The Queen's Blade III - Invisible Assassin

by T C Southwell

  Minna-Satu paled, her eyes widening. "How dare you? You question me? You doubt my words? Are you calling me a liar?"

  "No, My Queen. I am calling you another victim of Kerrion's plans. A pawn captured and forced to dance to his tune." Blade glanced at the King again, who smirked. "Did he do all of this merely to use me for his own ends, to kill his enemies?"

  "You rate yourself too highly. I always knew you were proud, but you have an overblown opinion of your worth. I was not captured to blackmail you, rather, you were saved to protect me."

  "Perhaps." Blade sipped his wine. "The Jashimari Queen is a great prize indeed, to be brought here a prisoner and paraded before the Cotti lords as the spoils of war.

  "I do not doubt that Kerrion's brothers seek to strip him of his trophy, and I will not be fooled into protecting his property. I regret your humiliation in this matter. No Jashimari Queen should be used so ill, and I understand that you would not be able to withstand the kind of treatment I have received."

  Kerrion made a choking sound, patently struggling to keep from laughing as Minna rose to her feet. Blade put down his wine cup and stood up to face her, shooting the King an icy glance.

  "You dare to insult me so?" Minna growled. "You, who I thought knew me so well, think I would bow to such a scheme? Allow myself to be used thus?"

  "Torture is a powerful inducement -"

  "Not powerful enough!" Her eyes glittered. "You may be a coward when it comes to pain, but I would never become a trophy to any man. I would rather die."

  "That can be prevented -"

  "He is to be my husband, and I am his willing bride. I have been treated with every courtesy and kindness since my arrival, and that is the truth."

  "You do his bidding -"

  Minna slapped him, jerking his head to the side with the force of the blow. "Silence! I do no one's bidding! Not now. Not ever. Do you see the signs of ill treatment upon me? Do I look like one who has been humiliated and treated as a trophy?" Blade glared at the floor, and Minna said, "Answer me!"

  He raised his eyes. "No, you do not."

  "What must I do to convince you? Would you have me hold a dagger to his throat?"

  "You cannot kill him, you said so yourself."

  Minna threw up her hands. "Then what? Tell me what will convince you, and I will have it done."

  "I do not know, My Queen. He may sink to great depths to get his way."

  "There must be something."

  Blade looked at Kerrion. "Perhaps if I saw his court bow to you and call you their Queen."

  Minna also glanced at the King, who shook his head. "Impossible. It is too soon to expect them to accept Minna as their queen. Cotti do not regard women highly, and on top of that, she is Jashimari. It will take a few years before that can be attained."

  The assassin nodded. "As I thought."

  "No, your queen has told you the truth. I am surprised you offer her this insult."

  "I do not insult her. She is at your mercy, as I have said."

  "No."

  Blade strode over to the King and punched him in the face, knocking the monarch down. Kerrion lay stunned for a moment, then shook his head and sat up, cursed and wiped blood from his nose. Minna flew to his side and fell to her knees. The assassin watched her with a frown, wringing his hand. She glared at Blade, then jumped up and smacked him with all her might, making him stagger. He backed away when she came after him, her eyes alight with ire.

  "You go too far! I should order you whipped for this."

  Her reaction surprised Blade, and Kerrion rose to his feet, chuckling. "I do believe he was testing you, Minna. Your reaction told a story, did it not, Blade?"

  The assassin looked doubtful. "Such reactions do not usually lie."

  "That is right, they do not. If that convinced you, then I suppose it was worth a bloody nose."

  Blade glanced at Minna. "Only partly. It convinces me that the Queen does indeed care for you, but what of your feelings for her? Perhaps you have treated her well, and told her lies to gain her trust and love, but to what end? So I could be convinced in just such a manner?"

  Kerrion stared at him. "My God, just how devious do you think I am? Or how desperate to have you in my employ? If I did not care for your Queen, why would I wish to kill my brothers in order to protect her? Why would I save her and bring her here, placing myself in danger?"

  "You have long hated your brothers and wished them dead. They have plotted against you since your father was killed."

