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be Grandmaster in the interim?”  She narrowed her eyes at him.  “I
sincerely hope that you don’t think it will be you.”
    So
that’s what she’s worried about . 
He smiled in contrition.  “Don’t be ridiculous, Tara.  I’m no assassin.  My
place is in the shadow of power, offering guidance.  I consider you the
obvious choice, of course.”
    A
wry smile spread across the lady’s lips.  “Until the royal heir is trained up, then
you kill me to give him the ring.  I’ll certainly serve as interim
Grandmaster, but I’ll not wear the ring, except on a chain around my neck.”
    “That
would suffice.  By the time the child is grown, you’ll have a duchy and be the
Emperor’s closest confidant, if we play our cards right.”  The priest rose and
gave her a significant look.  “But first we have to find and execute these two
rebels.  They took the Grandmaster’s ring.”
    “They’d
have been fools not to.  But that raises a new problem. One of them has
undoubtedly put the ring on.  No assassin can touch the wearer.”
    “I
can.”  Hoseph lifted a hand, the pearly glow of Demia’s death magic radiating
from his palm.  “You find them, and I’ll kill them.  But be wary.  For the
attack to succeed, it must be a complete surprise.”
    “Of course it does!”  She glowered at him.  “Don’t deign to teach me my
business, Hoseph!”
    “You
haven’t seen them fight , Tara.”  There it was again, that trill of fear
up his spine.  Failure …
    “Some
of my people encountered them night before last.  I’m aware of their prowess.” 
Her glare remained undiminished.
    “Very
well.”  He nodded respectfully.  “Find Lad and Mya.  They can’t have gone far
or fast.  They took an injured prisoner with them.”
    “A
prisoner?  Who?”
    “The
captain of the Twailin Royal Guard.” Hoseph quickly explained the sequence of
events that had brought Norwood to Tsing, including Lad’s association with the
man while searching for his wife’s killer.  “Find the traitors.  I’ll inform
the provincial guildmasters of the Grandmaster’s death and our plan to pressure
the provincial dukes to manipulate Arbuckle.”
    “Can
I ask you a question before you flitter away?”
    “Of
course.”
    “Why
the disguise?”
    “I
was…implicated in the emperor’s death.  They were going to question me under
magical compulsion, which would risk exposure of the guild.  I couldn’t let
that happen, so I fled.  I’m sure they took that as evidence of guilt, and that
the entire constabulary is searching for me.”
    Lady
T cocked her head and scrutinized him, a lopsided smile on her lips.  “I can
arrange a better disguise for you.”
    Hoseph
stiffened as he drew the hood of the acolyte’s robe over his head.  “Though I
must forego my high priest’s robes for the immediate future, I would not insult
my goddess by disavowing my allegiance altogether.”  He looked deliberately
around the room, committing the space to memory.  If their relationship didn’t
work out, he might have to pop in someday…or night.  “I’ll be in touch.”
    Clasping
the silver skull hidden in the sleeve of his robe, Hoseph called on Demia’s
power, and the room melted into shadow around him.
     

     
    Arbuckle
wasn’t sure which ached more: his hands or his eyes.  He flexed his fingers,
wincing at the blisters on his palms.  He had wielded an axe for more than an
hour, along with several knights and squires, demolishing the vile instruments
of torture in his father’s interrogation chamber.  Afterward, he had watched
with grim satisfaction as the doors were sealed and the keys destroyed.  There
would be no torture during the reign of Tynean Tsing III.
    Except
for paperwork , he
lamented as he gazed at the parchments strewn across his desk.  Ignorant of the
intricacies of the running of the empire, Arbuckle had insisted he be brought
up to speed.  Most details were handled by functionaries, but he