Weapon of Flesh (55 page)

“Smuggling?  Is that what this was all about?” Mistress Inquisitor Calmarel asked incredulously, sweeping her ebony hair back in a dramatic arc.  “That seems so... trite.”

“No,” Mya said, sipping her wine again while ignoring the woman’s penchant for the dramatic.  “Saliez was prepared to ship tons of high quality black lotus into the Empire through this city.  He had suppliers, distributors and the traffickers all lined up.  It would have brought in tens of thousands in gold every month.”

“And would have started a war with the Thieves’ Guild,” Neera stated flatly.  “They have always controlled the lotus trade within the Empire.  Was he prepared for that?”

Mya looked to the slim figure standing at her elbow and let a predatory smile grace her sensuous lips.  “Yes, he was.”

“Regardless of his plans, proceeding without a leader...”  Master Blade Horice shrugged noncommittally, steepling his long, graceful fingers before him.  “It seems dangerous.  No?”

“
We
will lead the guild.  We are, together, more powerful, smarter, and more able to govern our own actions and serve the guild, than
any
one man or woman,” Mya said, steel edging her voice.  “We would vote on any action that requires the resources of more than our own areas of expertise, or anything that might affect the guild as a whole.  We take a simple vow not to contract without at least one other master’s agreement to do so, and we take another not to contract one another.  This would not be a vow bound by magic, but one backed by common interest.”  She smiled thinly and sipped her wine.

“Breaking these vows would naturally have to carry a significant penalty.”

“Is that what he’s for?” Mistress Calmarel asked accusatively, flicking a manicured nail at the slim figure standing at Mya’s elbow.  “To keep us in line?”

There were more murmurs around the room, some between the masters, and some between the comparably large number of bodyguards each master or mistress boasted.  Lad was Mya’s only companion in the room, and she felt utterly safe.  The rumors of exactly how the Grandfather died
had
reached them, just as she intended.

“No.  He is here to keep daggers from sprouting from between my shoulder blades.”  She turned and patted Lad’s arm affectionately.  He stood rock still, eyes staring forward at nothing, impassive as a statue.  “That’s all.”

“And what of that?” Youtrin growled, gesturing toward the lonely ring lying in the middle of the table.  “What do we do with that?”

There was an extended silence, all of them considering the fact that the wearer of that ring could not be harmed by any of the five masters seated at the table.

“I think it should be melted down, personally.”  Calmarel flexed her own left hand and the polished ring of obsidian on her finger glittered in the lamplight.  “It poses too great a risk for the rest of us.”

“I agree,” Mya said evenly, smiling thinly at them all.  “But it’s obvious that none of us trusts the others enough to delegate the task.  Keep in mind that while we all cannot harm the bearer, others may.  If one of us were to suddenly be seen wearing the ring of the guildmaster...”

“Fine then.  Who do we trust to have it destroyed?”  Youtrin glared around the room, his broad brow furrowing.

“I trust him,” Neera said finally, pointing one ancient crooked finger toward Lad.  “There is no deceit in his face.  Give him the ring and tell him to destroy it, Mya.  He is bound by your command.  He will see it done.”

“Is that acceptable to everyone?” Mya asked, keeping her tone calm despite her racing heart.  They still thought Lad was under her control, just as she had hoped.

They all nodded their ascent, so she said, “Lad, take the ring and tomorrow morning take it to a blacksmith and have it melted down.  Bring the lump of gold back to me so the others can see it upon our next meeting.”

“Yes, Mya,” he said, his tone perfectly obedient.  He took the ring and tucked it into his black silk tunic.

“I can’t say that your proposal doesn’t sound good to me, Mya,” Horice said with a pensive wag of a finger.  “The agreement between the masters would have to be drawn up and signed by all of us, of course.  Transgressions by any one of us would be dealt with by the rest of us directly.  And as you say, much effort was wasted under the leadership of the late Saliez.”

“I just happen to have such an agreement drawn up already, if you please.”  She withdrew four, ribbon-bound scrolls from the satchel at her feet and passed them around.  “This is just a rough draft, of course.  We can discuss any changes, additions or deletions as a group and vote on them right here and now.  Or, if you prefer time to study the document, we can reconvene in, say, three days?”

“Agreed,” three of her four peers said in unison.  Youtrin simply grabbed the scroll and handed it to one of his men.

“Very good!”  Mya stood and raised her glass to the others.  “In parting, I would like to offer this toast:  To the
new
Assassin’s Guild!”

The others repeated her toast and touched the rims of their fine crystal glasses together.  The sound rang in Mya’s ears like music as she drank.

The masters shared a few parting false pleasantries and gathered their entourages.  Mya bid them all good evening and finished her wine as the door closed behind the last of them.

“Paxal, you have once again served me well,” Mya said as the innkeeper moved about the room, clearing the glasses and small plates of tidbits that had gone largely untouched.  She tossed a small pouch on the table.  It landed heavily.  Thick gold coins rattled inside as it vanished into the innkeeper’s hand.  “I will require the room in three days.  Until then, please see that my presence in your establishment remains a secret.”

“My pleasure, Mistress Mya,” he said with a bow, turning to leave.

“And you, Lad,” she said, turning to her silent partner in this dangerous gambit.  “Thank you.  Your presence is the only reason I’m still breathing.”  She withdrew another pouch from a pocket and held it out before her.  “I don’t suppose you’d consider trading that ring in your pocket for this?”

