Minna touched his shoulder. "That was magnificent, Blade."
He grimaced and inspected his hand, rubbing it. "It was stupid, unnecessary and a waste of time and energy. Why do men always want to fight me?"
"Because you walk in death's shadow, and they fear you."
"Then they should leave me alone."
"Only an intelligent man will respect your abilities. Others will always want to prove themselves better. And you killed his brother. You should understand vengeance."
"If vengeance was what he wanted, he should have slit my throat while I was bound, or persuaded Asrah to torture me to death, as I thought they would."
Minna let her hand linger on his shoulder. "But she has other plans for you, so this was his only way of securing his revenge."
Blade glanced at the recumbent Imbar. One of his comrades wiped the blood off his face while another poured water into his slack mouth.
"Does that look like vengeance to you?"
"He thought he could win."
Blade donned his jelabah, forcing her to remove her hand. "The way I have been trained, he stood no chance."
"Could you kill any man who attacked you?"
He turned to look at her. "That depends. With equal weapons, or none, yes."
"So if your attacker had a sword and you were unarmed, he could win?"
"Probably."
Blade watched the activity around them, and she sensed his dislike for the topic. Like so many other things about himself, he did not enjoy talking about his abilities, or lack of them.
The bandits dug graves for the men he had killed, and soon others led in a string of horses and offloaded them. It seemed that they intended to spend the day here, burying their dead. Two men erected a spacious tent, and Asrah invited the trio to join her within it.
Inside, Blade sank down on the sand, and the queens settled beside him, eyeing the bandit leader. Asrah sat and offered them a wine skin, which Blade accepted.
"For a man who claims not to be a fighter, you did well to defeat my strongest warrior in unarmed combat," Asrah commented.
Blade sipped the sour young wine and pulled a face. "I only defended myself. I don't consider it a fight."
"Do all Jashimari assassins defend themselves that way?"
"Probably Cotti ones, too. We're not trained to fight. We don't challenge our victims to a duel, we slit their throats while they sleep."
Her eyes became shuttered, hiding a deep pain. "I want my father to suffer. I don't want him to die in his sleep."
"As you wish."
"You can do that?"
"I always offer that option to my clients. What about your mother? What will happen to her?"
"She's dead. He beat her to death when I was fifteen. Then he killed my cat, Danon, and I ran away." Her gaze raked the assassin. "Where's your familiar?"
"Dead. Cotti soldiers killed him when I was twelve."
"I see. Then we both have reason to hate the Cotti."
Blade nodded. "I more than you."
"How so?"
"They also killed my entire family and enslaved me for four years."
"You escaped?"
"Yes."
She leant forward. "Then killing a Cotti will bring you great satisfaction."
"Indeed."
Asrah nodded and rose to her feet. "I must see to the burial of my men."
As soon as she left the tent, Minna turned to Blade. "I do not trust that woman."
"Nor do I."
"Yet you will leave us with her?"
Blade rubbed his cheek. "What choice do I have? She will ensure that we cannot escape, of that you can be certain."
Chapter Twenty Two
The bandits struck camp in the afternoon, and allowed the queens to ride their horses, but a bandit led Blade's beast. They travelled north until dusk, then set up a new camp and lighted fires. A pair of bandits took Blade to Asrah's tent and shoved him inside, leaving Kerra and Minna to pitch their tent.
Asrah turned as he entered, her eyes raking him. She had donned a flowing skirt of silky material, and her hair fell loose about her shoulders. Blade hid a smile as she gestured to a cushion and sank down on one herself. He sat, pushing up the loose sleeves of his jelabah, which he still wore, since his vest was now a rag. His action exposed the empty wrist sheaths, and Asrah's eyes were drawn to them.
"An unarmed assassin is like a snake without fangs, I suppose."
He shrugged. "It makes me a little uneasy."
"But you must understand that I can't trust you."
"I do, but keeping me unarmed doesn't make me harmless."
