The Queen's Blade Prequel II - God Touched (5 page)

“
For you to save me purely because you wanted to, and spend all
this time looking after me without wanting payment, you would have
to be mad.”

“
Perhaps I thought you'd be my friend,” she said.

“
Ah, now we're getting somewhere. You thought it might be
useful to have the Dance Master in your debt, is that
it?”

“
No.” Lilu shook her head. “You won't believe anything I say
unless it suits your way of thinking, will you?”

Blade slammed
the goldens down on the bedside table. “Where are my clothes?”

“
Your landlord will have rented your rooms to someone else by
now.”

“
I paid my rent four moons in advance.”

She bowed her
head. “Will you be my friend, if I asked you for that as my
payment?”

“
No. You get the goldens, no hold on me.”

“
I don't want a hold on you. That's not what friendship is. I'd
just like to see you sometimes, to talk.”

He shook his
head. “We haven't exactly had any good conversations while I've
been here.”

“
That's because you won't allow it. You're rude and snide, or
you won't talk at all.”

“
Nor will I allow it now. Assassins don't have friends; we may
have to kill them.”

She glanced at
him. “Is that what you're afraid of? Who would bother to hire an
assassin to kill me?”

“
Even if that's not a possibility, the friend of an assassin
would be a target for vengeance seekers and despisers. They almost
killed me, and they'll kill you if you're my friend.”

Her heart
warmed, and she smiled. “I'll risk it.”

“
You'd take that chance, to be friends with me?” His brows
rose. “What is it about me that you like so much?”

“
You're a good person, deep down. If only you would allow
yourself to be nice. I kept hoping you would mellow.” She sighed.
“But even if you won't, I'd still like to have you as a
friend.”

He snorted.
“You must be really desperate for a friend, then. Don't you have
whore friends?”

“
Yes, but... I like you. I've earned your friendship, don't you
think? I've proven to you that I'm not after your money or your
protection.” She reached for his hand. “Please, Blade.”

He snatched it
away. “No. Are you going to bring me my clothes, or must I search
for them?”

“
They're in the wardrobe.”

With a heavy
heart, she watched him hobble to the wardrobe, the bed sheet
wrapped around his hips. Over the past two tendays, he had risen
every day to wander around the room, the cast hampering him. He
favoured his wounded leg even more now that the cast's support was
gone, barely placing any weight on it. Lilu had procured a crutch
for him a tenday ago, but he did not use it now.

“
Won't the despisers and murderers want to kill an injured
assassin? Will you be safe on your own?”

“
I'll be fine.” He pulled out his clothes and returned to the
bed to don them, casting her a frown.

“
Why are you in such a hurry to leave when I want you to stay?”
she enquired.

“
I dislike company.”

“
Why?”

“
None of your business.” He pulled his flannel shorts from the
pile of clothes and turned to her. “Would you wait
outside?”

“
No.” She folded her arms. “I've seen naked men before, I
assure you.”

“
Probably the commonest sight in your life, but I'd like some
privacy.”

“
Why? What have you got that they don't?”

He frowned.
“Will you force me to wait until you leave on some errand? You
should be going back to work now, since I'm leaving.” He paused.
“Is that why you want me to stay? So I'll support you? I won't, you
know.”

“
I know.” She hid her anger at his assumption and callous
dismissal, wondering why she did. “I never thought you would, or
expected you to.”

Lilu sighed,
raked him with a scathing glance, rose and left the shabby room. In
the street, she watched the peddlers and beggars and considered her
options. Perhaps the only hope she had of ever seeing him again was
if she was particularly nice to him. She did not have much hope
that it would work, but it was worth a try. He tried to turn
everything she said or did into something ugly, to suit his past
experiences, she guessed, and she had to find a way to convince him
that he was wrong. She also had to let him go, though. The prospect
brought tears to her eyes, and she wiped them, sniffing. A skinny
beggar boy held out dirty hands in a pleading gesture, and she
waved him away. He ran off shouting insults, and she turned to
re-enter her room.

