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

by T C Southwell

  Minna sat up, summoning her remaining strength to lift her chin. "I will bathe myself, Trelath. I do not require the aid of your servants. Leave me."

  "Do not presume to give me orders. Get in the tub now, or I shall have my men wash you."

  Minna-Satu raised her manacled hands. "Do you expect me to stretch the chain to reach it?"

  Trelath gestured to his men, took a key from his pocket and handed it to one. The soldier approached, eyeing Shista as he bent to undo the manacles, but the cat merely watched him with blazing eyes. Minna's silent command kept her familiar's wish to tear out the throats of her friend's tormentors in check. As the iron bracelets fell away, Minna rubbed her callused wrists and rose to her feet.

  Her ragged, dirty clothes hung from her thin shoulders, and, although she longed to bathe, the prospect of doing so in front of these strange men nauseated her. The Prince's threat was real, however. She knew he would take great pleasure in watching his soldiers drag her to the tub, strip and scrub her. To salvage what little pride and dignity she had left, she would have to endure the humiliation of bathing in front of them.

  Minna walked to the tub, stopped beside it and shot Trelath a look of deep loathing. Now more than ever, she would have to comport herself as a queen, thereby denying the Prince the pleasure of her humiliation. To do this, she must remain unashamed, and not give way to the need to cringe and cover herself. Unclasping the ragged dress, she let it fall and stepped from it as proudly as a courtesan undressing for her lover.

  Her slender body remained taut and shapely even after birthing three children, and her recent deprivation had honed it further. The awareness of her beauty removed all shame from her nakedness, and she stepped into the cold water with her head high. Fortunately it was a hot day, so the water was a pleasure to sink into, and she sighed as she scooped it over her face. Trelath walked to the window and stared out of it, clearly displeased that his attempt to humiliate her had failed.

  The soap was hard and smelt of jasmine, but after tendays of her own aroma, it was bliss to scrub away the grime. Minna washed quickly, knowing that the Prince would have little patience, and dragging her out of the bath would be just as satisfying as dragging her into it would have been. She washed her hair as well, turning the water brown and scummy. As she bathed, she wondered what had caused this delay in the Prince's plans, and who had achieved it.

  Not Kerrion, or she would have lost a finger by now. Someone else caused problems for the princes, but, since she did not know what they were forcing Kerrion to do, she could not guess who else might be involved, nor was she going to ask. She washed until Trelath began to tap his foot, then stepped out and rubbed herself dry with the towel that a servant handed her. Scorning the filthy clothes she had shed, she picked up one of the rich cloths and wrapped it around herself.

  Trelath approached her, pulling a knife from his belt, and took hold of a hank of her hair, which he sawed off. She stared through him, showing no sign of pain. When he had put the knife and hair away, he gripped her chin and forced her to meet his eyes.

  "Since I must keep you alive until we have what we want from Kerrion, I may just return and make you grovel for your life before I kill you."

  "That, I will not do."

  "We shall see about that. I have made strong men beg for their lives, and you are just a woman."

  "I am a queen." Minna jerked her chin from his grip. "Born from a long line of queens, sole heir to the Jashimari throne, while you are just a prince who will never be King, a product of your father's lust."

  Trelath reddened and drew back a hand, but restrained himself when Shista rose from her resting place, her low growl filling the room like distant thunder. He glared at the cat, clearly longing to slay her and put an end to her threat. Killing Minna's familiar, however, would cause her to fall into a coma, and then he would be forced to care for her until she recovered. Since she was already in such a weakened state, she may not survive the ordeal. If she perished before her usefulness was over, his plans might fail. In addition, slaying such a large and lethal cat would be dangerous, and some of his men would doubtless perish in the attempt. Since he was the current focus of Shista's ire, he would be her first target. The Prince wagged a finger at Minna.

  "When I return, your familiar will die. Then you will pay for your insults, Jashimari whore."

  "I merely state the facts, Trelath. I do not stoop to name calling."

