can’t…fight…back.”

  “Don’t!” The ruler of an empire of fear gripped the dagger with both hands, struggling to push it away. “Please!”

  “How many have lain in this room and uttered those same words to you, Your Majesty?”

  “I…I don’t want to die!”

  “Neither did they. Neither did Wiggen.” Lad positioned the point of the dagger beneath the Grandmaster’s chin, pricking the skin so that a single drop of blood trickled down the serpentine blade. “Goodbye, Your Majesty.”

  Lad plunged the dagger up to the hilt, ending a fifty-year reign of terror.

  Emperor Tynean Tsing II died instantly and painlessly. It was more mercy than he deserved.

  Vengeance.

  And yet, Lad felt no rush of joy, no relief, just emptiness. Wiggen was still dead. Though he had changed the course of an empire with a single dagger thrust, all it meant to Lad was one more death weighing upon his soul.

  The glint of gold and obsidian caught Lad’s eye as the emperor crumpled to the floor.

  “Lad!” Mya struggled to her feet and staggered to his side, cursing the tattered and bloody dress that dragged at her every step. She stared down at the fallen emperor and felt suddenly as if a huge weight lifted from her shoulders. “You did it!”

  “Yes.” He turned toward her, his face pinched in pain. Clutching his bleeding hand to his side, he stepped past her. “Just one more thing to do.”

  “What?” Mya watched as Lad began scanning the floor, flipping over one of the dead blademasters. “What are you—”

  “I’m finishing this.” He plucked something out of the blood, then strode over to the slab where Kiesha lay. “I have to.”

  Of course… She staggered after him. “Vengeance.”

  “No. Forgiveness.” Leaning down, he spoke softly into the tortured woman’s ear. “Kiesha.”

  The thief’s eyelids fluttered, and her ruined lips murmured, “No…no more…please.”

  “No more pain, Kiesha.”

  Now Mya saw what Lad had picked off the floor, a tiny vial and cap. He fitted the cap onto the vial, shook it, then removed the cap again. A needle on the bottom of the cap glinted in the light, and she understood. Poison.

  “I’m here to end your pain.” Lad’s voice was quiet, soothing. “I don’t blame you for Wiggen’s death. You were a weapon, just like I once was.”

  “End…pain…please,” Kiesha muttered, peering up at Lad. Her eyes glinted with madness, but also hope. “Please…”

  “Yes, Kiesha. Just relax. The pain will be over soon.” Lad pressed the needle into an exposed vein in her neck.

  A labored breath, one last sigh, and Kiesha’s eyes closed.

  “Mercy…” Mya could only stare, staggered by Lad’s compassion. She wondered if she could have been so merciful.

  Lad stood straight and silent for a moment, then tucked away the vial and turned to her. “Now what?”

  The question stirred Mya out of her trance. “I…” She glanced at the fallen emperor, and the sight ignited her. We just killed the godsdamned emperor! “First we bind up your hand, then we get the hell out of here.” She fumbled with the hem of her dress, straining to tear a swath from her pettiskirts. Gods, I’m so weak… Picking up a fallen blade, she sawed at the ragged tear until the fabric came free. “Come here. We don’t’ want to leave a blood trail.”

  Lad winced while she wrapped his mangled hand, but stood still. Oddly, he just stared at her. Mya found his scrutiny discomforting, and spoke quickly as she worked.

  “Make sure we pick up your fingers. If we leave them behind, they can use magic to trace you. I’ve used that method myself. There’s too much blood to worry about, and it’s mingled with everyone else’s, so—”

  “Mya.” Lad hissed in pain as she tied the final knot tight, then clutched her hand in both of his. “Stop. Please. I need to tell you…something.”

  “What?” His hands felt warm on hers. His eyes no longer gleamed with anger and frustration, but looked at her gently, the way she’d always wanted him to look at her. Her heart skipped a beat. “Tell me what?”

  “Thank you.” He clutched her hand and stared into her soul. “You saved me. You saved me from myself.”

  “I didn’t.” Mya swallowed hard.

  “You did. During our trip here, you did for me what I couldn’t do for myself. You helped me focus. You reminded me of what I am. You reminded me that I have a family. That I have someone to love.”

  “Lad, I…” Mya choked on the words. In her entire life, she had only said those words to one person, and that person she had murdered. She doubted she could ever say those words again.

  “I know, Mya.”

  “What?” His words hit her like a slap.

  “I know how you feel.”

  “You…” Her knees began to shake with more than just weakness and blood loss. “You do?”

  “Yes.” Lad smiled through his pain, and her heart swelled to breaking. “Yes, I do.”

  “Oh, gods…” She entwined the fingers of her free hand in his hair and pulled him to her, seeking his lips. She found them—oh so warm and soft—and kissed him as she’d so often dreamed of doing. Can it be… Then she realized that his lips were passive.

