The Queen_s Blade tqb-1

by T C Southwell

  As the moon turned, it showed its last face, called the Tree, several large craters atop a dark valley that had a vague similarity to a deformed puffwood tree. Farmers eagerly awaited this phase, for it was supposed to be a good moon for planting or reaping. When it appeared at spring or harvest time, great celebrations occurred in farming communities. The fact that the Tree came just before the Death Moon also held grim significance for farmers whose crops stood in the fields after the Tree Moon.

  A flitting shadow made him turn his head in alarm, relaxing as a cat loped down the street. Blade pondered the moon that hung above him, feared for its evil portents of death and pestilence. Indeed, there did seem to be some strange coincidences with the Death Moon. The Rout of Ashtolon had occurred under its baleful influence, and the Plague of Bennerald had wiped out the populations of two large towns during a Death Moon. Perhaps, for an assassin, a Death Moon could be seen as a good sign, but Blade had never set any store in such folklore. Clouds scudded across the moon as a slight wind rose, blotting out the grinning grey skull with its dark eyes, then the moment he had been waiting for arrived.

  One pair of guards paused, striking flint to light a pipe, their backs turned to the wind, and to him. The other pair walked away. Blade slid off the wall, landed on the grass with a soft thud and sprinted for the smoke tree. Its lower branches offered many handholds, and he climbed swiftly into it as the second pair of guards passed below him.

  The burst of movement made his heart pound, and his breath came quicker as he glanced up at the balcony. Now that he was committed, his nerves twanged and tension heightened his senses. This was the excitement that gave his life purpose, the only pleasure in his otherwise dull existence. Not the kill itself, but stalking his victim, becoming a shadow that could enter a man's house undetected, take his life and slip away again without raising the alarm. That was the challenge, a little different from his triumph in King Shandor's camp, but far more familiar.

  As soon as the guards turned the corner he climbed higher, wary of snapping twigs or scraping bark that might give him away. He passed the balcony, the branches there too thin for him to reach it. Choosing a stout branch that overhung it several feet higher up, he crawled up it, gripping it between his legs and pulling himself up. Arriving above the balcony, he looked down, gauging the distance and danger of the drop. The trick was to land silently. For this, his slender frame and whipcord strength were well suited, and he dropped, only making a slight thud.

  Blade froze, awaiting a reaction, if any, then approached the glazed doors that led to the bedroom. Although the night was warm, the doors were locked, and he studied the catch before groping in his bag for the appropriate tool. Inserting a flat steel instrument, he lifted the latch inside, then turned the handle and pushed the door open. There was a slight click, then it started to creak. He yanked it open and slipped into the dark interior.

  Crouching beside the door, he mapped the room, noting the placement of the bed and its occupants. Lord Mordon slept on his back, snoring, while his plump wife lay with her back to him. What gave Blade a moment of alarm were the two ferrets curled at the lord's feet, sleeping as soundly as he, but far easier to awake. Frowning, he revised his plan, making a crucial change. Although the ferrets were harmless, they could raise the alarm, and if that happened his escape would be jeopardised.

  The lord must then die soundlessly, so as not even to arouse his familiar. Only one ferret would be a familiar, the other was its mate. There had been times when Blade had been forced to deal with a familiar, but he disliked killing blameless animals and avoided it whenever possible. So long as Lord Mordon's ferret slept, he could let it live, but since it was an animal that normally had a short life span, it would perish shortly after its human friend.

  Blade crawled towards the bed, his nerves jangling. The slight breeze blew his scent away from the ferrets, and his progress was silent. When he was halfway to his quarry, Lord Mordon grunted, sighed and shifted, and the assassin froze until he grew still once more. Reaching the side of the bed, Blade knelt and released a dagger, allowing it to slide into his hand. The man's arm lay at his side, protecting the spot under his armpit. Blade, however, had much experience in his profession, and that did not daunt him. Lord Mordon was used to sleeping with his wife, and his subconscious was trained to ignore the movements of his partner.

