The Queen's Blade (32 page)

"Did Minna send any other messages with you?"

Blade tasted the wine and grimaced. "Not really."

"Is there any way I can repay her?"

"Make peace."

"I cannot do that." Kerrion turned to scowl at him.

"Jashimari cannot fight two kingdoms and survive. The Contara will overrun us, and you will descend like vultures to feed on the spoils."

"That was Lerton's plan."

Blade sipped the wine. "And you approve of it."

"No!" Kerrion gestured. "It is dishonourable. I have inherited a war that I have no wish to continue, but cannot end without being overthrown." He paused. "If she surrenders to me, I can promise her fair treatment. I will ensure a peaceful occupation, offer her protection and banish the Contara back to their land."

"She will never surrender, not to you, or anyone else."

"Then the Jashimari will be wiped out."

"You will continue the war against your daughter?" Blade enquired.

"She will not take power for five and twenty years, but then no, I will not."

"Jashimari will not outlast the spring, and when Jondar falls, your daughter will be at the mercy of the Contara. Why not end it now?"

Kerrion sighed, rubbing his eyes. "If only I could. My nobles will not agree to end the war against Minna-Satu, but they too will not wish to fight against a Cotti Queen."

"Half Cotti."

"What if the child is a boy?"

Blade shrugged, frowning at the sour young wine in his cup. "Shamsara predicted a girl, chances are, he is right."

"The Idol of the Beasts should not be interfering in politics. It is not his place."

The assassin put down his goblet and stood. "Have you any messages for the Queen?"

Kerrion shook his head. "Only my offer of peaceful occupation. No slavery, no atrocities, no massacres."

"Only oppression."

"I cannot do any more than that."

"You are the King," Blade said. "Or are you just a puppet?"

Kerrion's frown deepened. "I am no puppet, but the nobles wield a great deal of power, and have fifteen princes to choose from. If I try to end the war, they will turn the people against me, accuse me of treason or cowardice or something. I have no hope of support from the armies, they exist only to do battle. Without a war, they will be jobless and destitute.

"You saw how close I have already come to the gallows, and for no other reason than that my younger brother wished to get rid of me. It is well known that he was my father's favourite, and that he wanted Lerton to inherit the crown. I am not well liked because of that, my claim to the crown is only upheld because I am the first born son. Perhaps, over the course of a few years, I can make powerful friends and talk to them of the disadvantages of war, but I cannot call an end to it the moment I am crowned."

He turned away and bowed his head, his shoulders hunched. "If I am overthrown, the next in line will see to it that my daughter does not survive. I have to be King to ensure her safety. If I am King when Cotti invades Jashimari, I will protect them both, I swear it. I shall not allow any harm to come to Minna-Satu."

Kerrion's voice deepened. "Usually Cotti warriors take little notice of women. They are inconsequential, and if captured, spoils of war. But the fact that the child is of royal blood, both Minna's and mine, will ensure her death, should I be ousted.

"I suspect that Minna knows this, which is why she sent you, her most valuable ally, into the jaws of death to redeem me. Minna's child can only bring peace between our kingdoms if she is the daughter of the Cotti king. Even so, we would face another five and twenty years of war, if Jashimari could last that long."

Blade toyed with the wine cup, remembering the Queen's sadness on the night she had gone to Kerrion's bed, her strange depression since then, and her constant promises of peace, soon. "I do not think she would have waited five and twenty years, and now she cannot."

Kerrion swung to face him. "What do you mean? Every Jashimari Queen rules for five and twenty years."

"Obviously Minna-Satu will not, since the Contara will invade in the spring, but I think her rule will end before the Contara reach Jondar."

The Prince closed the gap between them and gripped Blade's shoulders, his eyes filled with anxiety. "What are you saying?"

Blade shook him off. "You know perfectly well."

"She cannot do that! She cannot put an infant on the throne!"

"She can. If she appoints a regent, your daughter could be Queen in just a few moons."

Kerrion gave a despairing groan. "She will place me in an impossible position." He frowned, becoming thoughtful. "But how? She cannot step aside."

"She can, by taking the Queen's Cup."

Kerrion turned away. "I see."

