Queenslayer

by Sebastien de Castell

  Just as I felt the tip push into the skin of my neck I caught a blinding flash of fire followed by a deafening thunder that left my ears ringing. It also left Arrasia’s blood and brain matter splattered across my face. I was horrified to discover some flecks of skull and hair had fallen inside my mouth. Her body slid sideways off me, and I got my hands underneath myself just in time to vomit on the floor instead of down my nice purple-trimmed shirt.

  “Been waitin’ a long time to do that,” a voice said—a deep, older man’s voice with a thick frontier accent. Not quite a borderlands twang; a little more refined, but still carrying that tell-tale rustic drawl. I wiped my face and looked up to see a man in a marshal’s grey riding uniform reach down to haul me up by the shoulder. My saviour was a little taller than me and a whole lot older. Grey hair long enough to brush his shoulders framed a face etched with lines from sun and wind. In his right hand he held a pair of rough metal tubes, each about a foot and a half long, welded together. Smoke billowed from the end of one of the tubes.

  A Gitabrian fire lance, I realised, though I’d never seen two banded together like that, and this was more compact than the four-footers I’d encountered last time I was in Cazaran.

  “I’m Jed Colfax,” the man said, hauling me up to my feet.

  “Colfax? Head of the marshals service?”

  “So they remind me, on occasion.”

  Everything he said managed to sound cool, like he was out for a midnight stroll instead of having just blown a woman’s head off with a pair of customised fire lances. I wiped more of Arrasia’s last will and testament from my face and neck before extending a hand. “Kellen.”

  He nodded. “I know. Sorry I didn’t get here faster, but then again, you never invited me.”

  “It was supposed to be a private party,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, we don’t really take to private parties around here, Mister Kellen.” He glanced down at Reichis. “That thing going to bite me?” he asked.

  The squirrel cat swallowed something that I didn’t really want to identify.

  “Nah,” I said. “He’s probably pretty full by now.”

  “That’s one weird-looking dog, if you don’t mind me saying.”

  Reichis growled. I waved him down. “I’m not the one you have to worry about offending. But he’s not a dog. He’s a squirrel cat.”

  “Really?” Colfax knelt down—a very stupid thing to do—but I noticed he’d slid his twin fire lance into a long leather holster across his back and now held a marshal’s mace in his left hand, just in case. “Never saw a squirrel cat this big.”

  “That’s probably as close as you want to see this particular one.”

  Colfax rose. “You’re probably right. He could use a bath.”

  Reichis chittered something I couldn’t make out. He’s hard to understand when he gets all wound up from fighting.

  “Yeah, well, I could use one too, at this point.”

  The servant from earlier arrived with a tray and a glass tumbler filled with whisky. I accepted it and took a small sip before putting the glass on the floor.

  “You don’t like it, sir? I could get you something—”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “It wasn’t for me.”

  The servant looked down to see Reichis lapping it up.

  “Seems like a lot for something his size, don’t it?” Colfax asked.

  “Yeah, but if he’s passed out drunk, I won’t have to hear him brag all night.”

  The servant gave a shy smile and left.

  “Listen,” I said to Colfax, “thanks for the save. Really.”

  “Least I could do. Never had much use for Arrasia. Never had a chance to do nothing about it until now. Just got back into the capital and heard about your little card game with the queen. Figured something would be happening tonight. Would’ve liked to put Koresh down too, but it looks like you got to him before me.”

  “Someone should probably come and—”

  He waved a hand. “Got a couple of boys on the way. They’ll have the remains cleared out by morning. Same with this assassin fellow here. Looks Zhuban. Hard to be sure though, what with your little friend’s, ah, proclivities.”

  “They said his name was Oleis,” I said.

  The marshal pulled out a small notebook from his grey leather coat and held it against the wall as he wrote down the name. “That’s somethin’ anyway. Thanks.”

  “Like I said, I’m grateful for the assistance.”

