The Queen's Blade Prequel II - God Touched

by T C Southwell

  Lilu jerked awake when a great crash came from her door, and sat up disorientated and frightened. A quick glance at Endel assured her that he slept in his cot, and she listened to the sounds outside her door. Deep voices muttered and boots clumped, making her shiver. All her instincts and common sense told her to stay in her bed and keep the door barred, but there was someone out there on the moon-silvered streets whom she worried about constantly. She had to find out what was going on outside her door. Rising, she pulled on a robe and crept over to press her ear to it. Heavy breathing and grunts came through it, mingled with mutters and curses. Her hair stood on end, but she pulled aside the corner of the tatty curtain that covered the three panes of glass that served as a window and peeped out.

  Two men bent over a dark heap on her doorstep. Some unfortunate seemed to have collapsed on it, but the men looked like ruffians or worse, although it was too dark to make out their faces. One bent and gripped the unfortunate's hair, raising his head to expose his neck. In his other hand he held a knife. As he lowered it to cut his victim's throat, the man writhed and a silver dagger flashed, making the ruffian recoil with a yell. Lilu looked around and spied her broom in the corner, a stout implement with a heavy, bristled head. Grabbing it, she lifted the latch and yanked the door open, raising the broom.

  The man, in the act of bending over his victim again, swore and stepped back. Lilu brought the broom down on his head with all her strength. He reeled, almost falling, and his cohort stepped forward. Lilu raised the broom again and advanced, her teeth gritted. The man shot her a disbelieving glance and grabbed his friend, dragging him out of harm's way. Lilu followed, ignoring the knives they held, and swung the broom in a roundhouse sweep that almost made her lose her footing. She spun right around, the broom catching one thug in the ribs. He staggered with a grunt, cursing.

  “Get away!” she shouted, raising the broom again. “Go on! Bugger off!”

  The ruffians hesitated, glancing at their intended victim, then the one she had hit growled and reeled away. The other helped him, and they shambled up the street. Lilu watched until they turned the corner, and then looked down at the man sprawled on her doorstep. His sable clothes and slender form made her throat close with dread, and she dropped the broom to kneel beside him. Gripping his shoulder, she rolled him onto his back. Her eyes widened and her heart grew leaden.

  “Blade...”

  Lilu swallowed a sob of horror and dread. Blood oozed from his throat, pooling on her step. A trail of it led away down the street, and she wondered how far he had walked, bleeding to death. Sliding her arms under him, she picked him up with a groan and staggered inside, dumping him on her bed. He writhed and raised a hand in which a dagger glinted. Lilu gasped and caught his wrist, wrenching the weapon from his grip. Blood slimed his arm, and her concern grew. Lighting two lamps, she placed them on the bedside table and sat beside him to examine him.

  The blood that ran from his throat stained her sheet, and she tore a strip off it to bind his neck. Memories rushed back thick and fast while she tugged off his jacket and the soft linen shirt beneath it, struggling with the leather vest. When he was bare to the waist, she examined his wounds and brought her sewing kit to stitch them, glad he was unconscious.

  As she tugged the last stitch tight, his eyes opened and he lashed out. Lilu barely jumped back in time, her heart in her throat. Blade swept the room with a glance, then stared at her as if he did not recognise her. She raised her hands.

  “It's all right, it's me... Lilu. You're safe. I'm not going to hurt you.”

  Blade sagged, the dagger she had not seen him draw falling to the floor with a tinkle. He wheezed, raising his hands to paw at the bandage around his neck.

  “Leave it,” she said. “You're bleeding.”

  He flopped back, his eyes unfocussed, then they closed. Lilu crept closer, halting when he opened them again to impale her with their icy intensity.

  He swallowed, wincing, and wheezed, “You should... throw me out into... the street.”

  “Why?”

  “I... don't deserve... I'm...” His voice was husky, almost a whisper.

  “Oh, Blade.” She shook her head, closing the gap to sit beside him. “You saved me too.”

  “I should die. It's the best... thing.”