Blade headed for the door, collecting his bundle. "Your brother dies tonight."

"Wait!"

Blade turned at the door, his hand on the knob. Kerrion ran a hand through his hair, looking confused and upset. "Tell her that she cannot do this. She must give me time. A year or two, at the very least."

"I am sure she would like to, but I do not think the Contara will allow her that option. With the spring, they will be able to advance swiftly on the capital city. Your daughter must take the throne before Jondar falls, so you will be forced to come to her aid, or not, as your conscience dictates.

"Of course, if you do not, the Contara will conquer Jashimari, and all your centuries of war will be for nothing. How will your people feel if their prize is stolen from under their noses? If you take advantage of Jashimari's weakness now, you will have to slaughter every last man, woman and child before there is peace again." He paused. "Besides, I may not live to deliver your message." A slight, ironic smile curled his lips, tinged with sadness.

Kerrion stared at him. "Blade... let Lerton live."

The assassin frowned. "No."

"You do not understand. His death will delay my coronation. Six tendays of mourning will be declared, a whole moon phase. Then another three tendays before I can be crowned. I will not have time to pick up the pieces."

"You will have to manage."

"I could warn him."

Blade shrugged. "You already have."

Before Kerrion could think of a reply, the assassin opened the door and slipped into the passage, closing it behind him. The Prince stared at the door for a long time, his mind whirling with possible solutions and their pitfalls. Conflicting emotions filled him with despair and sorrow as he went to the desk and poured a goblet of wine. Draining it in a few gulps, he wandered to the window and stared out at the pale city shimmering under the sun. Kiara flapped from her perch and landed on his shoulder, allowing him to stroke the sleek feathers of her breast. He gestured to the sky.

"Fly, Kiara. Take my thoughts with you, that they might find some solution closer to God."

Kerrion watched the big bird soar with none of the elation it usually brought him, then returned to the desk to pour more wine.

"I hope you fail this time, Blade," he muttered. "Not because I am particularly fond of my brother, but because of all the trouble you will cause if you succeed, you bastard."

Blade walked through the palace, returning to the stables. Using the servants' narrow passages, he avoided guard posts and kept his head down, averting his face when he passed servants. He did not wish too many Cotti to see him. Even his brief exposure in the courtroom had been tainted by the fact that he had not removed all of his face paint. Those who had glimpsed his visage would soon find it hard to remember, for he had avoided eye contact and wiped his countenance with a cloth when he had confronted the gallery. Protecting his identity was second nature to him, since becoming well known could be fatal for an assassin. Even though he did not intend to return to Cotti, his caution was instinctive and well advised. Although he stood out here, he made sure that no one had a good look at him. With a blond wig and skin dye, he would become anonymous again quite easily.

The peace of the stables, with its warm redolence of horses and hay, was a welcome relief after the palace's tension and the palpable hatred of its denizens. He stretched out on the straw and ate some bread and cheese while he plotted the night's assassination. Forewarned, and knowing of his abilities, Lerton would undoubtedly have guards in his room and not allow any women entry. He needed to gain entry without causing an outcry, so the stealthy approach would not work. The task called for a disguise, but not a female one. Fortunately Lerton's snake familiar was not a deadly variety, and snakes could do little to raise the alarm. His dislike of snakes made the task of killing the Prince's familiar a less odious one, if it came to that.

After a while, he fell asleep in the straw, awaking in the late afternoon. By then, a plan had formulated in his mind, and he quit the straw's comfort to wander along the rows of stables, patting their inmates. These were the mounts of elite Cotti cavalry, officers and the King's personal guard. Since most of those men were horse kin, the majority of the beasts were familiars, and immune to the blandishments of strangers.

The intelligent glint in their eyes made familiars easy to spot, and he noted those that were not. He did not have to wait long before a young officer entered the stables armed with a bunch of cariroots for his steed. Blade eyed him, weighing his suitability. He was a man of otters, which made him vulnerable, since his mount would not object to his injury and his familiar was not with him. The young man wore the insignia of a cavalry officer, but without it, he might have been a guard sergeant.

