The Queen's Blade

by T C Southwell

  Blade searched for someone more intelligent, and spotted a brown-clad man hurrying towards him. His animal kin was so easily recognisable Blade was hard put not to smile. The man’s hook-nosed face poked forward on a wrinkled neck, his bald pate gleamed in the dull light, and small brown eyes glared from under heavy lids. His movements, while giving the appearance of haste, had a ponderous quality about them, and Blade awaited his arrival with interest.

  “Who are you, sir, to ride in here unannounced?” the man demanded. “My lord, were he here, would not approve.”

  Blade switched to the high-born speech nobles used. “Indeed. And who might your lord be?”

  The man drew himself up. “Lord Conash, holder of the Queen’s favour, esteemed advisor and confidant of our illustrious matriarch and slayer of the despised King Shandor of the Cotti.”

  “He sounds like quite a man,” Blade commented.

  “He is indeed! He would be here to tell you this himself, if he wasn’t so utterly indispensable to the Queen that she insists on keeping him at her side.”

  “Ah, well, maybe he has other attributes that she requires,” Blade remarked, starting to enjoy himself.

  “How dare you?” the retainer spluttered. “How dare you insult my lord and the Queen herself?”

  “Did I? Is it so insulting to be chosen by the Queen, or for the Queen to choose from amongst her esteemed lords?”

  The man’s face reddened and his eyes bulged as he wrestled with this conundrum. “My Lord Conash is.... He wouldn’t... couldn’t….” He waved an arm. “I don’t have to explain myself to you, sir. Suffice it to say that such a thing could never happen.”

  Blade raised a brow at Lirek. “News does travel fast.” Lirek opened his mouth, but Blade held up a hand and addressed the retainer. “Tell me, my good man, do you know your lord well?”

  “Well?” He shook his head. “Not exactly.”

  “Truth be told, you do not know him at all, do you?”

  “Well, not personally, no.”

  “By reputation only, then?”

  The retainer nodded. “That’s right.”

  Blade started to pull off a glove, one finger at a time. “So you do not know what he looks like, do you?”

  “No.”

  “Nor do you know his signature.”

  “No.”

  Blade finished removing one glove and started on the other. “So if you were to receive a letter, signed by him, you would not know if it was indeed his signature, would you?”

  “Of course I would!”

  “How?”

  “I know a noble’s hand. I can tell a lord’s signature from some peasant’s forgery.”

  “Ah.” Blade folded his gloves, concentrating on the task to keep from laughing.

  “What’s this all about, anyway?” the retainer demanded. “What right have you to question me? You haven’t even told me who you are. And all these soldiers!” He glanced at the troops. “You can’t stay here. We can’t feed this many men, and besides, you have no permission from Lord Conash.”

  Blade smiled. “I do not need permission from Lord Conash. I am he.”

  The man stepped back, dismay wrinkling his brow, then suspicion dawned. “So say you!”

  Blade sighed, tiring of the game. “What, do I not look like a lord, even in such finery?” He glanced down at his black, silver-studded tunic. “Do I need to bring the Queen here to vouch for me? But then, you might doubt her identity, too.”

  He stepped closer and poked the man in the chest. “I sent a woman and her children here several moons ago, with a letter, and they were turned away. Is this how you serve your lord? Would you try to turn me away as well? Because I assure you, I will not leave so easily, and I have a company of the Queen’s men to back me up. Ask them who I am, if you wish, but if you do, you will be out of a job.”

  The retainer purpled, then paled, his eyes darting about the courtyard. Finally he dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “I’m sorry, My Lord Conash, I had no way of knowing you.”

  “Nor, apparently, my signature. A little less suspicion would have served you well, and if you had done as I ordered in the letter, I would not be here now, to make your life unpleasant.”

  “I apologise, My Lord.”

  “Bring me the woman and her children at once.”

  “Yes, My Lord.” The man jumped up and trotted away in the manner of an agitated tortoise.

  Blade smiled at Lirek, reverting to commoner’s speech with the ease of many years’ experience. “I could get used to this.”

  “You seem to have the knack of it, My Lord.”

