The Queen's Blade III - Invisible Assassin

by T C Southwell

  "You feared nothing," Chiana said. "Rather, you hoped it."

  "No, my lady. Tell me, did he try to take his life?"

  She frowned. "Yes."

  "And someone prevented him."

  "I did."

  "A folly, I'm sad to say. He shouldn't have been prevented."

  Chiana's brows knotted further. "You wish my husband dead? Is that why you put drugs in the dye you used to mark him?"

  "Ah. He's no fool." Talon shook his head. "I didn't wish him dead, but for some it's the best course."

  "Why? What is wrong with him? What can be done?"

  Talon looked unsettled, fingering his beard. "Blade has always been a driven man, Regent. He fell prey to outside influences that shaped his life, as you must know. Many assassins are made thus, but Blade more so than most. Always he's been driven by hatred and a lust for vengeance, which made him such a good assassin."

  He frowned. "Upon his retirement all this fell away, leaving him with nothing, you understand? To put it bluntly, he has no will, my lady. None at all. Without the things that drove him, he's like a ship without wind, dead in the water. We all feel it to some extent when we retire, but he's a eunuch, which makes his plight far worse. Whereas most content themselves with wenching, a little drinking and training apprentices, Blade has only drink."

  "Then he needs an apprentice," Chiana interjected, but Talon had clearly not finished.

  "That wouldn't suffice. Blade was also the Master of the Dance, an office I urged him not to quit, but he did. This was the reason I tried to persuade him to keep it, for he's a legend in the Guild and I didn't wish to see him destroy himself. Now he has nothing, and anyone may push him hither and thither, he cares not."

  "I noticed. But what can be done?"

  Talon sighed. "It's a sticky problem, Regent. If not for your attachment to him, I would say put him out of his misery." He raised a hand when she gasped with outrage. "But there are other things that can be tried. He may improve, but he'll never be as he was, you understand?"

  She nodded. "What are they?"

  "I'll need to speak to him first, but tell me, did he express a wish for anything before he... gave up?"

  "Yes, he wanted to go and live on his estate."

  "But you wouldn't let him."

  Chiana blinked. "No."

  "Also folly. But you're blameless, of course."

  "Why did you put that drug in the ink?"

  "It's always done, my lady. It opens the mind and heart and lets out all the torment that has been buried over the years. Without it he wouldn't be able to stop killing. Sooner or later the thrill of the hunt would lure him back, only then he would kill without a client and fall foul of the law. Unfortunately some don't survive the experience, and they're better off. But it's always the best, those who have killed the most, who suffer worst of all. I had no great hopes of Blade surviving. I expected him to be dead, in all honesty. I sent letters -"

  "Which he burnt."

  "Of course." Talon shook his head. "May I see him now?"

  "Certainly. You will most likely find him in the cellar at this time of day. I shall take you."

  Chiana led the elder assassin through the palace and down into the damp darkness of the cellar that was now Blade's favourite haunt. They found him in one of the many aisles, slumped across a table with a pile of bottles at his feet. Jayon dozed nearby, but woke when Chiana and Talon approached. She stopped and sighed at the sight of her husband. He showed little signs of debauchery, since he had no beard to neglect and still bathed regularly, but the skin around his eyes had become puffy, making them narrower. She looked at Jayon.

  "Can you wake him?"

  The young commander shrugged. "After that much wine, I doubt it."

  "Perhaps some cold water would help."

  Jayon perked up at the prospect. "I'll fetch some."

  As he trotted off, Talon sat beside Blade and shook him, evincing only a snort and some grumbling. The elder shook him more forcefully, and Blade promptly slid under the table. Chiana bit her lip, fighting her tears. Talon glanced at her.

  "Don't distress yourself, my lady. He feels no pain."

  "I know, but I do."

  "And it's for your sake that I do this, not his. He will not thank me for it, mark my words."

  "I can imagine."