  He glared at her. "Your screams will be music to my ears, when the time comes."

  "Do not count on it. You may be disappointed."

  "No one will be coming to rescue you, stupid woman. This place is not marked on any maps, and your dear husband has not been anywhere near it."

  "I am not afraid to die, but I doubt the same can be said of you."

  The Prince's lip curled. "No one is going to kill me."

  "I would not be so certain of that."

  Trelath swung away with a growl and signalled to his men, who emptied the tub out of the window as he strode to the door, where he paused to look back.

  "Until we meet again, whore. I look forward to it."

  A soldier came over and snapped the shackles onto her wrists. She sank down on the nearest cushion, grateful for its softness after tendays of sitting and lying on the hard floor. Shista prowled around the room, huffing at the scent of the Cotti, her tail twitching.

  Blade glanced at the young queen who rode beside him, stroking her familiar and cooing to him. The direfalcon had made contact with her the day after they had left Faranot, gliding down to perch on the wrist guard he had bought for her. The rapport that had sprung up between them had delighted her, and she had learnt that the direfalcon's name was Myasha. Blade recalled the wonder and joy of the first days of bonding, when the tenuous affinity became stronger by the time-glass, and he had experienced the singular joy of sharing Rivan's awareness. The bird suited her, being fierce and proud, but he disliked the way it hissed like a snake.

  Pulling his jelabah over his face, he squinted ahead across the burning sands for the first glimpse of the little oasis that would be their next stop. They had spent the last two nights in the desert, but according to the map he had purchased, they should reach the oasis this afternoon. The jelabah covered him from head to foot in loose white cloth, deflecting the sun's heat and allowing the hot wind to dry the sweat on his skin.

  Beneath it, he wore a thin sleeveless white shirt and grey cloth trousers, his heavy leather outfit stowed aboard the packhorse. Without it, he was vulnerable, but he would have been cooked alive if he had worn it. He retained his boots, and the daggers strapped to his forearms were in plain view whenever the Jelabah rode up his arms. Kerra also wore a jelabah, and had yet to master the art of not becoming tangled up in it. At the oasis, he would change the Queen's disguise in readiness for the first town they would encounter, another three days ride ahead.

  A black, shimmering dot appeared on the horizon, and he spurred his horse into a trot, eager to reach the cool shade of the distant palms. The three new horses he had purchased were desert bred, able to withstand the harsh conditions far better than the dead Knight's steeds would have done. They were long-legged and slender compared to the heavier Jashimari breeds, but they possessed an amazing vigour and endurance. His mount was black, while Kerra rode a bay and the packhorse was a dark grey, but suitable for Minna-Satu to ride if he found her. He had little faith in Shamsara's prediction, but now that he was in Cotti, there was a possibility that he might stumble over the Elder Queen.

  Blade guided his horse into the pemra trees' shade and drew rein, sliding out of the saddle with a sigh. He led the animal over to the walled well in the centre of the oasis, where a bucket waited to fill the stone trough beside it. While the horses sucked down the water, he stripped off the jelabah to let the cool air dry his skin. Kerra unsaddled her beast while it drank, and he noted the many shy glances she flung in his direction.

  Under her jelabah, she wore a thin shirt and cotton t
rousers, but he had no desire to study her in the way she seemed driven to watch him. He had often wondered what it was like to have the desires of the flesh that had been taken from him, even though they seemed to cause most people a lot of embarrassment. Perhaps teasing her had not been such a good idea, for she was young and impressionable, and now seemed even more coquettish towards him. He turned his back on her and dumped his saddle in the sand, then removed the bags from the packhorse and sat down with his back against a pemra palm tree, whose huge, umbrella-like fronds waved high above.

  Digging a wine skin from the bag beside him, he poured a generous amount down his throat to wash away the dust. Kerra settled in front of him and pulled off her jelabah. Blade hid a smile at her blatant flirtation, of which he was certain she was unaware, and did from sheer instinct. Many women had flirted with him over the years, from whores and serving maids to fine ladies and rich married women, even a regent. Now he could add a young queen to the list, and that amused him. She watched him consume the wine.

