The Queen's Blade V - Master of the Dance

by T C Southwell

  "You should not make enemies of them."

  "They are already my enemies. They hate me for what I am, and nothing I do or say will change that."

  Insash spread his hands. "You could prove them wrong."

  "But they are right. I am just a peasant who was raised on a goat farm and then in the gutter. I am not ashamed of it, but I do not need to be scorned for it either, especially by them."

  Blade marched away before Insash could reply, and the advisor stared after him until he vanished around a corner, then returned to the audience chamber to try to soothe the lords. To his surprise, he found that although a good many were irate, particularly Lord Fothal, a number seemed to have found a grudging respect for the assassin.

  Five days later, Blade's second audience went far better. Lord Fothal was conspicuously absent, and the rest seemed subdued. In fact, for several minutes after Blade had raised the sceptre, silence reigned. When a lord did step forward, it was to request supplies for the barracks situated on his estate, which Blade granted, after glancing at Insash. Since there were no major problems to debate, none of the advisors had anything to say, and after settling a few requests and one petty dispute, Blade ended the audience.

  Nine days after Chiana fell into the coma, Verdan became edgy. He hardly left her bedside, unlike the assassin, who had not visited her at all. This bothered the old healer, and, on one of his rare breaks from his vigil, he went in search of the elusive assassin-regent. He found him in the garden, seated under a fire tree. Blade leant against it, a book open on his lap and his eyes closed, apparently asleep, but he opened his eyes as Verdan walked up. The healer stopped before him, hesitant, although Blade gazed into the distance.

  "My Lord..."

  "Is she awake?"

  "No. I came to request your presence at her bedside, however. She will wake soon."

  Blade turned his head to look at the old healer. "And you cannot understand why I am not sitting there now, holding her hand."

  "In truth I cannot. Your feelings, or lack of them, are your own affair, but she is your wife."

  "Indeed, but I did not want her. Already I have put myself out to play regent and court fop for this kingdom, an onerous duty, which I despise. Do not expect me to play the dutiful husband as well."

  Verdan studied the assassin, who looked paler than usual, and thinner, his sculpted features almost delicate. His silver-ornamented black jacket was unlaced, revealing a grey silk shirt tucked into the high waistband of similarly patterned trousers. His hair, cut short during his visit to Cotti, had grown long enough to flop over his brow, and contrasted starkly with his pale skin. The new scar that ran along his cheekbone had sparked much debate about its infliction amongst the palace populace. Although Blade had always been intensely aloof, his loneliness now held a hint of sorrow, as if he had lost something. Verdan lowered himself to the grass, mindful of his old bones.

  "I know you care for her."

  "Then you know more than I."

  "Of what are you afraid?"

  "Only death. But I feel that will claim me soon, and it will be welcome."

  Verdan shook his head, fighting a rush of frustration. "You do not fear death. It is life that terrifies you. That is why you court death. You fear your feelings for Chiana because they can hold you to life, and you are too bitter to allow yourself to enjoy it."

  Blade rested his head against the tree and gazed at the sky. "I have no feelings for Chiana."

  "For God's sake, stop lying to yourself. When she awakes, she will need you desperately. She will need your support, and, at the very least, your affection."

  "No, you are wrong. She will hate me."

  "She loves you."

  The assassin lowered his wintry gaze to Verdan's face. "Your familiar is alive and well, is it not?"

  "Of course."

  "Then do not presume to know what Chiana will feel when she awakes. I know. I have been there. I am still there, in the cold solitude of the Bereft."

  Blade jumped up and strode away, leaving Verdan stunned by the revelation of his curt words. Unless he was mistaken, Blade had just allowed him a brief glimpse into the workings of his mind.

  Chiana slept through the tenth day, and the eleventh and twelfth, until it seemed that Blade would be forced to endure another audience. Verdan began to feed her potions designed to wake the unconscious from the deepest slumber, but still she slept on. Verdan's concern grew, and he visited Blade in his rooms on the thirteenth day, finding the assassin sharpening his daggers. The healer eyed the weapons as he approached the table at which Blade sat, stropping a dagger to razor keenness on a length of leather.

