The Queen's Blade VI - Lord Protector

by T C Southwell

  The two Cotti soldiers who had accompanied Blade on the journey entered the wagon to unlock the barred door and drag the assassin out. The leg irons hampered him, and, as he jumped down, one guard stood on the chain. Blade sprawled on the icy cobbles with a grunt, bruised his hands and goaded shafts of pain from his half-healed ribs and ankle. Faradin's men had delighted in hurting and humiliating him as much as possible on the journey, so much so that even the prison guards had looked sickened. Several times, they had thrown away Blade's water and food.

  The soldiers had taunted and insulted the assassin at every opportunity, and, as a consequence, his fellow inmates new his profession even though his mark was hidden. That was a double-edged sword, he knew, for while most were reluctant to go up against an assassin, many found it a challenge to pick a fight with one, and pretty much everyone hated them. By revealing his trade, Faradin's men had probably signed his death warrant.

  Blade rose to his feet, rubbing his smarting hands, and the soldier who had jumped down behind him gave him a push that sent him staggering forward, almost tripping as the leg irons snapped taut. One of the prison guards banged on a weathered, iron-bound door set in the inner wall, while another unhitched the draught horses and the third kept watch on the prisoners. Blade gazed up at the tall walls, measuring their height and pondering the ease with which he could climb them. Doing so would do him no good, however. The icy wind moaned in the battlements, and robber ravens sailed above, their harsh cries adding to Andrango's bleak, end-of-the-road atmosphere. The vast field of unmarked graves they had passed through left no doubt as to the fate of all who came here. The chill wind made him shiver, and he strived to hide it. Any sign of weakness here was ill advised.

  The door creaked open, and a heavy-browed, peevish face peered out, scowling at the guard.

  "You lot 'er late."

  "We got delayed. A special prisoner."

  The warder glared at the men, his eyes coming to rest on Blade. "'Im?"

  "Yeah."

  "He don't look like anyfink special, 'part from them chains."

  The guard shrugged. "Ain't up to us."

  "S'right. So wotcher waitin' fer?" The warder swung the door wide and vanished into the gloom within.

  The guard beckoned to the prisoners, who filed inside, Blade bringing up the rear with the Cotti soldiers behind him. Halfway along the dimly lighted passage, one of them shoved the assassin, sending him staggering into the man in front. The big warrior swung around with a growl, and Blade raised his hands in an appeasing gesture. The man glanced past him at the sniggering Cotti soldiers, then turned away. Clearly the soldiers were trying to make as much trouble for the assassin as they could, and he could only hope his fellow inmates would realise this.

  Ahead, the warder pushed open a vast, creaking door and stood aside, allowing the prisoners to enter a broad, bleak yard of trampled mud that a horde of dirty, hollow-eyed men populated. Blade glanced around in appraisal, his heart sinking. Dozens of dogmen patrolled the battlements, and watchtowers held vast platters of wood that would be burnt at night, lighting the walls and yard. One glance told him why no one had ever escaped from this place. The Cotti guard behind Blade stepped on his leg chains again, bringing the assassin down in the mud with a grunt. The Cotti sniggered, and one stepped closer to kick Blade, sending him rolling. He curled up, his ribs on fire. A huge hand gripped his arm and hauled him to his feet. The man with braided hair thrust his face close.

  "If you lie in the dirt, they'll kick you again," he rumbled.

  Blade nodded. "If I stand up, they'll trip me again."

  The big man glanced past Blade. "They leave."

  The assassin turned to find his tormentors heading back into the passage, one tossing a key to one of the jailers. At least their abuse was over, but he did not hold out much hope that the jailers were any better. Nor did he think he would last long in this place. A Jashimari assassin in a Contara prison, or any prison, for that matter, was marked for death. The big man wandered off, and Blade glanced around again, wondering where the first threat would come from. Already inmates gathered to stare at him, muttering. Even though his mark was hidden, his garb would arouse suspicion, which they would confirm soon enough.