  "You drink too much, Blade. It is not good for you."

  He corked the skin and set it aside, wiping his mouth. "Allow me my little pleasures, will you? I have few of them. In fact, I think this is my only one."

  She looked away. "How far to the next town?"

  "Three days." He dug in the pack and took out a bar of soap, which he tossed to her. "Here. Go and wash that dye from your hair, it is time you became a Cotti."

  "But I have blue eyes."

  "I noticed. Just keep your eyes lowered."

  "What will you be?"

  "I will also be a Cotti when the time comes, and yes, I know my eyes are the wrong colour too. I will wear a sun screen, as some men do, which will hide them."

  She took the opportunity to study him. "But your skin and hair... You are a true Jashimari, the opposite of a Cotti."

  "I will correct that, do not worry."

  Kerra rose and went over to the well to draw a bucket of water, glancing up at the direfalcon that perched in a tree. While she washed her hair, Blade pondered his situation. They had plenty of supplies, and no one seemed to be chasing them, but what really bothered him was that he had no idea where he was going.

  The notion of wandering aimlessly around the desert did not appeal to him. Travelling through this harsh sandy land was dangerous and unpleasant. He could not ask locals about a kidnapped woman without arousing suspicions, however, especially the wife of the King. He also doubted that anyone would know where she was, apart from Trelath and his cronies, into whom he did not wish to bump.

  Kerra returned, her hair golden once more, and flopped down beside him. "Is that better?"

  "Very Cotti." He dug a jar from the pack and held it out. "Now rub this on your face and arms, up to the shoulder, and your neck."

  She took it with a grimace, wrinkling her nose when she opened it and sniffed the oily golden paste. "Just when I thought I was going to look normal again."

  "You will be my concubine. You do not speak unless I tell you to, and if we walk in a town, you follow behind me with your head bowed."

  "Must all my disguises be that of a servant? Could I not be a boy?"

  He shook his head. "Without the thick jacket, you do not look like a boy. And Cotti men wear their hair short, most shave it off."

  The Queen dipped her fingers into the paste and rubbed it on her cheeks. Blade sat up and pulled off the thong that tied his hair, letting it fall free in raven wings. Drawing a dagger from his belt, he hacked it off as short as he could. Most assassins wore their hair short, some even shaved their heads, but he had always kept his shoulder length, apart from when he was forced to cut it, like now.

  Kerra paused to stare at him, then returned to her chore. When he was finished, he took out the rest of the disguise he had purchased at Faranot and laid it out on a cloth. It consisted of a short blond wig and moustache, a bottle of glue and a piece of soft leather. He started by gluing the piece of leather over the dagger tattoo on his chest, then pulled the wig on and glued the edges to his brow, lowering his hairline.

  By that time, Kerra had finished with the skin dye, and he stripped off his shirt, amused again by her shy glances. He rubbed the golden oil onto his face, arms and torso down to his waist, then used a small mirror to ensure that he had reached the edges of the wig. That done, he glued the blond moustache to his upper lip and studied the result in the mirror. Apart from his eyes, he could pass for a Cotti, and the dye would also protect his pale skin from the sun.

  Blade turned his scrutiny upon the Queen, touching up the places she had missed with the paste. She held her breath when he cupped her chin and tilted her head this way and that to make sure he had not missed any spots, her eyes riveted to him, as if she expected him to do more than merely ensure that her disguise was complete. He hid his amusement and resisted the temptation to tease her again.

  There was one chore that he required her assistance with, however, and he handed her the pot and turned his back to her, the inference clear. After a pause, she applied the dye to his skin, and he smiled at the way her hands trembled. When he was satisfied, he put away the pot and mirror, then took out the long white dress, veil and headscarf that would hide all but Kerra's eyes.

  "Why must we put this on now?" she asked. "Could it not wait until we are closer to the town?"

  "We may meet other travellers. It is better to be prepared."