  Jayon returned with Lirek and four buckets of icy water. Between them, they dragged Blade out from beneath the table and proceeded to drench him. He woke spluttering, and cursed as he climbed to his feet. Staggering to the bench, he flopped down and glared at his assailants.

  "Drown me, why don't you?" He spotted Talon and groaned. "Oh, no, not you."

  "Blade, you are a disgrace."

  "Am I? Too bad."

  Talon stepped closer. "You're an elder of the Guild of Assassins. A legend amongst us, a celebrated hero. Yet I find you like a common beggar, drunk in your own piss."

  Blade glanced down at himself. "It's water, I think."

  "You have duties to perform. Where's your apprentice?"

  "Go stick your head in a furnace, Talon."

  The elder loomed over him. "I'll have your mark burnt from your skin."

  Blade tried to stand, wobbled, and sat down again. "Try it, and I'll stick the bloody poker up your arse."

  "I doubt that you could. Right now your wife could overcome you with ease."

  Blade looked at Chiana and chuckled. "Probably."

  Talon sighed and shook his head at her. "It's hopeless, I fear."

  "Keep trying," she urged.

  He turned to Blade. "You have a challenger. Swift wants his belt back."

  "Top drawer, Chiana's dressing table." Blade slumped across the table, yawning.

  Talon walked away. "He's too far gone, Regent. He doesn't care any more about anything."

  Chiana fell into step beside him. "There must be something we can do."

  "I've tried. He doesn't respond, nor will he. If you wish, you may resort to a more drastic action, but I cannot guarantee the results."

  "I will try anything."

  Talon looked pained. "You may not wish to do this."

  "Tell me."

  He stopped and turned to face her. "You must deprive him of his pleasures, and I don't mean argue with him. Take him to the dungeons and chain him up."

  "You jest!" she gasped. "Do you know who he is?"

  "Of course I do, he has more titles than the Cotti King. Listen to me. You must give him back what he's lost."

  "Which is?"

  "His anger and hatred."

  Chiana shook her head. "I do not want him to hate me."

  "He will not, once he realises what you've done. But as soon as he recovers, you must send him to his estate, or it will only be a temporary reprieve. If you care about him, you must do this."

  She gazed at Blade, who had opened a fresh bottle of wine. "I care a great deal."

  "Then do it. I can't help you any more than this."

  Chiana nodded. "I will. Thank you, Elder Talon."

  He bowed and walked away down the echoing aisles.

  She turned to Jayon. "Take him to the dungeons and chain him up."

  Jayon gaped. "On what charge?"

  "Drunk and disorderly behaviour."

  "But -"

  "Just do it, Commander." Chiana spun away, not wishing to watch her husband's undignified removal.

  Jayon and Lirek half carried, half dragged the assassin through the palace to the dungeons beneath the barracks. Finding an empty cell, they ignored the puzzled looks of the jailor and his sentries and shackled Blade's wrists to the wall and his ankles to the floor. The cell's thin straw pallet provided a place to sleep, and Blade was too drunk to notice. He fell asleep before they left him, quite content.

  When Blade woke the next morning, his headache prevented him from doing anything at first, but when it wore off, he shouted for release. Only the guard came, with half a loaf of bread and a cup of water.

  Four days passed before Chiana d
ared to enter his cell, her hopes high. Blade looked up from his blank-eyed perusal of his feet, meeting her eyes with a dull stare.

  "Hello, Blade."

  "Ah, my wife, the Regent. What happened to 'My Lord'?"

  "How are you feeling?"

  He shrugged. "The rats are good company."

  "You are not angry?"

  "I stink. How do they expect me to piss when my wrists are shackled to the wall?"

  Chiana sighed. "I will come and see you again soon."

  "What did I do, snore too loudly?"

  "No, you lost yourself."

  He looked down. "I seem to be all here."

  "It is not you." Chiana turned and left, unable to bear the sight of his dull, apathetic eyes.

  Four days later she returned, but little had changed. Blade had lost weight and developed a habit of spitting half-chewed bread at a target on the far wall. He smiled sweetly when she entered the cell.