  “Hmm. Well, let’s go and find something to eat and drink. A tankard or two of ale would go down well right now, I must say.”

  Lirek grinned. “I won’t argue with that.”

  Within the keep, they found willing serving girls and a well-stocked larder waiting to be washed down by an equally well-stocked cellar. Lirek was a compliant and pleasant drinking companion, if inclined to get bawdy. The over-eager squad leader and his junior officers joined them, but before long vanished in the company of giggling maids. Lirek eyed a buxom wench who winked at him, until Blade could stand it no longer and ordered him to give in to her blandishments.

  After Lirek was dragged away, looking apologetic, Blade drank alone, as he often did, and surveyed his domain. The décor was depressing. Dusty trophies stared down with accusing eyes and tattered battle flags dangled like dirty washing on the walls. A pile of ash resided in the massive fireplace, and the rushes on the floor gave off a dank smell.

  A scream from the doorway made him jump up and whip around in time to collect a ragged, dirty bundle of sobbing broken-nosed joy against his chest with such force that she almost bowled him over. A strong smell of cows accompanied her, mixed with the redolence of straw and dung. He fended her off, cursing. The smirking retainer and five snotty-nosed children stood in the doorway.

  “Lilu, get a hold of yourself.” He pushed her away. “You’ve spent too much time with the cows.”

  “Of course I have, because that buffoon couldn’t read your signature.” She shot the retainer a venomous glance.

  “I’m sure you’ll make him pay.”

  Her eyes glistened. “You came! I can’t believe it. You came all this way to save me.”

  “I did no such thing!” he denied hotly. “I came to inspect my estate.”

  She smiled. “Of course you did.”

  Blade glared at the lurking retainer. “Fetch the lady some wine.”

  After the man left, Lilu muttered, “Be careful of him. They say that he poisoned the last lord of this keep.”

  “Poison.” Blade grimaced.

  “Not something assassins use, hmm?”

  “Some do. There was one who used to give his victims poisoned sweetmeats, and he was successful.”

  “What happened to him?”

  Blade shrugged. “Poison doesn’t always work quickly enough.”

  “His victim killed him?”

  “His victim’s brother.”

  “Well, be careful of Vurk. I don’t trust him. He’s had this place to himself since he killed the last lord, some three years ago, I believe. Made himself rich from the mines.”

  “Unusual for a man of tortoises to be a killer,” Blade said.

  “He doesn’t have a familiar.”

  “Ah. That explains it.” He picked up his mug of ale and moved away from her, relieved that the children were quiet and unobtrusive. Lilu watched him, biting her lip. Blade leant against the mantelpiece and contemplated the ashes in the fireplace, brushing at them with the toe of his boot. He sipped the nutty ale and looked at Lilu.

  “I won’t be staying here long. This place is depressing.”

  She nodded. “It’s much better in the summer, I’ve heard. The autumn rains have turned everything to mud, but soon the snows will come.”

  “I’ll be gone before then. But even summer won’t cheer this place up. It’s like a to
mb.”

  “All it needs is a good cleaning, some new hangings and furniture. It could be quite nice.”

  A serving maid entered with wine for Lilu, and Blade spotted Vurk lurking in the shadows beside the door. He beckoned to the retainer.

  Vurk shuffled over and bowed. “My Lord.”

  “Your services here are terminated. You will pack your belongings and be off my estate within the next two days.”

  Vurk gaped, then spluttered, “But… My Lord! I’m in charge of this estate. I have been for -”

  “I do not care. You will pack and leave. I never want to see you again. Is that understood?”

  Vurk’s sullen eyes spat dull anger, but he bowed. “Yes My Lord.” He marched out, his back stiff with indignation. The serving maid stared after him.

  Blade turned to her. “You, go and order baths for myself and the lady. See that her children are fed and scrubbed with your strongest soap, then put to bed, in that order. Is a room ready for me?”

  She bobbed. “Yes My Lord.”

  Lilu smiled at him as the maid hurried off. “You’re getting quite good at this, aren’t you?”

  He shrugged, sipping his ale. “One problem solved, at least. Do you think you can manage the rest?”

