The Queen's Blade IV - Sacred Knight of the Veil

by T C Southwell

  She walked closer to the tree, holding up her arms. "Come down, you beautiful creature."

  Blade coughed to disguise a chuckle. "I would not advise you to do that, Kerra."

  She swung to face him again. "Why not?"

  "He is not a cuddly toy. He has talons like razor blades, and although he will not mean to harm you, he may. Tomorrow I will buy you a wrist guard in Faranot."

  "But I want to touch him! I want to know his name!"

  "All in good time. You cannot rush this. You must let him choose the time and place. It will be better that way."

  Kerra gazed at the bird while Blade tried to light the fire with the tinderbox. He found it an annoying contraption, and the sparks it spat never went where he wanted them. Each time he aimed it at the tinder, it spat sparks in another direction. He cursed, wondering if he would have any flint left by the time he had lighted the fire. It pinched his finger, and he dropped it with an oath, sucked the injured appendage and glared at the wood. The direfalcon took wing and sailed away over the trees, leaving Kerra staring after it.

  "You frightened him away."

  "I did no such thing. It is almost dark. He is gone to find a roost for the night."

  She came to sit beside the stone ring. "Why do not I feel any bond with him?"

  "You have not touched him yet."

  "And then I will?"

  "Not straight away. It takes a little time. A few days," he added to answer her next question.

  "Where did you meet your familiar?"

  "In the woods."

  "What happened?" She hesitated. "If you do not mind telling me."

  Blade raised a brow at her. "Well, starting to learn some manners, are you?" He sighed and picked up the tinderbox. "I was six years old, and he had been watching me in the forest for several days. One day I tried to touch him, and he ran away. I followed, and soon got lost." He turned the tinderbox's wheel, spraying sparks over his boot. "Rivan came back when I started to cry. It was getting dark, and I was afraid. He led me back to my parents' house, and just before he left, he let me touch him. At that moment, I knew his name and that we would always be together. It was beautiful. The rest you know."

  The tinderbox sprayed sparks to the right of the kindling, and he cursed, glancing up at the Queen, who grinned at him.

  "What is so amusing?"

  "I was trying to imagine you as a small, crying boy, lost in the woods. I cannot."

  He smiled. "I remember you as a tiny infant with a little pink face."

  "Did my mother... hold me?"

  He glanced at her in surprise. "Of course. She doted on you."

  "I do not remember her. I have only seen her portrait."

  "She was very proud of you."

  "But she left me."

  "She had no choice."

  Kerra frowned. "Yes she did. She chose to die."

  "To end the war." He aimed the tinderbox again, and this time the sparks landed on the kindling and a tiny wisp of smoke arose. Blade knelt and blew on it, fanning the sparks to an embryonic flame.

  "I would rather she had lived to raise me."

  "She wanted to."

  "But she did not."

  Blade dropped some twigs onto the flames. "If she had not done what she did, Jashimari would have been invaded by Cotti and Contara, and you would not have been born. Your mother was a brave woman."

  The girl scowled at the fire, and Blade dug in his pack for the pot he used to boil water for tea. He toyed with the idea of telling her the truth, then discarded it. If he found Minna-Satu, she could tell her daughter herself. It was her secret.

  The next morning, the direfalcon returned to watch Kerra from afar as she mounted her horse, then took wing to hover high above. They arrived on the outskirts of the sprawling town of Faranot at mid-afternoon. The town had sprung up around a river that ran out of the mountains, supporting an area of verdure before it sank away into the sand. During the war, Faranot had fallen to the Cotti, and remained in disputed territory.

  Blade waited until after dusk to enter the town, wary of the Cotti soldiers who thronged its streets. Under cover of darkness, they found an inn and stabled the horses, then checked in with the Cotti proprietor. Blade asked that a meal be sent to their room, and went straight upstairs, avoiding the taproom with its boisterous Cotti clientele. Being in close proximity with so many Cotti made his skin crawl, and he knew their penchant for stirring up trouble, especially with Jashimari. Although the war was over, resentment still lingered, and most Cotti liked to point out that they had won the war, even though they had never occupied the kingdom.

