The Queen's Blade (9 page)

"Suitable for a man so fond of his dagger."

"I thought so."

Kerrion pondered. "Have you ever met your Queen?"

"Yes."

"What is she like?"

Blade looked impatient, slicing the meat with flashing strokes of the razor-sharp weapon. "She is a queen. I do not know her that well."

"Is she proud? Disdainful? Did she make you grovel?"

"She did not make me do anything," Blade retorted. "I showed my respect, nothing more."

"How long before we reach the palace, or castle?"

"About two tendays."

Kerrion eyed his captor. "You know, whatever she is paying you, I can better, if you take me back."

Blade shot him a contemptuous glance. "I am not for sale."

"Come, man, everyone has their price. I daresay yours is high, but name it. Lands, riches, titles, anything you wish, I can give you."

"The Cotti have nothing I want, even if I had a price, which I do not."

Kerrion shook his head. "Why else would you risk your life? I am sure she is paying you handsomely."

"So she is, but I would have done it simply for the pleasure of killing your father."

Blade glanced at the Prince, who stared into the newly lighted fire, his expression unreadable. How hard it must be, the assassin mused, to spend time in the company of the man who had slain your father. This was undoubtedly Kerrion's first taste of grief, yet he seemed to forget that his father was dead until Blade reminded him. It must be a difficult thing to accept when he had seen no body, and no tangible proof of his father's demise.

As if reading his thoughts, Kerrion looked up. "My father and I were not close. I am the eldest of sixteen sons, and not his favourite. I have always believed that he brought me with him on his campaigns in the hope that I would be killed, for my younger brother is his choice for successor."

Blade concentrated on chopping meat into the pot, remembering all too well his own father's death.
The sprawled body before their cottage, a spear protruding obscenely from his belly, the blood staining the ground.

His mind flew back to the time before that, when his father's gentle smiles, rough pats and warm embraces for his second son had filled Blade's world with joy. He recalled his two brothers' horseplay, mud fights, tree climbing, skinned knees and swimming in a lake. He remembered his soft-eyed sisters with their hair tied up in long tails, like a pony's, and their bright smiles when they picked flowers in the fields and giggled as they rolled down the warm, sun-drenched grassy slopes. Then his mother would call them in for supper, scold them for their dirty clothes, wash their scrapes and scrub them pink in the tub before the fire. His mother's warm embraces had been so soft and tender; her fingers had stroked his hair and her sweet voice had told him of her love for him, her special son. Her screams had rent the air on the day shaven soldiers had come with long spears. The air had been filled with the smell of blood and smoke and the screams had pierced his heart...

"Blade."

The assassin looked up at the hated Prince, ruler of the Cotti, who had murdered his family. The urge to kill Kerrion almost overwhelmed him, and his hand clenched on the dagger. He forced himself to relax and resume chopping the salted meat.

"Be quiet."

Kerrion obeyed, for Blade's deep frown and the vigour with which he cut the meat warned the Prince that something was amiss with the assassin. Sitting back with a sigh, Kerrion rubbed his chafed wrists and tried to ease the tight chains onto an area of less painful skin. The short length that joined his wrists to his waist allowed him to eat awkwardly and cling to the saddle when riding, but did not allow him reach the knot in the thong about his neck. When Blade secured him at night, he merely tied the thong to a tree, and, unless the Prince chewed through the tough leather, he could not get free. They ate in silence, then Blade bound Kerrion to a tree and went to sleep.

The next day, they rode on as before, the Prince blind and silent within the hood. At supper that night, Kerrion once again tried to strike up a conversation.

"Have you considered my offer?"

"No."

The Prince nodded, unsurprised, but dug at his food in frustration. "I suppose there is nothing I can say to change your mind?"

"You would be wasting your breath."

"Your hatred runs deep."

"More than you could ever imagine." Blade frowned. "And before you ask, it is none of your business."

"Maybe not. I suppose your father was killed in the war?"

