The Queen_s Blade tqb-1

by T C Southwell

  Minna's brow smoothed, and her eyes narrowed as she too glanced at the advisor, who now appeared ill at ease. "I see." She turned back to him. "Obviously I do not expect you to leap up and bow, you are ill." She hesitated, then sat on the edge of the bed. "I am most pleased to see you awake. How do you feel? Have you much pain?"

  "I am alive."

  She inclined her head. "Those who injured you will be brought to justice just as soon as you name them, or describe them accurately to Captain Redgard."

  "I do not know their names, and describing them would do little good, they look like common street thugs. They were hired men. I never saw their masters."

  "But they would know who hired them. They can be made to talk."

  Blade shook his head. "As I have said, I cannot describe them."

  "Surely you must have fought when they captured you? Did you not injure any of them?"

  "Yes, all of them. One has a shallow cut across his chest, another I stabbed in the stomach, one has a broken hand, and the fourth…" He looked away. "I cannot remember what I did to him."

  "That is enough. You will describe all this to Captain Redgard, and he will find them."

  Blade shrugged, wincing. "They may not know who hired them either, My Queen. If the traitors were clever, they will not have revealed their identity to these thugs, or their faces."

  "Then we shall hope that those who hired these men were not that clever. I shall find out who is plotting against me. Such treason cannot go unpunished."

  Blade closed his eyes, wishing that she would go away. As if reading his thoughts, Minna stood up. "I will leave you to rest now, Lord Conash. Captain Redgard will be sent to you when you are feeling well enough to receive him."

  He nodded, feigning utter exhaustion. "My Queen."

  When the door had closed behind his visitors, he found that his exhaustion was not wholly feigned, and soon fell asleep.

  The following day, he described his assailants to an attentive Captain Redgard, then spent the day in a restful doze, rousing only to eat and drink. Arken tiptoed in and out of the room as he tended his patient, and the healer came in the afternoon to change Blade's dressings again.

  The day of his meeting with the assassin's guild, Blade forced himself to rise from the bed. His knees almost buckled when he tried to stand, and he hung onto the bedpost, wondering how he would attend the meeting when he could barely walk. Trying to ignore the pain, he tottered across the room to peer into the mirror, examining the fading bruises on his face. The swelling had gone down, but greenish marks dappled his skin like sickly shadows. He fingered his nose, glad to find it unbroken.

  "Do not worry, you are still as handsome as ever."

  The sound of Chiana's voice made him turn too quickly, and his bad leg buckled. He grabbed the table under the mirror as he fell, bringing several ornaments crashing down around him. The advisor hurried over and tried to help him up, but he slapped her hands away.

  "Are you all right?" she enquired, looking worried.

  "No thanks to you. Do you never knock?"

  "I thought you might be asleep. I did not want to disturb you."

  "Mighty considerate of you." He levered himself into a chair. The pain made sweat pop out on his brow, and he gritted his teeth.

  "I did not expect to find you out of bed. You are still too weak."

  "I noticed."

  She raised a brow, a slight, mocking smile tugging at her lips. "Was it so important to look in the mirror?"

  Blade glared up at her. "What do you want?"

  "The Queen wishes to know how you fare."

  "I was much better until you sneaked up on me with your rude comments."

  "I did not sneak up on you, nor was my comment intended to be rude."

  He snorted, looking away. Chiana moved to sit on a chair in front of him, arranging her skirts. Blade noted the slight flush in her cheeks, and the way her eyes avoided his.

  "I only spoke the truth," she went on, "though I am surprised by your concern."

  "So you find me handsome, and think me vain?"

  "Yes."

  "And what possible reason, do you suppose, would I have for being vain? Do you think that I wish to attract members of the opposite sex?"

  Her cheeks reddened further. "No, I suppose not." She hesitated, then glanced at him. "So why are you so concerned about your appearance?"

  Blade gave her a gentle, mocking smile that made her look away. "I have to attend a meeting tonight, of the assassin's guild, and I do not relish the idea of meeting my peers looking like I have been beaten to within an inch of my life. Call it pride, if you will, but not vanity. Spare me your girlish assumptions."

