He turned to the accused, both commoners and noble. “Sentencing for your crimes will take place tomorrow morning in the Imperial Plaza for all to witness. Baron Ledwig, as the ranking imperial noble, I hereby revoke your title for behavior unbefitting a noble, but I won’t punish your family for your reprehensible conduct. Baroness Ledwig, you are now matriarch of your house. Teach your heirs to behave better than your husband has.”
The woman glared at him defiantly, but said not a word.
Arbuckle stood, and the crowd came to their feet. “These proceedings are finished. Commander Ithross, you will post announcements for tomorrow’s sentencing so that all may bear witness.”
“Yes, milord!”
Arbuckle departed through the side entrance and headed back to his chambers in the company of his entourage.
“Your pardon, milord, but do you think passing sentence in the plaza is a wise thing to do? It’s apt to draw a large crowd.” Tennison’s brow wrinkled with worry.
“Wise?” Arbuckle considered the question. “I don’t know if it’s wise, but it’s necessary. They’ve got to see that I’m serious about equal justice for all.”
“The common folk?”
“Everyone.” Arbuckle quirked a weak smile. “Besides, after I burnt all the gallows and pillories in the square, I’d probably face more danger at a cocktail party of nobles than I would walking the streets of the Dreggars Quarter.”
“If I don’t see another gods-be-damned saddle for the rest of my life, it’ll be too soon.” Paxal dismounted and rubbed his backside, then pulled the saddlebags off his horse.
“I’m with you on that one, Pax.” Dee hefted his considerably heaver bags and followed Paxal out of the inn stable, his knees wobbling with every stride. “I’m for a hot meal and a warm bed.”
“Add a cool pint, and you’ve got a winner, my boy.”
Their last day had been their longest. Though they’d planned to arrive tomorrow, the good roads and lack of traffic had urged them on, and they’d ridden well into the night to reach Tsing. They were both shaking with fatigue, but they could start their search for Mya first thing in the morning.
A lamppost illuminated the door and bawdily illustrated sign of the Prickly Pair. The painting of a porcupine in congress with a cactus brought a smile to Dee’s lips. He wondered if Mya would still be here.
Not likely.
If the guild had accepted her as Grandmaster, her new quarters would be far more luxurious. If they hadn’t, she would have moved to evade Hoseph.
Unless he found her first. Dee shook off the disturbing notion, refusing to believe that their long trip had been for naught. In his musing, he almost ran into Paxal, who had stopped and was scrutinizing the posterboard mounted beside the inn’s front door.
“Well, there’s somethin’ you don’t see every day.” Paxal rubbed his stubbly jaw and shook his head.
“What?” Dee stopped beside him, squinting at the collage of notices. “Something about Mya?”
“No.” Paxal tapped a broadsheet embossed with the imperial crest of Tsing and pinned front and center on the board. “Least ways, I hope not. Looks like the crown prince is sentencing some noble for killing a commoner. It’s gonna be public, too; in the Imperial Plaza tomorrow morning.”
“Is that unusual? Duke Mir has publically sentenced criminals.”
“It ain’t the public sentencing that’s unusual.” Paxal pulled open the inn’s door and they staggered inside. “Under the last emperor, nobles could do as they pleased to commoners, and nobody gave a flyin’ bat fart. That’s why I left. Maybe this crown prince’s got new ideas.”
“Can I help you gentlemen?” The man seated behind the small counter in the entrance hall tried to hide a yawn as he stood to greet them. “You look road weary. Do you need a room?”
“And a hot meal?” Dee asked hopefully.
“I’m afraid all we got is soup and bread, but you’re welcome to it. And the bar’s still open.”
“Bless you, good man!” Pax looked relieved. “It’ll be like mana from heaven.”
“We’ll probably be staying a few days.” Dee fished a gold crown from his purse and dropped it on the counter, then jerked his thumb toward the front door. “What’s that news we saw about the crown prince sentencing a noble tomorrow?”
