The Queen's Blade Prequel II - God Touched

by T C Southwell

  The silence between the bell's peals seemed longer this time, and Blade looked up. The silence grew more profound as the sounds of the crowd outside faded away. The bell had stopped. A wail went up from the mourners, and the crowd fell to its knees and performed its last prostration to the Elder Queen, a distant roaring spreading through Jondar. Lilu woke with a snort and looked around, rubbing her eyes. Rendal put down the cup and vanished behind the counter as he performed his abasement.

  Blade topped up his wine and sighed, relieved that the bell, though not loud this far from the palace, had stopped at last. Tashi-Mansa was dead. The crowd shouted her name, then silence clamped down again. It was amazing how quiet the city could be when everyone was silent, he mused. Gradually the sounds returned as people muttered, carts rattled, children shrieked and animals bawled, barked or neighed. The temples would fly grey dream silk for a moon-phase in Tashi-Mansa's honour, then her time would be done. Now it was up to her daughter to lead the kingdom for the next five and twenty years.

  Patrons trickled into the taproom, demanding ale or wine, and Lilu sat up and tidied her hair. In distant parks, closer to the palace, carnivals and side shows abounded and the wealthy and noble celebrated in flag-festooned streets. Here in the slums, however, not much changed.

  Blade looked up as a middle-aged woman sat on the bench opposite, a smile on her powdered, noble-born face. Brown ringlets fell from an elaborate coif and berry juice reddened her lips. Her brown eyes roamed over him, lingering on his belt, then flicked up to his chest, unable to see his mark since he wore a high-collared jacket. She leant closer.

  “Will you celebrate our new queen with me, Dance Master?”

  “No.”

  “I will make it worth your while.” She pushed a golden across the table.

  Blade shook his head. Over the years, he had grown accustomed to the attentions of noblewomen, although he had not come to like them.

  “I am not a bully boy, Madam.”

  “I do not want a bully boy, Dance Master.”

  “Then perhaps your husband will oblige if you make him the same offer.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “Why do you refuse?”

  “I am not interested in such pastimes.”

  “Come now, surely everyone is?”

  He shrugged. “Everyone except me, it would seem.”

  “And why is that?”

  “None of your business.”

  Blade glanced up as Lilu arrived at his side, as she often did when noblewomen propositioned him. To his annoyance, she squeezed onto the bench beside him and scowled at the woman.

  “Go peddle it elsewhere,” she said.

  The woman rose and left, clearly offended.

  Lilu smiled Blade, her eyes sparkling. “I'll pay you a copper for it, Dance Master.”

  “I think a golden is my fee for that these days.”

  “Made any sales?”

  “Not as many as you'd think.”

  She giggled and slipped her arm through his. “You'll be retiring soon, so at least you'll be able to earn a living then.”

  He frowned and shook her off. “I have no plans to retire.”

  “You're almost thirty years old. Don't assassins retire at your age?”

  “Only those who have lost their edge.”

  “And you haven't?”

  “Not that I'm aware of.”

  “But you will before you do, won't you?” She looked concerned.

  “In all likelihood.”

  “Good.” She shot a glance at his belt. “None have ever retired as Master of the Dance, I've heard.”

  “Not as far as I know.”

  “Will you be sad to give it up?”

  “I expect so.”

  Lilu sighed, looking martyred. “Trying to have a conversation with you is like pulling teeth.”

  “You should know; you've got so few left.”

  “That's mean.” She leant back and gazed across the room. “What do you think of the new Queen's proclamation?”

  He shrugged. “Not much.”

  “You don't approve?”

  “I haven't thought about it.”

  “And if you did think about it?”

  “Why would I bother?”

  She frowned at him. “Because I asked you to?”

  “Why do you want me to?”

  “Because I want your opinion!”

  “Why?”

  “Blade!”

  He smiled, shaking his head. “I don't care one way or the other.”

  “And if you did?”

  “But I don't.”

  She gave a frustrated snort. “It's a waste of time trying to talk to you, isn't it?”

  “I'm working.”

  “You call lazing around drinking wine working?”

  “Just as you call lying on your back working.”

  “I do more than –”

  He raised a hand, grimacing. “Spare me the details.”

  “This isn't working; it's waiting for work.”

  “You call it work when you're trying to persuade men to bed you.”

  “Because it is!” She shook her head. “I have to sit with them and talk to them, and they –”

  “Again, spare me the details. I've seen it too often.”

  “You still can't call sitting around drinking wine work.”

  “And yet, I do.”

  “So what do you do for fun?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing.”

  “What about when you talk to me? Isn't that fun?”

  “Not really.”

  “So why do you do it?”

  He sipped his wine. “Because you talk to me whether I like it or not.”

  “If I didn't, no one would.”

  “That wouldn't bother me.”

  “You're a heartless monster.”

  He smiled again. “I know.”

  “You've been working on becoming one for how long now? Nine years?”

  “More like seventeen.”

  “Well, you've certainly perfected it.”

  “I usually do, when I set out to do something.”

  She cocked her head. “Why would anyone want to be a heartless monster?”

  “So people will leave him alone.”

  “Why do you want to be alone?”