Her eyes narrowed. "I'm aware of that, which is why you must wear these."
Asrah picked up a set of shackles and threw them in front of him. He glanced at them, then frowned at her.
"This is an insult."
"It's a precaution. I don't want you trying to escape. My men would like an excuse to kill you. Since you're unarmed, they may succeed."
"I'm not going to try to escape. We have a bargain."
She shook her head. "I don't trust you, any more than you trust me, and, as you've just pointed out, you're deadly even without your daggers."
"If I was alone, you would have reason to fear me, but I will not risk the lives of my charges."
"They mean nothing to you. If you abandoned them, you would only lose part of your payment. I'm sure your employer would understand when you told him that bandits ambushed you and stole the women. Without them, you could easily sneak out of this camp, even with the guards. But with those on you won't get far, especially without your disguise."
He stretched his legs out before him, crossed them and allowed his jelabah to slide off one shoulder. "And you would like to see me wearing them. Strange, for a woman who was born a slave."
She smiled, her eyes flitting over him. "I never wore shackles."
"I did."
She turned and poured two cups of wine, handing one to him. "I'm not the one who wants to see you wearing them. My men harbour a grudge against you for the death of their comrades, and your defeat of Imbar."
"And you think these will make me safe from them?"
"It will help to mollify them."
Blade sipped his wine, eyeing her. Clearly she found him attractive, a situation he had been in many times, and it suited his purpose to encourage her. She had evidently not noted the significance of his lack of beard, or perhaps thought that he shaved extremely well, even though he would have had no opportunity to do so since his capture. He had found that women saw what they wanted, and those who found him handsome ignored his strangeness.
To keep the atmosphere cordial, he asked for information about her father that he would need for the assassination. She provided it while they sipped wine and ate a watery stew that a scowling bandit served. She told him that her father was a rich merchant who lived in a town a tenday's ride to the north, and he was a man of dogs. His familiar was a large male hound of a particularly vicious nature, and he kept a dozen dogs on his estate. This did not please Blade, who had found that dog men were particularly troublesome, due to the loyal and dangerous nature of their beasts.
Most familiars spent time apart from their friends, or were not as formidable, but dogs stayed close to their human companions at all times, even sleeping on their master's beds. Asrah said that her father's name was Zendil, and he kept a dozen concubines as well as three wives. Although he was in his fifties, he was robust and healthy, visiting brothels and taprooms regularly to sample their wares. He kept his estate well-guarded, yet when he went into the city, he took only a pair of bodyguards and his familiar.
By the time the meal was over, and Asrah's description finished, Blade found it hard to hide his yawns. He informed her that he wished to go and sleep, and rose to his feet. She picked up the shackles and stood, holding them out.
"I suppose you think I'm going to let you put those on me?" he enquired.
"No, you're going to put them on, and i
f you refuse, one shout from me will bring a dozen men in here within a moment."
He stepped closer, a faint smile curling his lips when she retreated. "You're afraid of me. Is that the real reason you would have me wear those?"
Her eyes glinted. "Only a fool would not fear you, and I'm not one."
"Obviously. But my wearing those won't make you safe, if I choose to kill you."
Asrah pulled one of the assassin's daggers from her belt, and held out the shackles. "Put them on."
Blade's smile widened, making her catch her breath in a little, well-hidden gasp. He tilted his head to increase the power of his allure, a skill gleaned from years of practising it on his unsuspecting victims in his female disguise. It worked just as well on women, he knew, and her eyes darkened with desire.
"I'm not a murderer," he murmured in a soft, husky voice. "You're perfectly safe, I assure you. There's is no need to bind me."
Asrah stood frozen, her eyes riveted to his mouth. He guessed that she was probably wondering what it would be like to kiss him, and lie in his arms. Perhaps she contemplated what his lips would taste like, and what skills he had at love making. All evening, he had cast his spell on her with graceful gestures, ensuring that the lamplight enhanced his features and made his eyes shine. He hoped that his reassuring words would drain the last of her resistance, when combined with the electric danger of his presence. He had noticed a long time ago how women shivered when he was close to them and longed for his touch. Chiana was one such. He stepped closer, until the dagger point was pressed against his chest, and she pulled it away, clearly afraid of hurting him. Raising his hands, he caressed her cheeks with a feather-light touch, and she shivered, swallowing.
