The Queen's Blade VI - Lord Protector

by T C Southwell

  The young Queen stared at her. "Is this a cruel joke, or have you had another dream?"

  "No. I have just seen him."

  "You must have seen a phantom then. If he was alive, we would have found him."

  Chiana shook her head. "He was imprisoned in Contara. He escaped two moons ago, and returned to Jashimari. He is outside the doors."

  "If he is, why does he wait outside?"

  "I wanted to prepare you."

  Kerra jumped up. "Open the doors!"

  A handmaiden ran to obey, and the portal swung open to reveal an empty hallway.

  Kerra frowned at the Regent, looking concerned. "You have seen a phantom, or had a another dream."

  Chiana stared at the empty doorway, her heart sinking. Had she imagined all that had taken place in the garden? Had she spoken to a ghost? Was that why his familiar had been with him, because they were both dead now? Was that why he had been so changed? She looked down at the squashed posy, shaking her head. No, it had been real.

  Rising to her feet, she called, "Blade!"

  Kerra started towards her, her hands outstretched to comfort her. "Chiana..."

  Chiana's heart pounded as the assassin appeared in the doorway, brushing at his sleeve and smiling at something off to the side. Gladness filled her, and she slumped with a smile. Kerra, noting her expression, swung around, and her mouth dropped open as Blade strolled in. The Queen sank down on the cushions with a gasp, her eyes wide. The assassin stopped a pace away and inclined his head.

  "Kerra."

  Chiana hurried to the girl's side and knelt, taking her hand as the Queen stared at Blade, her eyes filling with tears. He sighed and sat on a cushion, shaking his head.

  "Not you too. Chiana has already half drowned me."

  Kerra gulped, clutching Chiana's hand as tears ran down her cheeks. "Is it really...?"

  "I am not dead." He leant forward and took her other hand. "See? I am not a phantom."

  Kerra released Chiana's hand to take hold of his, then her face crumpled and she gave a gasping sob. Blade looked away while she struggled to compose herself, but her tears flowed unchecked. Chiana handed her a handkerchief. Kerra dried her eyes, but more tears leaked from them. She stared at Blade with a mixture of happiness and anguish.

  "I really do not think my return warrants this kind of emotional outpouring," Blade said, clearly embarrassed. "I have been dismissed as dead before now."

  "This is not a time for your sharp tongue, My Lord," Chiana berated him. "Last time too, many tears were shed for you, some of them Minna-Satu's."

  "She only feared that her plans would fail without me."

  "You are wrong," Chiana retorted, turning to Kerra. "Kerra, this is unseemly behaviour for a queen. Compose yourself."

  The girl wiped her eyes again and forced a stiff smile. Blade poured himself a cup of wine, then grimaced when he tasted it and ordered another bottle from the gawping maiden, who ran out. Chiana glanced up as a black cat strolled in while the door was open and came to Blade's side. Somehow, the once-dead familiar made her shiver, even though he clearly brought her husband joy.

  Kerra stared at the cat. "So this is what Shamsara promised you, for... what you did. It is a miracle. I am pleased for you, Blade. And overjoyed that Dravis lied. I did not believe it until..."

  "You thought he had sent you my head." Blade frowned. "I should have made his death a slow one."

  "What happened in Contara? Where were you imprisoned for three years? How did you slay Dravis?"

  "It must be a Cotti trait, all the questions." He leant forward and picked up one of the parchments that lay beside Kerra, which were covered with her scribbles, foiling her attempt to snatch it back.

  "Give that back!"

  His brows rose as he scanned it. "Really, you should not romanticise me quite so much. I am not a hero."

  "I will depict you as I see you, and to me, you are."

  "You are still a foolish young girl, and you have no talent for poetry."