  After dining on bland goat stew, Blade washed in the basin provided and stretched out on the bed, leaving Kerra to curl up on the floor. The Queen squirmed and tossed, trying to make herself comfortable. Raucous singing and laughter came through the floorboards, making it difficult to sleep. As she lay awake in the darkness, she pondered that in all the time she had been out in the world, she had not seen much of it. The assassin kept her close to him at all times, and avoided the company of common people.

  In her role as his apprentice, she had received no more than a few incurious glances from the patrons of the various inns at which they had stayed. Blade's simple disguise of boy's clothes, black hair and dirt had proven effective. The singing and stamping, mingled with the faint strumming of a lute and loud gales of laughter, made her wonder what it would be like to sit with the men downstairs. A faint snore from the bed assured her that the assassin slept, and she sat up, rubbing her aching back. What harm could it do, to go down and listen to the entertainment for a while? She was not tired, and the noise was keeping her awake anyway. Blade, she had discovered, could sleep through anything when he was tired, as long as the noise was present when he went to sleep.

  Kerra pulled on her boots and crept to the door, lifted the latch and slipped out into the corridor. These days, she slept in her clothes, since she did not use a bed. Closing the door, she walked to the top of the stairs, where she hesitated. If Blade woke and found her gone, he would be furious, and she recalled his threat of punishment if she disobeyed him again. Part of her insisted that even he would not dare lay his hands upon the Queen, however.

  Throwing caution to the winds, she descended the stairs and slipped into the taproom, keeping to the back of the room, where no one would notice her. The place was packed with men, mostly Cotti, and a few serving girls braved their pinching, groping hands to serve them ale. A young Jashimari minstrel sat on a stool in the centre of the room, strumming a battered lute, and the Cotti howled the ditty at the top of their voices. Most appeared to be drunk, and some swayed together, their arms around each other's shoulders, waving tankards of ale. Kerra studied the handsome minstrel, who had pale green eyes and thick brown hair. She jumped when someone touched her arm, and turned to find a serving maid smiling at her.

  "Ale for the young master?"

  Kerra shook her head. "I have no money."

  "Ah, that be a shame." The woman winked. "Here, have one on the house. Can't have a handsome lad like you going without, can we?"

  The maid thrust a tankard into the Queen's hand and vanished into the crowd before Kerra could refuse. She sipped the beverage, finding it bitter. Leaning against the wall, she watched the minstrel play and listened to the crude ditties. The ale tasted better as she continued to sip it, and soon made her light-headed. She had finished half of it when a Cotti jumped up and attempted to dance, but tripped and spilt his ale over another, who leapt up and grabbed the offender by the throat.

  In moments, the taproom's atmosphere turned violent as the crowd surged forward to surround the brawl and shout encouragement to the combatants. Kerra peered through the mass of men, trying to see what was going on. Two Cotti were locked together on the floor, punching and gouging each other, and money changed hands as spectators wagered on the outcome. She glanced around for the minstrel, who had vanished, as had the serving maids.

  Just as she realised that this
was a potentially dangerous situation, the pugilists broke apart, and one punched a spectator who rooted for his opponent. As if this was a signal that everyone had been waiting for, the brawl spread into the crowd, and soon the room was filled with flying fists, tankards and chairs.

  Alarmed, Kerra headed for the door, ducking the missiles that flew over her head. A man stumbled backwards into her, propelled by a punch. Kerra yelped as she was thrust against the wall, her ale slopping over the front of her tunic. A flailing arm smacked her on the side of the head, and she staggered, dropping the tankard.

  Someone grabbed the front of her tunic and hauled her to her feet, and she stared into a Cotti's bloodshot eyes as he drew back his fist. His savage grin revealed yellow teeth, and she ducked just in time to avoid the punch he threw at her head. His hold on the front of her jacket foiled her attempt to get free, and she bit his hand, making him howl as he released her. She fell backwards, banging her head on the wall. Stars sparkled in her vision, then someone kicked her and she yelped, fighting the urge to scream for help.

