Weapon of Vengeance (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy) by Chris A. Jackson Page A

we overlap.  We provide many
services that our opposition doesn’t.  In these, we should be unaffected.”
    “So, we hold the fort and wait.”
    “And watch, sir.  We mustn’t forget that.”
    “Of course.”  His eyes flicked up, then back to the
menu.  “And the investigation into their guildmaster’s recent loss?   Has it
borne any fruit?”
    “Not yet, sir.  I’m watching that as well.”  Kiesha
focused on her menu, hoping Hensen wouldn’t probe.  She hadn’t told him about
Sereth’s ultimatum.  Her failure there would only earn her punishment, and she
still had the upper hand—Sereth wouldn’t dare do anything that might result in
harm to his precious wife.  She was sure she could convince the Master Blade to
be reasonable and cooperate again.  Thankfully, the arrival of their waiter
precluded further questions.
    “It’s about time.”  Hensen glanced at the waiter and
squinted.
    Kiesha knew that look, and cringed.  The fellow’s
suit was wrinkled, his chin sported the shadow of whiskers, and an errant curl
had escaped from his otherwise neatly clubbed hair.  She found him cute, in a
frazzled sort of way.
    “Have you made a decision yet, sir?”
    “Yes…”  Hensen closed his menu and dropped it on the
table as if offended.  “I’ll have the crayfish and mussels in garlic cream
sauce.”
    “And you, ma’am?”  He picked up the dropped menu and
turned to Kiesha.
    “The pork medallions in port wine sauce, please.”  Kiesha
handed over her menu.
    “Very good.”  The waiter started to leave, but
Hensen cleared his throat.
    “We would like wine , dear boy.  Please have
the steward pick out something nice to accompany each of our meals.  And there
is one more thing.”
    “Yes, sir?”
    “You are rude and incompetent.  Proper decorum
requires that you take the lady’s order first .  Your manners are
abysmal, your personal grooming abysmal, and your clothing disheveled.”   The
volume of Hensen’s voice drew glances from several nearby tables.  Nobles
sneered, and one young lady giggled behind her hand.  “Please have the
proprietor see to your appearance.  Your slovenly attire and unkempt appearance
have nearly ruined my appetite.”
    Kiesha’s face burned with embarrassment for the poor
man.
    “I…uh…”  The young man’s face flushed red.
    “Rest assured, I’ll be speaking to the proprietor
when I leave.”
    The waiter stood up straighter and tugged his
jacket, the muscles of his jaw twitching.  “Yes, sir .”  He turned on his
heel and fled.
    Kiesha kept her eyes down.  She’d been the focus of
her father’s public ridicule far too many times to find the exchange amusing. 
Hensen sipped his water as if nothing had occurred.  He probably felt it his
civic duty to humiliate the man.  Kiesha thought it abhorrent.  She wondered if
he’d done it to punish her for her comment about the hostess.
    It would be just like him …
    Kiesha often wondered if she loved her father or
hated him.  Once more, he had lifted her hopes with his barest encouragement,
only to crush them into despair.  Hensen acted as if the entire world was
fashioned for his entertainment.  He could be sweet when it served his
purposes, but those times were rare. 
    The problem , she realized, is that I both
love and hate him.
    “Any other impressions, my dear?”  Hensen seemed
oblivious to her sudden shift in mood.
    With a surge of hatred overwhelming her dwindling
love for him, she decided to play the one card she knew he feared above all
others.  It might earn her punishment, but frankly, right now she didn’t care.
    “Yes, I do have something you need to hear.  It’s
about our friend who works for the opposition.”
    “Yes?”
    “I met with him yesterday, and he was more than a
little upset.”
    “That sounds perfectly normal.  What news did he
have?”
    “None.  He refused to give me anything at all.”
    “What?”  Hensen’s eyes widened, then