Weapon of Fear by Chris A. Jackson, Anne L. McMillen-Jackson

me.”
    “So…tell
them that, milord.”
    Tennison’s
simple solution struck Arbuckle like a thunderbolt.  “Of course!”  He flicked
an impatient hand at the secretary’s leger.  “I’ll personally announce the
emperor’s death!  We need someplace public, and large enough to accommodate
many!”
    The
secretary’s brows arched in surprise, his feather quill quivering over the
leger.  “Milord, I didn’t mean—”
    “No,
it’s perfect !” Arbuckle warmed to the proposal.  “Draft posters to be
distributed throughout the city immediately.  I will appear at the Imperial
Plaza this afternoon to make an important announcement.  See to the details for
transportation and security.”
    “Yes,
Milord Prince.”  Tennison still looked horrified, but there was something else
there, too.
    Hope ? Arbuckle wondered.  The thought
brought a smile.   Yes…that’s what the commoners need.  They need hope .

 
Chapter III

     
     
    A t the chime of the doorbell, Dee
dropped his polishing rag.  With Lad off to Tsing, there wasn’t much for him to
do.  The continuing investigation into the murder of Lad’s wife was running
without much help.  Collating the information in preparation for Lad’s return
was his only real guild-related duty for the time being.  Desperate to be busy,
Dee had resorted to touching up the silver.  Answering the door came as a
welcome break.
    Peeking
through the lens mounted in the center of the door, however, Dee thought the
break might not be so welcome after all.  A hooded acolyte stood on the stoop,
probably seeking a contribution.
    “I’m
so sorry, good brother,” Dee said as he opened the door.  “My master’s out of
town, and I’m not authorized to give donations in his stead.  Perhaps if you
come back when—”
    “I
know your master’s not home, and I’m not here for a donation.  I’m here on
guild business, and I’ll not discuss it on the stoop.”  The man’s scowl was clearly
not intended to entice generosity, and his face was unfamiliar.
    Dee
had been fooled once before by a spy in a clever disguise, and had vowed that
would never happen again.  However, if the man was actually a guild messenger,
this certainly was not something to discuss on the stoop. 
    Stepping
back, he waved the visitor in.  “I have no idea what guild you’re talking
about, but if you have business, you may come into the foyer.”  If this was a
trick to get entry for some nefarious motive, the man would be in for a
surprise.  Dee could summon two Enforcers in seconds.  He closed the door and
confronted the alleged acolyte, his arms crossed.  “Now, what’s this about?”
    “Who’s
in charge of the Twailin guild?”  The demand came without warning, and in a
tone intended to intimidate.
    Dee
wasn’t.
    “I
don’t know you, sir, and I don’t know what guild you keep referring to.  I’ll
have your name and business, or you’ll be out the door this instant.”
    The
acolyte pushed the hood back off of his head, giving Dee his first good look at
his features.  The man’s pate was shaved smooth, his features were angular, and
his eyes cold.  When he spoke, his tone came as sharp as a newly whetted razor.
    “My
name is Hoseph.  I’m the personal assistant to the Grandmaster of the Assassins
Guild.  You are the assistant to Guildmaster Lad of the Twailin Assassins
Guild.  You need to tell me who’s in charge of the Twailin guild
in your master’s absence.”
    Dee
tensed, but maintained his long-practiced composure as his mind raced.  Personal
assistant to the Grandmaster!   The claim seemed incredible, but rang true, given
the man’s knowledge of Lad’s identity.  It also explained why he seemed
unaccustomed to being questioned.  “Master Blade Sereth was put in temporary
command.” 
    “Very
well.  Have him here at this time tomorrow so that I may speak with him.”
    That
didn’t sound good at all.  Why would the Grandmaster’s assistant be here