Master of the Dance (47 page)

"She is the Queen, My Lord, and, although young, her ideas are popular. Perhaps even given to her by influential lords. There are calls for vengeance against Contara for the Regent's suffering and the attempt upon her life. Others wish to liberate Contara from Cotti rule and set another ally upon the throne."

"Endor was responsible for the attempt and the death of Chiana's familiar, and he is dead."

Insash nodded. "But Kerrion will send another prince to rule Contara. As you know, they are all cut from the same cloth."

"Jashimari is not capable of waging another war."

"Many lords say that it would stimulate the economy by reviving the mining and arms manufacturing, and create jobs for those who have no work."

"And get a lot of people killed."

"Exactly, My Lord."

Blade frowned. "What has Kerrion to say on the matter? Does Kerra not know that she is effectively declaring war on her father?"

"The Queen has not informed him of it, and there is no time to do so now." Insash paused, looking dour. "You are the only person who can stop her, My Lord. She has summoned the court to another audience this afternoon. I fear that she will give the lords permission to take up arms then."

"She has no power."

"She has as much as the lords and generals give her. If they choose to obey her, we will find ourselves at war with Contara."

Blade growled, "I am not the damned Regent, Chiana is."

"As long as your wife is unable to rule, you are. Your rank has been elevated, too."

"Indeed? I did not think there were any more bloody titles left."

"Only one. Upon her return from Cotti, Queen Kerra declared you to be High Lord."

Blade snorted. "That is all I need, another damned title."

"Will you put a stop to this? Are you well enough to come to the audience this afternoon?"

"Given a choice, no."

"But you will do it?"

"If I do, she will suffer dearly for it, I promise you."

Insash drew himself up. "You cannot lay hands upon the Queen, Lord Conash. It would be an act of treason."

"Good, then they can execute me for it."

The chief advisor paled, then apparently dismissed Blade's words as a jest, and bowed. "I shall send Arken in to help you dress."

Blade closed his eyes when Insash left, wishing he could sink back into sleep's black abyss and the cessation of pain it offered. Moments later, Arken stood beside the bed, laying out a selection of clothes.

Blade struggled to sit up, groaning as fresh pain flowed through his abused body, and Arken came closer to take the assassin's elbow and pull him up. Blade swung his legs off the bed as the servant pulled back the covers, finding that he wore only his baggy grey flannel shorts. A wave of dizziness swept over him, and he closed his eyes until it passed.

Arken studied the assassin with deep concern, shocked by his pallor, and quelled an impulse to offer Blade the broth again, for he looked too weak to stand. His suffering had sharpened his fine features, and he almost seemed fragile. Blade glanced at the black, silver-embroidered outfit Arken had selected and grimaced, but only slightly.

"This time you'll have to help me. It seems I'm without the use of one arm."

"I'll be honoured to, My Lord."

"Will you?" Blade's apparent amiability vanished as he shot Arken a look that chilled his bones. "Then get on with it, it's damned cold in here."

Clearly the assassin was furious with his weakness, which forced him to rely on others, and at being made to leave the comfort of his bed. Arken glanced at the fire that blazed in the hearth, but realised that in Blade's current condition, he would be more susceptible to cold. Picking up the thick black winter shirt he had selected, he pulled it onto Blade's good arm, leaving the empty sleeve hanging. The shirt was large enough to accommodate his strapped arm, but the jacket could not be laced.

With deft efficiency and a complete lack of embarrassment gleaned from years of servitude, Arken dressed Blade in the tight black silver-edged trousers and boots, ignoring the waves of resentment and irritation the assassin emanated. Blade sat on the edge of the bed while he submitted to the servant's ministrations, allowing him to comb his hair and place his Knight's medal around his neck. Arken stepped back and eyed his handiwork, tucking away the shirt's empty sleeve. When he raised his eyes to Blade's face, he found the assassin watching him with cold amusement, his eyes burning with anger.

"Well, do I look like a court dandy?"

"No, My Lord. You look very fine. Are you able to walk to the audience chamber?"

"What if I'm not? Will you arrange a litter for me? Or a walking stick perhaps, so I can hobble like an aged cripple?"

"If you require it."

