The Queen's Blade Prequel II - God Touched

by T C Southwell

  “Now my patience has ended. You should've let me go earlier, instead of forcing me to hurt you.”

  She levered herself up, nursing her finger. “It's not a slit throat, though.”

  He swung his legs off the bed. “You're not dead only because of my trade, not because I have any fondness for you.”

  “Rubbish.” She quailed a little when he glared at her. “All right, have it your way. What about Tromar?”

  “What about him?”

  “You know he's going to come here and try to kill me.”

  Blade yawned and stretched. “I hope he succeeds.”

  She sighed and struggled to her feet, then sat beside him. “I know what you're going to do.”

  “Do you now?”

  “Yes. When he comes, you'll make him attack you, then you'll be able to kill him in self-defence.”

  “If you annoy me any further, I'll let him give you a good beating first.”

  Lilu smiled and tried to slip her arm through his, but he jumped up and headed for the taproom, slamming the door behind him.

  The following night, Blade glanced up when a commotion started at the brothel's door, where a brawny man shoved patrons aside, his scarred face twisted in a murderous scowl. The assassin recognised Tromar's battered countenance and tensed, glancing at Lilu, who met his eyes with wide, frightened ones. He allowed a slight smile to curl his lips, raising his wine cup, as if to wish her luck. It would serve her right if she thought he would allow the drover to beat her to death. She was becoming far too impertinent.

  Tromar's beady, bloodshot eyes roamed the room and came to rest on Lilu, who jumped up and headed for the back rooms. Blade sighed and shook his head at her stupidity. If she had stayed in the taproom, the brothel's bounder boys might have come to her rescue, but in the back room she was on her own unless she screamed loudly enough to force Rendal to do something. Tromar roared and stomped after her, shoving men and whores alike from his path. Lilu slipped through the curtain with a shriek of terror, the drover in hot pursuit.

  Blade cocked his head and listened to the door slam, closely followed by a crash as it was kicked down. Many of the patrons turned to stare in the direction of the sounds, some glancing at Blade, who resented their obvious assumption that he would help the harlot. A muffled scream came from the back room, and Rendal turned his head to look at Blade. The assassin slugged back the last of his wine, rose to his feet and wandered towards the ruckus.

  The door of Lilu's room lay on the floor, ripped from its hinges by the powerful kick that had left a boot-shaped impression in it. Blade shuddered to think what a kick like that could do to his ribs, or worse still, his face. He had no intention of tangling with the brute. Leaning on the frame, he watched the pair struggling on the bed. Tromar straddled Lilu, his hands gripping her throat, and her face was turning blue.

  “Where ith he, you bitch? What have you done with my thon?” he bellowed, spittle flying from his lips.

  “She can't tell you if she can't breathe,” Blade drawled when Tromar drew breath.

  The drover glared at him. “Bugger off, you little dandy!”

  Lilu clawed at Tromar's eyes, making him grunt and raise his head, tightening his grip. She coughed and writhed.

  Blade raised a hand and inspected his fingernails. He would have to speed this up, or Tromar would strangle her. “Have you ever wondered who bashed your face in, Tromar?”

  The drover turned to gape at him, and his grip loosened, allowing the whore to draw a wheezing breath. “Who?”

  “You never saw me, did you?”

  “You? You're a runt!”

  “Ah well, even a runt can bring a big man down when armed with a sturdy plank.”

  Tromar's eyes bulged, and Blade got the impression that the drover had been trying to find out who had smashed his face ever since it had happened. His lust for vengeance overcame his wish to find his son, which, Blade supposed, he thought he could still do once he had dealt with the assassin, and he released Lilu and climbed off the bed.

  “I'm going to rip your armth off and thtomp your fathe into the street,” the drover rumbled, closing the gap.

  Blade pushed himself away from the doorframe and headed for the back door, Tromar in pursuit. Out in the street, Blade turned to face his aggressor, noting the big brown bear that waited there for its friend, rooting in the garbage. Such a dangerous familiar made the situation more complicated, and he had no doubt the animal would outlive its friend. Blade wondered why the bear waited outside the back door when Tromar had come in the front, and deduced that it was probably because the drover had planned to kill Lilu once he had the information he wanted, and then leave through the back door. Tromar cracked his knuckles, a disgusting mannerism all bullies seemed to share, his face twisted with hatred. Blade circled away from his foe.

