Sacrifice: The Queen's Blade (29 page)

"I trust the ceremony went well?"

"No, it did not." Chiana picked up a quill and pulled a sheet of paper towards her. "The Cotti King has stolen the Queen's body, and Blade's. We had nothing to bury, we only prayed."

Jayon stared at her. "Why would Kerrion take them?"

"I would like to know the answer to that myself. I can only surmise that he sought to give insult."

"That bastard!"

"My sentiments exactly. I shall write a formal letter of protest."

Jayon leant forward, putting aside his cup. "You need more spies in Jadaya. We need to know what's going on there. I want to go as soon as possible."

"You are not a spy." Chiana glanced at him in surprise. "You would be discovered."

"Well, not as a spy as such. After all, we're no longer at war. Surely merchants will be going there to trade now?"

"Not for a while, I think." She stared at the blank paper before her. "It will take time for the scars of war to heal and for our peoples to stop regarding each other as enemies. It is still dangerous for a Jashimari to go to Jadaya."

"I'll take the risk. I was in more danger when I fought at the front."

She nodded, the quill poised over the paper. Jayon had been a patrol leader during the war, and rescued Blade after a Cotti spy shot him with a crossbow. "If you really want to, then go with the wagons that will carry the stipend to Jadaya. At least that way you will be going there for a reason, and there should be no grounds for suspicion."

"I shall find out what he did with them, if nothing else."

Chiana scowled at the empty page. "Good. Now I need to be alone so I can write this letter."

Jayon tottered to his feet and bowed, almost toppling over. Recovering with the aid of a swift grab for the table, he weaved his way to the door, closing it behind him. Chiana stared at the damp spots on the paper, unable to stem the tears that rolled down her cheeks. She longed to see her husband one last time and wash his body in the ritual cleansing before burial, the last duty of a wife. Now she would never see him again, and had no grave at which to mourn.

Blade lay in a dream-like state, caught somewhere on the edge of a sleep from which he could not wake. The rattle of wagon wheels, mingled with the steady drumming of hooves, held him from the abyss of true sleep. His limbs refused to obey him. Even his eyes would not open, trapping him in the dark confines of his skull.

Sometimes the travel sounds would stop, allowing him to sink into slumber's soft arms, then they would start again, dragging him into the half-awake state. Dreams of blood and death plagued him, from which he longed to wake. At times dull pain throbbed in his arm and thigh, or he was lifted and tasteless liquid poured into his mouth. Sometimes voices impinged upon him, soft and calm or loud and argumentative, but the words made no sense.

One day, with a supreme effort of will, he dragged himself from the horror of a bloody dream into the world of drumming and rattling, forcing his eyes open. A canvas canopy hung over him, billowing in the wind. The hoops that held it up swayed as the wagon rumbled over rough roads. As he gazed at it, the sleep that dogged him threatened to drag him back into its enervating depths. He gave a wordless cry of despair, fighting to stay in the world of sensations.

His shout jolted him further from the dream-like state, and he struggled to raise his head from the hard pillow. A vista of retreating, sunlit desert greeted his drooping eyes. He flopped back, crying out again to prevent the creeping monster of lethargy from dragging him back into its midnight folds.

Slowly his head cleared, and the real world became sharper and clearer, the sounds more defined, the sensations stronger. He forced flaccid muscles to do his bidding and propped himself up on one elbow, finding that his wrists were shackled to the floor. With a growl he jerked at the chain, the flash of pain bringing him more awake.

Blade became aware of his weakness, a terrible taste in his mouth and his belly's growling emptiness. That, combined with the desert behind the wagon, told him that he had been asleep for a long time. After a while he flopped back, the effort of staying awake a futile one when he could do nothing about his situation. He allowed the drowsiness to engulf him, and slipped into a dreamless doze.