  "This won't work."

  "Why not?"

  "If Talon thinks this will make me angry he's mistaken. It's boring, I admit, but little different from what I had before."

  Chiana shrugged. "At least you are no longer draining the cellar."

  He stared at her, looking puzzled. "I didn't think that was a crime."

  "It is not."

  "How long do you mean to keep me here?"

  "Until you recover."

  He shook his head. "I'm not sick."

  "Yes, you are." She left him, hiding her tears as she walked from the dungeon.

  This time she stayed away for eight days. Blade looked distinctly gaunt when she saw him again, and his eyes had a bright, feverish glint to them.

  "Nice of you to drop by," he sneered, and hope flared in her.

  "You are feeling better, I see."

  "My clothes are rotting and so are my teeth. When you haul me out of here you'll have no prize."

  She shrugged. "I shall order the guards to brush your teeth for you."

  "I'm getting tired of this."

  "Good."

  Chiana left him, ignoring his shouts, which followed her from the dungeons. The next four days she spent in better spirits, for Blade was growing angry. When she returned, his demeanour had changed drastically. The cold light had returned to his eyes and his mouth had settled in a familiar grim line.

  "This has gone on long enough, Chiana," he said.

  "Has it? I am not so sure."

  "I know what you're trying to do, and it's worked. Now release me!"

  "No, I do not think so, not yet."

  Blade yanked at the chains, glaring. "You have no right to do this. It's my life, not yours, and I shall live it as I see fit!"

  "You were not living, you were dying."

  "That is my choice!"

  "Perhaps, but I think that you have much to live for. I will not let you throw it away."

  He snorted. "Like what?"

  "Think about it."

  Blade's furious shouts followed her from the dungeons again, but she left with a lighter heart, certain that next time she saw him he would be ready to leave his chains.

  Chiana wrote to Talon to tell him of her success, and the next day he came to the palace. Surprised, she offered him wine, but he declined.

  "I've come to warn you, Regent. You say Blade has found his anger, and rants with it. You must not release him in this state."

  "You speak as if he is a rabid dog."

  "In a way he is. This anger must pass. You must allow him time to regain control, or he will be very dangerous. When he's calm, then release him, but not before."

  "You seem to understand him well," she commented.

  "I do. I knew him as a youth. When I found him, he was as he is now, filled with an uncontrollable rage that made him murderous. He tried to kill me several times for no other reason than I was alive. Over the years he learnt to control it, and now he must find that control again, or even you may be in danger. You remember how he was before his retirement? When he's like that again, then release him."

  "I see." Chiana gazed at him. "It seems I need to understand him better than I do, Elder Talon. Can you not spare the time to tell me more about him? Will you sit, have some wine, a meal perhaps?"

  Talon hesitated, looking reluctant, then shrugged and sighed, lowered himself onto the cushions and accepted a cup of wine. "Before his retirement, I would not have spoken of his past, you understand? A working assassin must necessarily be a mysterious fellow, or else his ways would lead to his downfall.

  "In Blade's case a deeper understanding of him would definitely undermine his abilities. So I've kept silent all these years, as a mentor must, for the performance of his pupils reflects upon his teachings. If they meet their end through his carelessness, the Guild will chastise him. Even to the Queen herself I could divulge no details, but now..." He shrugged. "What would you like to know?"

  "What was he like when you found him?"

  "A killer, to put it bluntly, my lady. He ambushed me in an alley and tried to bash out my brains with a rock. He wanted my money, but, being an assassin, though recently retired, I was a match for him. I knocked him unconscious, and almost left him to die in the gutter, but before I did I had to see who I had beaten. Imagine my surprise to find him such a youth. He looked about fourteen, but in fact he was then sixteen years old. I have to say, at first I thought him a girl in boy's clothes.

  "Thinking this, I took him back to my rooms and revived him. He puzzled me exceedingly at first, for his voice was too deep for a girl, or a boy of fourteen. The first thing he did upon awakening was to try to kill me again. Never have I seen such hatred in a boy's eyes, such rage..." Talon shook his head and sighed.

