Invisible Assassin (3 page)

Minna gripped his elbow. "Do not make him do this. He did not want to imprison you. He asked for your help and you refused. You know we are telling the truth."

"You are. He may have duped us both."

"Why would he?"

"To have you as his willing prize and me as his servant."

Minna shook her head. "He would not risk his throne for that."

"I would think not, but how do we know that what he says is true? Perhaps he risks nothing."

Kerrion walked to a gilded perch and set his familiar upon it, then drew a slim dagger from his belt. He shot Blade a final, hate-filled glare before turning to stroke the bird, muttering soothing sounds. Minna looked away as the King lifted Kiara's wing, exposing the patch of almost bare skin beneath it. He pressed the dagger to the soft warmth of his familiar's flesh and made a small, swift cut. Kiara gave a high, keening cry, raising her wings in distress. Kerrion wiped off the drop of blood that oozed from the wound and turned to face the assassin, holding out his bloody fingers, grey-faced.

"The blood of my familiar, you bastard. Are you satisfied now?"

Blade nodded, and Kerrion turned back to the eagle, stroking her again as he soothed her with soft words and caresses. Minna sank down on a pile of cushions, looking pale and sick.

"That is the most horrible thing I have witnessed."

Blade settled on the cushions before her, sipping his wine. "Then you have led a sheltered life, My Queen. Doubtless you would have been sickened even more had you seen what the Cotti soldiers did to my family and -"

"Enough!" She held up a hand. "I know you have suffered, and I sympathise. I do not need to hear more of it. Inflicting pain on another does not in any way repay what was done to you, and is therefore pointless. You are merely perpetuating their evil by becoming like those who committed the atrocities against you."

The assassin frowned. "I have never committed the atrocities that they did, but by becoming as unfeeling and cold as they I have become who and what I am. Had this not happened to me I would be a humble goatherd living in a border village with my wife and children. When the Cotti took away that future, they created me, and I make no apologies for what I am."

"No." She looked away. "I understand, Lord Conash. I do not ask for apologies, only a little less vindictiveness on your part."

Kerrion, having soothed his familiar, left her and came over to them, standing behind Blade. "Now that we have settled this dispute, may we move on?"

Minna looked up at him. "Yes, of course. It is Prince Ronan who leads your brothers' conspiracy, is it not?"

"He is the leader, but Targan is the one who plans it. He must be the first to die. Perhaps the others will desist without him."

Blade shook his head. "I am not fit enough to perform an assassination now. Three tendays in prison has weakened me, and my wounds are still too fresh. I must have time to recover and exercise, but this may take longer to undo." He held out his callused hands with their broken nails, dirt ingrained under them. Minna frowned at them, shooting Kerrion another accusing look.

The King made an impatient sound. "How does this hamper you?"

Blade turned to look up at him. "You have no concept of what it is to be an assassin, do you? Already I am almost crippled with a scarred lung, a deep leg wound that still aches at times, fresh cuts and damaged hands. Obviously you did not realise, when you sent me to prison to break rocks, just how damaging such activities would be to me."

"You are just using this as an excuse."

"Why would I need an excuse? I did not have to agree to do the Queen's bidding, even once I was convinced you were both telling the truth. I may be her subject, but my services as an assassin are not hers to command."

Kerrion snorted. "So how do a few calluses hamper you so much?"

"I cannot handle a dagger as well as I should if my hands do not have a great deal of sensitivity. My accuracy is compromised, and hard, unfeeling hands can slip or fumble. Also, should I have to affect a female disguise, such calluses would give me away."

The King opened his mouth to utter an angry rebuttal, but Minna held up a hand. "My maidens will tend to you, My Lord. With water and oils, gentle rubbing with a certain kind of stone, your hands can be restored within a tenday."

He nodded. "And I shall require a private place to exercise."

Kerrion asked, "Presumably you will now give your word not to escape?"

Blade looked scornful. "I have accepted the Queen's employ, that is sufficient." He sipped his wine. "I shall need information. Maps of the palace, the patrol times of the guards, Prince Targan's location, his habits and peculiarities. Based upon that information I will decide which will be the best strategy to use, and should I decide that it is necessary I will require the items that make up my disguise."

