The Queen's Blade (12 page)

"Killing King Shandor gave me a great deal of satisfaction. I am well compensated already."

"And yet, you did not need my sanction to assassinate the King. Had you truly wished it, you could have done so at any time, for you did not need my help either."

Blade's lips curved in a gentle smile. "The Guild of Assassins forbids me to kill without a client, otherwise we would be nothing more than common murderers."

She nodded, nibbling the cake. "I see. A sensible rule, for you are right, that is the only difference between assassins and murderers. Your profession places the blame on your client, not you. So, how many did I murder, other than the King?"

"Only two soldiers."

She eyed him. "I enquired about you, as you advised. Your reputation is certainly unequalled, it would appear. Four hundred is an impressive tally."

"It is a gross exaggeration. I do not keep count, but I have not killed that many men." He sipped his tea, keeping his gaze lowered.

"You have my sympathy for the loss of your family, Conash."

He glanced at her in surprise. "It seems your enquiries were quite thorough."

"They usually are. I found the details interesting, but full of mystery. Is it true that you were once beaten and left for dead in the streets?"

He frowned at his tea. "Yes."

"And will you tell me how you survived?"

He raised his eyes in a bold glance that warned her of his dislike of the topic. "A whore from a nearby brothel took me in and nursed me back to health."

The Queen smiled. "A kind lady."

"Yes." Blade looked away, his face expressionless.

Minna knew that his rescue had little to do with kindness, and wondered if the unfortunate woman had ever discovered the futility of her hopes. Aware of his discomfiture, she changed the subject.

"Your reward shall be as I stated. Your elevation of rank will take place at a ceremony tomorrow in the audience chamber. It must, of necessity, take place before the entire court. The witnesses make it official."

"Then I would rather forgo the title. The lands and riches will be sufficient reward."

The Queen shook her head, smiling at his reaction, which she had predicted. Blade, like all assassins, had learnt to shun publicity, and being the centre of attention in the royal court did not appeal to him. "I am afraid you must take the title. I insist."

He shot her an accusing look. "Would you turn my reward into an ordeal?"

"Come now, you are to retire soon. You need not hide from the public any longer. If you are afraid of retribution, your new rank will protect you, and having the Queen's favour will ensure your safety."

"I have your favour?"

"But of course." She laughed. "As well as my ear and high regard."

"Then will you tell me what you intend for the Prince?"

"Alas, I cannot just yet. But he is not destined for the gallows."

Blade snorted, scowling. "A pity. I would volunteer to kill him for nothing."

"You have grown to dislike him?"

"No. He is a far better man than his father was, but he is Cotti."

Minna-Satu regarded him sadly. "You have more to hate them for than the deaths of your family, do you not?"

"Yes." Blade put down his empty cup and rose to his feet, startling her.

She jumped up, annoyed. "Your manners have not improved. It is customary to wait for my permission to leave before doing so."

The assassin cast her a hard glance. "I will try to remember. For the moment, I am tired and hungry."

She sighed, waving a languid hand. "Very well, you may go."

He dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "My Queen."

Minna watched him walk to the doors and open them, revealing Chiana standing outside. As he passed her, she glanced at Minna, and at the Queen's nod, turned to show him to his quarters.

The rooms Chiana led Blade to did not resemble the one in which he had stayed for the first tenday. Whereas that had been a servant's room, these boasted all the comforts the palace could provide, including a trained manservant. Hangings woven by master craftsmen graced the walls, some of which were panelled with polished bloodwood whose fine-grained veneer glowed deep crimson in the lamplight, seamed and knotted with black. Embroidered black velvet curtains framed lead-paned windows that gave a view of the palace's side garden, where a grove of smoke trees' gauzy foliage blended with the mist.

The sitting area boasted numerous cushions and poufs scattered on woollen rugs, and a fire crackled in a polished jade hearth. Paintings of hounds and horses, probably the familiars of long dead nobles, relieved the plethora of tapestries depicting hunting scenes. A vast four-poster bed dominated the bed chamber, hung with silk and velvet and covered with a snow cat fur spread. An ironwood wardrobe stood against one wall, its doors chiselled with crude designs.

