The Queen's Blade VI - Lord Protector

by T C Southwell

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chiana approached him, rubbing her arms, mystified. When she reached him, he swept her up and stepped onto the balcony. She clung to his neck, biting her lip. Blade walked to the railing, and, with a grunt of effort, leapt onto it, landed on bent legs and straightened. He turned to face the gardens, and she glanced down at the flagstones far below. Her hold on him tightened, then she turned to meet his eyes. He smiled.

  "Are you afraid, little dove?"

  "No."

  "Why do you suppose that is?"

  "I know you will not drop me."

  He cocked his head. "Why not?"

  "Because you do not wish to."

  "What if I slip?" He wobbled.

  "You will not."

  "Why not?"

  "You do not make mistakes."

  Snowflakes landed on his hair and melted on his skin. "What did I say to you, on the day I saved you?"

  "That you loved me."

  "Do you doubt it now?"

  "No."

  He gazed at the garden. "That was when I realised it. When you jumped. I made a mistake, that day. The force of your fall was too great for me to stop. I would have gone over with you, if the others had not prevented me." He met her eyes again. "I did not care."

  "You were angry, afterwards."

  He nodded. "I had already proven it, yet still you forced me to say it."

  "Why is that so hard for you?"

  "I made a vow, a long time ago."

  "To never tell anyone you loved them?"

  He shook his head. "To never love anyone again."

  "Why?"

  "Because they died. They all... died." He stared past her, his expression bleak. "And I thought my heart had died with them."

  "But it did not."

  "Not all of it, apparently." He turned and walked along the railing. "Most of it, though."

  "What do you mean?"

  Blade smiled and jumped down onto the balcony. "A little survived."

  "Only a little?"

  "Yes." He met her gaze. "But enough. No one could have forced me to be Regent."

  "So that was the lie."

  "That was the lie, little dove." He put her down. "But my heart was still frozen until Rivan was reborn. I could not feel what I knew to be true."

  "And now you do?"

  "You are not allowed to die."

  She brushed a melting snowflake from his nose. "I love you too, Blade. But you know that. You must be warmer, the snow melts on you now."

  He laughed. "Did it not, before?"

  "I doubt it. You chilled a room when you walked into it."

  "Do I warm it now?"

  "No." She placed a hand on his chest. "For me, you fill it with joy."

  "How proud you must be, to have a lying drunken killer for a husband."

  She giggled. "Nay, My Lord. My husband is a nobleman, and mostly sober these days."

  "And my wife is a besotted fool."

  "Whom you love."

  "You will not trick me with clever words, my lady. Pit your wits against mine at your peril. Princes have tried and failed."

  She smiled. "Oh, so you think yourself clever?"

  "No, I just find most others to be lack wits."

  "Including your besotted wife?"

  "She is a little cleverer than most, I will own. She succeeded where all others failed."

  "In capturing your heart?"

  He smiled and inclined his head. "Are you content now?"

  "No." Chiana stepped closer and clasped his neck, raising her countenance to the icy touch of the falling flakes as she gazed into his pale eyes. Blade cupped her face and studied it, his slight smile widening. She held her breath as he bent and pressed his lips to hers as lightly as a snowflake's caress, but warmer. Enfolding her with gentle arms, he drew her to him. His kiss was that of a saint, tender and passionless, filled with the poignant promise of an affection untainted by desire. It was an innocent caress born solely of an emotion barely thawed from the winter of his sorrow.

  Its bittersweet purity brought tears to her eyes, and with it came a rush of understanding that filled her with sadness, as if it poured from him with the anguish of a soul in torment. His kiss was as sweet as his smile, filled with his strange, androgynous allure and the expert seduction of one whose powerful charm had only ever been used with deadly intent. Chiana wished it would never end, even though she was certain that this was how it would feel to kiss the cold lips of death, only his were warm and gentle. It was incongruous that he, who had snuffed out so many lives with such consummate ease, was capable of such exquisite tenderness. His touch was magical, suffused with the captivating enchantment that had lured so many to their deaths. He ended it too soon, and bowed his head to lay his cheek against hers.

