The Queen's Blade Prequel II - God Touched (24 page)

He snorted.
“Or slit his throat.”

“
The Watch takes a dim view of child killers.”

“
If Tromar is so desperate for a son, trotting out another
potential father won't convince him. You have no proof, and we both
know full well that I'm not.”

“
Please help me.” Fresh tears stung her gritty eyes.

He cocked his
head. “Why should I?”

“
Because I asked you to?” She dug in her purse and took out the
fourteen silvers, holding them out. “This is all I
have.”

“
You insult me.”

“
Do I?” She studied him again, wishing her tears did not blur
her vision so much. She did not understand him, she realised, much
as she thought she did. Offering him so little money was an insult,
especially since he had given it to her in the first place, but she
did not know what else to do. He wanted something else from her,
and she wished she knew what it was.

“
What do you want?” she asked. “You can't pretend not to care,
this time, and do it behind my back. I know you made this your
haunt so I could trade here. I know you ruined Tromar's face for
what he did to me, and carried me to my room when he beat
me.”

His scowl
deepened. “Do you?”

“
Yes. And you know I love you. I would do anything to help you
and anything you asked of me. Just like I know you'll help
me.”

“
Indeed? And how do you know that?”

She leant
forward. “You want to know? You want to know why I saved you in
that alley, carried you home and nursed you for three tendays? You
want to know why I chased off those thugs and stitched you up when
they almost killed you? I'll tell you. You're God Touched.”

The assassin recoiled as if she had slapped him, paling. His
reaction astonished Lilu. He knew.
She
crept closer to kneel before him, placing a hand on his knee in a
timid gesture, terrified that he would leap up and
leave.

“
I know. It shines from you in a white light. I know something
else, too. I know a cat follows you. A dead cat.”

His face was
so ashen she thought he was about to pass out. He stared at her as
if she had reached into his chest and plucked out his heart.

“
What is his name?” he whispered.

“
Rivan.”

He looked
away. “You have no right to know that.”

“
But I do.”

“
How?”

“
I... I can't tell you that.”

“
Are you a witch?”

“
No!”

He glared at
the wall, his mouth a grim line.

Lilu shifted a
little closer. “You knew it, didn't you? You know you're God
Touched.”

His eyes
flicked down to her, as frigid as a blizzard. “My father called me
that.”

“
Then he knew it too.”

“
I don't even know what it is.”

“
Legend says that it means Tinsharon has touched you,” she
said. “When you were born, you died, and he restored you. Now he
guides you. That makes you God Touched.”

“
He has brought me nothing but pain.”

“
No. He saved you. Through me, and others too,
doubtless.”

His frosty
gaze made her shiver. “How do you know about Rivan?”

“
I've seen him. He follows you still, and watches. He's waiting
for you to die.”

“
Yet you saved me.”

“
You have a destiny to fulfil. That's all I know.”

“
How do you know?”

She shook her
head. “I can't say.”

“
You will never speak of this again.” He glowered at the wall.
“I can't kill without a client, and you can't pay me. Fourteen
silvers isn't enough.”

“
But you will help me.”

Blade rose,
jerking his knee from her grip. “I'll consider it.”

Lilu sagged as
the door banged shut. Crawling back onto the bed, she stared at the
mildewed ceiling.

“
I know you will,” she whispered, and a trill of soft laughter
echoed in her mind.

Chapter Thirteen

Blade crouched
atop a steep, brown-tiled roof that overlooked the house where the
drover, Tromar, dwelt, watching the windows and doors. Its
white-washed walls had not seen a fresh coat for decades, and soot
streaked them. The grey slate roof sagged in places, and several
window panes were cracked. Washing lines spanned the gap to its
neighbour, an equally rundown brick house with a red-tiled roof.
The street was cobbled, since this area was not part of the slums,
and several houses on it boasted stables with skinny inmates. Late
afternoon sunlight gilded the shabby neighbourhood, and birds
sought roosts for the night.

A child's
high-pitched wails echoed down the street, coming from within
Tromar's house, and raised voices, a man shouting and a woman
weeping, mingled with them. Apparently Tromar's son was causing
trouble already. A crash of breaking pottery cut through the man's
angry bellows, followed by a shriek of pain and the crack of
leather on flesh. Blade wondered who Tromar was beating, his wife
or his son. Probably the former, he mused, since he had only found
his son a few time-glasses earlier. Dusk crept through the city on
gloomy feet, filling the streets with shadow.

Lilu's habit
of bearing her customers' children caused plenty of trouble, it
seemed, and a part of Blade was glad he would never have that
problem. He had resigned himself to it over the years, and, while
the thought of a son had a great deal of appeal, he knew it would
never be. Tromar was a vicious bully who did not deserve a son, and
divesting him of his precious offspring would be satisfying. It did
not fit into any of the compartments that Blade had created in his
mind to justify his actions, however.

It was not his
trade, nor was it vengeance, nor could he accept it as repayment
for Lilu's aid. He had repaid that plenty already, and assassins
were not supposed to have friends. She was not his friend, though,
he told himself often, and now she knew too much. Her words had
shocked him to the core, and he wanted to know how she knew. He
returned his attention to the house as the shrieks rose to a
crescendo, then died away to broken sobs. The child continued to
scream, and a man emerged from the dilapidated dwelling, slammed
the door behind him and stormed away up the street, probably
heading for the closest taproom. Blade recognised Tromar from his
swaggering gait and stocky build, and the big brown bear that
shambled after him. He considered the house again, weighing his
plan.