  "And before. But once I became King they could not touch me, not until I did something my people disliked, such as planning to marry a Jashimari woman."

  Blade went over to the cushions where he had been seated and picked up his cup, sipping wine while he pondered. "So, you would have me believe that you have imperilled your throne by bringing the Queen here."

  "Yes."

  "And you did this because you love her."

  "Yes."

  "Why would your brothers want to kill the Queen if her presence here threatens to depose you?"

  Kerrion dabbed his nose with a handkerchief. "Because it may not. If the Cotti accept her, the next King will be half Jashimari, a far worse prospect for my brothers."

  Blade studied him. "You will swear to this?"

  "Of course."

  "In blood."

  Kerrion grimaced. "If you insist. There's enough of it on my face at the moment."

  "Not your blood. Your familiar's."

  The King's head jerked up. "No."

  The assassin turned to Minna. "Only that will convince me."

  She glanced at Kerrion. "Blade, you know how precious a familiar is. You ask too much."

  "Evidently," the assassin murmured. "No one would go that far to prove a lie."

  "It is the truth."

  "If he is indeed willing to risk his throne and even his life for you, spilling his familiar's blood is not too high a price to pay. If he is lying, it is."

  Minna looked at Kerrion with soft, sympathetic eyes. The King appeared struggle with himself, scowling at the floor with his mouth set in a grim, white-edged line. Minna went to him and took his hand. "No, Kerrion, we will find another way. You do not have to do this."

  "There is no other way." He pinned Blade with a fierce glare. "If I do this, you will obey your Queen."

  "If you do this, I will consider her employ," Blade drawled.

  "If you refuse one order from her, I will personally flay you alive, and enjoy it."

  The assassin walked up to the King and thrust his face close to Kerrion's, his eyes blazing. "Cotti soldiers disembowelled my familiar before my eyes. I shared the pain of his death, and you shrink from shedding a drop of blood from yours."

  Minna gave a soft cry and sank onto the cushions, a hand over her mouth. The men glanced at her, then faced each other again.

  "Could you have done that yourself?" Kerrion demanded.

  "I am not asking you to kill it."

  "You unfeeling bastard." Kerrion strode to the window, leaning on the ledge to gaze up at the sky.

  After a few long minutes of growing tension, Minna rose and approached Blade. "Stop this, My Lord. He has shown that he will do it. You do not need to force him further."

  Blade smiled, gazing at Kerrion's rigid back. "I rather enjoy having him at my mercy."

  "I am sure you do, but you do not need more convincing."

  "Perhaps my reward will be his suffering."

  "Will you make us both suffer?" she asked, drawing his unwilling gaze to her pale face. "Perhaps you would enjoy seeing me torture Shista too? You have us at your mercy. Is it not strange that a great King such as he should be forced to perform such an abhorrent act to gain the services of a mere assassin? And I, your Queen, must watch helplessly as my betrothed suffers at your hands? I order you to stop this, Lord Conash."

  "Then I shall not be convinced, My Queen."

  Minna made a sound of frustration. "I did not think you a cruel man before now."
r />   "You quail from his suffering, but what of mine? You did not see me tied to a whipping post and flogged by a filthy Cotti bastard whose stench would have made you sick."

  "I did not order it, nor did he."

  "He ordered my imprisonment, and he also ordered the healer to rub poison into my wounds afterwards."

  "He was desperate," she muttered. "You do this out of petty enjoyment."

  "No." He shook his head. "This is revenge. Did he honestly think that I would not have it? He tried to force me to help him by torturing me, so he must suffer to gain it. Believe me, his suffering is nothing compared to mine."

  "By hurting him, you hurt me."

  "That is not my intention, My Queen."

  "But it is the result of your demands."

  He inclined his head. "My regrets."

  "For pity's sake, stop this!"

  Blade averted his gaze from her desperate, pleading face, unmoved by her appeal, save perhaps for a slight twinge of embarrassment to see his Queen so humbled. "I have no pity, My Queen, that is what makes me a good assassin. You are as humiliated by your emotions as Chiana was when she begged for my pity and asked for false caresses and lies to bring her happiness."

  "And did you do it?"