Blade banged his empty bowl down. "You are as bad as a damned woman with your prying questions. What difference does it make to you? Yes, the damned Cotti killed my father. He was just a goatherd, and they did not only kill him, they massacred my entire family."

A pang of sympathy shot through Kerrion, but he hid it. "And how many more Cotti must you kill to even the score? How long will you lust for vengeance?"

"I evened the score a long time ago, but maybe if I kill you, I will feel better about it."

Kerrion set aside his bowl and held up his chained wrists. "Take these off, and we will see if you can."

Blade shook his head and leant against a tree. "I am not a fighter. You cannot provoke me with a challenge. I would have killed you long ago in your tent, if not for the wishes of my Queen. Your father died too easily. He did not deserve such a clean death. Any man who orders the butchery of women and children, and who enslaves children, deserves to feel some of their pain before he dies."

"Slavery?" Kerrion snorted. "My people do not practice slavery. That is another Jashimari lie."

"Have you spent your whole life with your head buried in the sand of your infernal desert? This is not something I heard in a taproom, bantered by a drunken soldier. I saw them with my own eyes, I was..." Blade looked away, scowling.

"You were what?" Kerrion demanded. "How could you have been in a Cotti camp and have lived to tell the tale?"

"I was in one just a few days ago, and I am still here."

"Disguised as a Cotti whore. Do you frequent Cotti camps in that guise often? Perhaps you earn more in that fashion than you do as an assassin. You did not lack for offers that night, I will wager."

Blade growled, "Be quiet."

"No, I will not be ordered around by a damned Jashimari half man assassin. There are no Jashimari child slaves in Cotti camps. Did you see any when you came to kill my father?"

"No." Oddly, Blade calmed instead of growing angrier. "But I was not looking for them. There might have been some hidden in the tents."

"I would know if there were," Kerrion avowed. "No Cotti would stoop so low. What do you think we are, damned savages?"

"Yes, your soldiers are, even if you high and mighty royals think you are so good."

"These so-called slaves you claim to have seen are doubtless the offspring of whores."

"These were Jashimari children, not Cotti brats."

Kerrion snorted, annoyed by Blade's assertions. "So say you, but if they were dirty enough, you would not be able to tell the difference."

"They were Jashimari."

The Prince shook his head. "You are either lying, or your eyes have deceived you. Perhaps it was the cracked spyglass you used, and your over-active imagination. You Jashimari would love to believe us capable of such atrocities, but, in truth, the Cotti are more civilised than you."

Blade studied Kerrion over the fire, doubtless noting the open honesty of Kerrion's expression and the utter conviction with which he spoke. He lowered his eyes to the flames. "You really are ignorant, not so?"

Kerrion swelled with indignation. "I speak the truth!"

"As you know it."

"Yes, as I know it! And as a prince of the Cotti people, I have spent more time than you in our camps. If there were Jashimari slaves, I would have seen them."

"Unless your father did not wish you to," Blade pointed out.

"Why would he not? He would never condone such a thing."

"But he did."

Kerrion leant forward. "Your lies do not convince me, assassin. Give me one good reason why I should believe you."

Blade frowned at the fire, and Kerrion waited. When the assassin looked up, he met the Prince's gaze with hate-filled eyes. "I do not particularly care whether or not you believe me. What happened to me is no great secret, nor am I ashamed of it. It is the Cotti who should be ashamed of what they did to innocent children, so I will tell you how I know that there are Jashimari child slaves in the Cotti army camps. Fifteen years ago, I was one of them."

Kerrion's mouth dropped open, and he stared at Blade, stunned. The assassin jumped up and walked away, stopping at the edge of the firelight to stand with his back to the Prince. Kerrion gazed into the flames for some time, grappling with the enormity of the crime his people had committed, if what Blade had said was true. Not for a moment did Kerrion doubt the veracity of Blade's words, however. They were spoken with too much conviction and suppressed emotion to be lies. The Cotti were people of learning and refinement, and atrocities against the innocent would outrage them. A war was one thing, perhaps barbarous, yet acceptable to most, but the enslavement of children, even of an enemy, was abhorrent. He looked at Blade's rigid back, his shoulders squared by pride, and understood the rage in his eyes.