  “No.” She blinked as tears filled her eyes. “I'm so glad you came to me. You knew I'd help you. I'll always help you, no matter how much you dislike me or chase me away.”

  He closed his eyes, a frown tugging at his brows. “Gods, Lilu, I'm a worthless bastard.”

  “I don't think so. In fact, I know you're not.”

  “You don't know... what I am.”

  “I don't care. But actually I do, probably better than you.”

  He swallowed again. “I'm a fool.”

  “Why? What happened? Who were those men?”

  “The ones who... tried to kill me.” He coughed. “I confronted Jobal and he led me to the rest of them.”

  “All of them? What happened? How did you escape?”

  A wry smile twisted his lips. “I killed most of them. Those were the only ones left.”

  “Nine? You... How did you kill nine men?”

  “Not easily. Almost got killed myself.”

  Lilu stared at him, amazed and a little daunted. His pallor was due to blood loss, she surmised. The true extent of his deadly skills hit home with thrilling, horrifying intensity. Much as she loved him, she hated that he was a killer. That she had come so close to losing him frightened her, and she wished his trade was not death, yet at the same time his abilities had saved her. She did not blame him for evicting her from his rooms. It was her fault for teasing him. Who would want an ugly whore and her bastard living with him, anyway? Especially when she was no use to him. She had bruised his fragile ego, and most men would have beaten her for it.

  He opened his eyes, and Lilu forced a wan smile. “I'm glad you didn't.”

  He fingered the cloth around his neck again. “Did you stitch this?”

  “No, it was bleeding too much.”

  “I think it will need... stitches.”

  “Yes, it does. Maybe it's stopped bleeding now.”

  Lilu leant forward and untied the cloth, hoping she was right. The wound still oozed, but not too badly, and she picked up her darning needle and thread again, hesitating.

  “This will hurt.”

  “Have you any wine?”

  “Only the rat's piss variety.”

  He sighed, wheezing. “Best get it over with then.”

  Lilu shifted closer and bent to push the needle through his skin. He hissed and grimaced, and she chewed her lip, jumping when he yelped as she pierced his skin again.

  “Don't be such a baby,” she admonished.

  “Lilu...”

  She paused, expecting a threat or jibe.

  “Thank you. For taking care of me. This time... and the last. No one else would.”

  Lilu blinked and nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

  “You must have thought I was an ungrateful - ow! - bastard.”

  She swallowed. “You didn't ask for help. I chose to help you, and I was glad to do it.”

  “I don't deserve it.”

  “Why the sudden melancholy? This isn't like you.”

  He sighed. “It's more regret than melancholy. I shouldn't have put you - ah! - in danger.”

  She shook her head. “It wasn't your fault.”

  “It was. I –”

  “Hush now. I'm just glad you're still alive, and my friend.”

  “I'm...” He paused, frowning. “Don't be so quick to claim me as a friend. I'm not much of one.”

  “That's for me to decide, isn't it? You could make an effort to be nicer, though. Like you're being now. I like it.”

  Blade snorted, his lips curving, and his eyes drifted closed. She put her needle away and bound his neck again. Drops of blood speckled his face in little patterns, as if sprayed there, and she shuddered.
Clearly it was not his, but had come from the men he had killed. He looked exhausted, and she removed his boots, careful not to cut herself on the razor-sharp blades, then pulled the blanket over him.

  Lilu wondered if his odd friendliness would last, and what had brought it on, apart from his injuries. This time, he had sought her help, so perhaps that made him feel more beholden. She had won his trust, and he had not denied his friendship. That, she knew, was extraordinary, and it filled her heart with joy.

  In the morning, Lilu left Endel with the sleeping assassin while she went to the market to buy more food with the last of her money. The place was abuzz with the latest gossip, which told of a terrible battle in the slums between a band of thugs and an assassin. According to them, the dead men had paid the price for attacking a killer, and the Watch was not interested in pursuing the matter since the thugs were well-known criminals. Lilu smiled while she filled her basket with bread and vegetables, splashing out on a haunch of smoked meat and a bottle of wine that she hoped the assassin would like.