  Chiana was amazed at how Blade had reverted to his old self in Kerra's presence, although his eyes were no longer quite so frigid. A little cool perhaps, with a lingering hint of amusement. The handmaiden returned with a bottle of sweet red wine, and Kerra ordered a meal. While they ate, she plied the assassin with questions and listened to his account of what had happened in Contara. Chiana revelled in the soft, husky sound of her husband's voice, her heart trembling with the depth of her love. Although he did not mention it, she knew he had suffered terribly in the Contara prison. It was written in his shadowed eyes, which avoided hers while he spoke.

  By the time the tale was told and the meal consumed, Blade was quite drunk, and did not object when Chiana took him to his rooms and ordered a bath from Arken, who looked ready to shed joyful tears as well. She returned a time-glass later, refreshed by her bath, a dressing robe over her nightgown, and found him apparently asleep. When she slipped in beside him, however, he opened his eyes, as she had known he would. A slight smile curved his lips, and his eyes drifted closed.

  "I knew you would return."

  "I hardly dare let you out of my sight. I am afraid I will awake from this happy dream at any time."

  "You will not."

  She studied him, still marvelling at the miracle of his return. "You have changed."

  "You noticed that too, hmmm?"

  "You were trying to tell me something in the garden earlier. What was it?"

  He sighed. "Nothing of great import. I have decided to spare myself the embarrassment."

  "I want to know what it is."

  "Naturally."

  She smiled. "You brought me flowers."

  "Gods, am I going to be reminded of that constantly now, too?"

  "It meant something. Do not be evasive."

  "You know what it meant."

  At the end of the bed, Rivan opened his eyes and started a soft, rumbling purr.

  "Tell me."

  He glanced at Rivan. "Not now." The cat stopped purring, and Blade met her gaze. "Kerrion's illegitimate older brother, Faradin, is the one who captured me after I assassinated Dravis. In the morning I shall sign his death warrant."

  She stared at him, distracted. He had not told her this when he had recounted the tale of his capture earlier, perhaps because of Kerra's presence. "What?"

  "Dravis knew where I was. He sent soldiers to the village where I was living. It was Faradin, with his familiar, who tracked me there."

  "I... did not think Shandor's illegitimate offspring had any power."

  "They do not. He was in league with Dravis."

  "Finding him will be an impossible task."

  "Not necessarily. I can give your soldiers an accurate description, and Kerrion, I think, will not object to Faradin's execution."

  She shook her head. "Not even my spies were able to follow you after you left your estate."

  "Faradin's familiar is a rathawk. It would have been able to follow me. I am surprised you did not think of that when you sent men after me. That was insulting, by the way."

  "I was concerned for your safety, and rightly so. If you had not given my men the slip, Dravis would not have been able to capture you."

  He snorted. "He sent an entire company of mercenaries. What could your few men have done against them?"

  "They would have sent a message to the nearest garrison, which would have intercepted Dravis' men before they delivered you to him."

  "The village was only a few days' ride from the border."

  "And I have garrisons all along it."

  The assassin smiled. "You are right, Regent. I do not like to be spied upon, however, and I did not think I was in danger."

  "I shall send soldiers to Contara tomorrow, and a letter to Kerrion, explaining the reason for it. If they find him, let Kerrion punish him." She squirmed closer and rested her head on his shoulder, tracing the red teardrop tattoo at the base of his throat with her finger. "Will you stay in the palace, at least for a while?"


  Blade rolled onto his side and enfolded her in his arms. "I am not going anywhere."

  Chiana's breath caught, and her heart hammered so loudly she was sure he would hear it. He wore only his baggy flannel shorts, and her arms slid around him, his warm presence soothing away the misery of the past three years. She was certain he could sense her trembling, although he appeared to have fallen asleep. She started when his whisper broke the hush.

  "Relax. Go to sleep. This is as good as it is going to get, so you can stop holding your breath."

  She swallowed a lump, her eyes burning. "You have no idea how much joy your presence brings me, do you?"

  "Quite a lot, apparently."

  "Are you also happy to be with me?"

  "If I was not, I would not be here."

  She tightened her hold. "Will you not offer me even a few kind words, instead of trite quips?"

  He sighed. "Such things do not come easily to me."