"You will have it," Minna said. "Anything you require, naturally. Have a list of these items sent to me with your servant, and Kerrion will see to it himself, since the utmost secrecy is necessary."

She glanced at the King, who nodded, then faced Blade again. "I am most pleased that you have agreed to help me, for both our sakes. You have only to name your fee and it shall be yours."

The assassin shrugged. "I will have to think on it, but my freedom is of course a part of it. And anything I want while I am here, such as my daggers returned to me immediately and suitable clothes."

"Of course." She waited to see if he would add anything else, then said, "If there is nothing further you wish to discuss, you may go, My Lord. I must ask you to remain in your room for the moment, however, until arrangements can be made."

Blade drained his wine and rose to his feet, bowing to her. "My Queen."

As soon as Blade left, Kerrion sat beside Minna and put his arm around her, smiling when she turned to look at him.

"Well, you did it," he murmured.

"No, you did. I am surprised he took so much convincing."

"He did not want to believe it."

She sighed. "He thinks me a fool, perhaps even a traitor to my people."

Kerrion hugged her. "I, for one, do not care what he thinks. The main thing is that you will soon be safe, so long as he is trustworthy."

"He is, even though he is a blade that cuts both ways."

The King fingered his swollen nose with a smile. "We both acquired a few bruises. I hope his cheek smarts as much as my nose."

"I certainly hit him hard enough. Though I wish I had hit him harder now, for what he made you do."

"It is not too late to remedy that, if you wish."

She giggled. "I think we have all been bruised enough for one day."

"Except you, of course."

"No one would dare to lay a hand on me, Kerrion."

"Not even Blade?"

She shook her head. "Not even Blade." She hesitated, smiling. "He did raise his hand to me once, but I do not believe he would have done it. Then, he was trying to get himself killed, but he would not do that now, I think."

Blade paced his room, unhappy with the situation in which he now found himself. He had indeed been convinced of the feelings that Kerrion and Minna shared, which did not sit well with him at all. His newly acquired freedom was pleasant, but its price irked him. No matter how he looked at it, serving the Queen also meant he served Kerrion, assassinating any who were a threat to keep the woman he loved safe. Therein lay his discontent, for being in the Cotti King's employ, even to slay his brothers, left a bad taste in Blade's mouth.

Stopping by the window, he gazed out across the pale stone city sweltering under the midday sun, longing for the green fields and cool mists of Jashimari. It seemed that fate had once more caught him up in its claws, taking him to places and situations he did not wish to go, and he wondered what destiny had in store for him next. Whatever it was, he was certain he would not like it. He turned as the door opened, and Olan came in with a tray of roasted meat, steamed vegetables and a cup of red wine. The Cotti servant shot him a hard glare, but retreated in tight-lipped silence. Blade smiled. At least there were some rewards to be gleaned from the situation.

The following day, four maidens came to Blade's room to bathe him and anoint him with oils, then spent many time-glasses rubbing the calluses from his hands. Later, a tailor measured him for new clothes, and in the afternoon he was shown to a secluded, walled garden where he could exercise. He scanned the tall hedge that surrounded it, searching for possible places where someone may spot him with a spyglass, but found none. When he returned to his room, he found his daggers awaiting him on his supper tray. Each day after that followed the same routine, until he had enough clothes, including a jacket sewn with fine chain mail, and the calluses on his hands were gone.

Twice during the tenday, Minna requested his company at lunch time, once with Kerrion's mother. The lady, despite Minna's assurances that he was just a Jashimari lord, regarded Blade with ill-concealed fear, and he did not see her again. The day the healer removed the stitches from Blade's chest, Olan brought a bundle containing maps, notes and a likeness of Prince Targan. Blade studied the information, committing it to memory.

Kerrion thrust open the door to his brother's room and walked in unannounced. Ronan leapt up from a cluster of concubines, straightening his clothes and glaring at Kerrion.

"Get out!" he shouted at the girls.

