The Queen's Blade (24 page)

"But the Prince is gone..."

"I do not need Kerrion here, my plans have no call for that."

"Might I ask what your plans are, My Queen?"

"No." Minna softened her answer with a stiff smile that did not reach her eyes. "Not yet. All in good time."

"But Blade knows."

Minna cast the assassin a rueful glance. "He guessed." Her expression became haughty and her tone brisk. "I want the men who did this. They must be made to confess the names of their employers, who will be rounded up and put to death."

"My Queen," Chiana murmured, "if you use Blade to kill your enemies, you will put him in extreme danger."

"I know that." She sighed. "He has lived all his life with danger, and I shall do my utmost to protect him. I do not need you to point out the obvious." She swung away and headed for the door. "Tell me the moment he wakes, I wish to speak to him."

"Yes, My Queen."

Chapter Fourteen

Blade was not allowed to wake properly for three days. The doctor's draught kept him in a deep sleep, and when he roused, his manservant, Arken, administered more of the drug. Chiana visited him several times, concerned for his health, which seemed fragile. He looked oddly vulnerable when asleep, she thought, and did not resemble a killer by any stretch of the imagination.

When he was allowed to become fully alert, Arken plied him with nourishing broth and mulled wine. For some time-glasses, he lay in a befuddled stupor, listlessly eating the food Arken fed him and gazing at the ceiling with dull eyes. The healer's arrival to change his dressings dragged him from his lethargy, and the pain soured his mood, which did not improve when Chiana went to visit him upon learning that he was finally fully aware.

"What do you want?" he growled, scowling at her.

"How are you feeling?"

He looked away, presenting the less bruised side of his face to her. "Imagine being trampled by a herd of horses, then having your head beaten on the floor, and finally knives stuck into you. That may give you some idea."

Chiana averted her gaze. His skin was stretched too tightly over his fine bones, and lines of suffering bracketed his mouth and furrowed his brow.

"The Queen wishes to see you."

He sighed. "Not now. I am in no mood to be good company, and I fear my manners will fail me."

"They never were that good," she retorted, the words skipping off her tongue before she could bite them back.

Blade turned to glare at her. "You have a sharp tongue for a woman of doves, but yes, you are right. It is hard to learn courtly manners in the gutter."

"Surely assassins do not live in the gutter? I thought it quite a lucrative profession."

"I was not always an assassin."

"I find it hard to imagine you as anything else."

He looked away again. "Do not bother to try."

Chiana bit her lip, stepping closer to the bed. "A message has arrived for you."

"From whom?"

"I do not know. Do you wish me to read it to you?"

Blade scowled at her. "I can read." He tried to sit up, but grimaced and sank back with a groan. "God, does that damned healer have nothing to stop the pain?"

"The draught for pain makes you sleep, and now you must start to eat again and regain your strength."

Blade held out his hand, and Chiana placed a black-edged missive in it. The assassin's eyes narrowed as he studied it, and he shot her a hard glance. "When did this arrive?"

"This morning."

"Good. You may go."

Chiana opened her mouth to rebuke him, then recalled his rank and shut it. Spinning away, she marched out, banging the door behind her.

Blade contemplated the square of coarse yellow paper, its edges dipped in ink. He did not need to open it to know who it was from, only the assassin's guild used such a distinctive trademark, and he pondered its probable contents. He had received missives from the guild in the past, usually invitations to attend one of their gatherings, or to defend his title as Master of the Dance. Aside from defending his title, he had not gone, or replied. He had found no use for the guild since receiving his tattoo, and was not pleased to receive a summons now. With a flick of his fingers, he broke the wax seal and opened the letter, reading the few lines written in blood.

The letter bore only a drawing of a dagger at its end, and he frowned. It was another invitation of sorts, but there was more to it than that. The letter held a warning, which, though not spelt out, was sufficiently obvious to cause him slight alarm. That the guild should seek to warn him was unusual, assassins were not prone to protecting their own. The date of the meeting was two days away, and the place was a sacred site of ancient stones outside the city, where the guild always met.