  More ale splashed over her, and somebody fell over her legs with a curse. She struggled to her feet, battered by the melee of struggling brawlers. A man stepped on her foot, and she pushed him away as hard as she could, staggering back into another Cotti. He grabbed her jacket, and she bit his hand as well, making him thrust her away with a yell. She stumbled over a comatose man and fell, bruising her hip and elbow. Once again, a hand gripped the front of her tunic and dragged her to her feet. As she bent her head to bite it, a cold voice spoke in her ear.

  "Bite me, and you will be sorry."

  Kerra looked up into Blade's eyes and sagged with relief. He glanced around and pulled her out of the way as two Cotti staggered past, locked in combat. Transferring his grip to her arm, he pushed through the crush, dragging her after him. A swaying man confronted him, and Blade stamped on his foot, sending the Cotti hopping into the crowd, where someone else punched him.

  Another man took a swing at the assassin, who ducked, then punched the Cotti in the solar plexus and left him gasping on the floor. They reached an area of relative calm just before the door, but a huge Cotti with a scarred face stepped into the assassin's path. He seemed a little more sober than his comrades, and stayed out of Blade's reach.

  "Well, well, what have we here?" he sneered. "A Jashimari assassin, no less."

  Blade tried to go around him, but the Cotti blocked his way, grinning. Blade kicked him in the groin, and the big man folded over with a groan. Two more turned from their opponents to note the presence of the Jashimari assassin. Their expressions became gleeful, and they moved towards him. Kerra glanced at Blade, who studied the new threat with narrowed eyes. He released her arm and held up his empty hands in a gesture of appeasement.

  "I don't want trouble, just let us through."

  The Cotti glanced at each other, and one sniggered. "He doesn't want trouble, lads."

  His announcement caught the attention of more Cotti, who turned from their opponents. A chair flew out of the mob and bounced off one of the men, who staggered into another with an oath. Blade took Kerra's arm and started forward again, intent on escaping the taproom before he became the centre of attention. Two men stepped into his path, and one took a swing at his head.

  Blade thrust the Queen aside as he ducked, sending her reeling into the wall a few feet from the door. Seeing her chance to escape the brawl, she darted towards the exit, evading the grasping hands of one man but tripping over the outstretched foot of another. She sprawled through the doorway, grazing her hands on the rough wooden floor.

  Someone gripped her by her scruff and dragged her from the melee, releasing her with a curse when she grabbed his ankle and almost tripped him up. She scrambled to her feet to find the minstrel facing her, shaking his head with a wry smile. Realising that he had been trying to help her, she shot him a quick smile before turning to find out what had happened to Blade.

  The assassin gazed at his opponents with bitter eyes, wondering why it was that men always wanted to pick a fight with him. Assassins were much hated by the populace, who found their trade distasteful and took every opportunity to insult, injure or inconvenience them. This had forced assassins to excel in self-defence, which in itself had become a challenge for rough men who wanted to prove themselves. That he was Jashimari made it worse, for the only thing Cotti hated more than a Cotti assassin was a Jashimari one.

  Nothing would give these men more satisfaction than beating him senseless, a prospect he did not relish. The Queen had vanished through the door, and he hoped she had the sense to go to the room and wait for him there. He glanced around, raising his hands once more in a gesture of appeasement, and to show that he had not drawn his daggers. All the men in the taproom carried weapons of some sort, and to arm himself would only cause them to do the same, with deadly results. In taproom brawls, unspoken rules allowed only furniture and fists to be used as weapons, which cut down on injuries. As soon as some fool drew a weapon, the conflicts became bloody.

  Blade stepped back, hoping the Cotti would lose interest and return to the brawl in the centre of the room if he made it clear that he did not wish to fight. One of the men who had first confronted him grinned at his apparent cowardice and shouted insults. Belatedly, he realised that these Cotti would not let an assassin escape a beating, whether he fought back or not. They also knew that he would be forced to defend himself. Blade had no intention of engaging these men if he could possibly avoid it, however.