“No, I wouldn’t, Mya.”  He narrowed those luminous eyes at her and smiled thinly.

“Oh fine.  You really need to learn some humor, Lad.  Take the money.  You’ve earned it.  Go spend it on that innkeeper’s daughter of yours.”  She thrust the pouch at him.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he took it.

“I
still
will not kill for you, Mya,” he said, tucking the pouch into the belt of his trousers.  “Not now, and not ever.”

“And I won’t ask you to, unless it’s to defend me from those jackals.”  She moved to the rack in the corner and removed a heavy cloak of crimson-dyed wool.  She drew it over her shoulders and tied the clasp with a smile.  “Our partnership is simple, Lad.  Don’t read more into it than is really there.  You protect me and help me change the guild into something slightly less brutal, and I keep you safe from the Royal Guard and keep Youtrin’s racketeers out of the
Tap and Kettle
.”  She paused and checked the weapons hidden inside the heavy cloak.  “Personally, I think you’re getting the better end of the deal.”

“Where are you going?” he asked, his eyes raking over her and, she knew, cataloging every one of her hidden surprises.

“Out.”  He didn’t need to know anything more.

“Should I accompany you?”  He nodded to the back door.  “The others could have someone waiting for you.”

“No, Lad.  Not tonight.  I’m... meeting someone.”

“Who?”

He was still so naive that she had to smile.  “A
friend
, Lad.  That’s all you need to know.”

“Good.”  He smiled and nodded at her, his strange honest features relaxing somewhat.  “It’s good that you have a friend, Mya.”

“Yes.”  She had to smile again.  “Yes, it is good.  And thank you, if I didn’t tell you before.  I owe you a lot.”

She held out her hand to him then, and he took it, though she did notice that he checked to make sure that she wasn’t wearing a ring on that hand before he carefully matched grips with her.

“You are welcome, Mya,” he said as their hands parted.  “I still do not trust you, you know, but....  Well, I suppose there is no harm in trying.”

“No, Lad.  No harm at all.”

“Goodnight, Mya,” he said, heading for the door.  She knew where he was going, so there was no need to ask.  She thought not for the first time that Lad was wasting his time with that innkeeper’s daughter, but it really wasn’t her business.  The door closed, and she waited a few moments before following.

The night was cool and a light rain fell, dampening the air and her high spirits.  She had never liked the rain, especially the cool rains of winter.  She could never get warm enough, and always felt like her feet would stay wet forever.

She stayed to the shadows, more from habit than from any need for concealment, and made her way a few blocks north and east.  She made sure that her enthusiastic bodyguard was not following her by doubling back a few times, ducking into a couple of pubs and exiting through different doors than she entered.  Lad could have followed her through the open streets without her knowing, she knew, but she doubted he could manage to keep track of her through the noisy public houses.

Finally, she entered the stately inn that was her destination.  She passed through the common room without a nod to anyone; the room had been reserved in advance.  Besides, the proprietor knew her and knew what she was; he would not have interfered with her if she’d walked in without a penny in her pocket and claimed the finest suite.  When the landing of the third floor was finally beneath her boots and the noise of the rowdy common room was dampened and distant, she felt secure in the reality that she had reached her goal without being observed.  The proprietor of the inn was the only person who knew who she was meeting here, and he knew equally well that he would be dead by morning if he betrayed that trust.

The key in her pocket worked the latch without a hitch, and she slipped into the room without any more sound than the click of it locking behind her.

“Hello, my dear,” her clandestine associate said in a soothing even tone.  He knew she was uncomfortable with this, and his calming manner was to set her at ease.  He almost accomplished it.

“Hello,” she said, releasing the clasp on her cloak and hanging it on one of the pegs behind the door.  “Are you ready for me?”

“Presently, my dear.  Just make yourself comfortable.”

She knew what he meant, so she hung her sword belt on another peg and slipped off her high, soft boots.  The hard mattress creaked as she sat and loosened her tunic lacings.  She watched him covertly as she drew it over her head and folded it neatly, but he kept his attention on his work.  The light chemise came over her head and was folded atop her tunic on the small night table.  She stood, removed her trousers and added them to the pile.  Her thin scanties and socks, she kept, the former for some modicum of modesty, the latter because her feet got cold.

Next was the hardest part, as far as she was concerned; she lay on the bed and tried to relax, tried to think of something else, tried not think at all.  She tried not to listen to the tick, tick, tick of metal against porcelain, tried not to hear the droning of his voice, tried not to wonder about the words she could never understand.  As with so many things she tried, she failed.

“Ready, my dear?

She forced herself to answer, willing her voice to radiate the calm that she did not feel.  “Ready, Vonlith.”

“Very good.”  She closed her eyes and felt him move to the side of the bed.  “Now, just try to relax, my dear.”

“Just shut up and do it,” she snapped, steeling her nerves for that first prick of the needle and the overwhelming rush of the magic.

 
Epilogue

“I
t’s late, Wiggen,” Forbish said, taking the mop from her weary grasp and resting a comforting hand on her drooping shoulder.

“Is it?”  She looked around the common room, brushing a lock of hair back from her face.  All the guests had gone to bed.  The fire was burning low, and the lamps had been turned down.  “I hadn’t noticed.”