Blade sat on
the bed, clad in his black leather trousers, frowning at the
silver-studded belt he held. He looked up with a puzzled, chagrined
expression, from which she deduced that he had not expected to find
it still amongst his possessions. She glared at him and went over
to the table.

“
No, I didn't sell it.”

“
So it would seem. But you're not above thievery, I would
guess.”

“
No.” She sat on the chair. “I do what I must to survive, as we
all do. It's a hard life, with few joys, but I make the most of
it.”

“
And for some reason you think having a killer in your life
will make it better?”

Her heart
leapt with hope. “Yes.”

“
Why?”

Lilu wanted to
tell him that she knew he was God Touched, but something told her
not to. He would probably not believe her, and, even if he did, he
would assign some ugly motive to that, too. In truth, that was not
the real reason, so she said, “I'm lonely. Your company would be
most welcome, even if all you do is sit and drink wine. I like
having you around, and I don't expect you to change, nor will I ask
anything of you. If you're ever sick or injured, who else will help
you? I will.”

Blade placed
the belt on the bed and picked up a loaded wrist sheath, strapping
it on, then donned the leather vest. She wondered if he was going
to answer her.

As he shrugged
on his jacket, he said, “I'll consider it.”

“
Thank you.”

He paused in
the act of buckling on his belt and frowned at her. “You've done me
a service, and while I didn't particularly wish to be saved, I
appreciate what you did.”

“
Then show your appreciation and visit me sometimes. That's all
I ask.”

“
As I said -”

“
You'll consider it.” She forced a wan smile.

Blade bent to
pull on his boots, checking the weapons in them. “You've been
weeping.”

She raised her
chin. “No, it was smoky outside. Some idiot was burning rubbish on
the street.”

“
Ah.” He contemplated her for a few moments, then levered
himself to his feet and picked up the crutch. “I may see you again,
then.”

“
I hope so.” Lilu bit her lip as he hobbled to the door. “You
could eat before you go. I made food.”

He paused and
glanced back. “No.”

“
Be careful. Those men are still out there, and you're not
well.”

“
They won't catch me again.” The assassin opened the door and
limped out, closing it behind him.

Lilu stared at
it. Only the grinding misery of her trade lay ahead when the
goldens he had left ran out. She went over to count them, finding
fifteen, enough to feed and board herself and her babies for three
moons. At least she did not have to return to her whoring ways just
yet. Without Blade's presence, her dingy room seemed smaller and
dirtier somehow, as well as empty.

Blade watched
the young assassin who practiced clumsy steps upon his platform.
That the youth had achieved his tattoo was surprising, considering
the poor quality of his dance. A screen of leaves hid Blade from
the trespasser, and he waited, the steel spring within him
tightening. As yet, he was not ready for the Guild to find him, and
had been careful, over the last moon, to avoid being seen. This was
the first time he had returned to his platform. Since leaving the
whore's room, he had exercised and practiced in his lodging, and
ventured out only at night to buy wine and food. The time had been
torturous, but his skills were almost restored. When he did go out,
he did not wear his belt, to ensure that if he was seen, no one
would know who he was.

The young
assassin muttered and jumped down, striding off into the trees.
Blade waited until he was out of sight, then approached the
platform. His limp was barely noticeable now, and he hoped that he
would be able to regain his old skills. He was unfit, though, so it
would take time to restore his former abilities. They would be, he
was determined. His feet tapped on the boards as he walked around
the platform, limbering up. The exercises in his room had restored
his suppleness, and all that remained was to see if he had retained
his speed. He took a few experimental steps, drawing on the
memories of his training and the skills he had honed. Raising his
head, he launched into the first steps of the Dance of Death,
allowing his legs to remember their old habits.