The rattle of a pot nearby woke him, and he opened his eyes. The wagon had stopped, and a scrawny, middle-aged Cotti sat on the back of it stirring a fire-blackened pot. He tasted its contents and nodded, then turned and shuffled towards the assassin. As he glanced down at Blade, the Cotti's eyes widened and he gave a yelp of surprise, retreating. Blade watched him until he vanished from sight, then closed his eyes again, drifting into a doze. Voices woke him again, one of them familiar, and he opened his eyes to find Kerrion standing over him, smiling.

"So, at last you are awake. I had almost given up hope. Olan here assured me that you would never wake up." He cast an amused glance at the Cotti servant, who ducked his head. "Probably just wishful thinking. Luckily he was wrong."

Blade jerked at one of the chains. "Let me up, you bastard."

"Humiliating, is it not? No worse than the way you treated me after you took me prisoner."

"At least I captured you while you were awake."

"True, but then I did not try to take the coward's way out."

The assassin glared at the Cotti King. "You had no reason to. You thought yourself safe in your father's camp. If you have done this because you want something from me, you will not gain it unless you let me up now."

Kerrion glanced at Olan. "Go fetch some stew for our guest. I think he needs something more solid than broth." He turned to Blade as the servant scuttled off. "What makes you think I want something from you? Perhaps I only want to punish you for your crimes."

"You would not go to so much trouble for that."

"Perhaps." Kerrion took a key from his pocket and undid the shackles that held Blade's wrists, allowing him to sit up. The assassin swayed, almost fainting from weakness and hunger, and glared at Kerrion, who went on, "Do not think I am intimidated by your threats. You have to eat, and I am not spooning it into you."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"More than four tendays. Olan has been looking after you, feeding you broth and water and tending to your wounds."

Blade eyed the shackles that bound his ankles. "Why have you done this? What do you want from me?"

Kerrion turned as Olan appeared with a bowl of stew, dismissed him and offered the bowl to Blade. "Eat, you look like you need it."

The assassin fought the urge to smash the bowl into Kerrion's face, then his hunger overcame his pride and he took it with ill grace. After eating for a few minutes under Kerrion's watchful gaze, he paused.

"You did not answer my questions."

"Nor do I intend to, yet. You will find out soon enough." He frowned. "Since you did not ask, the Queen is in good health and most concerned about you."

"I suppose she is to be your slave."

"You Jashimari all think alike. She will be treated according to her rank, and no harm will come to her."

Blade put aside the half-finished stew and rubbed his brow, fighting another bout of sleepiness. "I do not particularly care, Kerrion, but you will not get what you want from me, no matter what it is."

"Oh, I think I will. You do not strike me as a man who would enjoy prison."

Blade's head sagged, and his eyes closed despite his struggle to keep them open. Darkness washed over him in a solid wave.

Kerrion cursed as the assassin slumped, caught him before he banged his head on the floor and lowered him onto the hard pallet. Blade looked ill, his face gaunt and his eyes sunken, but that was to be expected after coming so close to death. His fine, sculpted features, which his illness had honed further, enabled him to disguise himself as a woman for difficult assassinations. This ability had earned him a reputation that named him the Invisible Assassin. The fact that he was a beardless eunuch allowed him to use the disguise to great effect, even at close quarters. His silver-grey eyes could chill a man's soul with their arctic stare, yet his smile could melt the hardest heart.

Blade's victims suspected nothing until the cold steel of his dagger pierced their hearts. His long black hair was tied with a leather thong and his leather jacket had been removed so that Olan could tend the wound in his arm, exposing the small black dagger tattoo at the base of his throat, the mark of an assassin. Kerrion marvelled that one so slight of build, although owning a whipcord strength and well defined musculature, could be so deadly. This was the man who had slain Kerrion's father and half-brother, neither of whom he mourned with particular fervour. Blade's recent assassinations for his Queen had earned him yet another title; the Queen's Blade. With a sigh, the King shackled the assassin's wrists again and pulled the blanket over him, then quit the wagon.

Returning to the carriage, he found Minna waiting with her usual impatience, annoyed by his tardiness. As soon as he closed the door, she confronted him.

"Is Blade awake? I must see him at once."