  "But you are not well enough. You cannot travel."

  "I will decide what I can and cannot do."

  "You will tear open your wounds, and you barely have the strength to stand."

  "I am not planning on doing anything more strenuous than riding a horse and talking to some old acquaintances."

  She shook her head. "The Queen will not allow it."

  "You will not tell the Queen until I have gone. I will need new daggers, and a horse tonight."

  Chiana looked scandalised. "You cannot order me to keep secrets from the Queen."

  "Why not?"

  "She has a right to know where you go."

  Blade's brows rose a fraction, and his lips curled at the corners. "She is not my keeper. I am free to go when and where I wish. Should she wish to prevent me, she must throw me into the dungeons and put me in chains. For this she has no reason."

  "You endanger yourself, and she has need of you."

  Blade leant forward, wincing. "Chiana, when she sends me to do her killing, she puts me in great danger, so do not claim that her concern is for anything other than selfish reasons. So long as I am a free man, my life is my own to do with as I see fit. I shall not die from my wounds, and this meeting is not dangerous."

  Chiana shivered, and he wondered at the cause of it. Her expression told him that she would protest further, and he smiled, knowing it would cause the words to die on her lips. She averted her eyes.

  "Then take someone with you, to help you, should you need it."

  "You?"

  "No, not unless you wish it."

  "I must go alone, and I require no help."

  She looked uncertain and worried, but nodded. "If this is your wish, Lord Conash, then I cannot prevent you, but the Queen will be angry when she hears of it."

  He shrugged, unconcerned. "I am not afraid of her. Can you procure another dagger?"

  "Of course."

  "Good, bring me one before dusk, and arrange for a horse to be made ready. I shall ride out after dark."

  "As you wish, My Lord." She rose to her feet. "And since you are feeling well enough to travel around attending meetings, I am sure you will have no trouble getting back to your bed."

  With this tart remark, Chiana spun in a swirl of skirts and left, banging the door behind her. Blade gazed after her, then shook his head and struggled from the chair to continue his gentle exercise, loosening stiff muscles and forcing some strength into his legs.

  By nightfall, the combination of exercise and good food had returned some of his vigour. Arken brought him a silver-hilted dagger, and a message that his horse was ready. The servant's frown held a wealth of disapproval for his charge's ill-advised jaunt. Blade dressed in his black leather garb, which had been washed and mended since the fight.

  The ride to the meeting, although achieved at a sedate walk, proved to be painful and tiring. Blade arrived at the assigned location far weaker than he would have wished, and mustered all of his remaining energy to walk without a limp into the ring of torches that lighted the scene. A surprising number of assassins were assembled within the circle of tall grey stones whose origins had been lost in time. Their black clothes made them blend into a formless mass dotted with pale faces, their numerous familiars hidden amongst them. Many were apprentices, young boys barely in their te
ens.

  Blade turned to face an older man who rose from the ranks, a dark wolf following him like a shadow. His former tutor's hair was touched with grey at the temples, and his well-trimmed beard bore twin white lines that gave him the distinguished air of a scholar. Then again, Blade mused, Kai had always looked distinguished, an asset that had helped his career. At almost forty years old, he was, by assassins' standards, venerable.

  Had he remained an active assassin, he would not have achieved such a great age. Kai had retired in his late twenties, and now earned his living teaching young assassins for a share of their profits once they earned their tattoos. He was also an elder in the assassin's guild, which gave him the power to aid in their decisions and partake in the rituals, such as judging young assassins striving to attain their mark. Older retired assassins ranked above him, but in this instance, he was the guild's spokesman, as Blade's erstwhile tutor.

  He smiled at his former pupil. "Welcome, Blade. I'm pleased that you have finally honoured us with your presence."

  Blade inclined his head. "Talon." He addressed the elder assassin by his trade name, as was polite.

