The Queen's Blade V - Master of the Dance

by T C Southwell

  "What is wrong with your head?" he demanded.

  "One of those bastards belted me outside."

  Verdan took a vial from his bag and held it out. "Drink this. It will stop the pain and make you sleep while I tend your wounds." He hesitated. "I am afraid Chiana is badly injured, My Lord. I fear for her."

  Blade shot him a glare as he drained the vial. "She will not die."

  "The wound is bad, and may have pierced a vital organ."

  "It did not."

  Verdan bridled, frowning at him. "Are you a healer now, My Lord?"

  Blade smiled. "No, Verdan. I am a killer, and if she was my target I would stab her again, closer to her spine, to assure a lingering and painful death. She is not fatally wounded."

  "I see." Verdan looked miffed as he put away the empty vial and dug in his bag for more equipment, producing a flask of liquid, which he poured onto a clean rag. "I pray you are right."

  "I am. I have no intention of becoming the damned Regent again."

  Kerra, who stood at the end of the bed, frowned. "You would have us believe that is the only reason you risked your life to save her?"

  "Of course." Blade shot her a bitter smile. "What did you think, that I did it for sentimental reasons, perhaps?"

  "She told me... what you said."

  The assassin hissed as Verdan removed the bandage from his arm, shooting the healer a glare. "I lied. I thought you had come to know me better than that. Even she knows it was a lie."

  "No, she believed you. And I believe she is right."

  "Then you are a fool. I do not indulge in such sentimental claptrap. Chiana wanted to believe it, but you should have more sense."

  Kerra moved closer. "It is you who are the fool. You claim to care for nothing and no one, yet you were almost killed saving her, and for what? If you will not admit to what you feel, she cannot make you happy."

  "I saved her because I do not want to be the bloody Regent, no other reason."

  "Liar."

  Blade's brows drew together, and he tried to sit up, jerking his arm from Verdan's grip and making the old healer click his tongue in annoyance. "It is the truth!"

  Verdan pushed the assassin back, shooting an imploring look at Kerra. "My Queen, this is not the time to pick an argument with Lord Conash."

  "You should concoct a medicine that makes men tell the truth, Verdan. I would dearly like to use it on him."

  "You would get the same answer," Blade said.

  "I think not, My Lord. Why do you deny it so vehemently? It is nothing of which to be ashamed."

  Blade's eyes glinted, and he struggled against the old healer, hampered by his useless arm. "I spoke those words and stopped these assassins because I do not plan to spend the next ten years penned up in this den of intrigue and lies. It meant nothing!"

  Verdan held Blade down, casting Kerra another imploring look. "Please, My Queen. He is too weak for this sort of thing."

  "He is a complete lack wit."

  Blade opened his mouth to retort, then his eyes rolled back and he slumped. Kerra gasped and rounded the bed to reach his side, paling with horror and concern.

  "What has happened, Verdan? Is he all right?"

  Verdan placed his fingers on Blade's throat, sending the Queen a reassuring smile. "He will be, My Queen, never fear. It was just the medicine I gave him taking effect rather abruptly. I do not think you realise just how weak he is, or how much blood he has lost."

  "He makes me so angry. Why must he be so stubborn?"

  Verdan shrugged, bending to swab the blood from the assassin's arm. "It is his nature. He has become thus in order to protect himself."

  "I have heard it said that you think him mad."

  "I do. Anyone who has been through as much suffering as he has cannot be sane, and his eccentricities confirm it. It is unlikely that he will ever tell anyone what he truly feels, if, indeed, he feels anything. He could be telling the truth, you know."

  Verdan studied the deep cut in Blade's forearm, his brow furrowed with concern. "It would be far better if you did as Chiana does and believe what he told her, or let his actions speak for him. After all, who would want to avoid being Regent so badly that he would risk his life for it?"

  "But you just said that he could be telling the truth, so which is it?" Kerra demanded.