“Oh, our new prince is a right firebrand, he is!” The man grinned and snatched up the coin, peering at the mint. Pocketing it, he waved them into the inn’s common room. “Things are changin’ for the better around here. He actually arrested some baron for whippin’ one of his maids to death, and he’s already held a trial! All anyone can talk about is what kind of sentence the prince might pass.”
Dee looked around as the innkeeper led them to a table. He’d seen too many inn common rooms lately, and there was nothing special about this one. All the tables were empty, since it was well past meal time, but several late-night patrons still sat at the bar. No Mya. Gratefully depositing his heavy bags beside a chair, he sat. “You’ve roused my interest. Maybe we’ll attend the sentencing.”
“Not wise, my friend. Not unless you like a good fight and a night in the lockup.”
Paxal raised his brows. “The lockup?”
“The last time Crown Prince Arbuckle had a gatherin’ in the Imperial Plaza, more’n a few folks ended up behind bars for startin’ fires. No, I’d advise you to stay well away. We’ll hear soon enough what happened.” The innkeeper waved toward their bags. “Do you mind takin’ your own bags up? My boy’s already gone to bed.”
“We don’t mind.” Dee patted his gold-laden saddlebags. Innkeepers had been trying to unburden him of its weight all week, and it was a relief to not have to make yet another excuse to keep it beside him. “For now, I’ll bless your name to all the Gods of Light if you pour us a pint of ale and bring us a meal. And if you’ve got a minute, would you mind filling us in on what’s going on around the city?”
“Of course! I’ll be right back.”
Dee nodded at the man as he hurried away. “He seems helpful.”
“Not much to do on the night shift,” Pax explained. “Probably glad for the distraction. So, what’s our first step to finding Mya?”
Dee nodded toward the inn’s front door. “That posterboard gave me an idea. Mya’s a Hunter; she deals in information. She’ll be keeping an eye on the news.”
“You want to post a flier to find her?”
“Yes, but we’ve got to word it so nobody else knows who we’re looking for.”
Mya reveled in the cool night air and the shadows that rendered her all but invisible. It felt good to be out at night for a change, dressed in her comfortable dark trousers, shirt, and soft boots instead of a bulky and restricting dress, not to mention the heeled shoes. Here in the dark—her daggers at the ready, her continued existence dependent on her skills as a Hunter—life made more sense. Alone, stalking the deep shadows, she felt right, alive, a monster in her natural habitat.
Sure as hell beats staring at the ceiling trying to sleep!
Ducking around a corner, she paused to listen as another squad of constables clanked past. They seemed intent on making noise, as if by sheer bluster they would keep the peace. Good luck with that. Not since the news of the blademasters’ mass suicide had the city been so charged with nervous energy. Rumors of the sentencing had spread like wildfire. Crown Prince Arbuckle was being true to his word. Baron Ledwig had gone too far, and there would be hell to pay.
Unless someone makes the prince pay it first.
Mya wondered again if she had miscalculated by planning to warn the prince instead of concentrating on killing Hoseph. Now Arbuckle was coming out in public, and she knew that the Assassins Guild wouldn’t pass up the chance to try to kill him. Lady T might promise to aid Mya, but until Hoseph was dead, she had to play along with the conspiracy.
As she made her way down an alley, Mya considered what she knew of the Imperial Plaza. It seemed the perfect setup: wide-open with thousands of peo
ple to serve as distractions for the guards, and an unwitting target. At least she assumed the crown prince was unwitting, for only a fool would show his face in the public if he knew someone wanted him dead. Ignorant or foolish, his public appearance had forced Mya’s hand.
So she was out tonight doing what she was trained to do, surveying the scene, picking out the best vantage, the most likely approaches and lines of fire, evaluating obstacles, planning the hit. But this time she would be trying to save a life, pitting her skills against Lady T’s Hunters, hoping to outguess the Tsing assassins.