  Talon glanced around at the assembly with its many young, curious faces, and raised his voice to address them. "For those of you who don't know him, I present to you the assassin Blade, our most renowned and accomplished member, and the Master of the Dance. Over two hundred kills, amongst them great lords, and, of course, King Shandor of the Cotti, his greatest triumph yet. What's most amazing is that he's still alive, and almost thirty years old." He swung back to Blade. "Still no plans to retire?"

  The assassin shrugged, meeting Talon's slanted, yellowish eyes, which betrayed his kindred to the wolf. "I'm considering it."

  "Perhaps you shouldn't delay it until your edge is lost, and with it, your life."

  "Perhaps."

  Talon walked around Blade, an old habit that brought back many memories to his former pupil. "But I wonder, should we address you as 'My Lord' now, and bow to you?"

  "Do as you see fit."

  "I also wonder what you are now. Are you a lord, or an assassin? Have you relinquished your trade? If you have, you know that your mark must be burnt off with a hot iron. If you retire, you'll be expected to teach the young, in which case, you may keep your tattoo."

  Blade's back prickled as Talon passed behind him. "I haven't relinquished my trade, nor am I retired as yet."

  "Then you're still an assassin, and subject to our rules."

  "Yes. Is this the reason I was summoned here?"

  "Not exactly." Talon stopped before him. "An assassin died in the palace, not too long ago. He was sent to kill Prince Kerrion, but he failed. Do you deny killing him?"

  Blade straightened, stung by the accusation. "You think that I killed Slash? That's absurd. I have never broken the guild's laws. I had nothing to do with his death, I was only told of it afterwards. The soldiers guarding Prince Kerrion killed him."

  "I find it hard to believe that an experienced assassin such as Slash was discovered by soldiers."

  "He was not. The Prince discovered him, knocked him down and called the guards."

  Talon's eyes narrowed. "Discovered by his victim? How?"

  "He tripped over a rug. Slash should have retired before now, he was almost nine and twenty, and had lost his edge."

  "I see." Talon circled him again. "And you, in turn, were beaten badly by four street thugs, hired by those who paid Slash. Weren't they seeking to remove you as an obstacle in their efforts to kill the Prince, because it was you who foiled Slash's attempt?"

  "No, they were avenging the death of Lord Mordon, whom I was paid to kill after Slash's death. He was one of those who hired Slash."

  "And this, we must assume, since you are an assassin before your peers, is the truth."

  "It is."

  Talon stopped before him again. "Yes, I suspect that the commoners would dearly like to turn us against our own. But they've presented us with another dilemma." He turned and beckoned to the audience.

  A tall man stood up and walked over, his narrow face marred by a scar that ran from temple to chin, cutting through an eye, which a patch covered. A shiny black scorpion clung to his shoulder, its stinger curled over its back.

  Talon placed a hand on the assassin's other shoulder. "This is Scar, aptly named. He's recently been asked to kill a certain Lord Conash, and offered a handsome fee. Since he knows that Lord Conash is also the assassin Blade, he came to me with the problem. As Lord Conash, you're fair game, but as Blade, you're not. He was told that you had relinquished your profession, and no longer enjoyed the protection of being one of us. He was told that you now answer only to the Queen, and have been called the Queen's Blade. Is this true?"

  Blade shifted his weight off his injured leg, hiding his discomfort with a frown. "I have been called that, but I don't answer only to her. I'm still an assassin, anyone may hire me."

  "That's good." Talon nodded and patted Scar on the shoulder. "So you'll have to do without your fine fee, Scar."

  The tall assassin smiled lopsidedly. "A pity." He thrust out a hand. "Good to meet you."

  Blade shook the proffered hand, surprised by the vigour with which his was wrung. "Is this the reason for this meeting, Talon?"

  Talon nodded. "Amongst other things. There were a number of reasons, most of which we have now dealt with. No assassin may become one man's pet killer, or woman's, and it's this misconception that has put your life in danger. Those who tried to hire Scar may still pay ordinary men to kill you, as they have already."

