The Queen's Blade II - Sacrifice

by T C Southwell

  Blade swung on him, scowling. "I never said that."

  "You treat her worse than a servant. Do you like her then?"

  "I'm ambivalent. I treat everyone badly. Haven't you noticed?"

  Jayon sighed, folding his arms. "I had, actually. It's a good thing that she likes you."

  "Chiana?" Blade stared at him in astonishment. "She hates me."

  Jayon chuckled. "On the contrary, she feels a lot for you." He raised a hand when Blade opened his mouth to refute this. "Allow me to know a little more about women than you do. I've had a few sweethearts in my time. I know the signs. I've seen the way she looks at you, especially when you're unaware of it, as well as her concern for you, the way she follows your progress so closely -"

  "She's spying for the Queen."

  Jayon ignored him. "But especially the way she's more deeply hurt by your barbed remarks than anyone else. I thought you knew. You must be blind not to."

  "I have no interest in such things. Why would I concern myself with them?" He picked up a folded shirt and hurled it across the bed.

  "Well..." Jayon looked uncomfortable, watching Blade demolish his wardrobe. "You do still have feelings."

  "No I don't." Blade held up a black shirt and pulled it over his head, then selected a black leather jacket from the cupboard.

  "Of course you do," Jayon argued, picking up a short white jacket with silver embroidery on the shoulders, sleeves and lapels. He held it out. "Wear this, it's your wedding, for God's sake."

  Blade eyed the jacket. "No cause for celebration, I assure you. A mere formality, that's all."

  "Do it for Chiana. Have you never done something to make another person happy, other than your clients?"

  Blade hesitated. "A long time ago." Jayon waited for him to elaborate, and eventually he murmured, "When I was a child, but not since then."

  "And did it make you feel good?"

  Blade shrugged, looking resentful. "I suppose so. But the Cotti took all that from me."

  "No, you took that from yourself. The Cotti mutilated you and murdered your family, but you're the one who turned your heart into stone."

  The assassin frowned, taking the jacket. "Who told you that?"

  "About your family?" He shrugged. "Chiana."

  "So, now you gossip about me behind my back. Everyone does, it seems. The Queen must have told Chiana, who told you. I suppose the whole city knows now." He pulled on the white jacket.

  "No, not with a black shirt," Jayon protested. "Here, wear a white one." He held out a cotton shirt.

  Blade growled and snatched it from him. "What are you, an authority on court fashion now?"

  "I have a better sense of style than someone who has worn nothing but black all his life." He watched Blade put on the shirt and jacket, which reached to the top of the high-waisted black leather trousers that hugged his slim hips. Blade tugged at it, frowning.

  "I feel like a fop."

  "You look very dashing."

  Blade sighed. "I don't really care, but I suppose I'm expected to wear all these damned ribbons as well." He opened a drawer and took out the blue-green strip of satin that was the Queen's favour, putting it around one shoulder, then lifted a golden medallion on a white satin ribbon and hung it around his neck.

  Jayon's eyes widened. "You're a sacred Knight of the Veil?"

  Blade grimaced. "Afraid so."

  "You've been to the sacred river?"

  "They almost drowned me in it."

  "What's it like?"

  The assassin shrugged. "Fizzy."

  "Here, this is not worn like that." Jayon pulled off the Queen's favour, smoothed it and pinned it to Blade's jacket. The assassin scowled and looked away, irritated by all the fuss. Jayon stood back to admire his handiwork, eyeing the black leather trousers. "It needs something else." He dug in the cupboard and produced a pair of cloth trousers embroidered with a silver design down the hips, but Blade held up a hand.

  "No, that's enough, you're not turning me into a complete dandy."

  "All right." Jayon tossed the trousers aside. "At least a belt." He held out an ornate, silver-studded belt, and Blade buckled it on with ill-concealed disgruntlement.

  "Happy now?" Blade demanded, and Jayon nodded, smiling. The assassin shot him a glare. "If anybody says that I look like an idiot, you're going to pay."

  "Nobody will say that, My Lord," a feminine voice stated behind him.