Blade snorted and rose to his feet, grimacing. "Bring me my daggers."

"But My Lord..."

"Don't argue with me. I'm in no mood for it."

"Yes, My Lord."

Blade tucked two daggers into his belt sheaths, leaving the other four, then headed for the door. Arken followed, watching him for signs of weakness that may result in his collapse, but the assassin showed none. His journey to the audience chamber was achieved at a sedate walk, leading a retinue of guards with Arken at the fore.

The audience had already started, and a muttering crowd of nobles and advisors filled the golden hall to capacity. Blade walked past the doorway behind the throne, reserved for the Queen or Regent, choosing instead to use the lords' door at the back of the chamber. Only the herald, who stood just inside the portal, ready to announce the name and rank of each arrival, noticed his entry. The man stared at Blade in confusion, then his eyes widened and he turned, opening his mouth. Realising that the man was about to shout his name to the throng, Blade turned to Arken.

"Silence him."

Arken reached the herald just in time, grabbed his arm and swung him around with a squeak of surprise. The manservant raised a finger to his lips, and the herald glanced at Blade, shivering when he met the assassin's eyes. The crowd blocked Blade's view of the Queen, but he listened to the debate that raged at the front of the hall over the muttering of nearby lords.

It seemed that at least two lords had enough sense to denounce the plan to invade Contara, and engaged its supporters in a rowdy argument. Reservations that mirrored Blade's were aired vociferously and countered with blustering words of bravado and patriotic zeal that found much support amongst lesser lords. Blade recognised Insash's deep, measured tones trying to talk sense into the supporters of violence, only to be shouted down with jeers and insults. The soft clink of the Queen's sceptre interrupted the debate, and Kerra spoke.

"My lords, we can argue this subject all day. Naturally there are those who disagree with waging war on Contara, just as there were those who disliked the war with Cotti."

"Of which your mother was one," Insash pointed out.

"Indeed, and she succeeded in ending it, but this is a different matter altogether. A swift invasion will oust the Cotti presence and return sovereignty to its rightful place with the Contara nobility. Once that is achieved, there will be no more assassins sent to slay our Regent or Cotti princes abusing the Contara people. They have been our allies for hundreds of years, and if we free them we will win their friendship and respect, a strong ally to stand beside us."

"There is no guarantee that the Contara will remain our allies, My Queen," Insash pointed out. "The Cotti throne is now related to ours by blood, and is therefore an ally that can never turn against us. This was what your mother died for."

"Leave my mother out of this," Kerra snapped, and Blade was surprised by the authority and assurance with which she spoke. "I seek to end the unjust rule of Cotti princes over the Contara people."

"And is that worth the loss of thousands of our warriors in battle? We do not owe them any great debt, for which we must sacrifice our people to free them. Let them rise up and throw off the Cotti yoke themselves, if they can."

"You know as well as I do that they cannot. Their army is disbanded and cannot be reformed. They struggle just to survive, slaves to a Cotti prince."

"That is not our problem, My Queen."

"It is when that Cotti prince is sending assassins to murder our Regent or blackmailing us with foul plots."

"Prince Endor is dead," Insash said.

"And his replacement will be just as bad, maybe worse."

"Then you should apply to your father to send a regent who is not a prince to rule Cotti, a lord he trusts," Insash suggested.

Blade glanced at Arken and signalled for him to stay where he was, then made his way around the perimeter of the room towards the throne. The debate continued between Kerra and Insash, but the young Queen discounted the old man's wise council, and some young lords started to hiss whenever he spoke. Blade was forced to elbow his way around a pillar, but the throng was so engrossed in the argument that no one noticed who he was. He arrived at the edge of the front row, where a soldier stood with a spear grounded, marking the boundary over which no lord dared step without an invitation from the Queen.

Four lords stood in the clear area before the throne, facing Insash, who stood at the Queen's right hand. Kerra sat in regal splendour, garbed in a bright vermilion gown beneath the sheath of fine golden mail the Queen traditionally wore at audiences. Her hair was swept up into a cascade of shining golden ringlets that framed her face, held in place with jewelled pins. Diamonds dripped from her ears and adorned her throat like a frosted cobweb. She held the six-foot golden sceptre in one be-ringed hand, and her face was set in lines of cool haughtier. Minna-Satu had done a good job of teaching her the mannerisms and lofty poise expected of a queen, Blade mused.

