The Queen's Blade VI - Lord Protector

by T C Southwell

  "I will catch him, you know. I have many hunters setting snares for him. When I do, you will kill Kerrion, or your familiar dies."

  "I do not have a familiar, you imbecile. Kill all the wood cats you want."

  "I shall also make you pay for your insults, assassin. You would be well advised to - Ah!" Dravis clutched his cheek as a pebble bounced off it.

  "Bugger off." Blade threw another stone, hitting the Prince on the nose, and Dravis stumbled back, raising his hands to shield his face.

  "You will pay for that too!" Dravis howled from the passage as the cell door slammed behind him.

  "Next time I will use the stones in the pisspot, you Cotti whoreson!"

  "Your familiar will suffer now, you bastard, be sure of that!"

  Blade listened to the tramp of feet move away. His nostrils flared with rage as he breathed deeply. Jumping up, he paced to the end of the chain and back to the bed, the remaining stones gripped so tightly that they dug into his palms. He would indeed be at the Prince's mercy if Dravis captured Rivan. He could not allow his familiar to die again. The wood cat remained in the forest, well hidden, but would not leave the area. It was only a matter of time before he was caught, unless Kerrion captured Dravis first.

  The Cotti Prince had spent a fair amount of time trying to taunt the assassin, first with the news that he had informed Chiana of Blade's death, then with the prospect of a painful, Cotti-style execution. Now he had decided to use Blade to slay Kerrion. The assassin found, somewhat to his surprise, that he was averse to the idea. The Cotti King was not a bad man, and his death would lead to a string of disastrous events. Queen Minna-Satu and her sons would die. Jovan would become King, and, at Dravis' urging, invade Jashimari and slay Kerra and Chiana. One thing was certain, however, Dravis would kill Rivan, whether or not Blade did as he bid.

  Blade paced to the end of the chain again, then back to the bed. The cell had a narrow barred window near the roof, which allowed in a little light during the day. He had already gone over his prison with a fine-toothed comb, and could find no possible escape route. Without his picks, he could not remove the shackles, and even if he could, there was no way out. He stalked over to the pisspot and kicked it across the room with a tremendous clang that almost deafened him. The racket goaded his rage, and he followed and kicked it again, then attacked the bed and ripped it apart. The mildewed sheets parted with satisfying rending noises, reminding him of Chiana's destructive spree after Inka's death.

  The bare cell had little ammunition to satisfy his anger, and after shredding the mattress and filling the room with rank straw, he kicked the wall until his toes ached. Sinking down with his back to it, he covered his face and strived to calm himself. There was no way out of his predicament, unless someone rescued him, and if Chiana thought he was dead there was no hope of that. Blade pulled on the chains until the steel cuffs cut into his wrists, gritted his teeth and cursed.

  Shamsara had promised him that he would not lose Rivan again, and that could only mean Blade would kill Kerrion to save him. Dravis would not keep his word, however. That idea was ridiculous. The Prince would delight in torturing and killing Rivan as soon as Kerrion was dead. Once Blade was in the death sleep, Dravis would kill him too. It was hopeless. There was no way out. Blade jerked his head back against the wall, the pain bringing a modicum of calm, for some reason. He did not care if they all died, he told himself, but he did care about Rivan.

  No sooner had he found something to love, he reflected bitterly, than it was used against him. He jerked his head back against the wall again, glaring at the pisspot. How had Chiana reacted to the news of his death? Had she tried to take her life again? Had someone prevented her, or was she dead too? When Dravis had taunted him about it, Blade had told the Prince that his wife would rejoice at his demise and dance on his grave. He almost wished that was true.

  Chiana would suffer because she loved him, just as he had suffered for loving his family and his familiar. Everyone who loved suffered, in his experience. His attempt to make her hate him by calling her love a lie had failed, and he almost regretted doing it now. It would have been worth it, had it worked. Blade threw a stone at the overturned bucket, hitting it with a clatter. Only a fool would fall in love with an assassin.

  Over the next two days, Dravis' men killed three wood cats in front of the assassin. Before the Prince entered the cell, his men dragged Blade off the bed and confiscated any stones he had hidden about his person. The soldiers paid for their temerity at every encounter, coming away bruised and, on one occasion, bitten. Blade mocked Dravis' cat-killing spree, which made the Prince even angrier. Fortunately for him, he did not make the mistake of straying within the assassin's reach.