  Blade spun around to find Queen Minna-Satu standing in the doorway, two handmaidens flanking her. Jayon prostrated himself, and Blade bowed.

  "My Queen."

  Minna walked closer, studying him. "You look very handsome, Blade."

  "That was not my intention. Jayon seemed to think this suitable attire for the ceremony."

  "It is. Jayon has good taste." She glanced at the kneeling boy. "You may rise."

  "You have not met Jayon, My Queen." Blade gestured to the patrol leader. "He is the one who found me in the desert."

  "Is he?" Minna eyed Jayon with renewed interest. "For which he should be rewarded." She pondered. "The rank of commander, perhaps? And an Order of... Merit, do you think?"

  "Stupidity may be more appropriate."

  "How very uncharitable of you, Blade. You think him stupid for saving you?"

  Blade shot Jayon a dark glance. "Certainly for enduring my company."

  "He deserves a medal for that too, for tolerance, I would say. But an Order of Merit will have to do." She perched on the edge of the bed. "There is a slight delay. The High Priestess has just arrived, and must examine Chiana before the ceremony."

  Blade frowned. "Examine her?"

  "To ensure that she is a maiden, My Lord. Only a maiden may wed a sacred Knight of the Veil. By marrying you, she becomes a priestess."

  "I see." He turned away, gazing out of the window. "Did you come here just to tell me this, My Queen?"

  "No, I also came to ensure that you were not wearing that tatty black outfit, comely though it is. But I see that you have someone who knows something about the art of dressing." She hesitated, studying his stiff back. "Are you angry with me?"

  He faced her, frowning. "No. It is a matter of no consequence. As with many other things, I do not care. It is merely a formality, a piece of paper and a religious ceremony that names Chiana as my wife. After that, we go our separate ways."

  "It is a pity you feel that way. Chiana sacrifices a lot, while you are untouched."

  "That is her choice."

  Minna sighed and levered herself to her feet, her handmaidens taking her elbows to steady her. "I ordered her to do it. She had no more choice than you in the matter."

  "Then it was your choice."

  "One that I did not wish to make, but was forced to, out of necessity. At least you might show her a little kindness. I ask you again, for her sake."

  His brows rose. "You know that I have none to give, as does she. I shall accord her the respect that her rank requires, no more."

  "You are truly a harsh man."

  "I make no other pretence, My Queen."

  "Indeed." She turned and walked to the door. "You will be summoned when the time is right."

  When Blade strode into the great audience hall where he had been elevated to the rank of lord only a few moons ago, he found it curiously empty. A few senior advisors stood around in muttering groups, Mendal amongst them. All were elderly, and most were men. Only a few matronly women stood with them. They wore bland, disinterested expressions, and were evidently there at Minna's behest. Hissing torches cast their light into the gold, filling the great hall with flickering radiance. Six young virgin priestesses stood before the throne, clad in gossamer, sleeveless white gowns that barely hid their nakedness. Serpentine gold bracelets clasped their upper arms, and matching chains encircled their slender waists. Delicate leather sandals shod their feet, and silver anklets jingled when they moved.

  The High Priestess wore a long-sleeved robe of crushed white velvet, a silver circlet in the form of a coiled s
nake with emerald eyes holding the hood in place. She turned as Blade approached, an aged woman of wrinkled mien and white hair, her green eyes sharp and venomous. Somewhere about her person, another serpent hid, for the High Priestess was obviously a snake. Queen Minna-Satu sat on her throne beyond, flanked by handmaidens and the plumed officers who guarded her. As Blade reached the High Priestess, she looked past him, and he turned.

  Chiana wore a figure-hugging, white satin gown that swept the floor in a graceful, gleaming fall. Tiny blue flowers decorated the bodice and belt, and her hair was swept up in an elegant coil studded with precious stones and golden pins. Blade had to admit that she was beautiful, but then he had always thought so. The Queen outranked her in beauty, but right now Minna looked tired and Chiana radiant.