  Colfax shrugged. “Reckon you probably saved the queen a lot of grief here tonight. We’ve been looking for a way to deal with these two for months, but, you know, the law’s the law.”

  I nodded. “Well, you can buy me dinner sometime and we’ll call it even.”

  Colfax shook his head. “’Fraid I can’t do that, Kellen.”

  “No?”

  “When I said taking out Arrasia was the least I could do for you, I really meant the most. Now I’m going to have to ask you to go back to your room, pack your things and leave the capital. Matter of fact, I’d be much obliged if you kept on ridin’ till you were out of my country entirely.”

  My fingers slipped into the holsters at my side before I remembered it wouldn’t do any good. The magical wards Koresh had commissioned would still be in place, even if he himself was dead. If I tried to use the powders right now all I’d accomplish would be to blow my own hands off.

  “It’s nothing personal,” Colfax went on, “but unlike a lot of these fools, I know what that stuff around your eye means.”

  Ancestors. I really couldn’t catch a break in this town. “If I was being controlled by a demon, don’t you think I’d have an easier time wreaking destruction on the world?”

  “Don’t know, kid. How long have you had the shadowblack?”

  “About two years now.”

  The marshal pulled a rolled-up cigarette from his coat pocket and stuck it in his mouth. “How long do you figure you have before those markings wind their way inside your head and your heart? How long before you wake up and both your eyes are coal-black and the nice, well-meaning kid before me is replaced by something I won’t be able to kill?”

  It was a question I’d been asking myself for some time, but I didn’t need him to know that. Instead I gave a dismissive laugh. “Wouldn’t’ve expected the head of the queen’s marshals service to be so superstitious.”

  A little fire was still burning on the floor near Koresh’s body. The marshal knelt down and used it to light his cigarette. “You’re right, Kellen, and if I was a betting man, I might even wager on it never happening. Hell, maybe it’s all just stories. But this is the queen we’re talking about, and I don’t take chances with her. Not ever.”

  “You do realise she’s the one who hired me?”

  “Yep. It’ll break her heart when you up and run away.” He gestured with his cigarette to the still-smouldering carcasses of Koresh and Arrasia. “Bad as those two were, Kellen, I reckon you’re a lot more dangerous. Better for everyone if you leave now, before things get ugly.”

  I’d come to the same conclusion after nearly getting killed by a flying snake. But I’d been pushed out of one place or another just about every day for the past six months, and I was getting tired of how easy everybody thought it would be to do it again. “And if I decide to stay?”

  “Well, then I’ll respect your gumption.” He took a drag from his cigarette. “And then I’ll have to decide what to do about it.”

  “You’ve seen what I can do. Hells, you’ve seen what the squirrel cat can do. You sure you want to make an enemy of me right from the start?”

  Colfax smiled. “Son, I’ve served the queen since she was born; served her father before her and his father before him. I’ve dealt with all kinds of threats to the Daroman throne, and I’ll figure out how to put an end to you. And as for your squirrel cat? Well, I already know how to deal with him.”

  “Oh yeah? How?”

  He pointed to Reichis, who was passed out sno
ring on the floor, curled up next to the dead body of Oleis. “Buy him a drink.”

  Colfax tossed the remains of his cigarette onto Koresh’s corpse and turned to walk down the hall away from me. I stood there like an idiot for a few minutes until I was sure whatever Arrasia had thrown at me had worn off. Then I reached down and picked up Reichis and stumbled back to our room. Somehow, after risking our necks and actually winning this fight, I’d managed to upgrade my nemeses, from a couple of amateur child beaters to the legendary head of the queen’s own marshals service.

  16

  Unexpected Conversations

  By mid-morning on my second day at court I was fairly sure that I’d made a tactical error in not letting Koresh and Arrasia kill me when I’d had the chance. The novelty of my presence had worn off, and no one bothered to mask their contempt for me. It turns out that “Who brought that animal in here? Oh, no—I meant him” was the favourite joke of the court these days. Reichis loved it.

  “Hey, I’m not the one who wiped blood on the Daroman flag, pal. You should be more careful next time.”