  “You're no uglier now than you were before,” he said. “If anything, it's something of an improvement.”

  “You're a dead man.”

  “Am I now? That sounds like a threat.”

  “It'th a promith.” Tromar lunged at him, fists swinging.

  Blade skipped back out of reach. “It's not a good idea to threaten the Master of the Dance.”

  Tromar paused, his eyes glinting. “Ith that what you are? I thought you were a bugger-boy from the brothel.”

  “No such luck, I'm afraid.”

  The drover raked him with a disparaging glance. “You may be good at thneaking into bedrooms and thlitting men'th throats while they thleep, but you've got no chanth againth me.”

  “You think I'm going to fight you?”

  “You have no choith, becauth I'm going to beat you to a bloody pulp, whether you do or not.” Tromar stepped towards him.

  Blade retreated. He had hoped the drover would draw the ugly knife in his belt, but evidently he was not that stupid. Although there were no witnesses to the fracas, Blade had no intention of letting the big man lay a finger on him. He was tired of injuries and the pain that accompanied them. A glance at the door found Lilu in it, her face pale, her eyes fixed on him. She was not much of a witness, but she would have to do. He should have led Tromar through the common room, he realised, but it was too late now. The drover lunged at him, his beefy fists skimming past the assassin's chest as he jumped back, releasing the daggers from their wrist sheaths. They slid into his hands, warm and smooth, and he raised them. Tromar's eyes widened.

  The first dagger hit him in the eye, the second impaled his throat. The drover stumbled to a halt, his mouth working, and his hands rose to grip the hilts. Blood ran down his chest, soaking his shirt in a crimson tide. He teetered, gurgling, and plucked the dagger from his eye. His knees buckled, and he sank onto them, making horrible gargling sounds. The bear swung around with a growl and charged. Blade sprinted for the nearest drainpipe, and Lilu stepped back, slamming the door. The assassin shinnied up the pipe with remarkable speed, even for him, which was not surprising considering the shaggy behemoth that raked the wall below him with six-inch claws.

  Blade pulled himself onto the roof, which creaked ominously, and flattened himself on it to spread his weight. The bear growled and scrabbled at the wall, ripping the drainpipe off in its zeal. It gave the peculiar grunting roar that bears made, a sound filled with grief and rage. Blade peered over the edge when it fell silent. The animal shambled over to its friend and licked the drover's face. Tromar lay on his back and still shuddered and twitched, blood pooling under his neck. The bear snuffled and nudged him, moaning, then lay down beside him and rested a huge paw on his chest. Blade almost pitied the beast, but not quite. Tromar would be dead in a few more minutes, but it would be a while before the animal left, and until then Blade would not be able to retrieve his daggers.

  The assassin crawled over the roof and dropped to the street in front of the brothel, pushing open the door to saunter inside. Many of the patrons turned to stare at him, probably wondering how he had got to the front door so fast when he had left through the back mere
minutes ago. The brothel stood in a row of buildings that ran the length of the street, so there was no way to run around to the front door that quickly. Rendal eyed him, polishing a cup. Blade brushed dirt from his jacket and headed for the back room, sweeping aside the curtain.

  Lilu sat on her bed, weeping, and looked up with swollen, red-rimmed eyes when he strolled in. She rose with a glad cry and came at him, her arms spread. Blade tried to evade her, cursing, but she flung her arms around him and clung to him.

  “Bugger it, Lilu, let me go,” he said.

  “That was horrible.”

  “Did you expect it to be entertaining?”

  “I... No, but gods, he stood no chance, did he?”

  He snorted, trying to extricate his arms from her grip. “No.”

  “Why didn't he use his knife?”

  “Whose side were you on?”

  “Yours, of course.” She looked up at him. “I just didn't think it would be so easy for you.”

  “Oh, you thought I'd let him beat me up first?”

  “I thought he might hurt you.”

  “But that didn't stop you from asking me to kill him.”

