Weapon of Blood (40 page)

“He would have killed you.”  He sighed
and shook his head.  “We’re in a very delicate position here, Kiesha.  You did
well to ensure that Mya and Lad weren’t killed—at least we’ve earned our full
contract—but you were careless.  If Lad tries to find out who killed his
wife...  Well, we must ensure that he doesn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Father.”

Hensen stiffened as if he’d been knifed. 
He slammed shut the door and strode over to Kiesha, the muscles of his jaw
writhing under the skin.  “I told you
never
to call me that!  You don’t
know who’s listening, even here!”

“I…I’m sorry.  It slipped.”  She fixed
her eyes on his shoes, properly abashed.  “It won’t happen again, sir.”

“See that it doesn’t!”  He raised his
hand and she flinched, expecting a blow.  Instead, he took her chin between his
thumb and forefinger, and tilted her eyes up to his.  “If they find out you’re
my daughter, they’ll use you to get to me, just as the Assassins Guild used
Lad’s daughter to get to him.  Weapons of blood are the deadliest of all, my
dear.  Do you understand?”

“I understand, sir.”

“Good.  Get some sleep.  We’ll talk in
the morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the door shut behind him, Kiesha sank
down on her bed.  Hensen would never know her lie.  She’d known exactly who had
dashed out of that tunnel.  In fact, she’d been waiting for Wiggen to expose
herself.  With the ring on Wiggen’s finger, no one else could be appointed
Twailin guildmaster.  She was sure the Grandmaster would be pleased with her
decision.

Her decision to kill an innocent woman.

In the silence of her bedroom, Kiesha
clapped her hands to her ears.  More than the blood and the horrific deaths she
had witnessed tonight, more even than killing Wiggen, one thing wracked her. 
It had chased her across the rooftops as she fled through the streets of
Twailin, and pursued her into her home.  It still rang in her mind.  She
wondered if she’d ever be free of Lad’s heart-wrenching howl of grief as he
mourned his dead wife.

The morning sun glinted off the slab of
polished marble that marked Wiggen’s grave, and blossoms from the overhanging
plum tree garnished the mound of newly overturned earth.  A sparrow sang out
the end of the rainy season, and Lad cocked his head to listen.

Wiggen so loved the birds
.

They had buried Wiggen in the little plot
behind the inn, out of sight of the main courtyard.  She was not alone; her
mother, brother, and Forbish’s father all lay here.  His wife would forever be
surrounded by the family she cherished.  The priest they’d paid to say the
blessing was long gone, but those who loved Wiggen remained, silent and
thoughtful, devastated by her loss.

Fathers, lovers, friends, cousins
…

Forbish stood at the head of the grave,
his arm tight around Josie’s shoulder.  They both wept openly.  The twins stood
like sentries on either side of the fresh mound, their cheeks streaked with
tears.

At the foot of the grave, Lissa fussed in
Lad’s arms, and he rocked her, murmuring meaningless words of comfort. 
Meaningless, because nothing could comfort a child who would never know her
mother.  For Lad, also, there was no comfort, no peace, no solace…no Wiggen. 
He felt as empty as a hollow gourd, lifeless and cold.  The only heat within
him was the smoldering hatred for the people who had killed his wife.

I’ll find them and I’ll kill them. 
All of them.  No mercy…

Lissa wiggled again, snuggling her warm
body against his chest, her tiny fist clenched in the laces of his shirt.  As he
hugged her closer, the guildmaster’s ring glinted on his finger.  He’d donned
the ring in a moment of grief and rage, determined to avenge his wife’s death. 
However, for that moment, he had forgotten that he was also a father.

Lad looked down into Lissa’s eyes and he
realized that he wasn’t completely empty.  His heart ached with love for his
daughter, ached with the pain of what he must do.  He caressed the smooth skin
of her plump cheek, and she smiled up at him.  Wiggen’s smile, his eyes, a wisp
of hair the color of honey… 
Remember
!

His heart broke anew.

The killer within him had been released,
and there was no way to put it back.  Not until he had avenged Wiggen’s death. 
And a killer could not be a father.  Lad strode to the head of the grave and placed
Lissa into her grandfather’s arms.

“Please…take care of her.”  His voice
caught on the lump in his throat, and his eyes burned as he brushed Lissa’s
gossamer hair with his fingertips.  He resisted the urge to snatch her back and
run to where no one would ever find them.  “I can’t be her father anymore.”

“What?”  Forbish’s face, already red from
crying, now flushed darker.  “You’re leaving her?  Us?  Just like that?”

“I’m sorry.”  Lad had repeated those
words countless times in the past two days, but he knew it would never be
enough.  This was all his fault.  The family had said time and again that they
didn’t blame him, that they loved him, and maybe it was true, but it didn’t
change the facts.  “I can’t stay here.  It’s too dangerous for Lissa…for all of
you.”

“You’re going after them, aren’t you?”
Tika asked, his voice thick with pent-up rage.

“We could help you!” Ponce offered,
wiping away his tears.

“No.  You have to stay here.  Be Lissa’s
uncles.  Protect her.  Protect the family.”  He fixed them with a meaningful
stare.  “Do that for me.  Please.”