A knock at the door startled him, and two liveried flunkies opened it to admit the Queen. Minna-Satu wore a floating, pale green silk morning gown over a deep blue, form-hugging dress. The colours enhanced her eyes and paled her skin, accentuating the contrast of her hair. Her eyes sparkled, and he wondered if it was with happiness or anger. Her first words solved the mystery.

"How dare you refuse to see me?" She came to his bedside and glared down at him.

Blade glanced past her at Chiana, who hovered by the door, looking smug. "I fear that my message was ill conveyed, My Queen. I merely said that I was not yet well enough to receive you properly, since I cannot arise from my bed to give you a proper greeting."

Minna's brow smoothed, and her eyes narrowed as she too glanced at the advisor, who now appeared ill at ease. "I see." She turned back to him. "Obviously I do not expect you to leap up and bow, you are ill." She hesitated, then sat on the edge of the bed. "I am most pleased to see you awake. How do you feel? Have you much pain?"

"I am alive."

She inclined her head. "Those who injured you will be brought to justice just as soon as you name them, or describe them accurately to Captain Redgard."

"I do not know their names, and describing them would do little good, they look like common street thugs. They were hired men. I never saw their masters."

"But they would know who hired them. They can be made to talk."

Blade shook his head. "As I have said, I cannot describe them."

"Surely you must have fought when they captured you? Did you not injure any of them?"

"Yes, all of them. One has a shallow cut across his chest, another I stabbed in the stomach, one has a broken hand, and the fourth..." He looked away. "I cannot remember what I did to him."

"That is enough. You will describe all this to Captain Redgard, and he will find them."

Blade shrugged, wincing. "They may not know who hired them either, My Queen. If the traitors were clever, they will not have revealed their identity to these thugs, or their faces."

"Then we shall hope that those who hired these men were not that clever. I shall find out who is plotting against me. Such treason cannot go unpunished."

Blade closed his eyes, wishing that she would go away. As if reading his thoughts, Minna stood up. "I will leave you to rest now, Lord Conash. Captain Redgard will be sent to you when you are feeling well enough to receive him."

He nodded, feigning utter exhaustion. "My Queen."

When the door had closed behind his visitors, he found that his exhaustion was not wholly feigned, and soon fell asleep.

The following day, he described his assailants to an attentive Captain Redgard, then spent the day in a restful doze, rousing only to eat and drink. Arken tiptoed in and out of the room as he tended his patient, and the healer came in the afternoon to change Blade's dressings again.

The day of his meeting with the assassin's guild, Blade forced himself to rise from the bed. His knees almost buckled when he tried to stand, and he hung onto the bedpost, wondering how he would attend the meeting when he could barely walk. Trying to ignore the pain, he tottered across the room to peer into the mirror, examining the fading bruises on his face. The swelling had gone down, but greenish marks dappled his skin like sickly shadows. He fingered his nose, glad to find it unbroken.

"Do not worry, you are still as handsome as ever."

The sound of Chiana's voice made him turn too quickly, and his bad leg buckled. He grabbed the table under the mirror as he fell, bringing several ornaments crashing down around him. The advisor hurried over and tried to help him up, but he slapped her hands away.

"Are you all right?" she enquired, looking worried.

"No thanks to you. Do you never knock?"

"I thought you might be asleep. I did not want to disturb you."

"Mighty considerate of you." He levered himself into a chair. The pain made sweat pop out on his brow, and he gritted his teeth.

"I did not expect to find you out of bed. You are still too weak."

"I noticed."

She raised a brow, a slight, mocking smile tugging at her lips. "Was it so important to look in the mirror?"

Blade glared up at her. "What do you want?"

"The Queen wishes to know how you fare."

"I was much better until you sneaked up on me with your rude comments."

"I did not sneak up on you, nor was my comment intended to be rude."

He snorted, looking away. Chiana moved to sit on a chair in front of him, arranging her skirts. Blade noted the slight flush in her cheeks, and the way her eyes avoided his.

"I only spoke the truth," she went on, "though I am surprised by your concern."

"So you find me handsome, and think me vain?"