Mya stopped short and pressed herself against the wall as another patrol stomped by. They’re as thick as flies on a horse’s ass tonight. But she knew they had been thicker during the day. Constables, soldiers, and imperial guards had surrounded the plaza until sunset, a deterrent to onlookers who attempted spy on the activity in the plaza. They had erected tall canvas barriers around the north end of the square, even cleared out the adjacent buildings for a time, angering those who labored in the factories and shops there. Wagons hauled lumber and other building materials in, and sounds of construction could be heard until the workers dispersed with the setting sun.
Noise alerted Mya to two patrols converging on her position. If she didn’t want to be seen, she’d be forced to backtrack. The delay frustrated her. She had to get to the plaza, see the layout, anticipate where an assassin might be placed, and plan her countermeasures. But how, with so many constables tromping the streets? She looked left and right as the clattering caps neared.
Think like an assassin, Mya. Think like… No, think like Lad! She looked up.
Window, drainpipe, window, cornice, eaves and up. Her eye picked out the path like she was casing it for Lad. She wondered if she could do it without falling. The guards closed, leaving her no choice. She swarmed up the vertical path, making it to the top with surprising ease. Hunkering on the rooftop, she peered down at the passing constables and smiled.
Easy as pie…
Mya glanced around. She was still one street over from the plaza, and the roofs of the buildings here were flat or pitched at low angles. She had a better vantage from up here, but the path to the plaza presented some challenges. I can do this.
Mya rose from her crouch and dashed across the roof toward gaping space of the street, gauging the distance to the next building. Banishing the thought of what would happen if she missed, she leapt. Her landing wasn’t as graceful as Lad’s would have been, but she had made it safely. A couple of the roof tiles slipped askew under her feet, but none fell to give away her position. She edged up to the crest of the low-pitched roof and lay flat to look out over the Imperial Plaza.
The public space was enormous, two city blocks long and one wide. Since the Night of Flame, the plaza had been utterly bare, scoured clean of soot, ash, and the persistent bloodstains of four decades of brutality. It was no longer empty.
What in the Nine Hells?
A broad platform had been constructed at the north end of the plaza, about six feet high with stairs at the back and both sides. That was to be expected, but in the center of the platform stood a canvas-shrouded rectangle the height of three men. It wasn’t big enough to be a gallows, and was too big to be a pillory.
Never mind that. She directed her attention to the surrounding buildings. Where would I place assassins?
Mya recalled all the troops accompanying the crown prince the last time he came here. Without his blademasters, the number of regular guards would be increased. They would surround the entire platform and seal off the streets on that end. There was no way anyone—even Lad—could get through such a cordon on foot. The attack would come from a distance, but from where?
Too close and you risk getting spotted. Too far and you risk missing. Too low, you’re obstructed. Too high reduces your angle to the target.
Three buildings closest to the platform were the most suitable. She ruled out the roofs as being too exposed. A yarn factory and two storefronts with apartments above lined the street directly north of the platform. To the east stood a warehouse with high, vented windows, and to the west a chandlery, also windowed. A sniper could get a decent shot from any of the third- or fourth-floor windows. That narrowed the field somewhat, but still left plenty of possibilities.
I can’t watch them all alone, but I don’t have to. Mya would station her urchins as high as she could for the best view. She would tell them what to look for, and they could use their whistles to alert her of anything they spotted. She’d been practicing their whistling system for days, memorizing what each call meant, though she still needed a lot of work to master the calls herself.
So, where do I watch from?
Mya needed to hear their whistles, see everything, and still be able to act to save the prince’s life, or at least shout a warning if she couldn’t reach the assassin.
Where will a sniper be? She rose to her elbows and peered through the darkness, trying to think from the assassin’s point of view. Where would I—
Something moved; a figure at the crest of the chandlery roof backlit for an instant by the glow of Hightown. Mya froze and held her breath. There were constables aplenty on the streets below, but would they set a rooftop watch? Squinting, she caught a glimpse of black on black as someone edged forward to peer down at the square.
Not a constable, she realized, but an assassin.