  “You... you mean run the estate?”

  Blade smiled and shook his head. “No, I’ll hire someone better qualified than you for that job. Someone without sticky fingers, I hope. You can have charge of the keep, see to its running and make it a place worth living in. Can you do that?”

  “Yes! Of course I can!” Her eyes overflowed, and she started towards him. “Thank you, Blade.”

  He quit the fireplace and moved away, avoiding another smelly hug. “That’s settled then. I’ll see you tomorrow. It’s been a long journey, and I’m tired.”

  Lilu nodded, wiping her eyes. He banged down his ale tankard and strode out.

 

  Over the next few days, Lilu rallied a small army of servants to wash, mop, brush and polish. They tore down the old curtains and musty banners and swept out the ancient rushes. The stuffed trophies fed the kitchen fires, and Lilu supervised the creation of delicious dishes in the massive ovens. After a few days of riding over his estate, inspecting the mines and surveying the woods, Blade grew bored and helped with the work, enjoying the activity. By the end of the first tenday, the soldiers also joined in. Lilu found a trader who sold quality cloth, elegant furniture and rich tapestries, persuading Blade to part with a sizeable fortune to refurnish the keep.

  After three tendays, Blade judged the place to be quite habitable, and was a little sorry to return to the Queen’s palace. He appointed an honest-seeming estate manager to replace Vurk. The man almost wept with gratitude and swore to serve Blade faithfully for the rest of his life. The assassin told Lilu to keep an eye the new manager and ordered him, in turn, to watch over Lilu, content that they would find each other out if either became dishonest, unless they got together and compared notes. Lilu wept on the day he left, much to his disgust and embarrassment, and he scowled at those soldiers amongst the company who dared to smile at her obvious affection for their taciturn lord.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Blade arrived at Minna-Satu’s palace just ahead of the first winter storm, which swept through the city on his heels, depositing knee-deep snow and making travelling almost impossible. Wet and tired, he strode to his room to strip off his mud-stained clothes. He had barely shucked his soggy cloak and damp gloves when the door burst open. Chiana paused on the threshold, then advanced.

  Blade eyed her. “Do not tell me the Queen already knows I have returned.”

  Chiana bowed. “My Lord. The Queen knew even before you entered the city.”

  He sighed. “Of course.”

  “She wishes to see you at once.”

  Blade was struck by the chief advisor’s subdued attitude and air of pent-up anguish. “What is it?”

  “That is for the Queen to tell you.”

  He stripped off his damp tunic, throwing it on the rack. “Something momentous has happened.”

  “Yes.”

  Blade frowned. “More plots?”

  “No. Far worse than that.”

  The assassin shrugged on a dry tunic. “Very well, take me to her.”

  When Blade entered the Queen’s morning room, Minna-Satu turned from the windows with a welcoming smile. Chiana stopped just inside the portal and performed her prostration, rising to stand with her hands folded. Blade approached the Queen, whose eyes shimmered with something more than mere gladness.

  He bowed. “My Queen.”

  “Lord Conash. Welcome back.”

  “Thank you.”

  She motioned to the cushions. “Sit. We will have wine.”

  Chiana left to order it, and Blade sat on a pile of embroidered cushions while Minna settled on another. She wrung a knot of white linen he assumed had once been a handkerchief, but that now resembled a rag. Her distress struck him as odd; he had never imagined Minna-Satu capable of weeping. He waited while she composed herself. Shista slumbered in a patch of sunlight as usual, oblivious to the undercurrents.

  Minna took a deep breath. “I require your advice. King Jan-Durval has been slain by his son-in-law, Prince Verone, lately a widower. Our kingdoms were bonded by blood, for the son of Queen Jilla-Peru, my grandmother, wed King Jan-Durval’s sister, Earist.

  “Now the bond has been broken. The King and his sons are all dead, slain by the imposter prince. King Jan-Durval was our greatest ally, and defended our western border against the desert army. No sooner had I heard of his death, I was informed that Prince Verone no longer stands by our treaty.” Minna bowed her head. “His army has invaded Jashimari lands to the west.”