  Verdan smiled, threading a needle to stitch the stab wound in Blade's forearm, which still bled. "Ah, well, that is for you to decide, My Queen. To Blade, love is a weakness that results in suffering when the person for whom he cares dies. So, you could look at it in two ways. Either he truly does not want to be Regent, or he did not want her to die. But you must decide, for he will not tell you."

  "That does not answer my question."

  "All I am saying is believe what you want to believe, My Queen. That is the easiest option. You have no way of knowing when he is telling the truth, except by logical deduction. But with such a strange man, even logic could be wrong, for who is to say that Blade's mind is logical?"

  Kerra snorted, watching Verdan work. "I care very deeply for Chiana, as you know, and I have also come to care for Blade. I would like to see them happy, but as long as he is like this they will not be."

  "That is their concern."

  "But if he would just let himself... or admit to it..."

  "Perhaps he cannot, My Queen. After all he has suffered, it may be beyond him."

  Kerra's eyes burnt, and she blinked. "But you would think that, after suffering all his life, he would want to be happy."

  Verdan shook his head. "No, My Queen. It is more likely that he is afraid of it."

  "How can a person be afraid of happiness?"

  Verdan tied the last of the four stitches that it had taken to close the stab wound, and took another length of thread from his assistant to sew the long gash that ran from Blade's elbow almost to his wrist. "I am not sure, but either he is afraid that it will change him, or that it will not last."

  Kerra studied Blade's peaceful face. "Or that it would make him vulnerable."

  "Indeed."

  "He is proud that he cares for no one."

  "Yes, and your argument seemed to irritate him a lot."

  She smiled. "It could also be that he has a terrible headache."

  "True."

  "Is there any way to know the truth about him?"

  Verdan sighed as he tied a stitch and started on the next one. "Only Shamsara knows the hearts of men."

  "Then I shall ask him."

  "Queens are forbidden the consultation of seers."

  Kerra pouted. "My mother did it."

  "And look at the tragedy it brought her."

  "It ended the war."

  "And her life."

  Kerra opened her mouth, then hesitated. "How could such a paltry question bring any dire consequences?"

  "All your mother asked was how to end the war. Seers tend to speak in riddles, and you may find that you have to answer one to get your wish."

  "A test?"

  "Perhaps."

  "Then I shall pass it. I am not afraid of tests."

  Verdan straightened and eyed her with deep concern, a wealth of wisdom in his gaze. "Why is this so important to you, My Queen? Do you hope to bring Chiana happiness, or to find that his heart is still free?"

  She met his eyes. "That is an impertinent question, and does not deserve an answer."

  "I see. Either will do, then."

  Kerra looked away. "How long will they be unconscious? The kingdom needs a regent."

  He shrugged. "Chiana I cannot say, a few days perhaps. Blade can be woken at any time. His sleep is drugged."

  "Have him moved to his rooms when you have finished tending to his wounds." She turned to Redgard. "There may be more attempts on their lives. I want four guards standing beside their beds, day and night, six men outside their doors, and at least two of them must be dog soldiers, or men with equally alert familiars. And whatever other precautions you can devise. You will be held responsible if a
ny harm comes to them, and will pay for it with your life, Captain."

  Redgard bowed. "Of course, My Queen. I shall guard them myself."

  Kerra swung back to Verdan. "What is wrong with his arm? Is it broken?"

  Verdan picked up Blade's right arm and flexed it. "No, My Queen, it does not appear so."

  "Good." She turned to gaze at one of the corpses. "Who are they, Redgard? Who sent them?"

  The captain rubbed his chin. "It is hard to say, My Queen. All assassins dress in a similar manner."

  "Then summon someone who knows. Send a message to the Guild."

  "At once, My Queen."

  With a final glance at Blade, Kerra turned and swept out, leaving everyone bowing in her wake.

