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

in
Twailin when Lad was visiting the Grandmaster in Tsing?  Had something happened
to Lad and Mya?  “May I tell him what this is in regard to?”
    Hoseph
stared for a moment, his eyes as blank as a viper’s.  Finally he said, “Tell
Master Sereth that the Grandmaster of the Assassins Guild has been murdered by
Guildmaster Lad and Master Hunter Mya.  These traitors are to be sought and
apprehended.  I’ll give Master Sereth the rest of the details tomorrow.”
    “What
the—”
    Before
Dee could complete his question, his visitor flipped a gleaming silver trinket
from his sleeve, uttered a word, and dissolved into a swirling cloud of black
mist.
    “Gods
of Light and Darkness!”  Dee staggered back as the last of the vapor
dissipated, the implications of the man’s visit and startling exit struck him.  Black mists …  Hoseph was the priestly assassin Lad had warned them
about, the man who had twice interfered in the investigation of Wiggen’s death,
once by killing Baron Patino, and again when he tried to kill Lad’s informant.
    The
thought worked like a key in his agile mind.  Details fell into place like a
row of tumblers.  Kiesha— click !  Patino— click !  Black mists— click ! 
Hoseph— click !  The Grandmaster dead…  The key stuck there, refusing to
open the door on the final truth.
    Dee
tried to work it out.  If Hoseph didn’t want Lad to solve Wiggen’s murder,
and he works for the Grandmaster, then…did the Grandmaster have something to do
with Wiggen’s death ?
    Lad
had vowed to kill whoever was responsible, and Hoseph had said that Lad and Mya
had killed the Grandmaster.  The theory made sense, but in reality, Lad and Mya
couldn’t lay a hand on the Grandmaster.  The rings they wore wouldn’t allow it.
    It
doesn’t matter . 
The Grandmaster was dead, and the guild blamed Lad and Mya.  Oh, there’s going
to be all Nine Hells to pay for this .
    Dee
hurried to the back of the house.  The two Enforcers sat at the table drinking
blackbrew and flirting with the pretty kitchen maid, who promptly curtsied and
scurried off.
    “I’m
going out for a while.” Dee grabbed his suitcoat.  “Don’t allow anyone into the
house.”  He dashed out before they could ask any questions. 
    Outside,
Dee slowed to a dignified stroll.  He was a gentleman’s assistant, and he had
to maintain that image.  At this time of morning the streets were bustling, so
he had no trouble flagging down a hackney.  Sereth’s fencing salon wasn’t far,
just on the edge of Barleycorn Heights, but Dee hadn’t taken the time to change
from his house shoes to walking shoes.  Truth be told, the hills in this part of
town wore him out.  Years spent working for Mya, and now Lad, had softened his
muscles.  But then, he’d always been more assistant than assassin.  He gave the
driver the address and climbed aboard.
    Leaning
back against the carriage cushions, Dee’ mind wandered to his two masters. 
He’d enjoyed working for Mya.  The Master Hunter was intelligent, sharp-witted,
and unfailingly loyal to her people.  The youngest Master Hunter ever in
Twailin, she had earned their loyalty in return.  Secretly, Dee had harbored a
decidedly unprofessional infatuation for his boss, even though he knew nothing
could ever happen.  He had often watched her cast glances at Lad and wondered
if something might be going on between them, but he now knew that Lad was
utterly devoted to his family.
    Lad …  Being the guildmaster’s
assistant was an entirely different experience.  No less gratifying, but
challenging.  There was an intensity to Lad that Dee found both unnerving and
thrilling to be around. Working for someone who could snap you like a twig—a
living weapon in emotional agony, no less—was daunting.  Still, Dee’s empathy
for the man who had lost his wife firmed his resolve to help him in any way he
could.
    The
hackney pulled up in front of Sereth’s studio, and Dee was out the door