  Turning away, he leapt onto a table as the men charged with a roar, then swung to kick the nearest in the face, sending him crashing into those behind him and making them stagger back. Leaping onto another table, he headed towards a window in the far wall, glancing back as two Cotti scrambled onto the table and started after him. A man turned from the brawl and took a swing at his legs that would have sent him crashing into the melee, had it hit.

  Blade leapt over the man's arm, landed lightly and kicked the Cotti in the face, sending him flailing into the fray. A tankard sailed past his head and smashed into the wall behind him, spraying glass as he leapt onto the next table. The Cotti who had confronted him at the door attempted to follow, but their comrades hampered them, trying to haul them down into the fracas. Two had succumbed, and fought their way back towards the tables to continue their pursuit of the assassin.

  Blade teetered as a pair of struggling men collided with the table on which he stood, waving his arms to keep his balance. A Cotti climbed up beside him, but the assassin pushed him off before he could find his feet, then leapt a wider gap to the next table. Its surface was slick with spilt ale, and he skidded, lost his footing and fell backwards onto the floor. He flung out his hands to break his fall, then rolled under a table as a boot stamped down where his head had been a moment before.

  Someone grabbed the back of his jacket, which he had not laced in his hurry to find the Queen, and dragged him from under the table, cracking his head on the edge of it. He was spun around to face a bald Cotti, who aimed a punch at his head. Blade grabbed the man's vest and threw himself backwards, dragging the Cotti with him and sending him headlong into the wall. Blade banged his head on the floor, and cursed foully as he sprang to his feet, shaking his head to clear it.

  The assassin glanced around for his pursuers, just as one of them launched himself from a table. Blade spun aside, allowing the man to crash into the table behind him. A Cotti charged from the fray, and Blade sensed another swinging a tankard at his head from behind. He dropped into a crouch, and the charging man got the tankard in the face in a spray of glass and ale. The man who had swung the tankard picked up a chair and lifted it high, preparing to smash it down on the assassin's head. Blade swept his legs out from under him, and he fell back into the ruckus behind him.

  After a quick review of his surroundings, Blade found the window and headed for it, climbing onto a table. As he rose to his feet, someone grabbed his ankle and yanked his leg from under him. He kept his
balance and jerked his foot from the Cotti's hold, then kicked him in the face. The man howled and clutched his nose as he lurched back, vanishing into the mass of struggling men. Blade headed for the window again, hurdling a chair that was swung at his legs.

  A few feet from the window, one of his pursuers tackled him from behind, grabbed his legs and brought him crashing down on the table. His arms broke his fall somewhat, but he was forced to turn his head at the last instant to save his nose and probably his front teeth too. The crack on the side of his head stunned him, making lights dance in his eyes. Someone gripped Blade from behind and lifted him to his feet, pinning his arms.

  A man flung a pitcher of ale into Blade's face to revive him, and he raised his head, blinking the stinging liquid from his eyes. He glimpsed a fist coming at him and jerked his head aside. The punch skimmed past his cheek and cracked into the face of the man who stood behind him. The Cotti released Blade, who drove his foot into the groin of the man before him and pushed him back as he folded over.

  Blade glanced around at the diminished melee that still filled the taproom. Many combatants were stretched out on the floor, providing obstacles for the weary fighters who still grappled with their opponents. In Jondar, the City Watch would have broken up the brawl long ago, but in Faranot these things were allowed to reach their conclusion.

  The innkeeper had probably gone to bed already, and would count the cost in the morning, charging the reviving fighters for the damage they had done to his taproom. From the looks of it, that would be quite a hefty sum. Blade turned to the window again, unwilling to run the gauntlet of struggling men between him and the door, even though he had defeated the last of his pursuers. Unlatching the window, he flung it open, and was preparing to climb over the ledge when a man tackled him from behind. The window ledge caught him across the hips, and he was bent over it, his arms caught and twisted behind his back.

  A voice that he recognised as belonging to his primary antagonist rasped in his ear, "Now I have you, assassin. You're going to pay!"