To achieve even such slight patterns in ironwood was a great feat, since the wood was legendary for its hardness. Only young ironwood trees could be felled without blunting numberless axes and exhausting armies of men. Once the tree had been chopped down, it had to be sawn into planks and carved before the wood dried, or else there was no hope of doing so. Legend had it that there was a time, in an Age of Trees, when swords were made from it.

A curtained washing alcove housed a brass tub and an ironwood table with a basin and pitcher of water upon it, as well as a selection of soft towels, scented soaps and sponges.

Chiana left him to return to the Queen, and the servant came forward to offer his services. Blade ordered a meal and a bath, and found the former already awaiting him in an adjoining dining room furnished with a jade-topped smokewood table. The service and accommodations made him wonder to what rank he was being elevated, and he wished that he had asked the Queen. Tomorrow he would find out.

Kerrion glanced around at his room, which was almost devoid of furnishings. Two cream-coloured linen cushions were piled together in the centre of the sitting area, next to a low puffwood table topped with glass. A narrow bed stood in the far corner, a plain chest of drawers beside it. Within curtained alcove was a brass tub, a rough towel and a table with a basin and pitcher of water on it. A solitary, rather threadbare tapestry covered one wall, and another had two lead-paned windows in it, a puffwood tree blocking the view.

The room was either that of a servant that had been refurnished for him, or a junior advisor's humble quarters. The implication was obvious. He was, at best, an unwelcome guest, at worst, little more than a prisoner.

Two guards stood at the door, and a sullen manservant obeyed him with grudging tardiness. Once bathed, he dressed in the clothes provided, which, though quite fine, did not come up to his standards. A soft linen shirt of pale fawn hung below his hips in the fashion of the Jashimari. Well-fitting velvet leggings tucked into calf-high boots of soft brown leather with a matching silver-studded belt. All that remained to show his Princely status was his silver circlet, which the servant polished with great reluctance. After a simple meal of grilled butter fish and dellbeans with capelot greens, he was told to await the Queen's pleasure, which he did for most of the afternoon, fuming with impatience.

Finally, the advisor arrived to show him into the Queen's presence once more. Minna-Satu glanced up at his entrance, setting aside the papers she had been reading. He approached and stopped before her. She did not acknowledge him any further than to watch him, and, having never confronted a queen before, Kerrion was unsure of what to do. Certainly he was not about to prostrate himself, as Blade had forced him to do earlier. He accorded her a stiff bow, as he would his father.

The Queen gestured to the cushions in front of her. "Sit."

Kerrion found it a little awkward, since the Cotti used chairs, and he was unused to lounging about on a plethora of cushions.

Minna studied him, and the intelligence in her eyes and her proud demeanour struck him.

"I trust you are now comfortable, Prince Kerrion?"

He nodded. "The room is adequate."

"Good. I regret the death of your father. It was necessary, I am afraid. I ordered it to put you on the throne, thereby giving our people a chance for peace."

"Kidnapping me will only escalate the war, Queen Minna-Satu, and elevate my brother Lerton to the throne."

"I know that. You will regain your power when you return to the desert, once we have made our peace."

"So, you do wish to negotiate a treaty then?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"But you must know that neither of our peoples will allow it. After so many generations of war, they are so used to it that they will not want to simply walk away and return to their homes. The men know nothing but soldiering, and our nobles profit from it. We may be king and queen of our realms, but to announce an end to the war may well spark a revolt."

Minna raised a hand. "I am aware of all this. Please do not mistake me for a fool. My plan has many conditions. My changes will be sweeping and final. When I am finished, my people and yours will have no choice but to accept peace."

"You sound certain. How do you intend to achieve this? I have not agreed to anything, yet you speak as if the deed is done. How do you know that I want peace?"

The Queen shook her head. "Your wishes are irrelevant, but your co-operation would be beneficial. As of yet, it is too early to divulge my plans to you. I wish to know you better first."

He stared at her in confusion. "What bearing can that have? It matters not whether we know each other. We need not be friends to negotiate a treaty."

"Then you would be willing to?"

"If the lands your people have stolen are returned to the Cotti, perhaps an agreement can be reached."