  His lips twisted in a faint smile. "A little."

  They looked around as a rustle of wings announced Kiara's arrival, floating in through the window to alight upon Kerrion's arm. He murmured to her, stroking the bright golden feathers of her crest as she shuffled her wings into place. The desert eagle dipped her head to accept his caress, her talons gripping his bare arm, her cruel, curved beak darting this way and that as she studied her surroundings. She made a soft chirring sound and fluffed her feathers, tilting her head to encourage the King to scratch her neck. Kerrion turned to glare at Blade, his eyes as fierce as his familiar's. The assassin folded his arms.

  Minna gripped his elbow. "Do not make him do this. He did not want to imprison you. He asked for your help and you refused. You know we are telling the truth."

  "You are. He may have duped us both."

  "Why would he?"

  "To have you as his willing prize and me as his servant."

  Minna shook her head. "He would not risk his throne for that."

  "I would think not, but how do we know that what he says is true? Perhaps he risks nothing."

  Kerrion walked to a gilded perch and set his familiar upon it, then drew a slim dagger from his belt. He shot Blade a final, hate-filled glare before turning to stroke the bird, muttering soothing sounds. Minna looked away as the King lifted Kiara's wing, exposing the patch of almost bare skin beneath it. He pressed the dagger to the soft warmth of his familiar's flesh and made a small, swift cut. Kiara gave a high, keening cry, raising her wings in distress. Kerrion wiped off the drop of blood that oozed from the wound and turned to face the assassin, holding out his bloody fingers, grey-faced.

  "The blood of my familiar, you bastard. Are you satisfied now?"

  Blade nodded, and Kerrion turned back to the eagle, stroking her again as he soothed her with soft words and caresses. Minna sank down on a pile of cushions, looking pale and sick.

  "That is the most horrible thing I have witnessed."

  Blade settled on the cushions before her, sipping his wine. "Then you have led a sheltered life, My Queen. Doubtless you would have been sickened even more had you seen what the Cotti soldiers did to my family and -"

  "Enough!" She held up a hand. "I know you have suffered, and I sympathise. I do not need to hear more of it. Inflicting pain on another does not in any way repay what was done to you, and is therefore pointless. You are merely perpetuating their evil by becoming like those who committed the atrocities against you."

  The assassin frowned. "I have never committed the atrocities that they did, but by becoming as unfeeling and cold as they I have become who and what I am. Had this not happened to me I would be a humble goatherd living in a border village with my wife and children. When the Cotti took away that future, they created me, and I make no apologies for what I am."

  "No." She looked away. "I understand, Lord Conash. I do not ask for apologies, only a little less vindictiveness on your part."

  Kerrion, having soothed his familiar, left her and came over to them, standing behind Blade. "Now that we have settled this dispute, may we move on?"

  Minna looked up at him. "Yes, of course. It is Prince Ronan who leads your brothers' conspiracy, is it not?"

  "He is the leader, but Targan is the one who plans it. He must be the first to die. Perhaps the others will desist without him."

  Blade shook his head. "I am not fit enough to perform an assassination now. Three tendays in prison has weakened me, and my wounds are still too fresh. I must have time to recover and exercise, but this may take longer to undo." He held out his callused hands with their broken nails, dirt ingrained under them. Minna frowned at them, shooting Kerrion another accusing look.

  The King made an impatient sound. "How does this hamper you?"

  Blade turned to look up at him. "You have no concept of what it is to be an assassin, do you? Already I am almost crippled with a scarred lung, a deep leg wound that still aches at times, fresh cuts and damaged hands. Obviously you did not realise, when you sent me to prison to break rocks, just how damaging such activities would be to me."

  "You are just using this as an excuse."

  "Why would I need an excuse? I did not have to agree to do the Queen's bidding, even once I was convinced you were both telling the truth. I may be her subject, but my services as an assassin are not hers to command."

  Kerrion snorted. "So how do a few calluses hamper you so much?"

  "I cannot handle a dagger as well as I should if my hands do not have a great deal of sensitivity. My accuracy is compromised, and hard, unfeeling hands can slip or fumble. Also, should I have to affect a female disguise, such calluses would give me away."

