The Queen's Blade V - Master of the Dance

by T C Southwell

  A half full Death moon threw a little light on the scene, without illuminating it too much. Blade paused to listen, locating two soldiers seated on the parapet behind him, who talked and smoked pipes. Boredom was the undoing of even the most diligent guards, eroding their training and forcing them to fill their time with small pleasures to keep themselves awake. Blade moved away from them, crouching to prevent himself from being silhouetted against the golden domes beyond.

  Several yards further on, he sensed two more soldiers ahead, strolling towards him. He glanced around, seeking a place to hide, but the roof offered no niches, or even shadows, in which to secrete himself. As the men came into sight, he slid over the edge and clung to the rough stone. They passed by with maddening slowness, even pausing to light a pipe above him. By the time they moved away, his fingers cramped and his leg muscles burnt. He returned to the roof and rubbed his hands and legs until the discomfort eased, then continued towards the harem.

  Reaching the spot above Chaymin's rooms, which he had studied earlier from the garden, he once more slipped over the edge and climbed down the wall. Here the surface was much smoother, built with large bricks instead of stones, and he had to grope for every handhold, finding them only where the bricks met. Since his feet found little purchase, most of the burden was on his arms, and they soon quivered with the strain. Twice he almost lost his grip when his fingers slipped, and scrabbled for nerve-twanging seconds to regain his hold.

  A glance down located Chaymin's balcony, and he lowered himself onto it, relaxing briefly to regain his composure and rub his fingers. When his palms dried, he examined the strong, iron-barred doors that secured the balcony against intruders, an innovation employed since Targan's assassination sixteen years ago. The lock that secured them looked well made, but did not daunt him. Blade selected a pick from his belt and felt for the tumblers inside it. As with all new locks, it was well oiled, and within minutes he had the doors open. Old, worn or rusty locks presented more of a problem, he mused, new locks were a pleasure to pick.

  Slipping inside, he paused in a shadow to survey the room. A huge canopied bed dominated it, the sheets draped over a pair of sleeping bodies. A crow roosted on a perch near the door, and a low mutter of voices came from the adjoining room. Curious, Blade crept to the door and peered into the next room, where four guards sat around a table, playing cards, drinking ale and smoking pipes.

  So Chaymin had taken precautions, it seemed, but not enough. As usual, the Prince did not want guards in his bed chamber, and the men in the next room where useless, as far as Blade was concerned. He turned back to the bed, drawing a dagger as he neared it. To ascertain which of its occupants was his victim, he bent and peered at them, holding his breath. They were both young girls, cuddled together and deeply asleep.

  Blade straightened, glancing at the crow. A stab of disquiet went through him. Just how many precautions had Chaymin taken? The familiar seemed to indicate that he was close by, but was it his? It could belong to one of the concubines who occupied the bed. Was this a trap? Had Trelath planned it, using Chaymin as bait? According to Kerrion's information, Chaymin was not a clever man, but would Trelath have had time to set all this up, considering that he had only arrived that day, and then fought Kerrion? There was still time for Blade to leave without springing the trap, but he disliked being so easily deterred. There was a good chance that Chaymin was close by.

  Moving to the bathing room door, he pulled the curtain aside. The room was in almost total darkness, and all he could make out was the large copper tub. Creeping closer to it, he paused and listened. A faint snore confirmed his suspicions, and he stepped up to the tub, sensing the presence of the man who slept in it. He could not see who it was, however, and had no wish to kill the wrong man. Although he was fairly certain that it was Chaymin, an iota of doubt remained, and he had to be sure.

  Blade reached down until his fingertips brushed cloth, moving with infinite delicacy so as not to wake the sleeping man. Sliding his fingers up the satin that covered the man's chest, he found the warm skin of his throat and laid them against the nerve bundles just under his jaw. Chaymin shifted and sighed at his touch.

  Leaning closer, Blade whispered, "My Prince."