  With a feather-light caress, Blade ran his fingers up the man's arm and slipped his hand between arm and ribs. Lord Mordon sighed and shifted, then rolled onto his side, trapping Blade's fingers. He extricated them, frowning. Sweat trickled down his chest and prickled his scalp, making it itch. One slip now, and he could be dead, but that was all part of the excitement, the danger that quickened his heart. Mordon's movement disturbed the ferrets, which squirmed and snuggled closer to each other. Blade waited for all to settle before moving closer again. Gently he grasped Mordon's wrist and pulled his arm forward, exposing the site on his flank. The lord grunted and pushed his hand under the pillow, exposing the target even more.

  Blade raised the dagger, its tip poised just above his victim's flank, and thrust it in with a quick stab. Lord Mordon stiffened as his heart burst, the speed with which he died allowing him only the time to open his eyes and mouth, but no sound issued from his trembling lips. He never saw the masked assassin kneeling beside him. His eyes glazed and rolled up, and he went limp. None of the other occupants of the bed had awakened. Blade turned away, moving like a shadow back to the door. There he paused to close it behind him, using the steel tool to pull down the catch inside. Back on the balcony, he breathed more easily as the night air cooled him.

  A pair of strolling guards passed beneath him, the scent of pipe smoke wafting up to him. As soon as they had their backs to him, Blade slid over the balcony and dropped to the ground, flattening himself in case they heard the thud of his landing and turned. They sauntered on, engrossed in their conversation. Blade sprinted to the wall and leapt up to haul himself over.

  Out on the street, he leant against the wall and breathed deeply, allowing the tension leak out of him. He pulled off the clammy mask and rubbed his hair, glad to rid himself of the persistent itch the sweat had caused. He had done it again, slipped in and out of a man's house unseen and killed him in his bed without even waking his wife. Blade chuckled, drunk on his success and the immense relief that came with a job well done. When he had killed King Shandor he had been denied this wave of euphoria, for he had then been burdened with Prince Kerrion, whose presence had dampened his pleasure. He straightened, tossing back his hair as he revelled in the cool night air.

  "You're good," he whispered. "The Invisible Assassin." He chuckled again.

  Blade ambled through the deserted streets back to the palace, surprising the sleepy gate guards. By the time he reached his room, the first pink streaks of dawn brightened the sky. He stripped off his clothes and bathed in the tub of cold water he had ordered the day before, then climbed into bed.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Queen looked up from her breakfast when Chiana knocked and entered, signalling her to rise from her prostration. The advisor looked a little pale, and her soft eyes had a hunted look.

  "What is it?" Minna asked.

  "I have a report from Captain Redgard. Lord Mordon was assassinated last night."

  "Really?" Minna nibbled on a cake. "So soon."

  "You knew of it, then."

  "I ordered it."

  "And you sent Blade."

  Minna's brows rose at Chiana's bold tone. "Who else?"

  Chiana frowned down at her clasped hands, and the Queen pushed aside her plate. "You are upset, Chiana. Why?"

  "You did not consult with me on this matter, My Queen. I am your chief advisor, and I would have advised you not to take this course of action."

  "You know about the attempt on Prince Kerrion's life?"

  Chiana nodded.

  "Lord Mordon hired the assassin who was killed in the Prince's room. His act was treasonous, and had he
gone to trial, he would have been executed anyway."

  "Then you should have had him arrested, not assassinated."

  "Come, come, Chiana. For trying to kill an enemy Prince? The people would have said that he was doing us all a favour." Minna frowned. "Are you so upset because I did not confide in you?"

  "No, not entirely. I wish you had, but the choice is yours. I thought Lord Conash was to retire."

  "Ah." Queen Minna-Satu smiled and sat back. "I see. You like him, and you fear for his safety."

  "I hardly know him, My Queen."

  "That is of no account, I know exactly how you feel."

  "Do you?" Chiana raised her eyes in a bold glance. "There are angry mutterings amongst the lords and advisors. Everyone knows who did it. Lord Mordon was found cold in his bed beside his wife this morning. He was killed without even waking her or his familiar, and the guards saw no one. He was stabbed under the left armpit."