"Yes."

"And what possible reason, do you suppose, would I have for being vain? Do you think that I wish to attract members of the opposite sex?"

Her cheeks reddened further. "No, I suppose not." She hesitated, then glanced at him. "So why are you so concerned about your appearance?"

Blade gave her a gentle, mocking smile that made her look away. "I have to attend a meeting tonight, of the assassin's guild, and I do not relish the idea of meeting my peers looking like I have been beaten to within an inch of my life. Call it pride, if you will, but not vanity. Spare me your girlish assumptions."

"But you are not well enough. You cannot travel."

"I will decide what I can and cannot do."

"You will tear open your wounds, and you barely have the strength to stand."

"I am not planning on doing anything more strenuous than riding a horse and talking to some old acquaintances."

She shook her head. "The Queen will not allow it."

"You will not tell the Queen until I have gone. I will need new daggers, and a horse tonight."

Chiana looked scandalised. "You cannot order me to keep secrets from the Queen."

"Why not?"

"She has a right to know where you go."

Blade's brows rose a fraction, and his lips curled at the corners. "She is not my keeper. I am free to go when and where I wish. Should she wish to prevent me, she must throw me into the dungeons and put me in chains. For this she has no reason."

"You endanger yourself, and she has need of you."

Blade leant forward, wincing. "Chiana, when she sends me to do her killing, she puts me in great danger, so do not claim that her concern is for anything other than selfish reasons. So long as I am a free man, my life is my own to do with as I see fit. I shall not die from my wounds, and this meeting is not dangerous."

Chiana shivered, and he wondered at the cause of it. Her expression told him that she would protest further, and he smiled, knowing it would cause the words to die on her lips. She averted her eyes.

"Then take someone with you, to help you, should you need it."

"You?"

"No, not unless you wish it."

"I must go alone, and I require no help."

She looked uncertain and worried, but nodded. "If this is your wish, Lord Conash, then I cannot prevent you, but the Queen will be angry when she hears of it."

He shrugged, unconcerned. "I am not afraid of her. Can you procure another dagger?"

"Of course."

"Good, bring me one before dusk, and arrange for a horse to be made ready. I shall ride out after dark."

"As you wish, My Lord." She rose to her feet. "And since you are feeling well enough to travel around attending meetings, I am sure you will have no trouble getting back to your bed."

With this tart remark, Chiana spun in a swirl of skirts and left, banging the door behind her. Blade gazed after her, then shook his head and struggled from the chair to continue his gentle exercise, loosening stiff muscles and forcing some strength into his legs.

By nightfall, the combination of exercise and good food had returned some of his vigour. Arken brought him a silver-hilted dagger, and a message that his horse was ready. The servant's frown held a wealth of disapproval for his charge's ill-advised jaunt. Blade dressed in his black leather garb, which had been washed and mended since the fight.

The ride to the meeting, although achieved at a sedate walk, proved to be painful and tiring. Blade arrived at the assigned location far weaker than he would have wished, and mustered all of his remaining energy to walk without a limp into the ring of torches that lighted the scene. A surprising number of assassins were assembled within the circle of tall grey stones whose origins had been lost in time. Their black clothes made them blend into a formless mass dotted with pale faces, their numerous familiars hidden amongst them. Many were apprentices, young boys barely in their teens.

Blade turned to face an older man who rose from the ranks, a dark wolf following him like a shadow. His former tutor's hair was touched with grey at the temples, and his well-trimmed beard bore twin white lines that gave him the distinguished air of a scholar. Then again, Blade mused, Kai had always looked distinguished, an asset that had helped his career. At almost forty years old, he was, by assassins' standards, venerable.

Had he remained an active assassin, he would not have achieved such a great age. Kai had retired in his late twenties, and now earned his living teaching young assassins for a share of their profits once they earned their tattoos. He was also an elder in the assassin's guild, which gave him the power to aid in their decisions and partake in the rituals, such as judging young assassins striving to attain their mark. Older retired assassins ranked above him, but in this instance, he was the guild's spokesman, as Blade's erstwhile tutor.