  Chaymin woke with a snort, demanding far too loudly, "What? What is it? Take your hands -"

  Blade pressed his fingers against the Prince's throat, and he slumped. The sound of chairs being pushed back warned Blade, and he slipped into the nearest shadow as heavy footsteps approached. Two guards entered the room, one carrying a lamp. They went over to the bath and peered down at the Prince, frowning. The man with the lamp started to reach out to shake him, but the other stopped him.

  "He is asleep."

  The first man bent closer, studying the Prince's peaceful face. "I heard him speak."

  "He must have been talking in his sleep. He is fine. If you wake him up, you will get a tongue lashing."

  The first guard grunted and straightened, turning to peer into the shadows. Blade froze, closing his eyes to prevent them from glinting in the lamplight. Some people were sensitive to a person's gaze, and this man was alert. As he sensed the guard's attention leave his area, he opened his eyes. The men went back to the door, where the suspicious soldier turned for a last survey of the room. Satisfied, they left, plunging the room back into darkness.

  Blade waited until his eyes had adjusted sufficiently to make out the tub, then went over to it. His hands traced the Prince's contours, finding that he was jammed into the tub, his arms at his sides. Locating the right place on Chaymin's chest, he drew a dagger and placed the point there, then pushed it in. The Prince stiffened with a gasp, one hand jerking up and striking the side of the tub with a faint bong before he went limp. Blade checked the pulse in Chaymin's throat to ensure that he was dead, then wiped his dagger on the satin nightgown and put it away.

  In the next room, the crow cawed and flapped. The assassin moved back to the door, intent on escaping before the bird's noise alarmed the soldiers. He peered through the curtain, making sure the soldiers had returned to their card game, then left the bathing room and flitted past the bed to the balcony doors. The crow cawed again, shuffling from side to side on its perch. In the next room, one of the guards cursed.

  "What is wrong with that damned bird?"

  Blade slipped through the doors and closed them behind him, using the pick to lock them. Once again, the chairs were pushed back as the guards went to investigate the crow's agitation, and Blade started up the wall before the alarm was raised. Moments later, shouts of anguish and rage came from within, then shrieks as the girls were chased out. Someone shook the barred doors, and, finding them locked, retreated. Blade inched up the wall, focussing on finding finger holds and ignoring the ruckus, lest it destroy his concentration.

  As he climbed, he pondered the strange situation he had encountered in Chaymin's rooms. Quite clearly the Prince had been warned, most likely by Trelath, who had used his brother as bait for his trap. If that was the best Trelath could do, Blade was not impressed. Apart from a moment of disquiet, the precautions had not hampered him at all. The fact that Chaymin had been there, knowing that an assassination was planned for him, was surprising. If the Prince was as cowardly as Kerrion had claimed, it must have been Trelath who had insisted that Chaymin stay in his rooms.

  Reaching the top of the wall, Blade peered over the edge, then retreated with a soft curse. Two guards stood mere paces away, look around. The cries from below must have alarmed them, and now they were fully alert. He clung to the wall, his fingertips growing numb from the pressure, his feet lodged on a slight ledge in the bricks. Within a few minutes his grip would weaken, and then he must pull himself up or risk falling.

  If one of the guards below chanced to look up, he would be clearly visible against the pale wall, and since he was directly above Chaymin's balcony, that possibility grew stronger with each passing moment. Just then, a distant soldier shouted to the guards above him, and Blade listene
d to their footsteps move away. When he calculated that it was safe, he hauled himself over the edge and flopped down on the roof, gasping.

  Sweat sheened him, cooling in the night air as the warmth generated by his exertions ebbed away. Rising to his feet, he trotted along the walkway towards his quarters, keeping low. Guards ran about in the distance, most leaving the roof to search within the palace for the killer. Few would suspect that a man could scale the wall to the roof, and since the doors to Chaymin's balcony were locked, none would think to search outside.

  Above the rough wall he had scaled to reach the roof, he paused to watch for guards below. As the alarm spread, more and more men joined the search, and the chance of one spotting him increased. Fortunately, most rushed towards Chaymin's rooms. Lowering himself over the edge, he climbed down, dropping the last few feet to land with a soft thud.