The twins nodded and looked down.

“I’ll send money by courier,” he told
Forbish, but the innkeeper shook his head.

“I don’t want money, Lad.  I want you to
stay and be a father to Lissa.  She needs you!”

“I know, but I can’t…do what I have to do
and be her father at the same time.”  Lad looked at his daughter again, and the
lump in his throat threatened to overwhelm him.  He swallowed it and shook his
head.  “Maybe someday when this is all over I’ll be able to come back, but not
until it’s done.”

Josie burst into tears.  Forbish just
stared at him.

“I’m sorry.”  He knew his sorrow would
never be enough.

Lad wrenched himself away from his
daughter, his family, everything in the world that he loved.  Quickly, so as
not to lose his courage, he strode through the inn gates, out into the city. 
His ill-healed leg and shoulder stabbed him with every step, but he refused to
let the pain show in his gait.  It was only right that the pain of his wounds
embodied the pain of his soul.

No pain…no fear…no mercy
…

Four rings of purest obsidian lay upon
the table in the back room of the
Golden Cockerel
.  Before each ring
stood a senior journeyman, one from each of the four masterless factions:
Inquisitors, Blades, Enforcers, and Alchemists.  Mya stood at the end of the
table, the only remaining master.  She fingered her own ring behind her back as
she gauged each of her soon-to-be peers.  They cast more than a few nervous
glances at her, which was understandable.  Rumors about her were flying through
the guild.  Her secret was out.  She dismissed their interest and shifted her gaze
to the man behind the table.

Lad sat in Mya’s chair, a sheaf of papers
before him.  He eyed the potential masters, his pupils shimmering in the
lamplight, hard and pitiless.

He’s changed
, she thought. 
So different.

“Journeyman Alchemist Enola, pick up the
ring before you,” he ordered.

“Yes, Master.”  The trembling woman
stepped forward and picked up the ring.

No trouble there
, Mya thought. 
She’s been terrified of Neera for
so long, she’s the perfect slave already
.

“You’re now Master Alchemist Enola.  Put
on the ring.”

“Thank you, Master.”  She slipped the
ring onto her finger and backed up a step.

“According to our sources, Neera’s body
has not been identified, so you’ll take over her apothecary shop, posing as her
niece.  Your aunt has been called away, and you’re running her business for her
until she returns.  When news of her death arrives in a few months, you’ll
inherit the business.”  He lifted a stack of papers from the pile and dropped
it before her.  “All the documentation you need is there.  Do you have any
questions?”

“No, Master.”  She picked up the papers
and tucked them under her arm.

“Good.”  He turned to the next in line.

The new Master Inquisitor, a young dandy
named Bemrin, was known for his glib tongue and persuasive manner.  He had
quickly climbed the ranks to become Patrice’s second-in-command.  He accepted
his ring with a bow, a grin, and a flourish, none of which seemed to impress
Lad in the slightest.

Cocky bastard
, Mya thought. 
Thinks he can charm the spots off a
leopard.  He’ll learn soon enough.

“You’ll have to open your own place,
since Patrice’s body was identified and her businesses confiscated by the
Duke.  We’ll buy them back through intermediaries as they become available. 
For now, we’ve purchased an inn in West Crescent that you’ll use as your base
of operations.”  Lad dropped another pile of papers in front of Bemrin.  “
The
Laughing Fox
.  Do you know it?”

“Of course, Master.”

“Good.  Journeyman Sereth.”  Lad turned
his eyes to the Journeyman Blade.  Sereth returned the stare with barely
discernible trepidation.  “You were Horice’s bodyguard.”

“I was, Master.”

“Yet, when I attacked him, you didn’t
move to intervene.  Why?”

 “Honestly, Master, you struck so fast I
couldn’t intervene.  Afterward, I saw no use in giving up my life in an
ineffective attempt to avenge Horice’s death.  My job wasn’t revenge.”  Sereth
shrugged.  “Besides, Horice was an idiot.”

Mya raised an eyebrow at that. 
The
truth
, she thought. 
That’s an original approach
.

Lad cocked an eyebrow as if considering
the Blade’s words.  “If my life was in danger, would you risk yours to save
it?”

“I’m not sworn to protect you, Master,
only to serve you.  By guild law, my life is yours to spend.  If you order me
to fall on my sword, I’ll do it, right here, right now.  If you order me to
step between you and something lethal, the answer is the same.  But, frankly, I
don’t see how I can protect you better than you can protect yourself.”

Again Lad paused, but he finally seemed
satisfied.  “Pick up your ring.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Curious
… Mya thought, noting that Sereth slipped the ring
onto the smallest finger of his left hand, foregoing the traditional position
on the third finger of the left hand, though he wore no other ring there.

“You’ll have to open your own base of
operations, Sereth.  Horice was well known.  The guild will fund any reasonable
expense.  Is there a problem with that?”

“None, Master.”

“Good.”  Lad turned to the last of the
four, none other than Jingles Jarred.  “Jarred, you’re familiar with my former
place of residence, are you not?”