Climbing to his feet, he went over to stand next to the assassin. "If I had known about it, I would have put a stop to it."

The assassin shrugged. "But you did not."

"How did you escape?"

Blade stared into the darkness, his face shadowed. "When I was sixteen, I stole some women's clothes and walked into the desert."

"And how long were you there for?"

"Four years."

"How many of you were there?"

Blade glanced at him. "A few dozen, maybe more."

"All boys?"

"No, there were girls. Three of them were my sisters. They were only six, eight and fourteen years old when we were captured." He paused. "They died before I escaped."

"This was something the soldiers did on their own. My father would never have allowed it."

"Your father was there." Blade faced him. "He condoned it."

"No. I cannot believe that. My father was a lot of things, but he would not keep child slaves."

Blade seemed to lose interest, his anger evaporating as quickly as it had boiled over, and he turned to stare into the darkness again. "I never saw him myself, but I knew two of the boys he owned."

"Perhaps it was not him. Maybe the boys lied, or the man pretended to be my father."

The assassin shook his head. "He ordered it. The soldiers rounded up almost all the young children in my village, mostly twelve and under. I was almost too old. They should have killed me, but I was small for my age."

"What did you do in the camp? Fetch and carry, cook, clean and wash clothes, I suppose?"

"Amongst other things."

"Like what?"

Blade shook his head again, evidently tiring of the conversation. "That is enough." He returned to the fire.

The Prince followed him. "What else? You must tell me. I have a right to know."

"Why should I tell you anything? It makes no difference any more, not to you, not to me. What is done is done, and nobody can change it."

"Because it is still being done, is it not? No one has stopped it, because no one who cares knows about it. They are my people. I have a right to know the crimes they have committed."

"You know enough."

"But there is more, is there not, and worse?"

Blade sighed. "Yes."

"What?"

"Were you born yesterday?" Blade snarled. "What do you think? Must I spell it out for you?"

"Yes, I think you must."

The assassin stepped closer, his eyes glittering in the firelight, white teeth flashing as he bit out the words as if they soiled his lips. "We were their toys, their playthings. They starved us, tortured us, forced us to perform unspeakable acts for their amusement, made us fight each other and whipped us if we refused."

The Prince's heart twisted with anguish and shame.

"Your great people," Blade said. "The mighty Cotti, scourge of the desert, torturers of little children."

"You have to let me go. I must put a stop to it."

Blade smiled with bitter satisfaction. "No, you are going to meet the Queen. I hope she has something particularly nasty planned for you."

"I am not to blame. I would never have allowed it."

"That does not matter, does it? That is not why she wants you, she does not even know about it, as far as I know." He looked away. "No one does, for I am the only one who ever escaped, and I have told nobody."

"Then you share the blame," Kerrion declared. "You could have stopped it, had you warned your people, they could have protected their children."

"Your men attacked undefended towns and villages. Who could have protected the children? Do you think my father did not try? How could unarmed farmers fight soldiers? Your father launched surprise attacks across the mountains in the dead of night, burnt whole villages to the ground and flung women into the flames.

"When all the border towns were wiped out, he sent raiding parties deep into Jashimari lands to attack more. He, most of all, enjoyed watching little girls dance until they dropped from exhaustion. He put babies on ants' nests to see how long they screamed. Those who did not die of the cruelties perished from disease."

Blade bent and dragged the Prince up by his collar, thrusting his face close. "And they made the rest of us watch! Do you know what that does to a young boy? To see his sisters dance like puppets until their feet bled in the hot sand and their faces turned red, and they dropped like broken dolls..."

His face twisted with the intensity of his hatred, and the fist that gripped Kerrion's collar trembled. "The more I watched, the more I wanted to kill. Your father made me what I am, in more ways than one. He created the monster I have become, a killer, remorseless, ruthless and unfeeling. You do not see any tears in my eyes when I speak of what happened, do you? That is because I do not care anymore.