  “I like it.”

  “Yet you visit me in my room quite often.”

  He gazed across the alehouse. “Go away.”

  “Was that an awkward question?”

  “It wasn't a question.”

  “Statement, then,” she said.

  “No, just an irritating one.”

  “Because you don't like to admit that you enjoy my company.”

  Blade turned his head to scowl at her. “Right now I'm not.”

  “But you do, sometimes.”

  “It's tolerable, when you're not nagging me, talking my ears off or pawing me.”

  “So that would be... when I'm asleep?”

  “Precisely,” he said, his slight smile returning.

  “And yet you don't sleep with me.”

  He chuckled. “There are usually men in your bed.”

  “Otherwise you would?”

  “Gods, no.”

  “I wouldn't charge you, you know.” She put a hand on his knee, making him jump and frown.

  “Bugger off, Lilu.”

  She giggled. “You're blushing.”

  He sighed. “I'm not, but if I was, it would be out of embarrassment at being pawed by an ugly trollop.”

  She leant closer, pouting. “How would it be if an ugly trollop kissed you?”

  “Disgusting.”

  Lilu darted in to kiss his cheek.

  Blade wiped it, shooting her a frown. “Go away before I make you.”

  “Or I'll ruin your reputation?”

  “Before someone thinks you'll make a good bargaining chip.”

  She glanced around. “If I just leave, it won't be –”

  Blade thumped the table. “Bugger off!�
��

  Lilu jumped up and flounced off, her nose in the air. The assassin leant back and signalled Rendal to bring him another bottle of wine.

  Almost three moons later, Blade strolled into the taproom and sat in his usual spot. The serving wench brought him a bottle of red wine, and he settled down to wait for a customer to approach him, if one was going to. On average, he received one assignment per moon-phase, although sometimes he got as many as three and occasionally none, but he had amassed a sizeable collection of goldens to tide him over the lean months. He spent a few time-glasses each day in the common room, and the rest of the time reading or practicing his skills.

  Pouring a cup of wine, he glanced around, spotting Lilu giggling with four tough looking soldiers in civilian clothes. Their stern, scarred miens and rigid postures gave them away, along with a certain air of nobility that hung about them, even though they were clearly commoners.

  Half a time-glass later, they left, and Lilu came over to slide onto the bench opposite Blade, who shot her a frown.

  “Go away.”

  “I have something to tell you. Those four are from the palace guard, and one of them told me something amazing.”

  “Only one? You were sitting with four of them.”

  “He came to my room.”

  “Ah.” Blade gazed across the taproom.

  “He said that he and his companions are going to Cotti. The Queen has offered them lands, riches and titles.” She leant closer, lowering her voice. “To kill the Cotti King.”

  Blade's heart quickened, but he feigned disinterest. “How bizarre. They won't get near Shandor, never mind slay him.”

  “Well, that's what he said. The Queen also wants the Prince brought to her, alive.” She glanced around as if she was imparting royal secrets, when this was clearly not something the soldiers had been sworn to secrecy about, or else the man would not have divulged it. “Do you think it has something to do with her plan to end the war?”

  “Killing Shandor won't end it. It's more likely to escalate it.”

  “But perhaps she'll be able to negotiate peace with the Prince.”

  He said, “The Cotti live only to make war and slaughter innocents.”

  “She must have a reason for doing it.”

  “I expect she thinks she can make peace with Kerrion, but I would say she's sadly mistaken.”

  “And yet, she consulted the Idol.”

  Blade shrugged. “What of it?”

  “He can see the future. Perhaps he told her what to do this to end the war.”

  “Then he's sadly mistaken, too.”

  Lilu picked up Blade's wine cup and sipped from it, looking thoughtful. “I'll wager you could kill the Cotti King.”

  “Probably.”

  “Wouldn't you like to be a wealthy noble?”

  “Not particularly, and I certainly don't want to go back to that infernal desert.”

  Her gaze sharpened. “You've been there before?”

  Blade looked away, cursing his slip, and several minutes passed before he replied, “A long time ago.”

  “That's where...” She looked down at the wine, biting her lip.

  “That's where what?”

  “You were... hurt.”

  “You already know this.”

  She shook her head. “I thought so, but you'd never talk about it.”

  “Nor will I now.”

  “I understand.”

  “No you don't.”

  “The Cotti are cruel; everyone knows that.”

  Blade retrieved his wine cup and topped it up. “The true depths of their depravity aren't known to anyone who hasn't been in one of their camps, and they don't survive.”

  “But you did.”

  “I was unlucky.”

  “Some would say lucky.”

  “They also know nothing.” He hesitated. Although he considered her suggestion to be impossible, the prospect of killing the Cotti King did interest him. “How many bungling soldiers has the Queen sent into the desert?”

  “I don't know. At least one other group, I think.”

  “They won't succeed.”

  “He said she offers a mighty reward. An estate, a title and a yearly income. You'd never have to work again.”

  He shook his head. “It's a fool's errand.”

  “Not for you.”

  “A little while ago, you were begging me to retire before I got hurt, now you want me to go to Cotti and kill their king? That's about the most dangerous thing I could attempt.”