  Blade ducked into the nearest shadow and froze as two men ran past, then slipped through a door into the palace. Proceeding with even more caution, he traversed the corridors that led to his chambers, alert for approaching guards. Twice he was forced to duck into doorways as men ran past, and he had to wait for several minutes to get past an alert pair, when they turned away briefly.

  By the time he reached his chambers, he sweated, and his hands shook from nervous tension. Locking the door, he sank down on the bed and lighted a lamp, stripping off his jacket to wipe the perspiration from his torso with a damp cloth. His fingertips stung, and, when he examined them, he found them raw. He poured himself a cup of wine and gulped it down, waiting for his heart to stop pounding and the tension that knotted his gut to ease.

  Never before had he come so close to being caught. It was the first time the alarm had been raised while he was still in the vicinity. When he had been an apprentice, he had attended guild meetings with Talon at which assassins had told gripping tales of armed men chasing them from their victim's houses. He had thought then that the assassins in question had been fools to allow themselves to be detected, and had never wanted to be in the same predicament. This was the closest he had come to it, and he found it unpleasant.

  Kerrion learnt of his brother's death at breakfast the next morning. Jadar delivered the news with a solemn mien. The King pushed away his half-finished meal and glanced at Minna, who concentrated on her smoked ham and poached eggs. Kerrion wiped his mouth with his napkin and sipped his tea before replying, looking suitably aggrieved and thoughtful.

  "How did it happen?"

  "It was an assassination, Sire. The guards almost caught the man, but he eluded them."

  Minna coughed and covered her mouth, and Kerrion shot her a stern look. "Are they still searching?"

  "Yes, Sire, but little hope remains now. It seems that Chaymin was expecting an attempt on his life, for he had guards in his rooms, and he was... in the bathing tub."

  Kerrion's brows rose. "Indeed? Any idea who wanted him dead?"

  Jadar shrugged. "Chaymin did not really have any enemies, but he was involved in your wife's kidnapping."

  "So you think suspicion will fall on me?"

  "Yes, Sire."

  The King put down his teacup, frowning. "The courts will find it hard to prove that, unless they catch this assassin and make him talk. I doubt they will catch him, and it is even less likely that he would talk if they did. Assassins never reveal the name of their employer, that is why people hire them. So it could have been virtually anyone, perhaps an enemy we know nothing about."

  "Indeed it could, Sire."

  "Has anyone made accusations against me?"

  "No, Sire."

  "Good. Tell the captains to keep searching the palace, and then go into the city as well. I presume someone saw this assassin?"

  "No, Sire."

  Kerrion sighed. "Then what exactly are they searching for? It seems like a waste of time if they do not know what this man looks like."

  "Since no Cotti assassin would kill a prince, it must be a foreigner, Sire."

  "There are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of foreigners in this city now, Jadar. Do my captains propose to round them all up and torture them? How did this man elude the guards, if they were in Chaymin's rooms?"

  Jadar shook his head. "They do not know. Two concubines were sleeping in the Prince's bed, and the guards were in the next room, with the door open. They saw no one, but when Prince Chaymin's familiar became agitated, they rushed into the bathing room and found him dead, stabbed through the heart. The balcony gate was locked, and there is no other way into the bathing room, since it has no window."

  Kerrion tilted his head, frowning. "Then how is it possible? Was the man a ghost? Or invisible?"

  Jadar spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "It is a mystery."

  "What about the guards, were they Chaymin's men?"

  "Yes, Sire."

  The King looked thoughtful. "You say they almost captured the assassin, yet they did not see him?"

  "The guards say that they heard the Prince speak, but when they went to check on him, he was asleep, so they left him. Moments later, Prince Chaymin's familiar alerted them to his death. They say the assassin must have been in the room when they went to check on the Prince."

  Kerrion picked up his cup. "When you solve this mystery, let me know. In the meantime, you had better start making arrangements for Chaymin's funeral."