  "What of it? Blade is my assassin, and I sanctioned his actions. He is also under my protection, as a lord of my realm."

  "They will want to know why, My Queen."

  "He was plotting treason; that is all they need to know."

  "Then he should have been arrested."

  The Queen waved it away. "I shall deal with things the way I see fit, let any objectors do so to my face. Bring me Blade."

  Chiana knocked on Blade's door and opened it, startled to find the assassin asleep in the vast four-poster bed. He sat up with a jerk, a dagger glinting in his fist, then slumped back with a grunt. He brushed the tangled hair from his face and yawned, knuckling his eyes.

  "What is it?" He eyed her with some displeasure.

  "The Queen wishes to see you."

  Blade glanced at the sunlight slanting in through the windows and winced. Swinging his legs off the bed, he banged the dagger down on the side table and used both hands to rub his face. Chiana stepped back as he rose and stretched. He wore only a pair of baggy grey flannel shorts, which hung incongruously on his lean body and seemed in danger of falling down at any moment. He shot her a scathing look.

  "I do not bite."

  "Unless you are paid to."

  He looked a little startled, and wandered over to the basin of water, where he splashed and dried his face before turning to her again. "Even then, I do not bite." She glanced at the dagger, and he followed her gaze. "Do not worry, I have washed the blood off it."

  Chiana shuddered, looking away.

  Minna-Satu looked up from her tea and beckoned Blade closer. He bowed, his eyes a little bloodshot, his glossy hair showing signs of a rough finger combing.

  "My Queen."

  "My Lord Conash. Sit."

  Blade sank down on the cushions with a sigh, sparing a wry glance for the slumbering sand cat. "Does she only ever sleep?"

  Minna smiled at her familiar. "Sand cats are nocturnal."

  "Ah."

  "I hear that you have completed your task."

  "As you wished."

  She nodded. "I was surprised that it was done so quickly. Was it very easy?"

  "Reasonably so. I saw no point in wasting time."

  "You are unhurt?"

  "Yes."

  She made a derisive sound. "Of course you are, no one even saw you. At least you did not trip over the rug."

  Blade's smile pierced her heart its poignant sweetness. "No, My Queen, I never trip over rugs."

  She looked away, flustered. "Chiana tells me that there are angry rumblings at court. Everyone knows that you did the deed."

  "And therefore that you ordered it."

  "Yes, well, I am above censure."

  "And I am not?"

  She shook her head. "You are under my protection, but since they cannot touch me, their anger is directed at you."

  "And you fear for my life?"

  "Chiana certainly does, and I share her worry."

  His brows rose. "Chiana?"

  "She is protecting my assets."

  "Ah."

  "In view of this, perhaps it would be wise to stay in the palace for a while. You are safe here, but in the city I cannot protect you."

  Blade's eyes narrowed. "I will not be kept caged like Kerrion, My Queen. I have seen how it eats at him, and I will like it no better."

  "It is for your safety, My Lord."

  He stifled a yawn. "Do not concern yourself, My Queen, I have had many years of dodging the angry relatives of my victims."

  "And once it almost cost you your life."

  "More than once, but I am still here."

  "These are not commoners who seek revenge. They are powerful men, lords and advisors."

  Blade looked away. "I do not fear death."

  "What about pain?"

  He grimaced. "I am not partial to it."

  "Then stay in the palace, at least until this all dies down."

  "I doubt that it will, My Queen. Rather, I think that you will find more work for me, and the hatred of me will grow."

  "I shall be sending Kerrion back soon, then there will be no call for attempts on his life."

  "But the traitors will still be afoot. If they seek to thwart your wish for peace, they will find other ways of doing so."

  "How?" she demanded. "They cannot threaten me."

  "Not you, but your loyal advisors and lords. They will undoubtedly try to turn the tide against you by lessening your support."