  As she paid for the last items at a barrow-hag's stall, she leant closer to murmur, “I know who the assassin was.”

  The hag became intent, her wrinkled face brightening. To be the source of new information would give her status amongst her fellow stall owners. “Who?”

  “It was the Master of the Dance, Blade.”

  “Was it now? 'Ow do ye know that, lass?”

  Lilu almost blurted that he was her friend, but caught herself. “I know him a little.”

  “Well I'll be... Was 'e 'urt?”

  “Only a little.”

  “'Ow do you know 'im?”

  Lilu straightened, shaking her head. “I can't say. I just do.”

  The hag's eyes narrowed. “Aye, that would be the truth, I'll wager. If ye was spinnin' me a yarn, ye'd 'ave claimed to be 'is friend, and everyone knows them killers don't 'ave friends.”

  Lilu nodded. “That's right.”

  The hag turned away to impart her newfound knowledge to her nearest neighbour, and Lilu skipped home with a light heart. Endel's crying was audible as she turned into her lane, and she ran to her door to unlock it and dash within. Dumping the basket, she scooped up the infant and rocked him, casting an anxious glance at the bed. Blade lay with his back to her, his head stuffed under the pillow. When the baby quieted, he removed the pillow and turned to scowl at her, his hair rumpled.

  “You could have comforted him,” she said.

  “I'm not a damned wet-nurse. I don't have the teats for the job.”

  “If you had just rocked him a little –”

  “You should have taken him with you. Next time I'll slit his damned throat.”

  “No you won't.”

  He rubbed his brow. “Don't be so sure. Now I have a splitting headache.”

  “If I thought for one moment that you'd do something that horrible, I wouldn't have left him here. What's more, I'd throw you out on the street.” She held Endel to her breast, and Blade rolled onto his side with a grunt of disgust, facing the wall. Lilu smiled and added, “Which is exactly why you said that, isn't it? So I wouldn't leave him with you again.”

  He glared at the wall, and she turned away to unpack her shopping, cradling Endel with one arm.

  “I'm starting to get to know you, aren't I?” she asked. “You act all tough and dangerous, but you're not that bad, really.”

  “Tell that to those nine dead men. And the many others I've slain.”

  “Oh, I know you're a killer, but I'm not afraid of you.”

  “Then you're not very bright.”

  “I see you're back to your old ways. I preferred you last night.”

  “A momentary aberration, I assure you,” he muttered.

  “And you think I'm going to look after you if you're rude to me? I think not. Either find some civility or go home.”

  “You won't throw me out.”

  “Why not?”

  He sighed. “Because you spent the last of your money on that expensive food you bought for me, so you need my support again. What's more, now that I've killed all but two of those cutthroats, you don't have eleven more goldens to look forward to.”

  She paused, frowning. “I still have two coming to me.”

  “No. I've decided to leave them.”

  “We had a deal!”

  “It's off.”

  “You can't do that! I need that money, Blade, and I almost got beaten to death to earn it.”

  “I don't care.”

  Lilu put the baby in his cot and marched over to the bed, gripped the assassin’s shoulder and rolled him onto his back. “You can't do that to me, you...” She trailed off, staring at him.

  Blade smiled. “And you believed me.”

  The singular sweetness of his expression held Lilu spellbound.

  His smile faded. “Gods, Lilu, you look like a mule just kicked you in the head.”

  “That's how I feel.”

  He looked away, clearly embarrassed. “I'll still give you the money, don't worry.”

  She sank down on the edge of the bed and tried to take his hand, but he pulled it away.

  “Don't fuss over me. Go and finish your chore.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “It hurts; what else?”

  “I got you some good wine.”

  “Ten bottles, I hope.”

  She shook her head, smiling. “I didn't have enough money for that.”

  He groped under the blanket and pulled out a money pouch, holding it out. “Here. I prefer red.”

  “I know.” She hefted the bag, which was heavy enough to hold ten goldens, then rose to make lunch.