Minna's brows rose. "What lands are those?"

"The land between the mountains and the Lelgara River, which was the border before your ancestors invaded them."

Minna shook her head, a slight smile tugging at her lips, and Kerrion marvelled at her poise. Unlike the dusky Cotti maidens, the Queen had a pale, delicate beauty, which he likened to that of an orchid, as opposed to a bright daisy.

"We stole no lands from you. According to our records, the Cotti kings tried to invade Jashimari lands, and we have been defending them ever since."

"Then your records lie, and we will never have an end to this war if we cannot even agree on what started it."

"No, the reason for its beginning has no bearing on its end. We have only to agree to end it, and it is over."

Kerrion frowned. "That will not satisfy my people. They have not fought so long and hard to gain nothing for their sacrifice in the end."

"Nor will mine be content to give away the soil they have striven to defend for generations."

"Then we are already at an impasse."

"Do you wish to end the war?"

Kerrion shrugged, meeting her gaze without attempting to hide the amusement in his eyes. Minna-Satu frowned, clearly unused to such bold glances. From what he had been taught of Jashimari culture, the men were spineless cowards. Her subjects rarely met her eyes in such a forthright manner, and even her most senior lords did not dare to stare her down in such a fashion.

The Prince smiled at her discomfort. "It is not something to which I have given much thought. My kingdom thrives on war and my people prosper from it. Without the war, many powerful men would lose their livelihood. Arms merchants and mine owners, armourers who have spent years crafting fine weapons and inventing new ones. What use could they put their skills to, if there was no demand for their products?"

"What about the cost? The thousands of lives lost every year in battle, the bereaved families, destitute widows?" Minna asked.

"You speak of a woman's concerns. The men are proud of their sons' glorious achievements and honourable death in battle. Widows are compensated for the loss of their husbands and sons, they would be poorer if their menfolk lived than if they die."

"And what of the cripples, men without arms or legs or sight?"

"They too are compensated," Kerrion said. "No Cotti war veteran starves or is without a home. Those who have profited from the war pay huge taxes to support the less fortunate. Farmers grow rich feeding the army, the economy booms."

"Yes, so it is here, too. Yet the war is evil, and I would end it."

Kerrion shrugged. "Then surrender. You will receive good treatment, your people will not be enslaved, and your wish will be granted."

"Never." The Queen's eyes glinted. "How dare you make such a presumption, when it is you who are my prisoner?"

"Imprisoning me does you no good. It will only enrage my people and goad them to greater ferocity. If you execute me, my brother Lerton will inherit, and he is much like my father."

Minna-Satu appeared to rein her temper, and sat back with a sigh, glancing at the dozing sand cat. "So you have said. Let us not discuss it further today. Tell me of your family, I believe it is large."

Kerrion obliged, her tactics confusing him a little. For the remainder of the afternoon and over dinner, they discussed the details of their lives and relatives, steering away from the controversial subject of war. Kerrion found the Queen to be pleasant and talkative, unlike the taciturn Blade, though she smiled rarely, and her eyes held a distant sadness that made him long to know the reason for it. Her beauty seemed too fragile to endure her high office with all its burdens, and there was no triumph for him in denying her the peace she craved. He found it unfair to have to deal with such a lovely woman, against whom any victory would inevitably be tinged with regret.

That night he lay awake, thinking about her and wondering at the mysterious plans she claimed to have. By the time he fell asleep, he was no wiser for his time-glasses of pondering. Whatever Queen Minna-Satu had in mind, he was unable to fathom it.

Chapter Eight

The door opening softly woke Blade the next morning, and he became instantly alert, in the usual manner of assassins. He relaxed when the manservant appeared, carrying a pile of bright, luxurious clothes. The man smiled and hung the garments on a smokewood rack to display them, brushing and straightening them with obvious pride. Blade sat up and eyed the deep crimson silk shirt and tailored tunic of brushed black velvet with silver patterns embroidered on the shoulders and sleeves. Next to these, the man hung a pair of black velvet trousers edged with silver, and a matching silver-studded belt. A short cloak completed the outfit, and the servant smiled at the assassin as he straightened from placing a pair of narrow, polished black boots on the floor under the rack.