  He whispered, "Now you finally understand."

  She nodded, swallowing a lump.

  "You are the only one to ever survive my kiss, little dove."

  "How many...?"

  He raised his head and chuckled. "Not many. I dislike being kissed by men."

  She recoiled in surprise. "You lie!"

  "That I dislike it?"

  "That you have ever done it."

  "It shocks you?"

  She shook her head. "I do not believe it."

  "Oh, but I have. Several. Then they died."

  Her eyes roamed over his face, filled with doubt and uncertainty. "You kissed Kerra."

  "That was not a kiss, although she thought it was. That was... an expedient necessity. Nor was the time when you insisted on saying goodbye in such an affectionate manner. You noticed the difference, did you not?"

  "Yes."

  "This is the first time I have ever kissed anyone." He studied her as snowflakes settled on her hair, and raised a hand to wipe the moisture from her cheek. "And it brought you sorrow."

  "You are the epitome of sorrow."

  "I am sorrow and fury. I am poison to all who love me. I am the reason my family died. When I retired, my kill tally was three hundred and five. In reality, it is over seven thousand." He paused, his eyes bleak. "I caused the Rout of Ashtolon."

  She shook her head, frowning in puzzlement. "How so?"

  He gazed across the garden again. "The tenday before, I explored the mountains around the village of Goat's Rest, where I was born. I was twelve. I used a goat path to pass through a gully, a secret route carefully hidden for centuries, which the Cotti did not know about. Goatherds used it to take their beasts to a watering hole in Cotti territory, on the far side of the mountains. They were careful, but I was not. The Cotti also used that watering hole, and patrols stopped there on occasion. I was seen, and I fled.

  "I should have allowed them to capture me. Two herders had made that sacrifice before. I did not. I fled through the secret passage, and the patrol followed me. I should have told my father. I should have warned them. I was ashamed, and I did not. More than seven thousand Jashimari paid the price for my carelessness. Over five thousand soldiers, five hundred villagers and two thousand people in the city of Ashtolon, which they plundered after they had destroyed Goat's Rest.

  "Those towns have never been rebuilt. They remain ruins, even to this day, and the pass has since been blocked. I almost caused the downfall of Jashimari. The Rout of Ashtolon was the worst invasion ever, and weakened the armies by almost half. Raw recruits were sent into action to replace those who had perished. How many of them did I also kill, I wonder."

  "You were just a child. You made a mistake, and you have paid dearly for it. You have saved many people too. Kerra, twice, and my life three times. Who else have you saved?"

  A slight smile tugged at his lips. "Minna-Satu."

  "She is dead."

  "No. She is Kerrion's wife, and Queen of Cotti."

  She frowned. "That is not amusing."

  "It is safer to believe me, remember? That is how I earned Rivan's rebirth. She was Endor's hostage."

  "Who gave you permission to tell me this?"

&nb
sp; "I need no one's permission. You will not betray her. We took the Queen's Cup that day, but Kerrion found the antidote. He saved my life so I could protect her from his brothers. Ironic, is it not? She has two sons now, heirs to the Cotti throne."

  He raised a hand to stroke her cheek. "I have caused more change in the three kingdoms than any other man in all of history... by killing people. I, who was born dead, and given a grave name. My siblings had true names. Rykar, which means Sky Star. Alenstra, Sun Dancer. Orcal, Dream Song. Shinda, Wind Whisper. Ryana, Sky Bird. And then there is me." His mouth twisted. "Conash. Dead Son."

  Chiana's eyes overflowed. "And the only one still alive."

  He chuckled. "There is irony for you."

  "Why did they not change your name?"

  "They did not expect me to survive my childhood, even though I lived longer than the few time-glasses the midwife gave me."

  She drew a jerky breath, brushing at her cheeks, although the melting snow hid her tears. "I, for one, am glad you did."

  "Oh indeed, so is Minna-Satu, and doubtless Kerrion too. Probably Shamsara. I would not be surprised." He stepped closer and took her hand. "Do not weep for me. I have no need of your tears. I have wept enough of my own. Come, it is cold."