  Mya felt something slip onto her finger. Pulling away, she saw the regret in Lad’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You…” She lurched back and looked at her hand. Obsidian and gold glinted on her finger. The guildmaster’s ring? But no, Lad’s ring still lay on the floor, encircling his severed finger. What ring… Sudden realization ignited in her gut.

  “You bastard!”

  Her slap knocked Lad to the floor. Mya staggered, dizzy with sudden weakness. Lad hadn’t even tried to block or dodge the blow, and for a moment she was terrified that she’d snapped his neck. Then he spat blood and rose up on his elbows, the imprin
t of her hand livid on his face.

  “You tricked me!” She felt like kicking him for the betrayal. “You let me kiss you to trick me!”

  “I’m sorry, Mya, but I’ll only ever love one woman, and Wiggen is dead.” He rose to his feet, eying her warily. “Will you let me explain?”

  “Explain?” Mya seethed with rage, glaring first at Lad, then at the two rings on her fingers. She wrenched off the ring that had made her Master Hunter and flung it at him. He caught it in his good hand. “Explain what?”

  “That you’re the perfect Grandmaster.” Lad tucked the ring in a pocket. “You think like an assassin, but you have a good heart. You won’t abuse the power, not like he did.” He cast a disgusted look over his shoulder at Tynean Tsing’s body.

  “But I don’t want this!” Mya waved her hand before his face, obsidian and gold flickering in the light.

  “Why not?” He cocked his head at her. Even in her anger, the endearing gesture plucked at her heart. “You’re safe now. No member of the guild can hurt you.”

  “You think they’re going to thank me for killing their Grandmaster? I’ll have the empire and the guild after my head!”

  “Then have someone cut it off. Um…the ring, that is, not your head. But you can’t run away from the guild, and they’ll know we did it.” Lad stepped past her and bent to pick up his severed fingers, removing the guildmaster’s ring and putting it into a pocket. “We can’t discuss this here, Mya. We’ve got to go. Help me get Norwood out of that cage.”

  “We should just kill him,” she said, still angry.

  Lad looked at her with sympathy in his eyes. “No, Mya.”

  “Why not? Why not just leave him? He hasn’t seen us. He can’t tell them anything.”

  “Because killing him would be wrong. If we leave him, they’ll question him, and he won’t have any answers. He’ll end up in prison or dead.”

  “Better him than us!”

  “I’ll do it myself, then.” He bent to search emperor’s body.

  Mya seethed. I should just leave him alone to explain why he’s carrying Norwood’s naked body through the streets. A pang of guilt stabbed her, and she knew she couldn’t do it.

  “Damn you to the Nine Hells…” She cast about for something, anything to open the iron cage. Scanning the room she suddenly froze. “Where’s Hoseph?”

  “What?” Lad straightened with a ring of keys in his hand. “He’s…” His eyes widened. “He was right over there.”

  “He’s gone!” Adrenalin surged through her veins, but with little blood to accompany the urgency, she only felt faint. “We’ve got to get out of here! He’ll be back with more guards!”

  Lad hurried to the cage and started fitting keys into the lock. “Hurry! Grab some clothing.”

  There was no time to argue. Mya started pulling a jacket off of one of the fallen blademasters. “Everything’s all bloody! We can’t just walk into the inn with—”

  “Not now, Mya. Just grab some clothes and help me with him.” The door to the cage squeaked open, and Lad loosened the spikes that pierced the captain. “It’ll be dark when we leave, so the blood will be less noticeable. We’ll worry about getting back to the inn after we get out of here!”

  “Fine.” She grabbed two more jackets that weren’t overly soiled, donning one of them. “You’ll have to carry him. I’m too weak to carry much more than a conversation.”

  “Good. Maybe you won’t carry a grudge.” Lad caught Norwood over his shoulder and stood with little difficulty.

  “Smart ass.” Mya picked up two fallen daggers and tucked them away, grumbling beneath her breath. If she didn’t love him so much, she would have stabbed him long ago.

  Chapter XXVI

  Lad laid Norwood on the doorstep of the temple of the Earth Mother, and tucked the stolen blanket around him. Rapping loudly on the door, he waited until he heard footsteps from inside, then sprinted back to the shadows to join Mya. They peered from hiding as the door opened and a willowy woman rushed forth to kneel beside the captain.

  “Well, that was easier than I thought it’d be.” Mya tugged at his sleeve. “Come on.”

  They made their way through the streets of Tsing slowly and silently. Mya’s weakness slowed their pace, but at least their route was mostly downhill. The wine shop had been closed and empty by the time they made their way back through the strangely illuminated tunnel, and breaking out of a building was easier than breaking in. Finally they spied the sign of the Drake and Lion half a block away.

  “I don’t suppose you can climb?” Lad asked hopefully, only to be rewarded with a sour look.

  “Are you crazy?” She looked up at the sheer walls. “I’m barely walking.”