  "Try."

  Several tense moments passed before he murmured, "I am glad to be with you, little dove. That is why I returned. I feared you would hate me, and I am glad you do not."

  "I could never hate you. I love you."

  "Then I am glad you lack the wit to know better."

  Chiana smiled and nestled closer to him. Trying to glean sweet words from Blade was like trying to squeeze water from desert sand, she knew. His actions, however, told her all she needed to know, and while words would have completed her happiness, she was content to lie in his arms and allow his presence to fill her with profound contentment. One day, perhaps, he would be able to speak the words she longed for, and she would take what he offered until then, or forever, if necessary.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  The Cotti King stared at the letter Jadar had handed him in stunned disbelief, and read it twice more before he glanced up at the advisor. Rising to his feet, Kerrion left his study and hurried to Minna-Satu's rooms. She looked up when he burst in, put aside her sewing and dismissed her maidens.

  "Something momentous has happened," she said.

  Kerrion glanced around as the door closed behind the maidens, and walked closer to sink down on a cushion. "He is alive, Minna."

  "Who?"

  "Blade. The bastard is alive. I can hardly believe it."

  "Who says so?"

  "Chiana. I have just received this message from her." He held out the letter.

  Minna read it, a smile tugging at her lips. "That man is truly a marvel. This is wonderful news. And he has his familiar back. So that is the reward he earned for saving me."

  "So it would seem."

  Her brow furrowed as she read the rest of the letter. "One of your illegitimate half-brothers betrayed him to Dravis, and sent him to prison... for three years. He escaped, of course. Only Blade..." Her breath caught, and she lowered the missive, her eyes suspiciously bright.

  Kerrion nodded. "It sounds quite likely. Faradin always longed for power. He is just the sort to be in league with Dravis."

  "I think you should order Prethos to send his troops to search for this Faradin as well. The sooner he is apprehended, the better. Will you execute him?"

  "Yes." He sighed. "At least Blade has retired again, and his killing days are done."

  "So long as there are men foolish enough to try to slay him, his killing days will never be done."

  "Eventually someone will succeed."

  "Perhaps. Chiana will guard him like the crown itself now, though."

  "Crowns do not go wandering off into the countryside."

  "I hope she will persuade him to stay."

  Blade paused just beyond the lighted area around the ring of ancient stones and studied the black-clad men gathered amongst them. All the elders were in attendance, for it was one of only two gatherings that always happened on a fixed date, to decide which of the apprentices would get his tattoo before the year ended. Since everyone still thought that Blade was dead, he had chosen to attend in order to announce his retirement. The timing was excellent, only three days after his return to Jondar, and a day before Chiana's next audience, when his continued good health would be revealed to the court, and by proxy, the populace.

  Blade walked towards the dolmens, noting that this was once more a large gathering. This time he was not going to dance, he had decided, although giving up his title as Dance Master brought a familiar pang of regret. He remembered how dejected he had been the last time he had retired. Talon stood with two other elders, engrossed in a muttered discussion. His hair and beard were almost pure white now, and his face bore more lines than Blade remembered. He stepped into the light and waited for someone to notice him. Talon turned, and his jaw dropped in the comical reaction that Blade was becoming used to from just about everyone he met these days. The other two elders, Pierce and a man whom Blade recognised as Razor, swung around with equally startled expressions.

  Talon walked closer, studying his former apprentice with a frown. "Blade?"

  "Talon."

  "You're supposed to be dead."

  "So I've heard. And yet, here I am."

  A slow smile tugged at his lips. "I should have known. How do you manage it?"

  Blade shrugged. "Neither Tinsharon nor Damnation seems to want me."

  "Your name was added to the Death Roll three years ago. Now you will be not only the only one of us to come out of retirement, but also the only assassin ever to come back from the dead."

  "I'm only here to tell you that I'm retired again."

  Talon nodded. "High time, too. What are you now, nine and forty?"

  "Something like that."

  "Poison is now the Master of the Dance, but, since the belt was lost, we had to make another."