"He is asleep." Kerrion sat down. "He woke only for a few minutes, ate a little food, then passed out again."

"How was he? Is he very angry?"

"Yes, but not as angry as I had expected. He was quite calm, though he did not like being chained up. Apart from that he seemed almost normal, for him."

"What did he say?"

Kerrion shrugged. "Not much. He asked a few questions and made a few threats. I told him you were well, although he did not ask, but he was not really interested."

She looked away. "Why should he be? He does not care about me."

"So he said. Does that not anger you?"

"No, I understand him well enough in that respect, I think. I would have been surprised if he had asked after me. But I am concerned for him. Why did he fall asleep again so quickly? I did not."

"I gave him less antidote than you, perhaps that is slowing his recovery. I am sure he will come out of it soon."

"Perhaps. Then again, it may be a good thing if he does not. I would not like him to suffer at the hands of your people."

Kerrion gazed at her. "You care a lot for him, even though he is a cold-hearted bastard who does not give a damn about you."

"If he cared for others, I might find it hurtful. But he cares for no one, so I am no different from the rest. That I can accept, and yes, I am fond of him. He has served me well and earned my affection and respect." She pinned him with a sharp gaze. "How do you feel about him?"

He hesitated, caught off guard. "I respect him, certainly, even admire him a little, I suppose."

"And you like him." She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to deny it. "Come now, Kerrion, there is no shame in it. He is not your enemy, though he would have you as one, for he hates all Cotti without reserve or exception. You do not need him so desperately to assassinate your enemies, you have Cotti assassins, I assume. Perhaps not as good as him, but adequate nonetheless. Yet you saved him, which you would not have done had you hated him."

"I do not hate him, but I would not go as far as to say that I like him, either."

"You do."

Kerrion laughed, throwing up his hands. "Far be it for me to argue with you. Think what you will."

"I will tell you something that may help you to understand him. Much as he hates this world, for since his family died he has known little but suffering, he hates himself more. It consumes him, and because of it he has no pity, no loyalty and no love to give to anybody."

He looked puzzled. "Why do you feel the need to explain him to me?"

"Because if you are to find a way of gaining his co-operation, you will need to understand him better. Even now his attitude puzzles you. How can you hope to control him if you do not know him?"

"I will rely on you to tell me, because if you wish him well treated his collaboration is necessary."

Her eyes grew chilly. "I see. Now you blackmail me to coerce him. This does not sit well with me."

Kerrion looked down at his hands, spreading them. "No, do not think of it like that. I need your help to persuade him to protect you from those of my half-brothers who will plot to have you killed. It pains me to admit it, but I need his help. I cannot hire Cotti assassins to slay a prince, they would not do it. In time, I will weed out the dissenters amongst My Lords and advisors and persuade the rest that you can do them no harm. But until then I need you both to help me if you are to stay alive."

He pulled aside the curtain and stared out of the window. "Believe me, taking you to the desert is not something I want to do, knowing the dangers that await you there. But you left me little choice. I could not leave you in Jashimari, where you might be discovered. I have told My Lords that you are my prisoner, a prize from the Jashimari conquest, for that is what they think it is. I have to tell them that or my crown will be jeopardised, you understand?"

He glanced at her, and she nodded, frowning. Kerrion went on, "You talk of having a sand cat by the tail in keeping Blade alive and imprisoned. But I already have a far greater beast by the tail, one that could turn on me at any moment. My half-brothers still plot against me, and it may take a few of the older ones to die before the younger learn to respect me.

"This task should please your assassin immensely. He will get to kill more of Shandor's sons. I cannot have them executed when they are too sly to be caught plotting against me. I would need proof to convict them, and they will certainly ensure that I have none. They will stand by one another and back each other up, making any trial a farce, which is why Blade is so important."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "So you see, Blade's captivity is for your benefit, not my ambitions. By taking you to Jadaya I am endangering myself by giving my brothers a good reason to plot against me and gather others to their cause. If not for you they would find it very difficult to do me harm. I am making their task much easier, and I shall need a weapon against them if either of us is to survive."