  After a moment’s thought, he said, “Follow me.”

  The servants’ quarters were on the first floor. Lad slipped from one window to the next, peering into the dark rooms until he recognized his three snoring Enforcers. All it took was a tap on the window to rouse them. Within minutes, they met Lad and Mya at the back door with a couple of blankets. The trip up the servant’s stairs to the third floor went well. To any prying eyes, they seemed nothing more than faithful servants escorting their drunken employers to bed.

  As surprised as the Enforcers were to find Lad at their window, it was nothing next to their shock of seeing Mya’s tattered and bloody gown when she dropped her concealing cloak in the privacy of their suite. She forestalled questions with her usual aplomb.

  “Stop gaping and get to work! I want a meal here in ten minutes, and the carriage ready to leave in twenty. Keep it quiet!” She hurried into the bedroom, tearing at the laces of her dress.

  Lad tried for a gentler approach. “There’s been trouble and we have to get out of the city. I’ll explain everything later. For now, follow Mya’s orders quickly and quietly.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Lad almost told them he was no long guildmaster, but decided to wait. They would learn soon enough. He closed the door behind them and peeled out of his bloody clothes.

  Sooner than he would have thought possible, they were ready, dressed in clean clothes, and full from a hasty meal of cheese, bread, and cold roast mutton. Lad kept his newly bandaged hand tucked under his jacket as he watched the Enforcers heft the last of their bags into the boot of the carriage.

  “Ready?”

  Lad turned at Mya’s question. Though pale, she looked remarkably normal in her traveling dress, though he noticed that she wore no corset. She’d eaten like a starved wolf, and downed two tankards of mulled wine. Truth be told, Lad’s dinner sat heavy in his stomach, their conversation gnawing at him.

  “I’m ready. Are you sure about this?”

  She smiled at him, then looked away. “I’m sure.”

  Lad held out his arm for her, and she rested her fingers there with only a slight hesitation.

  As the carriage clattered along, they both stared out the windows, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Lad watched as the elegant architecture of the Heights District gave way to the more staid buildings of Midtown. Twice they were stopped by patrols. Lad feared the worst, but the constables were only making routine checks for illegal activity, and let them pass. Apparently, news of the emperor’s assassination had not yet hit the streets. Only when they turned onto the bridge near River Gate did Mya finally break the silence.

  “How long have you known?” She looked Lad square in the eye, her jaw clenched. “How I feel about you, I mean.”

  “Not long. Not until tonight.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t figure out why you’d risk your life for me when you had the perfect way out.”

  “You’re an idiot.” She looked away and brushed the hair back from her ear.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “What?” Her eyes flashed again, as sharp as the daggers in her dress.

  “Brush your hair back, click your nails, rub your nose, bite your lip… Those are your tells. You’ll have to learn to control them if you don’t want anyone to read you.”r />
  “Like you’ve been doing, you mean,” she said, looking away again. “Thank you.”

  Lad wanted to say more, but he didn’t know what. After all the years he had spent watching Mya’s back, he still felt responsible for her.

  At the end of the bridge, Mya thumped to alert the driver—“This will do.”—and the carriage lurched to a halt. On the corner stood an inn sporting an incongruous placard depicting a porcupine and a cactus in a compromising position beneath the name, The Prickly Pair.

  Lifting her hand, Mya gazed at the ring on her finger. “You know I’ll never forgive you for this.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  Mya reached for the door latch, but Lad stopped her, placing his bandaged hand atop hers.

  “You could come back to Twailin. You know people there. You could run things from the Golden Cockerel. Sereth would support you.”

  She smiled, but lifted his hand and placed it back in his lap. “No. The Grandmaster belongs in Tsing.”

  The Enforcers had unloaded Mya’s two bags, hefted them into the inn’s foyer, and returned to their seats.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Mya leaned over and kissed Lad. He didn’t protest. Her lips were soft, but they weren’t Wiggin’s.

  When they parted, he said, “I’m sorry, Mya.”

  “So am I.” The Grandmaster of Assassins stepped out of the carriage and hurried to the inn without a backward glance.

  “Drive on!” Lad thumped the roof with the head of his cane, and the carriage jerked into motion. His hand hurt, and his heart ached, but he was alive. And he was going home.

  As the last light of sunset faded, Mya sat on the crest of the tallest inn in the Dreggars Quarter. She had abandoned her dresses for her favorite dark trousers and shirt. Despite the demise of the sun, the sky was still lit by flames from across the river.

  That afternoon, she, along with hundreds of other citizens of Tsing, had watched Crown Prince Arbuckle order a phalanx of knights to release all the prisoners in the Imperial Plaza. Arbuckle himself had set the first torch to the bonfire built from the wood of the despicable machines. Only then had the people allowed themselves to believe the rumors: Tynean Tsing II was dead. Tynean Tsing III had yet to be crowned, but a new era was already dawning on the Tsing Empire.