  Moving into the lee of the wall to escape the freezing wind, he chafed his hands and blew on them. His leather jacket and woollen shirt did not offer much warmth, and he would probably die of cold, he mused, before the other inmates killed him. Certainly it seemed likely that he would die in this blighted place. Scaling the wall would be easy enough, but dealing with the dogmen atop it, while unarmed, would be another matter altogether. Then there were the leagues of desolate, wind-swept tundra between here and the closest Contara town, eight days' ride away. He squatted down beside the wall and leant his head against it, watching the men in the yard.

  Chapter Twenty

  Chiana glanced up from the document she was reading as a handmaiden entered her study and bowed. She recognised the girl as one of the Queen's maids, a shy, plain girl, the daughter of a lord.

  "What is it, Nirris?"

  "It is the Queen, Regent. You should come."

  Chiana sighed and set aside the request for supplies from a border lordling who could not afford to feed his army, rubbing her brow. In the three years since Blade's death, Kerra had become wild. During the moon-phases of waiting for news of him, and clinging to the hope that he still lived, she had been a great comfort to Chiana. Then the head had been delivered to the palace, ending their hope of ever finding him alive. Chiana remembered that horrible day vividly, although she wished she could forget it, or better still, that it had never happened. It had, however. The Contaran messenger who had brought it had not been able to tell her who had sent it. All he knew was that a hooded man had paid him a fifty goldens to bring a wooden box to the Jashimari Queen's palace and place it in the Regent's hands.

  Of course, he had not been allowed to do that, for it might have contained something dangerous. Captain Redgard had opened the box and discovered the decaying head, and had brought it to her after he read the letter that accompanied it. It had stated that the Queen's Blade was dead, and this was his head. Chiana remembered its grey, sagging skin and tangled black hair tied loosely with a thong. Its eyes had been half-rotted, and their colour impossible to discern, but its teeth had been white and even. She had studied it far more closely than she would have liked, searching for something that would either refute or confirm the letter's claim, but it had been too rotten.

  Chiana had ordered it interred in the royal tomb reserved for lord protectors, beside the one for Jashimari queens, and there the skull still resided. Blade's skull. All that was left of him. It had taken many moons for her to finally accept that it was his, when the last dregs of hope had faded and sorrow had taken hold. She had donned her black mourning gown, and her titles amongst the populace had become true. She was the Widow Regent. That was when Kerra had gone wild. Barely eighteen years old, the girl had turned to strong wine and debauchery to salve her sorrow. Chiana's pleas and orders had fallen on deaf ears. When Chiana had written to Kerrion for help, Kerra had burnt the King's letters and ordered the Cotti advisors to return to the desert kingdom.

  Kerra had invited young lords and ladies of her age to court, and spent her time carousing with them in a most outrageous manner. Chiana understood the girl's pain, for she too longed to drown her sorrow in spirits. She had a kingdom to rule, however, and that kept her from indulging her wish to vent her anguish. Instead, she had buried the pain deep in her heart, beside her sorrow for Inka and Minna-Satu. There it still resided, like a black monster coiled in the darkness of her despair, just waiting for the day when it would be unleashed.

  Chiana looked up at the handmaiden, who chewed her lip and wrung her hands. The Regent sighed.

  "What can I do? She will not listen to me."

  "She has become angry with Lady Cheran, and we fear that -"

  "All right. I will come."

  As C
hiana walked along the corridor that led to the Queen's quarters, she wondered how she would deal with the wayward girl. She was the only one who was allowed to discipline the young Queen, yet she was reluctant to do so. Kerra had good reason to be unhappy, and Chiana sympathised with her wish to escape her situation.

  The handmaiden trotted ahead to open one of the tall, gilded doors to Kerra's chambers, and Chiana swept in, mustering her courage. Raised voices led her to the suite's sitting room, where twenty young lords and ladies entertained the Queen. Chiana stopped in shock, sweeping the scene with a glance.

  Kerra reclined on a mountain of gilt-edged cushions, a glass of wine in hand, a young lord nuzzling her neck. Her gauzy, pale yellow gown revealed far more than it concealed, exposing long legs to the attentions of another young man, who licked her toes. The material was so fine that she may as well have been naked. A gold chain clasped her slender waist and diamonds dripped from her ears and sparkled at her throat. Her long, tangled flaxen hair had a few diamond-studded pins snarled in it. Her blue eyes glittered and her creamy skin was flushed with excitement and wine.