  “I didn't want you to be hurt,” she said. “If you had taken the silvers and assassinated him, you wouldn't have been, but you wouldn't. All because of your pride!”

  Blade jerked his arms free and shoved her away. “You're an ungrateful trollop.”

  “I only meant...” She held out her hands in a pleading gesture. “I don't want you to be hurt. I couldn't bear it.”

  “I've earned the right to be proud of what I do.” He spread his arms. “You think becoming the Dance Master is easy? You think I should sell my services for a few damned silvers? That I gave you!” He kicked the chair across the room with a shriek of tortured wood. “I should change my haunt, and then we'll see what happens to you.”

  “No, please. I just... I was afraid for you!”

  “Killing is what I do, you stupid whore. It's my trade! Once I decided to kill him, he was a dead man, no matter how I did it. You don't understand that, do you?”

  “You've been hurt before.”

  “Only when set upon by a gang of louts in a dark alley when I was so drunk I could barely walk. And then, when I was cornered by a dozen armed men, most of whom I killed. One stupid drover was never a threat.”

  “And the last time?”

  “What last time? Oh, that.” He sank down on the bed, running a hand over his hair. “That was different.”

  “How?” She sat on the chair, gazing at him.

  “He was a rogue assassin, and I had to confront him in the street, since I didn't know his name or where he lived.”

  “I'm glad you're all right.” She hesitated. “Will you have trouble with the Watch?”

  “No. He attacked me. Many people saw him follow me outside, and what happened after that isn't hard to guess.” He flopped back, rubbing his face. “I would have gone out the front, but I thought the damned bear would be out there. Instead it was at the back, so he was planning to kill you whether or not you told him where his son was.”

  She nodded, bowing her head. “I thought he would.”

  “You'd better not birth any more bastards whose fathers I have to kill.”

  Lilu turned and leant over him, reaching out to stroke his brow. “Thank you.”

  Blade sighed and closed his eyes, tolerating her touch for a change. Her soft hand soothed his aching head, and, while he resented her assumption that she could paw him, he found that he did not mind so much anymore.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Blade sipped his wine and gazed across the seedy taproom with bored eyes. Two years had passed since the birth of Lilu's fourth child, a strapping, bellowing girl who had come into the world without his aid, to his relief. The midwife had visited the broken-nosed whore in her room, and three time-glasses later had emerged with a wet, wriggling infant and attempted to hand it to him, assuming him to be the father, since he had been hanging around outside. Blade had fled, which had enraged the midwife and amused Lilu. She had been delighted with her second daughter, despite the child's bright red hair and freckles, which had confirmed her sire as the blacksmith, Oxan.

  The assassin's glance brushed past Lilu, who sat with Oxan, still one of her few regular clients, giggling and tickling him as she tried to temp him to her room. Her waist thickened with her fifth child. Blade suspected that it had the same sire as her fourth, whose big bones and course features came from her sire. Hopefully this one would be a boy, who at least would not suffer for his ugliness. Blade suspected that Lilu's daughters would be forced to follow their mother's trade, since the plain girl had lank mouse-brown hair and timid brown eyes set in an insipid face. Endel was now a big, handsome boy of four, of whom Lilu was inordinately proud.

  Blade glanced at a clutch of five young, giggling noblewomen whose glossy hair framed pretty, doe-eyed faces with dimples and pouty mouths, their necks and ears adorned with jewels. They shot him flirtatious looks as they sipped their wine, licking their lips in blatant invitation. Only for the Master of the Dance, though. Four hopeful men had already been spurned with sharp words and hard looks. He suspected that if he chose to wander over to their table, they would welcome him with warm smiles and soft eyes. They had been eyeing him for a time-glass already, but he had no intention of taking their bait.

  Blade yawned and toyed with his wine cup, glancing at the late afternoon sunlight that slanted in through the windows to pattern the dirty rushes. Business was slow, and he contemplated going to Lilu's room to rest, but that would make it impossible for her to lure Oxan there, and she would not be pleased. His attention was drawn to the tableful of noblewomen when they pushed back their chairs and rose. They approached his table in its gloomy corner, their expressions a little hesitant, but determined. Blade leant back, a stray shaft of light making his silver-studded Dance Master's belt glitter. The girls gazed at it, then at him, and giggled.