  Straightening from his bow, Verdan demanded, "Why does Chiana not wake up? You have been through this, as you pointed out the other day, so tell me."

  The assassin shrugged. "She does not wish to."

  "But she must."

  "She does not care."

  "You mean..." Verdan stared at Blade, horrified. "She has become like you?"

  Blade chuckled, wiping the dagger. "No, she will never be like me. Nor will she ever again be like herself."

  "How can I wake her?"

  "You cannot. She will wake, never fear."

  "You could help."

  Blade shook his head. "No. I could, but I will not."

  "How long did you sleep?"

  "I do not recall."

  "Tell me what is happening to her. I must try to help her."

  "You cannot." Blade put down the dagger and leant back in his chair. "She is with her familiar's spirit, which lingers. She is reliving Inka's death, over and over again. The longer a person is bonded, the longer it takes to awaken from the death they share. Soon the spirit will leave, and she will wake. Let her have her time with Inka, it is her last."

  "I see." Verdan bowed his head, and left the assassin to sharpen his daggers in peace.

  Chapter Twenty One

  The next day, Chiana awoke. The first sign of her revival was the tears that seeped from beneath her eyelids, then she started to sob. Her maidens rushed to prepare a hot broth and a cup of mulled wine, but Verdan watched her with growing concern. She moaned and tossed, then sat up with a huge gasp, her eyes flying open. A multitude of expressions chased each other across her face.

  Grief, pain and rage, horror, hatred and intense sorrow. She drew a great breath and cried Inka's name in a sorrowful, broken wail, tears streaming down her cheeks. Verdan sat beside her and reached for her hands to try to comfort her, but she snatched them away. Flinging back the covers, she slid from the bed, clad only in her satin nightgown. Chiana raced across the room, heading for the doors that opened onto the balcony two floors above the ground, and Verdan gasped as he realised her intent.

  "Stop her!"

  His shout galvanised the maidens, and two sprinted to intercept her before she reached the doors, grabbing her arms. She fought them like a wild animal, kicking, scratching and growling, her eyes wild and her lips drawn back in a snarl. Two more maidens entered the fray, and were kicked and scratched for their pains. As they struggled, Verdan turned to the only maiden not involved in the tussle.

  "Fetch Lord Conash. Run!"

  The girl fled, and Verdan approached the wrestling women, trying to grab one of Chiana's flailing arms. He received a smack in the face for his troubles, and retreated, moving around them to bar the doors instead. Chiana spat and snarled, shouting at the women to let her go and cursing them foully. It took all four of them to hold her, for she seemed to possess incredible strength. Verdan attempted to soothe her with soft words, but she was deaf to his entreaties. One of the maidens yelped as Chiana got hold of her hair and tried to rip it out by the roots.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the doors opened to admit the assassin, who took in the violent scene with a glance. He walked across the room towards Verdan, his face a mask, and when he reached the doors, he waved the old healer away.

  As soon as Verdan had moved aside, Blade said, "Let her go."

/>   Verdan opened his mouth to protest, but the maidens were more than willing to relinquish their hold on Chiana, and released her. Chiana flew at her husband, her hands outstretched like claws, reaching for his face. His hands flashed up to grab her wrists, preventing her from clawing his face. She wrenched free with a growl, twisting past him to lunge for the glass-paned doors. Blade whipped around and caught her by the waist, sweeping her away from them, then flung her from him before she could attack him.

  Chiana landed hard, skidding across the smooth floor as she clawed at it. She sprang to her feet and charged him again. He sidestepped and grabbed her waist once more, throwing her back into the room. She rolled across the floor, scrabbling for purchase, then jumped up and flew at him again. This time Blade stood his ground, and she crashed into his chest so hard that he staggered back. His hands moved in a blur to grip her wrists, but not before she managed to slap him.

  Chiana strived to jerk free while he hung on, struggling to stay on his feet as his boots skidded on the smooth floor. She threw herself about in a frenzy, dragging him around with amazing strength. Blade's expression was cold and grim, yet his eyes burnt with rage.