  Blade wondered at the smile that curled his bride's lips and the sparkle in her eyes, which flicked over him as she approached, and seemed to like what they saw. He frowned and turned to face the High Priestess, aware of Chiana stopping beside him. The ceremony began without fanfare, and the High Priestess intoned the ritual words that differed from an ordinary wedding quite considerably.

  "These two are here before us for the purpose of joining in marriage. Lord Conash, as a sacred Knight of the Veil, takes a maiden as his bride, who shall remain chaste for the rest of her days. Chiana, by marrying Lord Conash, becomes a priestess of our great god Tinsharon; his handmaiden and servant. This is the most sacred of all marriages, pure in spirit and exalted in the eyes of the church. A union in which celibacy shall rule. In such a marriage as this, only the worship of God is served."

  Chiana glanced at Blade, but he stared ahead.

  The High Priestess continued, "Since both have consented to the union, all that remains is to bless and witness it." She turned to the maiden who stood beside her, and the girl held up a golden basin of water that hissed, giving off a faint mist. The High Priestess dipped her hand into it and flicked a little onto Blade's brow, then repeated the process for Chiana.

  "With this water from the sacred river, I bless this union, and I call upon those here to witness it."

  The High Priestess stepped back, and a maiden advanced, holding a parchment bearing a considerable amount of bold black writing. This she handed to the High Priestess, who offered it to Blade. As he took it, a servant came forward with a polished wooden board, on which the assassin rested the paper. The same servant handed him a freshly dipped quill, and he signed his name at the bottom. The process was repeated for Chiana, and the High Priestess took the signed document, rolling it into a tight rod before tying it with a white satin ribbon. That done, she smiled coldly at Blade and turned away, her maidens filing out of the room ahead of her. Blade sighed, and Minna smiled and waved a languid hand.

  "You may go, Lord and Lady Conash."

  Blade bowed, startled when Chiana did the same. "My Queen."

  Chapter Four

  Blade turned from his window at a knock on the door, commanding the applicant to enter. A servant came in bearing a buff letter edged in black and handed it to him with a bow. Blade broke the wax seal and read the missive with a deep frown. He disliked receiving correspondence from the guild, which usually consisted of invitations to gatherings in which he had no interest, and, on a couple of occasions, challenges from young assassins eager to earn a reputation. He had not accepted the invitations or the challenges, but this challenge was different, since no youngster had issued it. His head jerked up as his door opened and Chiana strolled in.

  He glared at her. "Do you never knock?"

  "Not anymore. It is one of the privileges of being your wife. I am not expected to."

  "Except by me. I would consider it a courtesy."

  She smiled, her eyes darting to the letter. "What is that?"

  He folded it and tucked it into his jacket. "Nothing that concerns you."

  "Everything you do concerns me now."

  His scowl deepened. "Chiana, I obeyed the Queen's order and granted you the rank you need to become Regent. Do not foist yourself on me now under the pretext that what we have is anything but a convenience. It is a marriage in name only, and accords you no power over me."

  "I am not seeking power over you, only to know what you are doing. It is little more than I would have done before."

  Blade folded his arms with a creak of leather. "But if I tell you, it will only lead to an argument."

  She pouted. "You do not know me well enough to predict my response."

  "No?" His brows rose. "It is a challenge, issued by an assassin from another guild."

  "A challenge? To fight?"

  "No, assassins never fight each other. In fact, I do my best never to fight at all. I am not particularly good at it."

  "You are good at lying, though. I saw those four roughnecks who kidnapped you, and they bore the marks of your skill."

  He smiled and shrugged. "A desperate attempt to defend myself, I can assure you. Usually I run away."

  "An excellent strategy."

  "Indeed?"

  "Of course." She wandered closer. "Why fight when you need not? It is a waste of energy and risks injury."

  Blade eyed her, surprised by her agreement. "How astute of you."

  "This challenge, if it is not to fight, then what?"

  He frowned, turning to gaze out at the garden, where an industrious gardener trimmed a hedge. "Assassins have a ceremonial dance. We call it the Dance of Death, for it proves our speed and agility, which are most necessary for our trade. Once an assassin has earned his tattoo with his first kill, he must perform the Dance of Death in all its complexity. Failure to complete the Dance results in his tattooing being delayed until he can. The Dance is extremely taxing. Only a fit man can complete it."