He leant closer to whisper, "You're too beautiful to want to chain me."
The shackles fell to the floor with a clink, and she placed her hand against his chest, where she would feel his heart throb beneath the layers of muscle and bone. He had always found women easy to charm, although he did not really understand the reason for it. He allowed his seductive smile to widen further, and she swayed as his magnetism drew her to him. His hands fell to her throat, making her breath catch again. Her eyes roamed over his face, lingering on his lips, clearly captivated by his lamplight-gilded features. She had probably known many lovers, but he doubted that any had robbed her of her will and filled her with desire as he knew he was doing.
"Asrah," he whispered. "You don't want to put chains on me."
Her hand crept up to his shoulder, and she pulled him closer, her lips parted. She raised her eyes to meet his and recoiled, pushed him away and stumbled back, the dagger clutched before her.
"You are lying!"
He tilted his head. "Am I?"
"Your words are honeyed, but your eyes are cold."
"A trick of the light, I assure you. It's the colour."
"No." She shuddered. "You're trying to seduce me, and it almost worked."
"I'm in earnest."
"You thought you could charm me, and make me forget about the shackles." She glared at him. "Well, it won't work. Put them on."
"I would rather not."
"I don't care what you would rather. Put them on, or I will have my men do it for you. Doubtless they'll take the opportunity to give you a few more bruises."
His smile faded. "I could have killed you a moment ago, if I had wanted."
"If you had, my men would have avenged me, and you know it. Doubtless you have charmed many women like that, but it won't work on me. Put on the chains, or I call my men."
Blade frowned and turned away to hide his anger, then picked up the shackles and placed them around his wrists, snapping them closed. A chain the length of his forearm linked the steel bracelets, restricting his movement without making him helpless. Asrah put away the dagger and gazed at him with eyes still dark with desire despite her disillusionment, her expression keenly disappointed.
"Are you satisfied now?" he asked.
"Yes. If you remove them, I'll have you whipped."
Blade left the tent, afraid that if he lingered, his anger would get the better of him. The guards watched him march across the camp and push his way inside the little tent. The queens sat at the back, talking, but fell silent when he came in and flopped down on his bedroll.
Minna asked, "Whatever is the matter, My Lord?"
Blade glanced at her and snorted, muttering a curse under his breath. "I failed to persuade Asrah not to put these on me." He held up his shackled wrists, and her eyes widened. Kerra gasped and opened her mouth, but Minna raised an imperious hand.
"You are not accustomed to failure, I would wager."
"No."
"Asrah is a hard woman. She has suffered much. The situation may still be remedied, however. Perhaps I can offer some advice, since she too is a woman of cats. What did you say to her?"
He looked away. "It is not so much what I said."
Her brows shot up, and she smiled. "Indeed? You tried to charm her? I am surprised, My Lord. I thought you despised such things."
"I do, unless I can use them to my advantage."
"And she saw through your lie."
"Yes." He frowned at her, disgruntled. "I am unaccustomed to such things."
"Naturally, you have never practiced your wiles blatantly, I suspect."
"Not on a woman."
Kerra looked puzzled, and Minna remarked, "Women are more perceptive, My Lord. I would say that she saw your deception in your eyes."
"So it would seem."
"It is a pity you tried to deceive her. You would have had more success if you had simply refused and walked away."
"She threatened to have her men do it."
Minna shook her head. "I doubt that she would. They may have hurt you, and from the concern I saw in her face when you fought Imbar, I do not think she would have risked it. She has already fallen foul of your charms, Blade, as have so many others."
"I had done nothing to soften her heart."