  Just when Verdan was becoming convinced that Chiana had gone completely and irrevocably mad, she straightened and tossed back her tangled hair. She met Blade's wintry gaze, her eyes ablaze with fury.

  "Let me go!"

  "No. If you want to die, Chiana, then do it. Die. Follow her into the Everlasting, but not by going through that door."

  Verdan opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. In this situation he knew nothing, and was not about to interfere.

  Chiana snarled, "I cannot! You know I cannot. Let me go!"

  "No."

  "You bastard! I hate you!"

  "Of course you do. If you want to go through that door, then kill me. Here." Blade released one of her wrists and drew a dagger from his belt, which he pressed into her hand.

  Verdan's heart leapt into his mouth, and Chiana's eyes lighted as she gripped the weapon's hilt. She tried to turn it upon herself, but Blade caught her wrist and twisted it until the weapon was pressed to his throat.

  "Come on, Chiana. You want to die? Kill me first. Then you can die, I promise. Do it!"

  Chiana's face twisted, and she pressed the dagger against his throat until blood oozed from its razor edge. At the sight of it, her eyes widened and she gave a broken whimper, releasing the weapon, which clattered to the floor. Verdan let out his pent breath in a sigh. She sobbed and crumpled, falling to her knees. Blade went down on one knee, still holding her wrists.

  "You want to die? Come on then, kill me. You can do it." Blade picked up the dagger and pressed it into her hand again.

  She lifted her head and glared at him, raising the dagger. His eyes narrowed. Tears ran down her cheeks, then she flung the weapon away with a sob and beat him with her fist instead.

  "Let me go!"

  He caught her flailing arm, preventing her from pounding on his chest, and raised his head to glare at Verdan. "Get out, all of you."

  The healer hesitated, loath to quit the room while the situation was still so volatile, then followed the maidens, who ran to obey Blade's command.

  As soon as the door closed behind them, Blade turned to gaze down at his sobbing wife.

  "Let me go, Blade. Please, let me die," she begged.

  "No. You still have much to do. I do not intend to remain Regent for the next ten years. You have a kingdom to rule."

  "I do not care! They can all go to Damnation!"

  "I know. And they probably will, but Inka has gone to the Everlasting. Her suffering has ended forever."

  "I want to join her." Chiana raised a pale, tear-ravaged face, gaunt from deprivation and suffering. "I am so alone."

  "If I can endure it, so can you."

  "I do not want to."

  Blade stood up and pulled her to her feet, giving her a shake when she sagged against him. "I do not care what you want. I will not let you go through that door, and begging does not move me, as you should know."

  "Many have begged you for their lives, but how many have begged you to kill them? Kill me, Blade. It is the one thing at which you are really good."

  "I swore that I would not, remember? And few lived long enough to beg for their lives when I was sent to kill them."

  She glowered at him, trying to tug her wrists from his grip. "I hate you."

  "Good. Hate me, I do not care. But if you hate me, why did you not kill me?"

  "Because I am not a murderer."

  A slight smile tugged at his lips. "Good answer."

  "You are a cold-hearted bastard."

  "Yes, I am."

  "Let me go!"

  Blade released her, and she swayed without his support, then tried to move around him. He stepped into her path, and she frowned at him.

  "Get out of my way."

  "Make me. Do you think you are quick enough to get past me? Try."

  She shook her head. "I am not a fool."

  "Then kill me. Here." He drew another dagger and held it out. "Do it, and you are free to leap to your death."

  Chiana slapped his hand away. "No."

  "Why not?"

  "I have told you."

  "Ah, yes, you are not a murderer. What are you afraid of? The axe man?"

  "No." She stepped towards him and shoved him in the chest, forcing him to step back. "You bastard. You are a lying, deceitful, cold-blooded killer."

  "Goading me will not work either, I am afraid." He sheathed the dagger. "And that was not a very good attempt at insulting me. It is all perfectly true."

  Chiana clutched her chest. "It hurts."