  "And you are the Master of the Dance."

  "In this city." He glanced at her, startled. "Who told you that?"

  "The Queen. She says that you told her, and since then, I believe she has learnt a great deal about it from the assassin Talon."

  "Ah, yes, it seems he has become quite talkative about our traditions."

  Chiana smiled. "When the Queen asks for information, few will gainsay her." She moved closer to stand beside him. "Are you going to accept this challenge?"

  Blade pulled a face, staring out at the garden, where the gardener had finished one hedge and started on another. "I have no choice this time. If it was only a young assassin from my guild I would not, but this man is from another city. The advancing Contara have driven him and his fellows here, and now he wishes to challenge me. He is a Master of the Dance too, so if I do not accept, I will dishonour my guild and forfeit the Master's title to him. But I cannot win."

  "Why not?"

  "I am not fit enough. I cannot complete the Dance of Death."

  "Do you have to perform it?"

  He frowned. "No, not necessarily. The challenger must perform the Dance in order to be judged good enough to tender the challenge, then he sets the pace for the duel. But the duel could be gruelling if he is good, for until I can better all of his steps, he will continue to challenge."

  "Then you must ensure that your mastery is so obvious that he will admit defeat before you grow tired."

  Blade chuckled, unfolded his arms and placed his hands on his hips. "What makes you think I can do that?"

  "I know you can." She gazed up at him with disconcerting intensity, and he moved away, discomfited.

  "I am surprised that you have no objection, as you did last time I went to the guild."

  "Last time you were badly injured. You should not have left your bed."

  He stopped beside the bed and turned to face her again. "Well, now you know where I am going. Is there anything else?"

  "Yes, I want to go with you."

  Blade gave a bark of laughter. "You jest!"

  "No, I am in deadly earnest."

  "Deadly is right. No one who is not an assassin is allowed to attend a meeting of the guild."

  "What about an assassin's wife?" she asked.
>
  "There is no such thing."

  "Really, then what am I?"

  He studied her determined face with a slight smile. "You are an assassin's wife, my lady. Talon would only have himself to blame." He chuckled. "Perhaps a fitting revenge."

  "Revenge?"

  His eyes narrowed and his smile faded. "For allowing this marriage."

  "I see." She looked crestfallen. "Yes, I suppose it would be."

  "You may be in danger though. You had better seek the Queen's permission before you put your life in jeopardy."

  "Would you not protect me?"

  "From more than a hundred assassins? What do you take me for?"

  Chiana frowned, clearly vexed by his lack of gentlemanly manners. "Surely you have some influence, as Master of the Dance?"

  "Yes, I have some, but the eldest member makes the decisions."

  "Talon?"

  Blade shook his head. "A man named Archer rules the guild."

  She hesitated, then murmured, "I will speak to the Queen."

  "As you wish."

  When Chiana left, Blade read the letter again, frowning at the name of his challenger. The man was a stranger, but his name was Swift.

  That night, Blade rode out of the palace on an ebon mount, and Chiana followed on a bay palfrey. Apparently the Queen had no objections, but her presence irritated him, much like a dog that would not stop following him around. Upon his advice, she wore a long black velvet cloak with the hood pulled up to conceal her face.

  When they neared the ring of stones, several miles outside the city, Blade stopped and tethered his horse to a tree, continuing on foot. Even before they reached the ancient stones, the numbers gathered there were evident from the many torches and the black-clad masses that engulfed the feet of the stones like a sable sea. Usually no more than a few dozen assassins attended a meeting, but evidently they had all come to this one, the new guild swelling their numbers further. A wooden platform stood in the centre of the ring, and torches danced with yellow brilliance. Most of the assassins sat between the stones, but two muttering groups stood before the platform.

  Blade hesitated before entering the light, aware of the slight figure that followed him. Talon and his wolf turned to face him, the former smiling in welcome.