  The distance between them weakened Blade's link with Rivan, and he constantly urged the cat to stay away. The young feline did not understand it, nor did he know about traps. Blade lay on the bed's hard boards, since the guards had not replaced the mattress, and pondered the problem. On the third day, he sat up with a jerk, cursing his former stupidity. He only hoped he was not too late. Rising, he paced the cell, dragging the heavy chain. Now all that remained was to wait for Dravis' huntsmen to catch another wood cat. The performance would be humiliating, and test his skill at lying to its utmost.

  At dusk, the door opened and two guards entered. Once more they hauled Blade to his feet and searched him. This time he succeeded in getting the shackles around one guard's throat, and tried to throttle him. His comrade gripped Blade's wrists and yelled for help. Two more men came in, and between them they forced the assassin to release the gurgling soldier. Dravis strolled in and eyed the dishevelled guardsmen and panting assassin with a sour expression. The extra guards left, to return a few minutes later with the cage. A wild wood cat spat and clawed at the bars.

  Blade sank down on the bed and stared at the cat, schooling his features into a look of dismay. Dravis studied him, then smiled and nodded at the soldiers.

  "Kill it."

  Blade jumped up. "No!"

  Dravis cocked his head. "Why not? You do not care if I kill all the wood cats in Contara, do you?"

  "Not this one. Do not harm him. I will do as you wish."

  "So, I was right. You are not Bereft."

  "Not any more. I was, for thirty years."

  Dravis' brows rose. "A likely story."

  "It is true. When Endor and Trelath held Queen Minna-Satu hostage, the Idol of the Beasts came to me. He asked me to free her, and as my reward, he promised to pray to Tinsharon and ask that my familiar be reborn. I did as he asked, and Tinsharon restored my familiar to me."

  Dravis hesitated, looking uncertain. "I do not believe you. You have a reputation as a liar." He snorted. "Tinsharon restored your familiar! You expect me to believe that?"

  "It is the truth. When I freed Minna-Satu and slew Trelath and Chaymin, Shamsara was my client."

  "Assassins never reveal the name of their clients. Now I know you are lying!"

  "What will you do, slay Shamsara? As far as I know, he is immortal. Go then to his cave and kill him, if you can."

  Dravis paled, frowning. "Shamsara would not ask for the death of my brothers."

  "No, he did not." Blade knew that blaming the Idol for the princes' deaths would make his tale unbelievable. He had to stick to the truth. "He only asked me to free Minna-Satu."

  "Who ordered the deaths of my brothers?"

  "I will not tell you."

  "I will wager you would if I have my men poke some holes in your familiar." Dravis shrugged. "But in truth, it makes little difference. It was either Kerrion or his slut Jashimari wife, and she will die soon after him, along with his half-breed sons. You will kill Kerrion if you wish your familiar to live."

  Blade nodded, gazing at the wood cat. "I will, so long as you do not harm him."

  The Prince sneered, "Oh, I shall harm him, rest assured. You will suffer for killing my brothers before you kill Kerrion. And I will test your story, too." Dravis glanced at the soldiers. "
Hurt it."

  "No!" Blade rushed at the men. The leg chain snapped taut, bringing him down with a thud, and he narrowly avoided a broken nose, bruising his hands. He cursed, then cried out and clutched his ribs as a guard thrust his sword into the cage, gashing the cat's flank. It spat, and Blade groaned and writhed.

  "Please," he begged, stretching out a hand towards the cage. "Please do not hurt him! I will do what you want!"

  Dravis smiled and nodded. "Good. But you will pay for your insults, as I promised." He glanced at the soldier. "Hurt it again."

  The man stabbed the cat, slicing open its shoulder, and Blade cried out. Blood seeped from the cage, and the cat wailed and thrashed.

  "If you kill him," the assassin gritted, "I will kill you, Cotti pig."

  Dravis walked closer and squatted down beside him. "You are now mine to command, assassin. Disobey me, and your familiar will suffer, understand?"

  Blade nodded, bowing his head. "Only Kerrion."