  Blade glanced down at the silver-studded belt that clasped his waist. "I'll give it to Poison."

  Talon looked disappointed. "That's a pity. But you will dance for us, one last time?"

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  Blade sighed a cloud of steam. "I broke my ankle a moon ago."

  "Ah. What a shame. Can you not even manage a few steps?"

  "Just announce my retirement, Talon, so I can go to my bed. I'm an old man, remember?"

  Talon chuckled. "You still don't look a day over thirty."

  "That's not how old I feel, though."

  "All the old war wounds catching up with you, hmmmm?"

  "And a few new ones."

  Talon inclined his head. "All right. Show us your mark, and I'll make the announcement."

  Blade tugged open his collar so the elders could see the teardrop tattoo, and Talon nodded again.

  "How many should we add to your previous tally?"

  Blade shrugged. "Five more Cotti princes. Five bandits and four assassins, two Cotti, Ice and Storm, two Contara."

  "Good god, Blade. How many Cotti princes does that make now?"

  "Nine."

  "That would be Lerton, Targan, Rigal, Ronan, Armin, Endor, Trelath, Chaymin and Dravis, correct?"

  "Yes."

  Talon shook his head. "And you killed Storm. I knew you would."

  "It was him or me, and I chose me."

  "And the other Cotti assassin?"

  "A fool in Jadaya named Ice, who challenged me to an armed Dance of Death."

  Talon smiled. "Ah, I'd have given a lot to have seen that."

  "It was messy."

  "And the Contara assassins?"

  "Endor sent them to kill the Regent, and I happened to arrive when two of them were making their attempt."

  Talon's brows shot up. "You took on two at the same time?"

  "I was wearing boot-blades, they weren't."

  "I see. I didn't know you had become a protector now, too."

  "She's my wife."

  "Of course. Those two don't count as assassinations, though. Neither do Ice or Storm," Talon said.

  "I was paid to kill Storm."

  "By whom?"

  "My housekeeper."

  Talon snorted and chuckled, then turned to the
other elders, who added up Blade's kill tally. They muttered together for several minutes, then the elders nodded, and Talon turned to mount the stage. A hush fell over the throng as he raised his hands, and he cleared his throat, drawing out the tension. Blade smiled. Talon liked to be the centre of attention.

  Talon turned to look at Blade. "Tonight, we have an unusual announcement. Three years ago, we added one of our most celebrated members to the Roster of the Dead, but in fact, he is still alive, so his name will be stricken from the Roll of the Dead, and instead we announce his retirement... for the second time. He is known as the Silent Slayer and the Invisible Assassin, but more commonly these days, as the Queen's Blade."

  A hiss of whispering went through the throng, and Talon raised a hand. "He retired nineteen years ago, at the age of thirty, then returned to his trade five years ago. Tonight he ascends once more to the circle of elders, and no longer accepts assassinations. He is our Master of the Dance, and he won our belt back when no one else could. He has been the Master of the Dance for his entire career, which now spans fourteen years, making it the longest ever. Blade will hand the belt back to our previous Master of the Dance, Poison. Even now, at the age of nine and forty, there is none amongst you who could win the title from him."

  Talon paused, as if waiting for a challenge, then continued, "His official tally now stands at three hundred and five all told, including the Cotti King and nine princes. The elders have decided to also allow the deaths of four assassins to be added to his tally. Two Cotti Masters of the Dance, one of whom Blade slew in an armed Dance of Death, and two Contara assassins whom he fought together. Let Poison come forth to accept the belt now."

  A slight commotion marked Poison's progress to the platform, and Blade realised that he was expected to hand over the belt in front of the Guild. Annoyed, he mounted the steps behind Poison and walked over to Talon, who looked smug. Unbuckling the belt, Blade handed it to Poison, who grinned and held it up as if he had won it, which irritated Blade further. The gathered assassins remained silent, and Talon cocked a brow at Blade and stepped closer.

  "You don't have to do this. You can keep it if you wish."