Lady T had sent one of her Hunters out to do exactly what Mya was doing.
Mya watched for a short while as the figure scanned the plaza, the buildings, and the surrounding rooftops with a spyglass. She held perfectly still, considering her options. Killing the assassin might actually thwart the assassination attempt by depriving Lady T of information. Moreover, if done correctly, the dead body might also tip off the constabulary that someone was planning to knock off the prince.
Before Mya made a decision, the sweep of the assassin’s spyglass halted abruptly, the lens aimed right at her.
Was she backlit? What was behind her? The lights of Midtown perhaps? She stared at the gleaming lens, willing it to move, to sweep past her, but it didn’t. She swallowed, and the lens suddenly shifted. The figure moved away fast in a crouch, over the crest of the roof. Gone… Somehow, she wasn’t sure how, the assassin had spotted her.
Damn… Whoever it had been was good. Even if she’d been silhouetted against the light, picking out the shape of a human head on a skyline in the dark was something she’d only expect from someone with Lad’s skills.
“Magic maybe?” It didn’t matter. She’d surely been spotted.
Still, they had no way of knowing it was her, only that someone had seen them casing the plaza. That might make them more careful in their choices, but it wouldn’t prevent the assassination attempt. She’d just have to make sure that she covered all the possibilities.
Mya headed for home. She’d seen everything she needed to see. Tonight she’d outline the most likely positions for a sniper targeting the prince on the platform, and tomorrow morning she’d instruct her urchins what to look for and place them in the nearby buildings.
Pitting me and my army of urchins against the Tsing Assassins Guild… It would have been laughable if it wasn’t exactly what she was going to do.
Chapter XV
Arbuckle grunted as the weight of the chainmail shirt fell onto his shoulders. It felt wrong to be armoring himself to face his people, but Ithross had insisted. Thinking of the poisoned blackbrew, Arbuckle hadn’t argued.
Not wise, but necessary… Maybe that should be my new mantra.
He held up his arms so Baris could slip the surcoat—elegant in imperial blue and gold—over his head and place the thin platinum circlet on his brow. Finally ready, he stepped into his sitting room, took his place with Tennison and Verul amongst the ring of imperial guards and knights. The walk to the courtyard was silent, as if the gravity of the situation stilled everyone’s tongues. The future and wellbeing of the empire rode on this day. Everything depended on how his judgmen
ts were received by noble and commoner alike.
Am I doing the right thing?
Arbuckle squinted as he passed through the palace doors into the sunlit courtyard, paused until his eyes adjusted, and blinked at the size of the procession. Knights and squires on horseback, a phalanx of cavalry, and ranks of imperial guards in blue and gold waited to escort the three carriages. Two of the carriages were plain transport for the prisoners. The third shone like a gem-studded crown. The body of the carriage was blue, elaborately embellished with gold leaf, and the wheels were studded with glittering blue sapphires. A team of six perfectly matched white horses pranced and pawed at the cobbles, their gilded headdresses and harnesses flashing in the sun.
“Oh, Tennison, no. That’s my father’s carriage.”
“No, Milord Prince, it’s the emperor’s carriage.” He regarded the prince solemnly. “You may not yet have the title, but you will. Today you’ll show yourself to be a true leader of the people—all the people.”
With a sigh of contrition, Arbuckle mounted the carriage and settled back into the plush seat. He understood Tennison’s point, but wanted to protest. What kind of message does it send that I ride in a carriage more valuable than the yearly wages of a thousand commoners?
Mya felt a curious sense of familiarity as the crown prince’s entourage pulled into the Imperial Plaza. Hopefully this event wouldn’t end as badly as the last. Of course, this had the potential to end much worse. If she didn’t manage to stop Lady T’s assassin, the ensuing conflagration would make the Night of Flame look like a campfire.
Mya blew an errant strand of hair out of her eyes and turned her gaze upward. She had stationed her spies atop the three northernmost buildings. When she asked the urchins if they could manage to get to the rooftops, they’d laughed.
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