  Blade led her inside and closed the doors, walking over to the hearth to warm his hands on the fire. Chiana joined him, still stunned by what he had told her, and anguished by the affect it must have had on him when he had escaped from the Cotti camp and returned to his homeland to discover the true extent of the consequences of his blunder.

  He turned to her. "How did your father know to name you Little Bird?"

  "It was a fluke."

  "A happy one."

  "Is that why you came here to offer to kill King Shandor, because of what you had done?"

  He gazed into the fire. "No. That was purely for vengeance. I wanted to kill Shandor, and the wealth that Minna-Satu offered was also tempting. I suppose it was fitting, though, and atoned in some small measure for my betrayal."

  "You have more than atoned now. You ended the war."

  "Minna-Satu did that. All I have done is kill a great many men. So you see, I am not a hero. Even all I have done does not make up for the loss of those seven thousand people. Ashtolon was a bloodbath. The city was taken by surprise. It was ten leagues from the mountains, and it should have been safe. They had no defences, no walls, and few soldiers. Only a garrison where weary men from the border were allowed to rest for a tenday or so.

  "Five battalions were mobilised from Insheran, Verimon and Perthon to stop the Cotti. They reached Ashtolon just after the Cotti did. Three companies were cut off from the main force and slaughtered outside Ashtolon even before the armies engaged. The battle raged for two days. They say that over a thousand Jashimari soldiers died on each day. It was also called the Two Days of Darkness, because the smoke from the burning city blocked out the sun. Ashtolon was a grain city, and its stores were burnt. The loss caused starvation in Jashimari for two years after that.

  He shot her a wry smile. "I only found all this out after I returned, of course, four years after the Rout. The five battalions could not hold the Cotti back. Shandor had put together a force of over ten thousand men in the time I gave him. After the Cotti sacked Ashtolon, they advanced on Insheran, and another three battalions were sent to stop them. They engaged the Cotti just outside the city, in a pass named Hunters' End, which has since been renamed Warriors' Rest, because two thousand men died there. Insheran was saved."

  He turned to gaze into the fire again. "Do you know how I felt, when I found out what I had done?"

  She shook her head. "No."

  "I felt nothing. I was already dead."

  "What do you feel now?"

  He shrugged. "No different."

  "But you said that you wept."

  "For myself. For Rivan and my family, yes. When I was in the desert. That is where my heart died. When I returned to Jashimari, I cared for nothing and no one. I did not think I would ever feel joy again."

  "Until Rivan was reborn."

  Blade inclined his head. "Yes."

  Chiana glanced at the wood cat, who lay on a rug beside the table, watching Blade with wide, puzzled eyes. He sensed his friend's sorrow, she knew. If he sensed it, then Blade must feel it, but perhaps he only mourned his family, and not the people who had died. Now she understood why the former assassin had behaved like a unruly adolescent since his familiar's return. It was as if his psyche had been reset to the time before he had lost Rivan, and the emotions he experienced were those of a child. His emotional development had ceased at the age of twelve, frozen by the trauma of his loss and subsequent suffering. That was, she guessed, the only way he could feel again, by unleashing the love from his past that had been locked away for so long.

  Blade turned to her and stroked her cheek, and she could not quell a shiver. His hands had snuffed out so many lives, yet she longed for his caress. She remembered vividly the day he had almost robbed her of her senses with the lightest of touches. The firelight gilded his face, and when he spoke, his voice was so soft that she strained to hear it over the fire's crackle.

  "Of all the people I have known..." His faint smile faded, and he lowered his gaze to her hand as he took hold of it. "You are the only one who has not asked me to kill someone. You are the only one who has asked me to stop killing and give up my trade. You are the only one who has shown more concern for my welfare than your wishes. Only you have wanted to share my life as an assassin; even to attend a guild meeting." His sweet smile returned, and he raised his eyes to meet hers. "You call me Blade, but that is my trade name. It is considered polite for most people, especially fellow assassins, to use it. But you..." He hesitated, looking down at her hand again. "You may call me Ash, if you wish."