Tromar's exit
had left the front door unlocked, but there was still a woman
inside. Her weeping came from a room on the top floor, however, and
the child's screams came from downstairs. Blade glanced up and down
the street to assure himself of its emptiness, then slid from the
roof to land on the cobbles with a soft thud. With silent strides
he reached the door and yanked it open, the boy's shrieks
assaulting his ears. They emanated from the lounge, where two
shabby brown sofas faced an empty hearth. On one, a boy wrapped in
a grey blanket sat and screamed, tears running down his cheeks and
snot oozing from his nose. Blade went over to him and bent to press
his fingertips to the child's soft throat, silencing him. Scooping
up the limp boy, he left the house and trotted up the street.

Blade stopped
in a dim alley to check the toddler, his nose wrinkling at the foul
stench that came from the boy's nether regions. Disgusted, he loped
towards the slums, where a frantic mother doubtless wept for her
malodourous offspring. The Master of the Dance, reduced to child
snatching. Lilu would owe him for this for the rest of her life,
especially if it caused more trouble with Tromar. He considered
stashing the child somewhere until Tromar had visited Lilu and
discovered that she did not have his son, but the drover would, in
all likelihood, kill her.

What was more,
the boy would wake soon and resume his shrieks, drawing attention
from far and wide. The thought of handing him over to Lilu, and
thereby doing exactly what she had asked of him, rankled. He was
not a pawn to be manipulated by tears, pleas or demands. Yet here
he was, heading for his haunt with her smelly son. It would set a
bad precedent, and she might think she could make similar demands
in the future. He considered tossing the boy in the river, but that
was an assassination and he had no client. Snatching the child had
been easy; finding a way to give him back without appearing to do
so was a far tougher problem.

By the time he
arrived at the whorehouse, he had failed to come up with a
solution, and the child was on the brink of waking. Banging into
the whore's room, he marched over to the bed where a plump form
huddled and kicked the frame.

“
Lilu, wake up.”

The whore sat
up, rubbing her eyes, and he thrust the child into her arms,
swinging away when she gave a shriek of joy and clutched the boy to
her breast. He slammed the door so hard on his way out that it
almost bounced off its hinges. Angrily he sniffed his sleeves as he
entered the taproom, ensuring that none of the child's stink had
rubbed off on him. Banging on the counter to summon the barkeep, he
demanded a bottle of wine and retreated to his shadowy corner with
it, thoroughly fed up. When wails came from the back room, the
brothel keeper looked around with a scowl. Children were not
allowed in the whorehouse. The keeper headed for the whores' rooms,
but Blade caught his eye and raised a finger, wagging it. Rendal
returned to the bar, looking sour.

Within
minutes, the wails faded, and Blade tried not to imagine how Lilu
had stopped the boy's crying. After a time-glass of silence, during
which he drained the bottle of dry red wine, curiosity got the
better of him and he went to Lilu's room. It was empty, and he
flopped down on the bed with a sigh, closing his eyes. His hip
still ached sometimes, and the wine made him sleepy.

The creak of
the door woke him, and he sat up in darkness. His keen eyes made
out Lilu groping to the table to light a candle with the tinderbox.
He squinted in the illumination, frowning. She spotted him and
gasped, squealed and rushed at him. Blade raised his hands to ward
her off, but she pounced on him, flattening him under her bulk. She
stank of sweat and what he suspected was milk or something just as
revolting.

“
Get off me, Lilu!” He tried to push her away, but she wound
her arms around his neck and hung on.

“
I knew you'd get him back,” she mumbled into the side of his
neck.

“
Get off!”

“
No.” She raised her head to gaze down at him, her eyes
shimmering. “Thank you.”

He glared at
her, his nose wrinkled. “You stink as bad as that damned brat.”

She giggled.
“There's nothing you can say that will offend me now. I love you so
much.”

“
I almost tossed the bloody little shitter in the
river.”

“
No you didn't.”

“
Yes, I did.”

“
Liar.” She stroked his cheek, and he jerked his head to the
side.

“
Quit pawing me and get off.”

She smiled and
kissed his cheek. “You're so soft. Now that I have you at my mercy,
I think I'll enjoy it for a bit.”

“
Oh, you think so?”

“
I do.” She nodded. “I've wanted to get my hands on you for a
long time, but you're usually as slippery as an eel. Did you have
too much wine tonight?”

“
It would seem so.”

“
You're not blushing for a change, but apart from telling me to
get off, you don't know what to say, do you?”

He turned his
head to glower at her, immensely uncomfortable with her proximity
and striving not to show it. “You stink.”

“
Ah, that won't work either, I'm afraid. I probably do, but I
don't care if it offends you.”

“
This is the thanks I get?”

“
Yes, actually, it is.” She hugged him, ignoring his shudder.
“If you really wanted me gone,” she murmured, “I know you could do
it.”

“
I'd have to find a new haunt after killing a
whore.”

“
No you wouldn't. Rendal would be happy to be rid of
me.”

He sighed.
“I'm not enjoying this, Lilu.”

“
But I am. I won't let you boss me around. I need a hug
sometimes, you know, and I think you do too.”

“
No I don't.”

She raised her
head to study him again, tracing his lips with a finger. “Is Tromar
dead?”

“
No. I don't kill without a client.”

Her eyes
filled with dread. “He'll come after me. He'll kill me to get Endel
back.”

“
Probably.”

“
Will you let him?”

“
If you don't get off me, I might.”

She smiled and
shook her head. “It's a good thing I don't believe your lies any
more. There was a time when I did, but I know you better now.”

“
Not well enough to predict me.”

“
Perhaps not, but I know I'm right about this. You need me.
Where else will you go when you're hurt?”

He snorted,
shifting. “Assassins have managed without helpful whores for
centuries.”

“
And yet, without me, you'd have died twice... no, three times
already. You court death more than most, and one day it's going to
take you.”