  She smiled. "You look funny with a moustache."

  "Good. As long as I do not look like a Jashimari. Although the kingdoms are no longer at war, we are not well received in Cotti."

  "Chiana says there is increasing trade between us and Cotti."

  "We are not traders, so they will think we are spies."

  Kerra turned to gaze into the distance. "Do you think she is all right, Blade?"

  "You will call me Jarran while we are in Cotti. And you will be Kestra."

  She frowned at him. "You did not answer my question."

  He sighed. "She is all right. Endor cannot do too much damage."

  "Do you care?"

  "She is my wife."

  "That is not an answer."

  "It is all you are going to get. Go and find something to burn, there should be some dried dung lying around that we can use."

  Kerra pulled a face, but rose to search for droppings, leaving Blade gazing after her. The change in the young queen was quite remarkable, and he knew that most of it stemmed from her desire to please him. Chiana had been a poor substitute for a mother, since she had been far too lenient, treating Kerra as a queen instead of a child.

  Kerra longed for a firm adult hand against which she dared not rebel, and she had found that in him, along with an attraction that stirred up adolescent desires, apparently. His threats of a spanking had been empty, but had brought about the desired effect, curtailing her pride and disdain for those of lesser rank. A few tendays ago, she would have flown into a rage at the mere mention of picking up dried horse manure, but now she complied without protest. She returned with a handful and some dead palm fronds, which he broke up to make the fire.

  The following day, they set out across the desert once more, heading into a shimmering nothingness that seemed to stretch on forever. At night, the cold forced them to share a leather tent, and Kerra woke Blade often as she shifted in her sleep, for he was used to sleeping alone. The wig was hot and itched, and the moustache kept peeling off, but at least sweat did not wash off the skin dye.

  They met a caravan of Cotti traders, who paused to exchange courtesies and the strong sweet tea they drank, which Blade loathed. The encounter assured him that his disguise was passable, and, although the men stared at Kerra, she kept her eyes lowered as he had ordered. He wore a strip of thin black muslin over his eyes, which filtered out much of the glare, and was acceptable attire for a desert traveller. They passed through a town, where Blade bought more supplies and no one gave them a second glance, then carried on towards Jadaya. He was sure that Trelath would not have t
aken Minna more than two days ride from the capital, and plotted a route that took them around it at that distance.

  After six days, they detoured to visit a town and buy more supplies, listening to the local gossip at an inn. Kerra was surprised that unveiled women in revealing outfits served the beverages, whom the customers pawed and sometimes took upstairs. In a society where women were kept cloistered and hidden, she had not expected to find harlots plying their trade so blatantly. It had taken a little time for her to become used to such things in Jashimari.

  When she asked Blade about it, he told her that the whores belonged to the inn's owner, and he received whatever money they made from their trade. She found this even more shocking, for slavery had been outlawed in Cotti, but he pointed out that its being illegal did not prevent it from happening. Like other crimes, it continued on a lesser scale, hidden from the law.

  Much of the gossip in the tavern related to the King's stolen wife. Most men thought Kerrion a fool to search for her, and especially to allow himself to be blackmailed. Their opinions were typical of Cotti. They thought he should find a younger wife, or several of them, and a few concubines as well.

  As for his daughter being forced to become Endor's captive and concubine, well, there was nothing wrong with that. The King should have given her to his brother, in any case, if Endor desired the girl. Kerra gasped and choked on her glass of water when she heard this, earning herself a stern glance from Blade. He sipped his sour young wine and strained to hear more from the men who sat at nearby tables, but there was nothing else of interest.

  Just as Blade was considering retiring for the night, an evil looking individual slid onto the bench seat opposite him, making Kerra glance around in surprise. The man leered at her, then turned to Blade, his dark eyes gleaming with lecherous greed. Blade's hackles rose, and he noted the man's glance at the dagger sheaths on his wrists. Without the protection of his tattoo, however, their threat was debatable, since many men carried weapons, but could not necessarily use them well.