  "Those men weren't sent to kill me. They only wanted me out of the way then, and they wanted information. The Queen foiled their plans by sending Prince Kerrion back to the desert, thereby putting him out of their reach." Blade turned to Scar. "If I knew who hired you…"

  The tall assassin's smile twisted his scar, and the cold glint of his eye betrayed his kind. "He went to great lengths to hide beneath a hood, and didn't give his name, but I can tell you that it was Lord Bellcamp."

  Talon looked disapproving. "Who's now doubtless a dead man, and his accomplices will know who betrayed them."

  Scar shrugged, making his scorpion twitch. "They shouldn't have hired an assassin to kill one of his own."

  "I thank you for telling me," Blade said, "and I would say that he and his cohorts will be dead before they can have their revenge."

  "That's as well," Talon commented, "for assassins shouldn't reveal their clients to anyone." Again he cast a stern glance at Scar. "If you pay the price, you have only yourself to blame."

  As Scar opened his mouth to reply, Blade interjected, "If that's all the business you have with me, I'll take my leave."

  Talon stepped closer to peer at him. "Are you unwell?"

  Blade toyed with the idea of telling the truth, then rejected it. Even though his rigid stance and pallor should have been obvious, he did not wish to reveal his weakness before his peers. "No, I'm well, but it's late, and I have business to attend to."

  "Supper with the Queen, perhaps?"

  Blade shook his head, ignoring Talon's sarcasm. "Nothing quite so important, I'm afraid."

  "A pity," Talon murmured, glancing around. "Many of these youngsters would like to meet you."

  "Another time, perhaps. I bid you goodnight." With a curt nod, Blade turned away.

  The information Blade gleaned mollified Queen Minna-Satu's fury at his jaunt somewhat, though his refusal to identify the assassin who had told him sparked her ire afresh. He had regarded her with wintry eyes that challenged her to punish his disobedience, but she had not. Instead she ordered Lord Bellcamp's immediate arrest, only to find that the traitor had already fled, warned by his spies in the palace. Realising the strength of her opposition, she ordered that the assassin's rooms be guarded and started a manhunt for the traitorous lord.

  A tenday later, Captain Redgard arrested one of the men who had attacked Blade, but the cutthroat could tell him nothing, having never seen his employer's face.
He did, however, reveal the identity of the other three men, who were arrested and put on trial, found guilty and executed all in one day.

  Blade healed more quickly than the healers had predicted, regaining his health a mere two tendays after the executions. To his disgust and amusement, the Queen assigned a bodyguard to protect him, and forbade him to leave the palace without his watchdog. Blade found it incongruous that an assassin should have a bodyguard, but Minna was adamant and would brook no argument. The soldier set to guard him was a pleasant, burly man named Lirek, a man of dogs with a brindled warhound familiar called Fang. True to the breed, Fang stood above knee height, with a robust, muscular frame, a whip-thin tail and lupine ears.

  The conspirators met once more before Lord Bellcamp fled the city, this time in Mendal's house. Suspicion and recrimination thickened the air, with Lord Bellcamp at the centre of the animosity. Lord Javare's scathing remarks made Bellcamp's hand stray often to the hilt of his sword, and Mendal barely managed to keep the three lords from each other's throats. Lord Durlan mopped nervous sweat from his fat features, his small eyes darting between the other two. Until this incident, he had been the most hated of the three, now Bellcamp had usurped him. When at last Javare had exhausted his supply of vitriol, the meeting became more business-like.

  Mendal frowned at the three lords. "So, Bellcamp has been discovered through his foolishness in trying to hire an assassin to kill one of his own. The point is, what are we going to do about it?"

  "You are the advisor," Javare retorted.

  "Bellcamp will have to leave the city, of course," Mendal said, turning to address the bearded lord. "Where will you go?"

  "I have a sister in Luxborg," Bellcamp said with surly indifference. "I shall stay with her."

  "We must kill the assassin," Durlan asserted, frowning.

  "Which one?" Mendal enquired.

  "Both, preferably, but particularly the bastard who lives in the palace."

  "It is Scar's head that I want," Bellcamp snarled. "He is the one who betrayed me."

  "That will not be easy," Mendal pointed out. "He is a good assassin, I have heard. He will not be an easy target, and you will find few willing to take him on."