  "For as long as I have your familiar, you will do as I wish. I may decide to send you to kill your wife and that slut of a half-breed queen. Perhaps even the whore who once ruled you. Your familiar will be guarded at all times. The door will be bolted from the inside, so there will be no lock for you to pick. If you try to free him, he will die. If you disobey me, he will suffer. If you try to kill me, he will die."

  Blade sat up, holding his shoulder, and gazed at the wounded cat. "Anything, just do not hurt him."

  "Oh, I will hurt him. You will suffer regularly. Do you think I will arm you and free you without some assurance of your obedience? Stray one iota from my commands, and you will pay."

  "I will do as you say. But if your men become overzealous and slay him, I will kill you. Make no mistake."

  "You will not get the chance. I will kill you in your death sleep. You are at my mercy, assassin." The Prince stood up, walked over to the cage and kicked it, making the wounded cat spit.

  Blade grunted and grimaced. "If you do that while I am in the middle of an assassination, I will fail."

  "I will not. Tonight you kill Kerrion."

  Blade shook his head. "It takes days to plan an assassination, especially of a well-guarded king."

  "You can walk into his rooms. He knows you."

  "He will not trust me. Even if he did, if I walk into his rooms, I will not escape afterwards."

  Dravis snorted. "You will find a way. You are the Invisible Assassin. You are the damned Queen's Blade! Are your skills not legendary?"

  "Because I plan my kills carefully and do not take risks. If you force me to blunder I will be killed and you will lose your weapon. I will do as you say, but do not tell me how to ply my trade."

  Dravis hesitated, then inclined his head. "Very well. You have three days. If Kerrion is not dead by then, the cat suffers."

  Blade nodded, and the soldiers removed the caged feline. Dravis paused in the doorway to gloat for a moment, then left. A time-glass later, a guard unlocked the door and tossed in Blade's bag. The assassin found all his daggers inside, as well as his boot blades and lock picks, and he paused to consider the ramifications of this. It meant that the soldiers who had captured him in the village had been to the cottage, doubtless to find him, on the day he had been taken prisoner. Whoever had betrayed him to Dravis' men had been thorough in their spying, yet Blade had not suspected anything. That could only mean it had been one of the villagers, probably the same one who had betrayed his presence to the bandits.

  Strapping on the wrist sheaths, he loaded them and inserted the rest of his weapons into his belt and boots. He walked along the passage, past hard-eyed guards, and stepped into a dirty side street with a sigh of relief. He turned to inspect the house he had been incarcerated in, a run-down mansion that was located, oddly enough, in the poor quarter, judging by the shanties around it. Perhaps it had once been a rural estate, and the city had spread to engulf it. The cell in which he had been imprisoned must have once been a slave room, or perhaps a punishment cell for guards. He wondered if Dravis resided here, or was clever enough to stay somewhere else.

  Approaching the nearest guard, who glowered at him, he asked, "Is this where Dravis stays?"

  The man blustered, "Of course not!"

  Blade nodded, a slight smile tugging at his lips. The soldier was a terrible liar, but the threat to Rivan would have ensured Dravis' safety, had it been real. The soldier's lie was merely an instinctive response born out of surprise at Blade's unexpected question. The man looked uneasy, shifting and glancing at his comrade. The assassin wondered if he would have the intelligence to tell Dravis, but doubted it. Men such as he did not like to admit their blunders, and the Prince, certain of his safety, probably did not care, anyway.

  Sauntering up the road, he considered going to the forest to find Rivan. He sensed the presence of three shadowy figures following him, however, and knew that Dravis' spies would report his every move. Giving them the slip would be simple, but then Dravis would torture the cat and discover that he had been hoodwinked. If that happened, not only would he continue to try to catch Rivan, he would also guard himself against an assassination attempt.

  Blade went to the nearest tavern and indulged in several cups of wine and a frugal meal of grilled fish and stewed greens, then headed for the castle. After spending the afternoon spying on it, and discovering the presence of not only Kerrion, but a young prince as well, he headed back to Dravis' hideout. He wondered if the Prince would be stupid enough to meet him, but doubted it. No one was that idiotic. Then again, Dravis thought himself safe, and would have been, had Rivan really been his captive. Even so, there would doubtless be soldiers present to protect him.