  "I had to tie him up, and kept him bound for nearly two tendays. By that time I had tired of his stench, and managed to talk to him a little, although all he did was growl like an animal. I had started to wonder if he was an idiot, when finally he condescended to speak, and promised not to try to harm me." Talon smiled ruefully.

  "Of course, as we all now know, he's a consummate liar. Still, I released him and persuaded him to bathe, gave him clean clothes and fed him. For two nights he remained calm, then he attacked me again on the third. As you may not know, I was not a dagger man. Close combat was not my strength. It isn't for any assassin, and I used a crossbow when I traded. He wounded me with a kitchen knife, but once again I subdued him. I was younger then, and he was weak from starvation.

  "I tied him up and spent time-glasses, no, days, talking to him, trying to persuade him to become my apprentice. I had realised by then what an excellent candidate he was. He didn't like the idea at first, nor did he agree for several moons. During that time, he came and went as he pleased. I fed and clothed him, still hoping to persuade him.

  "Finally he agreed, and I began to teach him. He chose his weapon quickly and spent all his time perfecting his skill, for he had no other interests. Because of this, I also taught him the Dance early on to give him something else to do. He excelled at both skills, and spent all day doing one or the other."

  Talon paused to take a gulp of wine. "By then, I had realised what he was, and saw a way to use it to his advantage. Even now, he's a handsome man, but at sixteen he looked more like a woman, quite honestly. He was furious when I made the suggestion. He ran away for a tenday, and returned thin and dirty.

  "I didn't broach the subject again for some time, and when I did, he took it more calmly and allowed me to experiment with face paint. But the first time he saw the result in a mirror, he tried to throttle me."

  Talon shook his head again. "Ah, Regent, you have no idea of the... confusion he suffered from. What it must be for a boy of sixteen, on the verge of manhood, to be robbed of it. To long for manly things, but to have skin like milk and hair like silk... and to look so captivating with just a little paint and powder. He hated it, he hated himself, and me, and the Cotti. He hated everyone. I didn't attempt to persuade him further along those lines. Seeing his need, I made him exercis
e brutally, and I admit, sometimes overmuch.

  "But when he started to see the results as his shoulders broadened and his body hardened, he pushed himself harder than I had. I trained him for two years. Usually it takes four, but he was ready for his first kill at eighteen, and got his tattoo just a few days later. For two years after his tattooing, he shared his profits with me, as is the rule. After the first year, he won the belt and became the Master of the Dance, which gained him a great deal of work."

  Talon drained his wine cup and put it down. "I don't know when he started disguising himself as a woman to make his kills. He never spoke of it, and only I knew how he came to be known as the Invisible Assassin. I was sad when he left my house. I missed him, although I had another apprentice. He was special."

  "He still is," Chiana murmured.

  "Indeed, you'll get no argument from me. But now perhaps you can see that I never meant him harm, and when I wished him dead it was for his sake. You have only known him recently. You didn't see the struggle he went through to come to terms with what he is.

  "I flattered myself that he might have cared for me, but over the years I've come to believe that he has not cared for anyone since his family died. Unlike my other apprentices, who visit me often after they become assassins, once Blade no longer shared his living with me, he vanished. I didn't see him for years at a time, and then only when he was forced to come to guild meetings and defend his title."

  "And you believe that what he is going through now is the same as he went through when he was sixteen?"

  Talon shook his head. "No, it's worse. Then he was young and headstrong, bent on avenging himself upon any who stood in his way. Now he's had his revenge, achieved his goals, lost his trade and title, and become nothing. He has no future unless he takes an interest in his estate, but here he has nothing to occupy him, for he cannot take an apprentice while he dwells in the palace.

  "With no prospect of love or family... I beg your pardon, my lady. He's your husband, of course, but... Assassins don't wed, but they do fall in love and have families, especially after they've retired. I have four sons and a daughter. I believe, due to his... condition, he'll never allow himself to grow attached."