  “Go hump a weasel,” I said.

  Arex strode over to us. “Didn’t you see me motion for you, you halfwit? Come on. The queen has requested your presence.” He held up a finger. “And before you ask? Yes, ‘requested’ is a euphemism in the Daroman court.”

  I followed behind him as we navigated our way through a smothering sea of brocade silk and velvet garments. The assembled nobles struck me as vain and overfed, but I swear I felt the hilt of a concealed dagger whenever I brushed too close to any of them. As we approached the throne, the crowd took notice of our trajectory and one by one abandoned their conversations to focus on us.

  Arex bowed to the queen. “Your Majesty,” he said.

  She smiled at him. “Cousin Arex. Are you still pestering my poor old royal herald?”

  “Cerreck and I have a troubled relationship, Your Majesty. I shall endeavour to make better friends with him at once.”

  “Do so,” she said. “He’s been here longer than any of us and doesn’t deserve such abuse.”

  Arex grinned. “Forgive me for saying so, Your Majesty, but I believe he deserves such abuse precisely because of how long he’s been here.”

  The queen shook her head, though her smile widened. “You’re a terrible man, Arex. A sterner monarch would have you beheaded.”

  Murmurs and angry whispers erupted from the audience. Apparently the Daroman court doesn’t appreciate its eleven-year-old monarch making jokes about beheading. The queen showed no signs of taking notice of the disapproval, but Arex did. “What, have me executed? Just like that? Can’t we play a game of cards first?”

  The jibe produced chortles from the crowd, and an almost palpable sense of relief. He’s protecting her, I realised. They don’t trust their young queen, so they rely on Arex to handle her.

  She waved a dismissive hand at her social secretary. The gesture looked silly coming from a child. “Away with you, Arex. Leave me to my new tutor of cards.”

  Arex rose and walked past me, whispering, “Careful, kid. Always remember that it’s never just the two of you in here.”

  “Master Kellen,” the queen began.

  “Mister,” I reminded her.

  “Ah, of course. Mister Kellen. Have you enjoyed your first days at court?”

  I thought back to my encounter with Leonidas, which had likely put a target on my back, and the multiple breaches of etiquette that had earned me no shortage of enemies and no small amount of scorn. “They’ve been… instructive, Your Majesty.”

  “Good,” she said. “You’ve so much to teach us, it’s only fair that we teach you something in return.”

  “Ugh,” Reichis groaned. “She’s teaching me why I find humans so pompous.”

  The queen looked down at Reichis as if it was the first time she’d seen him, which was impossible since he’d been creating such a stir since our arrival. “By my ancestors, who is this roguish fellow? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a felidus arborica up close before!”

  “This is Reichis, Your Majesty.”

  “Your pet?”

  Reichis growled, so I quickly said, “My business partner.”

  The entire court laughed at that one. Reichis didn’t think it was very funny. The queen smiled warmly though. “He’s so handsome. I wonder… would he sit on my lap?”

  “No damn way,” Reichis chittered at me.

  I looked down at him with as meaningful a stare as I could muster. When that didn’t work, I kicked him.

  “Ow. Damn it. All right already.”

  The squirrel cat ambled over to the throne, crawling reluctantly up the stairs before climbing into the queen’s lap. Murmurs of “ooh” and “oh my” filled the room like a soft ocean wave. The queen was delighted. “My goodness, his fur is so soft!” she remarked, stroking him gently.

  Reichis endured it with as much grace as I’d come to expect from him, which is to say a fairly steady stream of curse words followed by promises of ways in which he’d get his revenge on me later.

  “He does make such comical sounds,” the queen said, stroking his ear between her fingers.

  “You won’t be finding them comical when I’m done eating your fingers,” he warned. “Stupid cow.”

  Suddenly the queen did something very dangerous: she twisted Reichis’s ear. Hard. She’d done it subtly enough that most probably hadn’t noticed, but I sure did. So did Reichis. “Kellen, these Daroman bastards are going to have to find a new head of state if this stunted skinbag doesn’t take her damned paws off me right now!”