"You do not have to. You have only to be yourself, and smile, to win the heart of any woman you choose."
"So her threat to flog me if I remove these is an empty one?"
"Not anymore. Now that you have angered her, she may do it."
Blade grunted and lay back on his bedroll, glaring at the leather roof.
Kerra asked, "But how could you charm her? Surely she can see what you are?"
He turned his head to look at her. "And what might that be?"
"You know..."
"An assassin?"
"No."
"Then what? Is it a dirty word you cannot speak?"
She shook her head, her cheeks reddening. "A eunuch."
"Ah. One of those. I am not insulted by the term, Kerra. I have been called much worse. Apparently she has not realised what I am. Some people are not very observant, and to others it makes no difference."
"Chiana did not notice," Minna observed.
Kerra looked horrified. "You mean, when they were married..."
Blade chuckled, and Minna said, "Oh no, I told her long before then."
"You noticed," Blade muttered.
"Almost immediately," she agreed. "Yet it made no difference to me or Chiana."
"You, My Queen?"
"Yes, even I am not immune to your charms, My Lord. Nor am I ashamed to admit it."
The assassin smiled, gazing at the tent roof. "I am flattered."
"You are conceited. You use your charms unconsciously, and you should keep it that way. It is more effective. Do not attempt to beguile Asrah again with your clumsy wiles, you will only anger her."
He shrugged. "That suits me."
For the next two days, the bandits continued north at a steady pace, camping each night in the lee of dunes. They carried ample supplies on a string of packhorses, but on the third day three men left with empty packhorses and returned with fresh food and water from a nearby town. Although Asrah avoided Blade, he caught her watching him on several occasions. The shackles were li
ttle more than an annoyance, but the men seemed to enjoy seeing him wear them, judging by their smirks.
Imbar recovered, although he had a swollen, bruised face and a broken nose. He glared at the assassin whenever possible, making Blade suspect that he intended to seek further retribution. The queens became uneasy, unnerved by the bandits' bold stares and leers, which neither of them had experienced before. Blade dreaded the day when he might be forced to intervene in some lecherous attack, a prospect that he found distasteful.
On the afternoon of the fourth day, shortly after the bandits had made camp, Blade sat outside the tent, guarding Minna's privacy while she washed in a bowl of water.
They had all mastered the art of bathing in a cup of water, using a damp cloth to wipe off the grime and sweat. The women were used to luxurious baths with hot water and soap, but Blade's fastidiousness had long ago made him make do with much less, though never quite so little. Kerra's scream brought him to his feet in a bound, and he ran towards the sound. The young Queen struggled in the strong arms of a strapping, chuckling blond bandit. Blade stopped a few paces away, unsure of what to do.
"Let her go," he growled.
The bandit looked up, and Kerra shouted, "Blade! Help me!"
Blade walked closer as several more men ran up. "I said let her go."
The bandit sneered, "Make me, assassin."
Blade closed the gap between them in a few strides. As he had hoped, the man thrust Kerra away to free his hands. The girl stumbled to Blade and stood behind him, clinging to his arm. Blade found his new role as protector unpleasant as well as novel, and tried to back away. Kerra hampered him, and the bandit followed, his eyes alight with hatred. The assassin jerked his arm from Kerra's grip and stepped away from her as the young man lunged at him. He swayed aside, allowing the bandit's fist to skim past his cheek, then swung around and whipped the chain that linked his wrists around the man's throat, yanking it tight.
The bandit clawed at the chain, swinging around to try to dislodge the assassin, but Blade hung on, keeping the chain tight. The man choked and coughed, jabbing an elbow at Blade's ribs, which he avoided. He raised a knee and jammed it into the small of the man's back, forcing him to his knees. The young bandit's face reddened and his eyes bulged, then Blade was forced to release him as three more men attacked. He swung around and hit the nearest in the face with the chain. The man staggered aside, clutching his cheek.
The Queen's Blade IV - Sacred Knight of the Veil Page 32