  Her breath caught. "That is your childhood name, is it not?"

  "Yes." He hesitated. "But my true name was to have been Tyequin."

  She gazed up at him, amazed. "God Touched."

  "Yes. That is what I am. I have always known it, yet did not believe it until one who is dragon kin told me."

  A tremulous smile tugged at her lips. "I would be honoured to call you Ash, My Lord."

  He raised his eyes to meet hers again, his smile widening slightly. "Good."

  The following day, Blade used her desk to write two letters, which he showed to her before sealing. She wondered about them, but he did not volunteer to explain them. One was a letter to Prince Prethos, requesting the release from Andrango Prison of a man named Andevar. While politely phrased, she did not think Prethos would dare to deny it. The other was a commendation of a Lord Brenthal, for comforts received.

  For the next two tendays, Chiana left much of the governance to Insash so she could spend more time with Blade, and he seemed to enjoy her company. Rivan continued to ambush him around corners, and, if anything, the destruction of palace ornaments increased. Blade exercised every day, read books from the palace's vast library, and joined her at meal times. Each morning that Chiana woke to find him beside her was a precious gift, for she sensed his strong wish to leave, and dreaded that it would one day overcome him.

  The last of the winter blizzards swept through Jondar, and the snow melted away in spring's warm sun. Green buds opened on the trees, and birdsong wafted from the gardens. The Tree Moon waned, and the Death Moon began to show its skull face. The dreamsilks' colour changed from green and brown to black and red.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Blade reined in his horse at the end of a long, winding lane lined with flowering moon trees and pale shay flower bushes. He had been exploring the lands around Jondar for almost a tenday, despite Chiana's protestations, and this looked like the perfect place. Guiding his horse, a calm black Traverdan stallion, into the lane, he urged the beast into a slow canter. He wore his usual black, the jacket bearing a little silver ornamentation on the sleeves, and a silver-edged cloak hung from his shoulders.

  As the stallion clattered i
nto the gravelled courtyard, grooms emerged from the stables to hold it. Blade gazed at the sprawling mansion with its pillared entrance and pale marble steps, its walls built from finely crafted blocks of grey Endran stone, its roof covered with black slate. Blade dismounted as a confused looking servant opened the front door and bowed.

  "Who may I say is visiting his lordship?" the man asked.

  Blade tore his eyes from the sweeping beauty of the elegant gardens to glance at him. "Who is your lord?"

  "If you do not know, why are you visiting?"

  "An excellent question. I like this estate. I wish to buy it."

  "I do not think it is for sale, sir."

  Blade smiled. "Everything is for sale. Take me to your master, or summon him here."

  "He will wish to know who you are."

  "And I shall tell him."

  The servant sniffed, raking Blade with a disparaging glance. "You may not be someone he wishes to speak to."

  "Oh, I am, I assure you."

  The man glanced at the tall stallion with its silver-ornamented trappings, shrugged, and vanished back into the mansion. Blade spent the next few minutes admiring the scenery. Groves of fire and smoke trees mingled in a pleasing medley of colours, and marble fountains sparkled in the sun. Chiana would like it, he decided. He turned as the servant reappeared. A stocky, middle-aged, florid-faced noble with a bristling walrus moustache and a belligerent air followed, and glared at the assassin. Blade had not seen him at court, but then, he rarely attended audiences. The lord clearly did not recognise Blade, either, and his scowl blackened.

  "Who are you to demand to speak to me without offering your name, sir?"

  Blade smiled. He finally had a use for his titles, humiliating uppity nobles. He found it most amusing, and had developed a habit of doing it. "I am High Lord Conash, Lord Protector of Jashimari and sacred Knight of the Veil."

  The man reddened, and Blade watched him curiously, wondering if he would disbelieve him, as many had made the mistake of doing. The servant paled, shooting Blade a guilty glance. The nobleman appeared to wrestle with himself, then bowed low. "I am honoured, My Lord. I am Lord Tremath."