Blade waited while the officer fed his mount the cariroots, positioning himself out of sight on the route to the door. As the officer walked past, his task complete, Blade stepped out behind him and gripped the man's neck, his hands finding the nerve bundles that would render the officer unconscious. He dragged his victim to the straw pile and stripped him of his uniform, then bound and gagged him before burying him in the straw. That done, he hid the pilfered uniform and settled down to get some more sleep.

The assassin woke again in the pre-dawn chill. Rising, he lighted the lamp that hung in the stables before donning the officer's uniform with shivering haste. He anointed his face and hands with the pale brown skin dye, inspecting the result in the mirror. The dye also lightened his brows, making them brown instead of black. To add to the disguise, he glued on a blond moustache he had brought with him for just such an occasion. The plumed helmet, with its chain mail neck guard, hid his hair. Removing the cavalry insignia from the uniform, he buried his clothes and supplies, then blew out the lamp, dusting himself off as he strolled from the barn.

The palace slumbered in semi-darkness, the few torches that still burnt sputtering as they ran out of oil. Sentries dozed at their posts, some making sleepy salutes as he passed. Most were dog soldiers, and their familiars slumbered beside them or glanced up incuriously. Blade had scorned the officer's heavy boots and retained his soft ones, which made little sound. Lerton's rooms were not far from Kerrion's, as the spy had described, and two alert guards stood outside the doors. They snapped to attention when he approached, and he stopped before them.

"Have you checked on your fellows inside?" Blade demanded in perfectly accented Cotti.

"A couple of time-glasses ago, sir," one sentry replied.

"They could be asleep by now, dolt! Is this how you protect your prince? They should be checked every time-glass."

"I'll check on them now, sir," the man offered, turning to open the door. The war dog beside him sat up and whined, sniffing Blade.

"No." Blade raised a hand. "I'll do it myself. There will be hell to pay if they're slacking, and I don't want you covering for them."

The sentry snapped to attention again. "Yes, sir."

Blade pushed open the door and entered a dark room, closing it behind him. Two guards turned at his entrance, relaxing when they saw his uniform. He beckoned them over, then placed his hands together and gripped the hilts of the daggers strapped to his wrists. The young soldiers stopped before him and stood to attention. There was no sign of their familiars, as he had expected. The Prince did not want dogs in his bedroom, due to their smell and fleas. Blade had counted on that, for two dogs would certainly have complicated matters quite considerably. He hoped that the beasts were safely caged in the barracks, where they could not raise the alarm when their friends died, as familiars were wont to do.

Blade remarked, "I'm glad to see you're awake and alert, men, good work."

They smiled, and one said, "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome." Blade jerked his hands apart, raising them in a flash to slit the soldiers' throats. They coughed, pawing at their necks as they collapsed. The faint clatter of their falling bodies was unavoidable, and Blade hid his hands behind his back as the occupant of the vast, silk-strewn bed sat up, peering into the gloom.

"Who is there?" Lerton demanded.

Blade stepped forward, deepening his voice to a gruff baritone, lest the Prince recognise the peculiar timbre of his speech. "Don't be alarmed, My Prince, you're in no danger."

Lerton glared at him, the moonlight that streamed in through the window revealing features puffy with fatigue. "What woke me? Who are you, and what are you doing here? Where are my guards?"

The assassin wondered if all Cotti princes were so full of questions. It seemed to be a family trait. "The guards were tired, My Prince, I sent them for replacements before they fell asleep. The closing of the door woke you, I apologise."

Lerton slumped back, scowling as Blade strolled closer, keeping his hands hidden. "And who are you?"

"An officer of the Watch, Jickal by name. I will guard you until the new sentries arrive." Blade reached the side of the bed and stopped.

"Well do not loom over me, go away," Lerton said peevishly. "Go stand by the door."

"Yes, My Prince." Blade did a fair imitation of a guard's salute and made as if to turn away. Instead he jerked up his hands, and his daggers flew to their target. One embedded itself at the base of Lerton's throat, cutting off any outcry, the other hit the pillow beside the Prince's head. Lerton stared at Blade with bulging eyes as his life oozed out in a crimson river. While he still had an audience, the assassin doffed the plumed helmet and smiled.