They fled, and Ronan poured himself a cup of wine and faced his brother. Kerrion strolled closer, noting the slight tremor in Ronan's hand.

"Are you not going to bow, Ronan?"

Ronan performed a stiff bow with insulting brevity. "What do you want?"

"I have come to tell you to stop plotting to kill the Jashimari Queen."

"That slut?" Ronan sneered. "I am not plotting any such thing."

"Of course you are. Do you think my spies are deaf and blind? Remember who I am now. All whispers reach my ears."

"Well they are lies," Ronan spluttered, taking a gulp of wine. "I would not waste my time on such a trivial matter."

"Oh, you have such weighty duties to perform? All I ever see you do is drink, rut and gamble."

"Exactly, I am not interested in plotting."

Kerrion helped himself to a cup of wine. "She will soon be your sister-in-law, and your Queen."

"She will never be a queen in Cotti. Even your most loyal followers would not stand for it. I do not care if she warms your bed, nor does anybody else. After all, it is an insult to her people."

"They think she is dead," Kerrion pointed out.

"Perhaps they should be told otherwise."

"You will keep your mouth shut, little brother. I am giving you fair warning. Leave her alone or pay the price. If my spies do not report that you have cancelled your little scheme, you will be sorry."

Ronan reddened. "Are you threatening me?"

"Yes, I am. Remember what happened to Lerton? He plotted against me too."

"That damned Jashimari murderer killed Lerton. You did not order his death, the slut who now warms your bed did."

Kerrion put down the wine cup. "That does not mean I would not order yours."

"You would not dare! You would never get away with it."

Kerrion headed for the door. "Care to make a wager on it? Heed my warning. Stop plotting Minna's death now."

"You do not scare me with your threats!"

Kerrion paused in the doorway. "That is a pity. I never liked you, but you are still my half-brother."

Chapter Three

Twelve days after his release from prison, the Queen summoned Blade to her rooms again. He arrived to find Kerrion present, standing by the window, and no handmaidens in attendance. Minna sat amongst her cushions, stroking Shista, who sprawled beside her. At his entry, the King turned to regard him with a flat stare, and Minna smiled.

He stopped before her and bowed. "My Queen."

"Lord Conash, sit."

Blade selected a pile of cushions and sank into their midst, keeping an eye on Kerrion.

Minna's smile faded. "Are you well enough to work now, My Lord?"

"No, I am not yet fit enough."

"How long before you are?"

"Another tenday, I would say."

Minna glanced at Kerrion. "We have learnt that Prince Ronan plans to make his attempt four days from now."

"Himself?"

"No," Kerrion growled. "He will send men, thugs, most likely. But he will ensure that the guards are sent away just before. They will not dare to disobey him, even if I order them to. Disobeying a Cotti prince is treason."

"And slaying the King's future wife is not?"

"No, not unless she is carrying my child, and we have no such hope at this time."

"What about disobeying the King by obeying Ronan?"

Kerrion sighed. "It is also treason, but if Ronan orders them to leave and they refuse, he will simply kill them. They cannot defend themselves against him; it is forbidden for a soldier to raise a weapon to a prince. Given the choice between an immediate death at his hands or the possibility that I will have them executed, they will opt for the lesser of the two evils, in the hope that I will spare them. I would be entitled to punish Ronan for killing my men, of course, but his punishment would not be death. I could banish him for a few moons, but that would do no good, since Minna would be dead. If that happens I will kill him, and face the gallows myself."

Blade looked at Minna again. "If it is to be in four days, then I shall have to slay Targan on the third night. It is still a little too soon, but it must be done then, I suppose."

"It would be better if it was sooner," Kerrion muttered.

"Probably, but I need the three days to prepare. If you wish it done sooner, send someone else. Also, there is one piece of information you have failed to give me. What is Targan's beast kin?"

Kerrion smiled. "You have no need to worry about that. Targan's familiar is a rat."

"I do not discount rats. They are alert, and can warn their friends. Any familiar is dangerous in a situation such as this, since animals are generally more alert than we are. A man of horses would be easier, since his familiar must sleep in the stables."