  Chapter Thirty One

  Blade drifted up through the lethargy that fogged his mind, becoming aware of the pain that racked him. Everything ached, especially his head, arms, and chest. Stabs of fire lanced from his shoulder, and a large ape with a hammer was banging on the back of his skull. He opened his eyes and stared at the familiar canopy of his bed, then scanned the room. His gaze came to rest on the concerned countenance of Arken, who sat beside the bed. The manservant's eyes brightened, and he smiled a little hesitantly, reaching for the bowl of steaming broth that stood on the table beside him.

  "Verdan said you would be waking soon, so I brought you some broth, My Lord."

  Blade closed his eyes. "Give me the medicine for pain."

  "As soon as you have had something to eat. You've been asleep for two days. Verdan said you should eat."

  "Verdan has never been in this much pain. Get me the bloody medicine!"

  "Just eat a little. A few spoonfuls."

  Blade opened his eyes again as Arken leant close, spoon poised, ready to feed him its steaming brown contents. His gut knotted at the smell, and bile burnt his throat. Anger boiled in him at the pain that held him captive, pinning him to the hated bed with its crippling intensity. The more serious his injury, the fouler his mood, and his temper frayed rapidly at Arken's solicitous insistence. He tried to move his arms, finding that one was strapped to his chest and pain shot from the other. With a groan, he pushed himself up against the pillows, and Arken moved the spoon closer.

  "Arken, if you don't get that out of my face and give me what I asked for, I may do you a serious injury," Blade snarled.

  Arken drew back. "Verdan said -"

  "I don't give a damn what Verdan said. Do as I say!"

  "My Lord, you must eat."

  Blade lashed out with his left hand, sending the spoon spinning across the room to clatter against the wall, depositing most of its contents over Arken. The servant jumped up and retreated beyond Blade's reach, foiling the assassin's attempt to grab him. Blade groaned as pain exploded up his arm, and glared at the hapless servant, who wiped broth from his face.

  "Bring me the damned medicine," the assassin growled.

  "I'll fetch Verdan."

  "No!" Blade grimaced as his shout made his head throb more viciously. "I don't want to argue with that old fool too. Do as I say!"

  "I can't, My Lord. You were awakened for another reason, not only to eat. Verdan allowed it because you needed to eat anyway."

  Blade sagged back against the pillows. "Just bring me the bloody medicine. I'm not interested in settling any petty squabbles. Let them wait for Chiana to wake."

  "The Regent shows no sign of waking, and the problem involves the Queen, My Lord."

  "So what?"

  "She's inciting the lords to go to war with Contara. Many support her ideas, and with no Regent to overrule her, they may do it."

  Blade smiled, then chuckled. "It sounds like a good idea to me."

  Arken looked shocked and horrified. "I'll fetch Insash."

  Blade sighed and closed his eyes as Arken left, trying to settle more comfortably on the soft feather mattress, but no amount of squirming could ease his aches. He sensed the presence of several men in the sitting room beyond, and guessed that they were guards. Undoubtedly they had stood over him for the last two days, but had been ordered to leave before he woke.

  Insash arrived promptly, probably because he had been waiting nearby for Arken's summons, and stopped at the foot of Blade's bed.

  "How are you feeling, My Lord?"

  Blade glared at him. "Bloody awful."

  "I regret the necessity to awaken you, Regent, but something must be done about Queen Kerra-Manu."

  "Strangle her."

  Insash forced a wan smile. "That is not an option I am afraid."

  "A pity. It would certainly solve your problem, would it not?"

  "Will you speak to her?"

  "That will not do any good. She has been spoilt all her life. She is not going to listen to me, and I do not have the energy to put her over my knee."

  Insash shifted. "Then you need to speak to the lords in question. Arken informed you of the problem?"

  "Yes. And I am in no mood to deal with it."

  "Unfortunately, the matter is pressing. The Queen's supporters are growing in number and rank, and their calls for war are finding support amongst the generals too. If this gathers too much momentum, it will be even more difficult to stop, perhaps impossible."

  Blade snorted. "She is a damned child. Who is stupid enough to listen to her?"