  "I know." He took her wrist and dragged her over to the bed, pushing her down on it. She glared up at him, and his eyes flicked away, gazing into the distance.

  "When I woke from my sleep, I was in chains, shackled to the boys on either side of me. I was empty. But not just empty, for the void within me was filled with agony. My familiar had been disembowelled, and I felt his pain as if it was my own.

  "His death dragged me into the darkness with him, and I shall never forget the pain of it. When I woke, I tried to kill myself with the chains, but the boys stopped me. Their familiars had not been killed; they were a lizard and a beetle. A Cotti officer came and unshackled me. He took me to his tent and tied my hands behind my back, then left me. I wept."

  His eyes flicked back to her and roamed over her face, lingering on the trails of moisture that still ran down her cheeks. "I wept for days. My tears washed away the pain. Not all of it, but enough to let me live with it, as I still do. From the moment I wake to the time I sleep, I still feel it. Revenge fuelled me, and I lived for it."

  "I do not want vengeance," she whispered. "I only want to die."

  "That will pass, and I will promise you a gift if you promise to live. I will bring you Endor and make him suffer before he dies."

  She looked away. "I do not care if he dies, and I have no wish to see it."

  Blade slapped her. Chiana gasped and tried to jump up, but he shoved her back. She glared at him, holding her cheek. Her eyes, which had been flooding with melancholy, filled once more with fury.

  A mocking smile curled his lips. "That is better. Hate me, Chiana. Live for the hate. Let it sustain you."

  "I do hate you, you bastard. You have brought me nothing but pain, and you still do."

  "And chances are, I always will. But now you know why, do you not?"

  She lowered her gaze. "Yes."

  "Good. And hate is good. It is better than the melancholy and endless sorrow into which most people plunge. They spend the rest of their miserable existence waiting for death to release them from the torture of their empty lives. Unless they have someone to hate."

  "Like you."

  "Yes." He sat beside her. "And now you hate me, because the one creature you loved above all else is gone, and you cannot allow yourself to love anyone else."

  Chiana buried her face in
her hands and sobbed, her thin shoulders shaking. Blade sighed and draped a blanket around her to stave off the cold, then lay down and rubbed his chest where she had hit him. He waited for the next outburst, which did not take long to come. She leapt up and dashed for the balcony again. He rolled off the bed, his boots skidding on the smooth floor.

  A rug almost floored him, but he grabbed the back of her nightgown and yanked her off her feet. He caught her before she cracked her head on the floor, fell to his knees and held her against his chest. Chiana flailed at him, landing several painful blows on his head and face before he grabbed her wrists. Turning her head, she tried to bite his arm, but he kept it out of her reach. She twisted to glare up at him with impotent fury, then spat in his face.

  "Damn you! I hope you rot in Damnation, you bastard!"

  "I probably will." He wiped his cheek on his sleeve and waited for her to give up the unequal struggle, holding her pinned. Her fury was uncharacteristic, and he knew that it stemmed from the severing of the ties with her gentle familiar. Already she was losing the soft nature and meek ways of a woman of doves and reverting to the true nature of an unbonded person. He recalled his own unbonding, and the strange hatred and rage that had engulfed him when he had woken after his familiar's death, emotions alien to cat kin.

  Blade had sensed the draining away of his affectionate nature into the cold emptiness that dwelt where his heart had been. Chiana's original character would now come to the fore, and, since dove kin were not known for their affection, he had to assume that her former affectionate ways had been a part of her original nature. In time, when the initial rush of hatred and rage that always followed a familiar's death had worn off, some of her prior, more pleasant traits would return.

  Becoming aware that she had stopped struggling, he rose to his feet and pulled her up, then dragged her back to the bed and pushed her down on it again. To an outsider his actions would seem cruel and heartless, but he knew that comfort was the last thing she needed right now. People who were lavished with sympathy and affection inevitably took the spiralling downward road of self-pity and apathy, falling into a deep depression from which they never recovered. Most people who lost their familiars became dull, blank-eyed individuals who existed rather than lived. He was not going to allow that to happen to her, and when she bowed her head and wept again, he slapped her.