  Chiana had long ago resigned herself to the fact that the Queen was no longer a virgin, and instructed Verdan to supply Kerra with the herbs that would prevent her from conceiving. The almost constant parties with her young friends seemed to keep her content, although they also kept her almost constantly inebriated. Chiana could only hope that Kerra would eventually grow out of her penchant for excess.

  All of Kerra's noble friends were in a similar state of undress, and Chiana averted her gaze from two young men who were entirely naked. Kerra giggled and sipped her wine, gazing at a couple that writhed at her feet. Chiana recognised the girl as Cheran, one of Kerra's handmaidens, who was clearly in a great deal of distress. A young man held her down, a hand clamped over her mouth, while he fumbled with her gown.

  "Go on Raydan," Kerra urged, oblivious to Chiana's presence. "Do it!"

  "I am trying," the boy said. "She will not keep still."

  Chiana swallowed the bile that stung her throat and glanced at Nirris. "Summon the guards."

  Kerra looked around, her grin fading. "No! No guards. Get out!"

  Chiana stepped closer. "I am not one of your maidens or flunkies, Kerra. You do not give me orders."

  "I am the Queen!" Kerra bellowed. "Leave us!"

  "No." Chiana glanced at the young noblemen and women, who had turned to gawp at her with expressions ranging from vacant surprise to belligerent indignation. Two guards arrived, followed by Nirris, and snapped to attention. Chiana glanced at them.

  "Arrest him." She pointed to the young noble who held Cheran captive.

  "Leave him alone!" Kerra shouted, slopping her wine as she sat up, her expression thunderous.

  The soldiers hesitated, averting their eyes from the Queen's near nakedness.

  "Throw him in the dungeons on the charge of attempted ravishment," Chiana said.

  The guards hauled the nobleman to his feet and dragged him out, ignoring Kerra's shrieks of rage. Nirris helped a weeping Cheran to her feet, comforting her. Chiana raked the Queen's guests with a hard glance.

  "Get out, all of you," she said. "You are no longer welcome here. Pack your bags and return to your fathers."

  "You cannot do this!" Kerra cried.

  "I can, and I have."

  "I order you all to stay!"

  The young nobles, who had been in the process of leaving, settled back in their places. Kerra looked smug.

  Chiana glanced at Nirris. "Summon more soldiers. Enough to drag all of these out and throw them into the street."

  "No!" The Queen rose unsteadily to her feet, thrusting her wine glass into the hands of a young lady. "Chiana, do not allow the guards to touch them."

  "If they do not want to be touched, they must leave."

  "You cannot tell me what to do!"

  "No, but these others had better obey me, or their families will suffer."

  "Why are you doing this? Kerra demanded.

  "Because it must be done. This cannot continue, especially since it is now escalating to rape."

  "That was not rape! She wanted to do it."

  "It did not look that way to me, and I trust my eyes."

  Kerra snorted. "She was willing! She just got scared, but she would have enjoyed it in the end."

  "It is not for you to inflict your morals, or lack of them, upon others. Cheran must be a maiden to serve a Jashimari queen."

  "I will decide who serves me, and I do not wish to be surrounded by simpering maids! Let them partake as I do, or leave."

  Chiana shook her head. "It is the law."

  "I make the laws!"

  "Not yet. When you are Queen in fact as well as name, you may do as you wish. Until then, you will do as I say."

  "You cannot make me," Kerra sneered. "You have no right to judge me, either. Just because you are an old maid does not mean I must be surrounded by more in my chambers."

  "You will do as I order, Kerra."

  "Or what? Will you throw me in the dungeons too? You cannot!" Kerra walked closer, her eyes bright. "What will you do? Write to my father? He will do nothing! Perhaps he will write another letter, and I shall burn it."

  Kerra was right, Chiana reflected. She could do little to prevent the young Queen from doing as she wished, and to try would only anger her. Threatening to write to Kerrion had little effect these days, since he had not once visited his daughter in the three years that had passed since she had returned from Cotti. Kerra had grown angry and bitter at her father's neglect, and had lost respect for him. Part of that anger, Chiana knew, was because Kerrion had failed to protect Blade from the King's half-brothers.