  "She is the Queen, My Lord, and, although young, her ideas are popular. Perhaps even given to her by influential lords. There are calls for vengeance against Contara for the Regent's suffering and the attempt upon her life. Others wish to liberate Contara from Cotti rule and set another ally upon the throne."

  "Endor was responsible for the attempt and the death of Chiana's familiar, and he is dead."

  Insash nodded. "But Kerrion will send another prince to rule Contara. As you know, they are all cut from the same cloth."

  "Jashimari is not capable of waging another war."

  "Many lords say that it would stimulate the economy by reviving the mining and arms manufacturing, and create jobs for those who have no work."

  "And get a lot of people killed."

  "Exactly, My Lord."

  Blade frowned. "What has Kerrion to say on the matter? Does Kerra not know that she is effectively declaring war on her father?"

  "The Queen has not informed him of it, and there is no time to do so now." Insash paused, looking dour. "You are the only person who can stop her, My Lord. She has summoned the court to another audience this afternoon. I fear that she will give the lords permission to take up arms then."

  "She has no power."

  "She has as much as the lords and generals give her. If they choose to obey her, we will find ourselves at war with Contara."

  Blade growled, "I am not the damned Regent, Chiana is."

  "As long as your wife is unable to rule, you are. Your rank has been elevated, too."

  "Indeed? I did not think there were any more bloody titles left."

  "Only one. Upon her return from Cotti, Queen Kerra declared you to be High Lord."

  Blade snorted. "That is all I need, another damned title."

  "Will you put a stop to this? Are you well enough to come to the audience this afternoon?"

  "Given a choice, no."

  "But you will do it?"

  "If I do, she will suffer dearly for it, I promise you."

  Insash drew himself up. "You cannot lay hands upon the Queen, Lord Conash. It would be an act of treason."

  "Good, then they can execute me for it."

  The chief advisor paled, then apparently dismissed Blade's words as a jest, and bowed. "I shall send Arken in to help you dress."

  Blade closed his eyes when Insash left, wishing he could sink back into sleep's black abyss and the cessation of pain it offered. Moments later, Arken stood beside the bed, laying out a selection of clothes.

  Blade struggled to sit up, groaning as fresh pain flowed through his abused body, and Arken came closer to take the assassin's elbow and pull him up. Blade swung his legs off the bed as the servan
t pulled back the covers, finding that he wore only his baggy grey flannel shorts. A wave of dizziness swept over him, and he closed his eyes until it passed.

  Arken studied the assassin with deep concern, shocked by his pallor, and quelled an impulse to offer Blade the broth again, for he looked too weak to stand. His suffering had sharpened his fine features, and he almost seemed fragile. Blade glanced at the black, silver-embroidered outfit Arken had selected and grimaced, but only slightly.

  "This time you'll have to help me. It seems I'm without the use of one arm."

  "I'll be honoured to, My Lord."

  "Will you?" Blade's apparent amiability vanished as he shot Arken a look that chilled his bones. "Then get on with it, it's damned cold in here."

  Clearly the assassin was furious with his weakness, which forced him to rely on others, and at being made to leave the comfort of his bed. Arken glanced at the fire that blazed in the hearth, but realised that in Blade's current condition, he would be more susceptible to cold. Picking up the thick black winter shirt he had selected, he pulled it onto Blade's good arm, leaving the empty sleeve hanging. The shirt was large enough to accommodate his strapped arm, but the jacket could not be laced.

  With deft efficiency and a complete lack of embarrassment gleaned from years of servitude, Arken dressed Blade in the tight black silver-edged trousers and boots, ignoring the waves of resentment and irritation the assassin emanated. Blade sat on the edge of the bed while he submitted to the servant's ministrations, allowing him to comb his hair and place his Knight's medal around his neck. Arken stepped back and eyed his handiwork, tucking away the shirt's empty sleeve. When he raised his eyes to Blade's face, he found the assassin watching him with cold amusement, his eyes burning with anger.

  "Well, do I look like a court dandy?"