  Entering a tavern, he paid for a room and retired to it, still pondering. He wanted to kill Dravis, and it would not be so hard to do. The Prince might be lax in his protection if he did not suspect that Blade was in the area. His client would be Chiana, or Minna-Satu, it did not matter, they both wanted Dravis dead. If the Prince was allowed to live, he would continue to foment trouble, and Blade had no confidence that Kerrion would capture him. Even if he did, the King could not execute his brother, only imprison or exile him.

  Blade dozed until the streets grew silent and dark, then rose, checked his equipment, and climbed out of the window. Without bothering to find the spies, who were doubtless dozing in doorways, he ascended to the inn's roof. Dravis' hideout was easily reached across the rooftops of the poor quarter's close-packed dwellings. The main danger of using the assassin's highway in such an impoverished area was encountering a rotten roof and ending up in someone's bed.

  As he neared the Prince's abode, he paused to watch the streets for several minutes, just in case one of the spies was more vigilant than was good for his health. No shadows crept after him, and he eyed the next rooftop, measuring the width of the road that separated him from it. It was the widest gap he had encountered, and a little daunting. Retreating as far as he could, he ran to the edge of the roof and leapt. The rotten gutter gave as he sprang from it, and his feet clipped the edge of the next roof and slipped off.

  The assassin hit the tiles with a terrific crash, cracking several, and scrabbled for a hand or foothold as he slid towards the edge. His fingers found purchase on the lip of the gutter, and he swung from it, cursing under his breath. Hauling himself up, he rubbed his smarting elbows and knees. It was definitely time he retired, he reflected with some irritation. Avoiding the broken tiles, he walked to the top of the roof and along it to the abutting wall of Dravis' house, jumping across.

  Since he had not been able to spy on his target, he had no idea which room Dravis slept in, or where the guards were posted. It stood to reason that it would be one of the upstairs rooms, however, which were commonly used as bedrooms. Guard placement was another matter altogether, but he hoped to negate the need to know by circumventing the danger. Easing himself over the edge of the roof, he climbed down to a window ledge and peered through the shutters. It looked like a bedroom, but the bed was un
occupied. Moving along the wall to the next window, he scanned the room, which also appeared to be empty. The next window gave a view of a sitting room, but the one after that showed him an occupied bed chamber.

  Blade studied the lumpy bed, estimating it to hold a single occupant. The window's latch was easily lifted with one of his slim tools, and he slipped inside. Moonlight painted bright squares on the shoddy carpet, and he crept over to the bed to gaze down at the young Prince. Dravis lay on his back, his left hand pushed under the pillow, exposing his flank. Blade drew a dagger, then paused. If he used his usual method, he would draw unwanted attention to his presence. Then again, he wanted credit for this kill.

  As he pondered, he studied the Prince, noticing that Dravis looked a little older when asleep. With some disquiet, the assassin leant closer, then straightened, glancing around. The man in the bed was not Dravis, but bore a startling resemblance to him. Blade sheathed the dagger and walked across the room to the door, opening it a crack to peer out. Two guards stood further down the hall, two dogs asleep at their feet. Taking note of their location, the assassin closed the door and went back to the window. Climbing through it, he made his way along the ledge that ran around the house to the window of the room where the guards were stationed.

  A silk-hung bed held three occupants, and two brindled warhounds slept at the foot of it. Blade scanned the room for the hounds' friends, and found a soldier dozing in a chair on the far side. Another man sat by the next window, staring out with drooping eyes. Evidently Dravis was taking no chances, even though he thought he had Blade's familiar hostage. The assassin climbed back up to the roof, where he sat and pondered the problem. Two wardogs in the room was a daunting deterrent, as were their mercenary friends. The other two guards outside the door, with their wardogs, increased the danger still more. He wanted Dravis dead, however, the yearning burnt in his heart, demanding assuagement.

  Dravis was a cunning prince, but his threat to kill Rivan demanded retribution. Blade dug in his bag and drew out his boot-blades. To take on four wardogs and their friends, he would require all his weapons, even though they would make his flight more difficult. If he did not kill the guards, he would not escape at all. Strapping on the keen-edged footwear, he pulled the soft suede sheaths over them, which afforded him a better grip and silenced the steel soles. Checking his daggers one last time, he tied the bag on his back and approached the edge of the roof.