  "Yes, Sire." Jadar bowed.

  As soon as he had gone, Kerrion gestured to the handmaidens who served them to leave, then turned to his wife and raised a brow. "Well, how do you think he did it?"

  She smiled. "I have no idea."

  "His legend is well deserved, that is certain. I did not know Chaymin was forewarned. It must have been Trelath's doing. Blade is right, Trelath knows he is here, and he has guessed that he and his cohorts are in danger. Blade walked into a trap, and still carried out the assassination. I would like to know how he did it."

  Minna rose and picked up her veil. "I am going to ask him."

  Kerrion jumped up. "You cannot go alone. I will escort you."

  She laughed. "You are as curious as I am."

  "True."

  "Will you be missed?"

  He shook his head. "I am not due in my study for another time-glass or so."

  As they strolled down the little-used corridor to Blade's rooms, Minna remarked, "He may not tell us, you know."

  "I am sure you can persuade him, my love. He does seem to respect you."

  When Kerrion pushed open the door to Blade's rooms, they found the assassin newly risen, splashing his face in the basin by the window, clad only in his trousers. He shot them a sour glance, particularly Kerrion, who settled on a chair in the sitting area. The rooms were furnished in Cotti style, and lacked the cushions that Jashimari favoured. Blade rubbed his face with a towel, then pulled on a clean shirt before he turned and bowed to Minna.

  "My Queen."

  She inclined her head. "My Lord. Are you well?"

  "Well enough. Perhaps a little tired. I assume that you have heard of Chaymin's death?"

  Minna sat beside her husband, nodding. "I would like very much to know how you did it, My Lord."

  "As would a great many people, I would wager."

  "Indeed. Not least the guards who did not see you."

  He sat opposite them, lacing up his shirt. "What does it matter how I did it, so long as it is done?"

  "I am filled with curiosity, My Lord, as well as admiration. Will you not tell me?"

  A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. "I will not brave your powers of persuasion, My Queen. I know them to be considerable, and relentless. It is easy to understand how I did it, when you consider that I am good at picking locks."

  She tilted her head. "Through the balcony gates?"

  "Yes."

  "And to reach the balcony, you climbed the wall?"

  He shook his head. "I climbed down from the roof. There were less guards there."

  "Were you in the room when the guards came to check on the Prince, after hearing him s
peak?"

  Blade nodded. "I had to ensure that the man in the tub was not a manservant serving as a decoy, so I woke him up. Had Trelath thought to have Chaymin sleep elsewhere, he would still be alive. Either he is not as clever as he appears, or he wanted Chaymin dead. I must assume that these precautions were taken too late for Kerrion's spies to report them."

  The King looked up from his perusal of the floor. "I knew nothing about this trap, Blade, or else I would have warned you. The last thing I want is for you to fail. Perhaps you should not rely too heavily on the information my spies provide. It is possible that some of them are compromised."

  "I will not, in future," the assassin agreed. "Chaymin was supposed to be unaware of his danger, but the kill was easy enough, despite his precautions. Trelath will be far more difficult, and I have decided that I will disguise myself as your brother Dravis. I shall require a good description of him, and some of his clothes."

  "Dravis?" Kerrion's brows rose in surprise. "Why Dravis?"

  The assassin rose and stretched, then tucked in his shirt and walked over to the window. "He is plotting against you, is he not?"

  "Yes, but how do you know?"

  Blade shrugged. "Does it matter?"

  "If you have been spying on -"

  "I have not. Now, can you get me the clothes, and one of his daggers?"

  The King nodded, frowning. "Yes."

  "Describe him."

  "He is young, only eighteen, and handsome. Some say he is a bit of a dandy, for he takes great pride in his appearance. His hair is shoulder length, as you used to wear yours." Kerrion glanced at the assassin's cropped hair. "Pale blond. His skin is lighter than mine, since he spends less time in the sun. But he is taller than you, and broader."

  "A little padding will change that. I do not need to look exactly like him, only enough to fool the guards from a distance."