At first, his
steps were no faster than an average dancer. He speeded them up,
revelling in the surge and pull of his muscles and the spring in
his legs. He leapt high and lashed out with stiff legs, brushing
his boots together in mid-air. As he landed, his left leg buckled
and he crashed to the boards, grazing his hands on the wood. He lay
panting, sweat sliming his skin, and reviewed what had happened.
His bad leg ached, and he sat up to rub it, frowning. His knee had
buckled, so perhaps he was pushing himself too hard, too soon. No
leaps for a while might be a better idea.

The sky
darkened as the sun sank, and the forest cast gloom across the
stage. Deciding that he had done enough for one day, he limped back
towards the poor quarter. As he often did these days, he detoured
to the whorehouse where Lilu worked and climbed onto a wall
opposite, settling down to wait. He did not know why he watched her
walk home sometimes, but it made him feel better about himself. Why
she had returned to work just two tendays after he had left puzzled
him, although his cynical mind told him it must be because she
enjoyed it. Deep down, he knew that was wrong. Perhaps she was
saving up for something. It was none of his business, anyway.

Patrons reeled
in and out of the brothel, some in ditty-singing groups, others
alone, most with familiars close by or clinging to their person.
Barrow-hags, who seemed to populate most of the city's street
corners, trundled past, shouting about their wares. Several urchins
played a game of tosspot in a nearby gutter for a while, their high
shrieks jabbing his ears. The red-paned lamp that hung outside the
brothel's front door advertised its occupation, and a peeling sign
bore an illegible name. From his perch, he could see the front and
back doors of the establishment, since his vantage was some
distance away. It would not do for anyone to spot him, especially
Lilu. As the evening dragged past, the urchins and the barrow-hags
vanished into whatever hovels they occupied, leaving the street
empty.

Blade jerked
from his doze when the whorehouse's back door banged open and two
men threw a bundle of rags into the street. They re-entered the
whorehouse, and the assassin studied the heap, curious. It moved,
and a pale arm rose feebly, falling back onto the cobbles. Blade
frowned and glanced up and down the street to assure himself of its
emptiness before he slid off the wall and approached the bundle on
silent feet. The woman's face was turned away, and he walked around
her to see it. He froze, his breath catching, then crouched and
brushed a lock of tangled hair from Lilu's cheek. Her nose was
smashed and her face smeared with blood, her lips swollen and
split, and swellings sealed her eyes shut.

“
Ah, Lilu,” he whispered. “You stupid trollop.”

After glancing
around again, he pressed his fingers to her throat, and she slumped
with a sigh. The assassin slid his arms under her and scooped her
up, staggering under her weight.

“
You need to go on a damned diet,” he muttered.

Blade stayed
in the shadows out of habit on the way to her room in the slums.
His lock pick opened the door in moments, and he dumped her on the
bed, groaned and rubbed his back with a grimace. After arranging
her comfortably, he gazed at her for several minutes, pondering.
The throat pinch would assure her unconsciousness for a time-glass,
and he had little time left. He contemplated using it again to
lengthen it, but discarded the idea. Fetching the water basin, he
wiped her face with a rag, revealing the true extent of the
damage.

Lilu groaned,
and he tossed the rag into the bowl and rose. At the door, he
paused to gaze at her again, then let himself out and locked it
behind him. While he walked home, he pondered what must have
happened to her, disliking everything to do with her vile trade and
its consequences. She would be better off as a serving wench or
washerwoman, but she was too stupid for that. Her nose was so badly
broken he doubted she would be able to continue her current
vocation unless she wore a bag over her head, as Graleth had
recommended for Annay. Lilu had been ugly before, now she was
hideous. He chuckled, shaking his head, and let himself into his
room to flop down on his bed.

The next
afternoon, Blade made his way to Lilu's abode and took up a
position on a nearby rooftop, where he could watch her door. He
spied movement behind the dirty curtain that covered the single
window, and, after lying in the sun, yawning and scratching, for a
time-glass, he quit his perch to practice on his platform.