  The King opened his mouth to utter an angry rebuttal, but Minna held up a hand. "My maidens will tend to you, My Lord. With water and oils, gentle rubbing with a certain kind of stone, your hands can be restored within a tenday."

  He nodded. "And I shall require a private place to exercise."

  Kerrion asked, "Presumably you will now give your word not to escape?"

  Blade looked scornful. "I have accepted the Queen's employ, that is sufficient." He sipped his wine. "I shall need information. Maps of the palace, the patrol times of the guards, Prince Targan's location, his habits and peculiarities. Based upon that information I will decide which will be the best strategy to use, and should I decide that it is necessary I will require the items that make up my disguise."

  "You will have it," Minna said. "Anything you require, naturally. Have a list of these items sent to me with your servant, and Kerrion will see to it himself, since the utmost secrecy is necessary."

  She glanced at the King, who nodded, then faced Blade again. "I am most pleased that you have agreed to help me, for both our sakes. You have only to name your fee and it shall be yours."

  The assassin shrugged. "I will have to think on it, but my freedom is of course a part of it. And anything I want while I am here, such as my daggers returned to me immediately and suitable clothes."

  "Of course." She waited to see if he would add anything else, then said, "If there is nothing further you wish to discuss, you may go, My Lord. I must ask you to remain in your room for the moment, however, until arrangements can be made."

  Blade drained his wine and rose to his feet, bowing to her. "My Queen."

  As soon as Blade left, Kerrion sat beside Minna and put his arm around her, smiling when she turned to look at him.

  "Well, you did it," he murmured.

  "No, you did. I am surprised he took so much convincing."

  "He did not want to believe it."

  She sighed. "He thinks me a fool, perhaps even a traitor to my people."

  Kerrion hugged her. "I, for one, do not care what he thinks. The main thin
g is that you will soon be safe, so long as he is trustworthy."

  "He is, even though he is a blade that cuts both ways."

  The King fingered his swollen nose with a smile. "We both acquired a few bruises. I hope his cheek smarts as much as my nose."

  "I certainly hit him hard enough. Though I wish I had hit him harder now, for what he made you do."

  "It is not too late to remedy that, if you wish."

  She giggled. "I think we have all been bruised enough for one day."

  "Except you, of course."

  "No one would dare to lay a hand on me, Kerrion."

  "Not even Blade?"

  She shook her head. "Not even Blade." She hesitated, smiling. "He did raise his hand to me once, but I do not believe he would have done it. Then, he was trying to get himself killed, but he would not do that now, I think."

  Blade paced his room, unhappy with the situation in which he now found himself. He had indeed been convinced of the feelings that Kerrion and Minna shared, which did not sit well with him at all. His newly acquired freedom was pleasant, but its price irked him. No matter how he looked at it, serving the Queen also meant he served Kerrion, assassinating any who were a threat to keep the woman he loved safe. Therein lay his discontent, for being in the Cotti King's employ, even to slay his brothers, left a bad taste in Blade's mouth.

  Stopping by the window, he gazed out across the pale stone city sweltering under the midday sun, longing for the green fields and cool mists of Jashimari. It seemed that fate had once more caught him up in its claws, taking him to places and situations he did not wish to go, and he wondered what destiny had in store for him next. Whatever it was, he was certain he would not like it. He turned as the door opened, and Olan came in with a tray of roasted meat, steamed vegetables and a cup of red wine. The Cotti servant shot him a hard glare, but retreated in tight-lipped silence. Blade smiled. At least there were some rewards to be gleaned from the situation.

  The following day, four maidens came to Blade's room to bathe him and anoint him with oils, then spent many time-glasses rubbing the calluses from his hands. Later, a tailor measured him for new clothes, and in the afternoon he was shown to a secluded, walled garden where he could exercise. He scanned the tall hedge that surrounded it, searching for possible places where someone may spot him with a spyglass, but found none. When he returned to his room, he found his daggers awaiting him on his supper tray. Each day after that followed the same routine, until he had enough clothes, including a jacket sewn with fine chain mail, and the calluses on his hands were gone.