Insash faced her like a plump owl, robed in deep brown and amber, his silver chain of office glinting on his chest. He struggled to hide his desperation, for no matter how good his arguments were, Kerra dismissed them without consideration, intent on her agenda.

"My Queen," he begged, "this plan of yours is not in Jashimari's best interests. Peace is the way to prosperity; war will only bring the death of thousands of young men and a new population of cripples for the crown to support."

"But this war will be brief, no more than a battle, then Contara will be free and peace will return."

"Only if your father allows you to oust his army from Contara. If he sends reinforcements it will escalate."

Kerra raised her chin. "My father will not wage war against me. He will withdraw."

"Have you informed him of your plan? If this is true, will he not withdraw upon your request?"

"Actions speak louder than words, and when he realises what it will entail to keep Contara, he will withdraw."

"Then why not write to him and tell him of your plan? Perhaps bloodshed could be avoided?"

Kerra hesitated, and one of the lords who stood before her declared, "We must strike now. Informing King Kerrion will lead to delays, and he may reinforce his army in Contara to deter us."

"Or one of the regents might wake up," Insash said, and Kerra shot him a frown as he added, "Do you think Chiana would go to war with Contara, My Queen?"

Kerra looked uncomfortable. "Chiana is a gentle lady, but she would want vengeance for her familiar's death, and the attempt on her life."

"But Endor is dead. She is avenged."

"His lords and cronies remain. We must put an end to the Cotti rule of Contara if we wish to be safe from them."

Blade stepped over the boundary while Kerra spoke and wandered towards the throne. The soldier had recognised him, and the people around the throne were so engrossed in the discussion that they did not notice him.

"And what would I have to say upon this matter, Kerra?" he asked.

The Queen looked around with a gasp of surprise, and the lords gaped at Blade, who stopped a couple of yards from the throne. Insash sagged with relief.

The herald who stood inside the Queen's door spotted him and bellowed, "His Grace, High Lord Conash, Lord Protector of Jashimari, sacred Knight of the Veil and Regent of Jashimari!"

Blade shot the luckless man a glare, then glanced around with a frown as the court sank down in a deep bow. Annoyed, he walked closer to the four lords, trying to put names to their faces and failing.

"Which one of you has whispered this foul plot in the Queen's ear? Or was it all of you?"

"What foul plot?" a fat, balding lord blustered, then recoiled when Blade's gaze pinned him.

"This one. It is not going to happen. Kerra-Manu is not the ruler of this kingdom, and you had no right to encourage her in her infantile foolishness." Blade turned to the guards who stood against the walls. "Arrest these four for treason."

"Treason!" the fat lord squeaked, his eyes bulging. "It was not our idea. The Queen wished it!"

"I do not care," Blade snarled. "I have been dragged from my sickbed to put an end to this, and my temper is foul. Do not make me angry enough to order your execution."

The fat lord gasped, casting a pleading look at his cohorts, then the Queen. Kerra stared at Blade with a look of utter dismay while the soldiers took hold of the four lords and dragged them away.

Blade turned to her. "This audience is over, along with the stupidity."

She appeared to gather her wits. "My Lord, you are not well enough to take up your office. You should be resting."

"I would be, if not for your idiocy."

A low, angry growl came from the ranks of lords, and several shot Blade rash glares. The assassin swept them with a glance that brought instant, uneasy silence, for all knew he held the reins of power, and angering him was not in their best interests. He turned and walked up the steps to the throne, where he held out his hand to Kerra in a courteous gesture. She gazed up at him, much of her poise deserting her at his proximity, and the sight of the anger in his eyes.

Kerra took his hand and rose, looking bemused. He took the sceptre from her, raised it to signal the end of the audience, and handed it to an attendant. Once more he held out his hand, and she took it, allowing him to lead her out of the Queen's door. In the hall, he dropped her hand and gripped her wrist, tugging her along the passage to her quarters, where he released her as the guards closed the doors behind them.