  Blade frowned at the red wine in his cup, likening it to the blood that would soon be spilt in this new war.

  Minna sipped hers. “I have sent troops to our western border, and even now refugees flood from the region, hampered by the snow. We cannot hope to win this war. I have no other allies. The savages to the east are peaceful, but they will do nothing to aid us. Jashimari will be overrun before the year is out.”

  Blade set aside his cup. “Is there no hope of a treaty?”

  “No. Prince Verone desires conquests. He knows the Endless War has weakened my kingdom. He knows Jashimari will be an easy conquest when beset on two sides.”

  The assassin stared out of the window at the leaden sky heavy with unshed snow and unborn storms. It befitted the bloody war that was coming, as sorrowful as a funeral day. With the Cotti to the south and only icy wastes further north, there was no way out for the Jashimari people, nowhere to run but for the bog lands of the east, where people, it was said, lived like animals and scratched a living in the mud. He lowered his gaze to the snoring sand cat as he pondered just how much he disliked having weighty decisions thrown into his lap. If not for his elevation, he would have survived whatever befell the kingdom, unconcerned. Even now, all he wanted was to disappear into the city’s back streets and find a good alehouse. His hatred of the Cotti had prompted him to kill King Shandor, but he bore the Contaran people no rancour.

  Aware that the Queen awaited his reply, he said, “Assassinate this Prince Verone.”

  Minna smiled and shook her head. “He has five grown sons and scores of grandsons. Even if you killed them all, there are cousins and nephews, three brothers, four sisters and numberless in-laws. King Jan-Durval was old and ailing; his people had grown tired of his puritanical ways and iron-fisted rule. They have embraced this new prince. They welcome the war and the spoils it will bring.

  “We need a powerful army to survive, but all I have is a war-weary people whose sons, brothers and fathers have been slaughtered on the desert border, and now face a new threat from the west. Already I have weakened the desert border by sending troops to the west, for it is easier to defend.

  “Soon I shall be sending raw recruits, boys barely out of their teens, to the front to be slaughtered. When they a
re all gone, Prince Verone will invade, slaughter and rape our women, plunder our land. The desert armies will invade from the south, and perhaps the two will strike a bargain to divide the remainder of my land, and Jashimari will be no more.”

  Blade jumped up and strode over to the window. “What would you have me say? I am not an advisor. I have no solution to offer you.”

  “You are no fool, either.”

  The assassin placed his hands on the window ledge and gazed at the spires visible beyond the palace’s garden walls. “Does Kerrion know about his child?” He looked around to find her staring at the crumpled handkerchief.

  “No.”

  “If this child is meant to bring peace, why wait? If you can make peace with the Cotti, it will leave you in a position to fight the Contarans.”

  “Kerrion has yet to be crowned. My spy in his palace tells me that he faces a blatant challenge from his brother, Prince Lerton.” She looked up with a wan smile. “Oddly, it is your doing. He is accused of colluding with a whore to murder his father. If Lerton convinces the judges, Kerrion will be deposed and face execution for treason.”

  Blade snorted, suppressing a chuckle.

  “It is a serious matter,” Minna admonished. “If Kerrion is ousted, my plans also fail. There is no hope of peace with Lerton.”

  “Is there much with Kerrion?”

  “Shamsara predicted it.”

  “Yet he did not predict the Contaran invasion.”

  “He made no mention of it, no.”

  Blade pushed himself away from the window. “I see no solution to this problem, My Queen.”

  “You do, just as I do, but you will not admit it.” She gestured to the cushions. “Sit, My Lord.”

  Blade obeyed, studying the embroidered hem of her skirt.

  She said, “I wish there was another way out of this, but I see none. Look at me.”

  Surprised, he met her eyes.

  Minna shivered as if a chill shot down her spine, but held his gaze. “The fate of Jashimari rests with you, Blade. Kerrion must ascend the throne if we are to survive.”

  “You are ordering my death.”

  She looked away. “Perhaps not. I have sent a message to my spy. He will conduct you to the Cotti oasis, and Kerrion’s palace. Once you have testified to the judges, make good your escape, and he will bring you back to Jashimari.”