  “But think of the rewards,” she said. “It would be worth the risk, and if, as you say, you haven't lost your edge, you'll be fine.”

  “And you think you'll share in my reward, huh?”

  “If you were generous, I suppose I might. It would be nice.”

  “Leave it alone. You don't know what you're talking about. Ten leagues of burning sand just to get to Shandor's camp, and no Cotti horse to ride. A Jashimari beast would be instantly spotted, even if it survived the journey.”

  She shook her head. “No, the soldier said less than a league. The camp is practically in the foothills of the Endine Mountains.”

  “They've moved it, then.”

  She leant forward, her eyes gleaming. “Don't you want to kill Cotti? Especially their king.”

  Blade inclined his head. “There would be some satisfaction in that.”

  “And you'll have the Cotti Prince as your prisoner all the way back to Jondar.”

  “That part's not so appealing.”

  “But he'd be at your mercy,” she said. “You'd be able to humiliate him, or worse.”

  “I'm not a torturer.”

  “Think on it, though.”

  “Maybe.” Blade said, to put an end to her nagging. He had no intention of leaving the city and enduring the hardships of travel, nor did he ever want to return to Cotti. Even if he wished it, he could not do the deed without a client, and the Queen hardly ever granted audiences to commoners. She consulted with her advisors and nobles, and the only commoners who were allowed into her presence were palace soldiers, the clergy and her advisors. Lilu gazed at him, clearly expecting him to come to a decision while she waited, and he sighed.

  “Even if I wanted to, the Queen doesn't speak to commoners.”

  Her face fell, and she looked thoughtful. “You could request an audience.”

  “She won't grant it.”

  “You don't know unless you try.”

  “I think the chances of an assassin gaining an audience are even slimmer than any other commoner, and that happens rarely. You're being silly. Even commoners spit on assassins.”

  “Well they shouldn't. And you're not just an assassin; you're the Master of the Dance.”

  “I doubt the Queen even knows what that is,” he said, “and it wouldn't impress her if she did. And you really think her guards will allow a killer into her presence?”

  “You're an assassin. Everyone knows you won't kill without a client. No one would pay you to kill the Queen, and even if they did, you wouldn't do it, because you're Jashimari.”

  “I'd have a better chance if I didn't tell them who I am.”

  “So you'll do it, then?” She looked eager again.

  “No. It would be a waste of time, and the palace guards would probably arrest me just for trying.”

  “They can't. There's no crime in asking for an audience. Even if you were only allowed to meet her chief advisor, he could give her the message.”

  Blade sipped his wine, becoming irritated. “The palace guards could easily concoct a reason to arrest me, or they may just kill me and throw my body down the closest cesspit. Assassins are considered to be vermin, remember? Killing one hardly constitutes a crime.”

  “You killed Lord Rothwayer and Graleth. I'll wager you could sneak into the Queen's bedchamber if you wished.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, that's a good idea. As soon as I woke her up to put my proposal to her, she'd scream the place down and her guards would chop off m
y head. I got away with those killings because I left no one alive to raise the alarm, but I can hardly do that to the Queen if I want to talk to her, can I?”

  “You could do what you did to me. Make her fall asleep.”

  “I can't talk to her while she's asleep.”

  “No,” she said, “you make her sleep, then you bind and gag her. You speak to her when she wakes up, then make her sleep again and untie her.”

  “How will she agree if she's gagged? And how likely do you think she is to agree after I've just broken into her room and assaulted her?”

  “But it will also prove that you could kill the Cotti King. I mean, if you can get into Minna-Satu's bedchamber, you'd have no trouble getting into Shandor's would you?”

  “Except Shandor lives in an army camp, not a palace.”

  “Doesn't that make it easier?”

  He shook his head. “Not really. There are several thousand seasoned warriors around him. Besides, I think the Queen's palace will be a little harder to get into than Graleth or Rothwayer's mansions.”

  Lilu sighed and picked up Blade's wine cup, sipping from it. “You don't really want to do it, do you?”

  “Not particularly, no.”

  “Do you think you'll fail?”

  “I don't think I'll be granted an audience with the Queen.”

  “But what if you did?”

  “I won't,” he said.

  “I think you might. Why don't you just try? Prove me wrong. What harm can it do?”

  “Apart from getting me arrested or killed?”

  “If you don't tell them you're an assassin, they won't arrest or kill you.”

  “Until they see my mark.”

  “How will they? Do you plan to go there without a shirt?”

  Blade retrieved his wine cup and refilled it. “They'll search me. If they see my mark... I'm a dead man, most likely.”

  “But maybe not.”

  “Gods, Lilu, leave it alone!” He glared at her, thoroughly fed up with her nagging. “I'm not going to ask for an audience or break into the Queen's bedchamber. It's ridiculous. And even if I did, by some miracle, get an audience, she won't hire me. Why should she, when she has thousands of soldiers at her beck and call?”

  “Because they can't do what you can do. They won't be able to kill Shandor.”

  “She doesn't know that.”

  “She will, when more of her men have failed.”

  “She still won't know that I could do it, and if she does realise it, let her send a messenger to hire me.”