  "I have already stamped out a rash of assassinations by sending the guilty ones to the front. They will not try that again."

  Blade raised a hand to cover a yawn. "If not assassinations, then perhaps threats and blackmail will suffice."

  "I have many spies. I will find them out and punish them. Nor will I need you to do it. I shall be able to do it through the courts. Protecting the Prince may seem a reprehensible act to my people, but political intrigue has ever been punished with their approval."

  His eyes drooped. "I would recommend that you find the traitors now and execute them before they can foment more trouble."

  "I have only suspicions, it is not enough to convict them." Blade stifled another yawn, his jaw cracking, and the Queen demanded, "Am I boring you, My Lord?"

  His gaze sharpened a little. "I have had no sleep, My Queen."

  "Very well, we shall continue this discussion another time, then."

  "What is there to discuss? You will do as you wish, no matter what anyone says."

  Minna smiled. "You are even more impertinent when you are tired. It is as well that I am fond of you, or I would punish such insults."

  "I am usually very grumpy when I am this tired, and I had thought to pay you a compliment."

  "That I am unswerving?"

  "As a Queen should be."

  Her brows rose. "I did not think you a flatterer."

  "I tell the truth occasionally, and this is one such occasion."

  "Are you a good liar?"

  The assassin shrugged, struggling not to yawn again. "I have spun many a good yarn, it is sometimes necessary in my profession."

  "When you pretend to be a Cotti whore, for instance."

  He frowned. "So he told you. I came very close to killing him. Perhaps I should have."

  "No, your secret is safe with me. I admire your abilities, and the way you have turned a disadvantage into an advantage."

  "You admire a killer?"

  Minna pulled a face. "You are an assassin."

  "What is the difference?"

  "You told me yourself, a murderer is one who kills for no good reason, perhaps even for the pleasure of it. You take no pleasure in it, but supply a service for others. Am I a killer when I order an execution, or send thousands of men to war? Is the executioner a killer when he decapitates a man?"

  "Perhaps. But you do not have to wash the blood off your hands afterwards."

  The Queen stared past him at a tapestry on the far wall, lost in thought. Blade rubbed his gritty eyes and stifled another yawn, squinting at the sunlight that streamed in through the window. She noticed his
discomfort and smiled. "Go and sleep, My Lord."

  He rose and bowed. "My Queen."

  Blade had almost reached his room when someone called his name, and he turned to find Chiana hurrying after him. He groaned and carried on towards his door.

  "Wait, I must speak to you, Blade."

  He entered his room, leaving the door open. "So speak."

  Chiana hesitated on the threshold, looking wary. He noted her expression and smiled, making her blush. "Do not worry, I have no orders to kill you, and no other designs on you."

  She advanced and closed the door behind her. "Would you?"

  "Would I what?"

  "Kill me?"

  His gaze raked her. "I have never killed a woman, believe it or not, but there is a first time for everything."

  "Why have you never killed a woman?"

  "I have never been hired to. Generally when a man wishes to be rid of his wife or lover, he kills her himself and claims it to be an accident. Women are easy to kill. No one needs an assassin to do it."

  She shivered, glancing at the door. Blade sat on the bed and pulled off his boots. "So what did you want to speak to me about?"

  "What? Oh, yes. You should leave here, go to your estate. The Queen courts danger by using you to assassinate her enemies. They will plot to kill you."

  He shrugged. "I cannot disobey the Queen."

  "She would not punish you, she is too fond of you for that. I thought that you planned to retire after your elevation."

  "I had, but what would I do? Plant fray flowers? Take up needlepoint, perhaps? Killing is all I am good at."

  "Then kill if you must, but not for the Queen. Her enemies are powerful, they will kill you."

  He looked up at her in surprise. "Such concern. Tell me, what have I done to deserve it?"

  "Nothing," she snapped. "My concern is for the Queen, not you. Who would worry about a cold-blooded killer?"

  "Who indeed? But why do you fear for the Queen? She is in no danger."

  "She makes more enemies with these tactics. Those who support her will turn against her."