  Chiana murmured, "What would Blade think of you now?"

  The girl paled. "Leave him out of it. He is dead!

  "And you are angry with him for that, I know. Now he will never bow to you or call you his queen. But what would he think of this?" Chiana gestured at the half naked nobles.

  Kerra scowled and turned away, picked up a bottle of wine and poured a cup. "Leave us."

  For a moment Chiana thought Kerra was trying to dismiss her, but then the young men and women rose and filed out, picking up their discarded garments on the way. When only Kerra remained, the girl turned to Chiana.

  "He would say I was a slut."

  Chiana shook her head. "Do not put words in his mouth when he is not here to refute them. I think he would be angry, though. Where is Myasha?"

  Kerra glanced at her familiar's empty perch and shrugged. "Out."

  "He spends little time with you these days."

  "He has a mate. They are building a nest. Soon they will have babies."

  "Ah." Chiana had not known that. It explained Kerra's newfound interest in the opposite sex, since a familiar's urges tended to communicate themselves to their friend. The direfalcon had only recently become mature, and with his breeding status had come Kerra's wild parties. Jashimari queens, however, were not expected to remain chaste. They took many lovers during the course of their reign, and before. They usually took a consort, though. Minna-Satu had been somewhat unusual in that she had remained a maiden until she had met Kerrion. The former Queen, however, had been bonded to a female sand cat, who, due to her isolation from the desert and others of her kind, had been unable to find a mate. It was also well known that people who were bonded to male familiars tended to be more promiscuous.

  Chiana sighed and sank down on a pile of cushions, patting one beside her. "Come, let us not fight. I mourn him just as you do, and yes, you are entitled to some amusement, but you cannot allow your... friends to ravish the maidens."

  Kerra sat down and sipped her wine. "Why did he leave?"

  Chiana shook her head. Kerra had asked that question so many times, but she had no answer for it. "I do not know."

  "Did you fight with him?"

  "No."

  "If only he had stayed, he would be safe...." She trailed off, gulping.

  "Yes
. But he did not, and now he is gone. Do not be angry with him."

  "I loved him, you know."

  Chiana nodded. Kerra had admitted that to her many times, too, and it still brought a twinge of pain each time she said it. Chiana envied the time Kerra had spent with Blade. Then again, she also regretted the time when she had refused to see him. So many precious memories she had not made, for the sake of foolish pride. The girl lay back with a sigh, the wine glass falling from her limp fingers to stain the cushions blood red. Chiana gazed at the Queen's slender, lissom form. Often, Chiana had wondered what it must be like to lie in a man's strong arms and know the fires of passion. She could do it now, if she wished. She was no longer wed to a sacred Knight of the Veil, so she could rescind her status as a priestess.

  Chiana gazed across the room at Myasha's empty perch. The only man's arms in which she longed to lie were Blade's. Her throat closed, and she swallowed hard. Even after all this time, the thought of him made her weep. How had he died? Had he suffered? Where did his body lie? Who had buried him? Were his bones exposed and mouldering somewhere? She should have buried him and wept at his graveside. She should have washed his body with sweet white wine and anointed it with shay flower oil, then wrapped it in white silk. All she had was a tomb with a skull in it, and that had been too decayed to prepare for burial.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Blade gazed down from his lofty perch in the tower that stood in the middle of the prison yard. Four dormitories were arranged around a central yard, and guards patrolled the roofs of the buildings as well as the outer walls. They were all wolf or dogmen, with alert familiars. The land beyond the walls was rolling tundra, frozen and snowbound in winter, when icy blizzards swept it, and cold and windy in summer. Rivan eked out a living from ground-nesting birds, mice, rats, snakes and voles, and in winter Blade shared the vile, overcooked gruel that the prisoners ate with his familiar. Rivan slipped in and out through one of the many barred windows, and no one tried to prevent him. Many of the other prisoners had familiars that came and went, and these were left alone too. In Contara, people did not harm familiars, as it was in Cotti and Jashimari.