  Blade sat at the back of the Black Swan, a cup of rich red wine in one hand, and watched the patrons come and go, drink and talk. His new haunt was not only a rundown taproom deep in the slums, it doubled as a cheap whorehouse. The two assassins who shared it with him clearly disliked their new surrounds, but had no choice if they wished to benefit from his presence. He had not bothered to learn their names, even though they had been around for the six years since he had won the belt. They were second-rate killers, he was sure, who would have no work if not for their location so close to the Dance Master. They took advantage of the crumbs from his table, offering their services to those foolish enough to seek out the Master of the Dance when they could not afford him.

  The reason for his odd choice of haunt sat across the room, flirting with a portly merchant who clearly did not appreciate her blandishments. No whorehouse keeper would take Lilu on until Blade had found this seedy establishment and gained her a job with his promise to the owner to make it his haunt. He had not told Lilu, and had no intention of doing so. As far as she knew, it was a coincidence. His patronage brought more drinkers to the taproom, and, as a consequence, more work for the slatternly whores who traded there. There were a number of beefy men he suspected were there to see if his presence brought any trouble-makers, so they could watch, or perhaps join in the fight. A few pimply youths hung around, possibly to earn reputations for drinking with the Dance Master, and some sly looking men, probably spies for various lords, nursed cups of ale in dark corners. Then, of course, there were his customers, when they appeared.

  After his encounter with the cutthroat band, he had had his jacket collar reinforced with thin vertical metal strips and added a sheath of fine chain mail to protect his torso. The scar on his throat had faded to a narrow white line, as had the one on the back of his wrist and the stab wound scars on his chest and flank. He watched a courting couple in a dim corner, entertained by their antics. A ringing slap made him glance around. Lilu jumped up and left a burly merchant clutching his stinging cheek. Evidently he had rebuffed her, and Blade sighed, struggling to hide his smile as the merchant lowered his hand to reveal a red mark. Lilu could slap pretty hard, it seemed, and if she was not slapping someone for commenting on her ugliness, she was doing it to avenge the rebuffs she constantly received.

  Blade watched her floun
ce towards him, his amusement fading. She plopped down on the bench opposite, scowling.

  “Go away,” he said.

  “No. He said I look like a pig's arse.”

  Blade's lips twitched, much as he tried to stifle it, and Lilu leant closer.

  “Go on, laugh, I dare you.”

  “What, will you slap my face too?”

  “If you sit still, I might.”

  He chuckled. “So why come over here? You know you won't get any sympathy from me.”

  “I want him to see who he's dealing with.”

  “Ah. So he'll use your services out of fear for his life?”

  “No, so he'll think twice about insulting me again.”

  Blade shook his head. “Then you should make friends with a thug. Everyone knows assassins don't kill without a client, and only fight in self-defence. See? He's not impressed.” He gestured at the merchant, who sipped his wine, unconcerned.

  Lilu glared at the man. “Well he ought to be. You could scare him, Blade.”

  “Why would I want to do that?”

  “Because you're my friend!”

  “I told you, I'm not a good friend to have.”

  “But you are my friend, aren't you?” She leant closer and tried to touch his hand.

  He snatched it away, scowling. “Don't claim familiarity here, or you'll be sadly disappointed.”

  Sorrow filled her eyes, and she looked down. “At least I know it's not because I'm ugly, in your case.”

  “No, it's not, it’s because you’re irritating, now go away.”

  Lilu jumped up and headed for the merchant again, to Blade's annoyance. She was looking for trouble, he suspected, in the hope that he would come to her aid. As he was about to quit the taproom and foil her plan, a young woman entered, captivating his attention. Deep auburn hair framed her flawless, fine-featured face, and jewels flashed at her throat and wrists. Her dark rose satin gown fell in graceful folds from a tiny waist that a gold-embroidered bodice hugged. She glanced around with melting brown eyes, looking nervous, and pressed a silk handkerchief to her nose. Her gaze came to rest on Blade, and, to his surprise, she headed for his table, sliding onto the bench opposite. Several male patrons, who had been eyeing her with interest, looked away with grimaces. She leant across the table.