  The boldest, a girl with mahogany hair and dark blue eyes, gestured to the bench opposite him.

  “May we join you, Dance Master?”

  He shrugged. “It's a free kingdom.”

  They all squeezed onto the bench, pushing, pinching and giggling, and leant over the table to display their cleavages. The boldest smiled at him, and he returned it, making her blush.

  She licked her lips. “What is your fee?”

  “Depends on the kill.”

  “For a hard... one?”

  “Fifty to a hundred goldens.”

  “That is expensive.”

  He sipped his wine. “I'm the Master of the Dance.”

  “You have been the Dance Master for some time now, have you not?”

  “Seven years.”

  “How do you... kill people?”

  He gazed across the room. “With a dagger.”

  She leant closer still, almost slopping her wine. “Could we watch?”

  “Who do you want dead?”

  “Well...” She glanced at her cohorts, who nudged her. “I will tell you when you collect your down payment. Will you come to the Peacock's Nest at midnight tonight?”

  “I could.”

  “Good. Room 15.”

  Blade inclined his head, then glanced at Lilu, who bore down on him with a grim expression. The girls looked up at her when she stopped beside him, her arms akimbo. Blade rocked his bench back, wondering what she was going to do this time. He groaned when she plonked herself down in his lap, grimacing at her weight. She clasped her belly and, he assumed, frowned at the girls, who looked startled, rather like rabbits catching sight of a prowling fox.

  “He's not interested,” she said. “How dare you flirt with him?”

  Blade grasped her waist and tried to push her off, but she gripped the table. “Lilu, bugger off. They're customers.”

  The whore snorted. “Rubbish. They want you in their bed, like the nasty little strumpets they are.”

  The girls blushed and almost fell over eac
h other in their haste to quit Blade's table, fleeing the brothel. Lilu turned to him.

  “You're so gullible, Blade. They don't want anyone dead.”

  “They said they did.”

  “Shows how much you know.”

  “You could be wrong.”

  She shook her head. “I'm not.”

  “Well I'm still going to go and find out.”

  “They'll try to seduce you.”

  “Then I'll leave.”

  She cocked her head. “Why not take advantage of what they offer? They're pretty.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “Then why did you chase them away?” He smiled. “Are you jealous?”

  “Maybe I am.”

  “You don't own me.”

  “Oh, but I do. You're my assassin.”

  He snorted. “No I'm not. Get off me.”

  The whore rose just as Oxan marched up, scowling at Blade. The blacksmith gripped Lilu's arm and towed her through the curtain at the back of the taproom. Blade sipped his wine and sighed. Lilu had her two coppers, thanks to a bit of jealousy on Oxan's part, it seemed. Little did the blacksmith know that he was the father of two of Lilu's brats, nor would he have cared, since his wife had borne him fourteen ugly children now, and also had another on the way. Soon he would spurn Lilu when she grew too swollen, for he had an aversion to pregnant women, ironic in a man who impregnated so many. The red-haired whore, Jezzel, had also borne him a child last summer. Blade finished his wine and left the brothel, heading back to his rooms to rest, since he had to be sober to meet his possible clients at midnight.

  Blade woke after dusk and dressed, tucking all six of his daggers into their various sheaths. At the brothel, he found Lilu in her room, nursing a bruised cheek and an aching head. Oxan, it seemed, had not taken kindly to her flirting with the assassin that afternoon, and she was a little the worse for wear. She welcomed him with a happy smile, however, and he ate a meal in her room while she plied him with chatter.

  Afterwards, he returned to the common room to nurse a cup of wine until midnight, then set off for the Peacock's Nest. Almost all of his noble clientele asked him to meet them there, and he knew it well. His route to the balcony was well worn, and he found the door to room 15 unlocked. He pushed it open and slipped inside, surprised to find only one girl waiting for him in the sitting room. Soft giggles from the curtained doorway to the bedchamber, however, told him that the others were there, and Lilu was probably right. The mahogany-haired girl greeted him with a shy smile, her cheeks reddening as she rose from the sofa before the fire.