  I felt my hands reach towards my holsters. Reichis wasn’t stupid; he knew that attacking the queen would be the end of us. But she probably wasn’t smart enough to know that if she kept twisting his ear, he’d kill her anyway. “Your Majesty…”

  The queen let go of his ear and then bent her head down and whispered something to him.

  Reichis’s ears went flat against his head even as his fur suddenly changed to a pale yellow. He looked like he’d been hit by a thunderbolt. “Kellen!” he chittered frantically.

  “What’s wrong?”

  His eyes found mine. I’d never seen him look so shocked. “This bitch speaks squirrel cat!”

  17

  The Countess of Sorrow

  I stared agape at the queen, then at Reichis, convinced that he must be playing a joke on me. But the squirrel cat’s expression was deadly serious. How could this be possible? No one but me understood Reichis.

  The queen caught my gaze. “It’s remarkable how expressive his little noises are,” she said. “One almost feels as if one could understand his every word.” People laughed at the silliness of her casual remark. She smiled innocently. Reichis looked terrified. “I shall leave it up to you, master of cards, to ensure that your noble companion learns the appropriate ways to address a Daroman queen.” More laughter ensued.

  She gave Reichis a pat on the bottom and he skittered off her lap and back to me, placing a paw on my leg for reassurance. I’d never heard of anyone else being able to understand Reichis. To everyone but me he was just a brown lump of fur that made chittering and growling noises. How did this end up being the most terrifying thing that’s happened since I got here?

  “I must regretfully give him back to you, Mister Kellen,” the queen said. “Otherwise my loyal subjects will fear I begin to play favourites.”

  That turned out not to be as popular a joke. People here seemed to take careful notice every time the queen chose to grant an audience. During the interludes between her encounters, the nobles kept score among themselves as to whose star was rising and whose was waning. I held no illusions as to my own when the queen apparently forgot even to dismiss me. I skulked away as gracefully as I could manage, which, judging by the snorts and sly looks that followed me, hadn’t been particularly successful.

  “You can breathe now, master card player. The axe has passed you by for today.”

  I turne
d to find a short fellow in modest court clothing consisting of fitted, if not stylish, beige shirt and trousers beneath a white brocade coat that did a passingly fair job of masking his portly physique. He was blessed with just about the plainest, most innocuous features a man could have without actually disappearing into the background entirely. Everything about him was somewhat or rather: his posture was somewhat stooped, his hair rather thin. He was somewhat older than the other courtiers, and as he noticed my scrutiny of him, he offered up a rather friendly smile. The only definitive thing about him was that he looked almost as out of place as I did.

  “Adrius Martius,” he said, extending a hand.

  “Kellen. Kellen Argos.”

  “Argos,” he repeated. “That doesn’t sound like any Jan’Tep family name I’ve heard. Are you perhaps one of those wandering Argosi who appear every once in a while to stir up trouble?” He took note of the glint of steel from the deck of cards strapped to my right thigh. “I’ve heard tell of one who came through the capital some months ago. Got herself an audience with the queen in fact. Odd woman.”

  “Was it Ferius Parfax?” I asked.

  “I don’t recall her name,” he said.

  Had Ferius been here, in Darome? A thousand questions came to mind, none of which I could risk asking without giving too much away. I’d have to find some other means to learn if it had been her, and if so, what she had been doing here. “What do you do, Adrius Martius?” I asked.

  He smiled, taking the shift in conversation in his stride. “Oh, very little really. Like most people here, I suppose.”

  I took the opening, but carefully. “The wealthy do seem to have… rather a lot of time to devote to court life.”

  Martius laughed. “Well said, master card player. I see you’re already learning diplomacy.”

  “It seems to be the Daroman way,” I replied.

  “Ah, but not always, my boy. We were a fierce people once. Not just the soldiers like Leonidas over there, but us nobles as well.”