The Queen's Blade Prequel I - Conash: Dead Son (18 page)

The boy shook
his head. “It's not true.”

“We fooled them
then, huh? Come on.”

“Why didn't I
sense you?”

Talon smiled
and tried to ruffle the youth's hair, but he ducked away. “I'm an
assassin, remember? I know how to go undetected.”

“How?”

“It's all a
question of distance and concentration. I was too far away, for one
thing, and I wasn't watching you, I was watching her. Even with
your little bit of training, you're more alert than a normal
person, but she didn't notice me. Even if she had, she would have
thought it was her cohorts. I spotted them right away. They came
with her.”

“I sensed them
too.”

The elder
nodded. “Good.”

***

Two tendays
later, Talon arrived at the hut at dusk carrying a bag, which he
dumped on the table. Conash had practiced all day, dagger throwing
in the morning and dancing in the afternoon, and rested on the bed.
The elder drew out two bottles of wine and opened one, and Conash
rose to join him at the table. Sometimes Talon brought a bottle in
the afternoon, and the boy was surprised that he had brought
two.

“Are we
celebrating something?”

Talon looked
thoughtful, then raised his cup. “You're improving.”

Conash snorted.
“I should hope so.”

“Me too. Drink
up.”

The youth
sipped his wine, surprised when the elder slugged his back and
indicated that Conash should do the same. “Come, boy, you can't
make a toast with a sip.”

Conash drained
the goblet, and Talon refilled it, then his own. “It's been three
moon-phases since you started your apprenticeship. It's time we had
a bit of a chin wag.”

“About
what?”

Talon waved his
cup. “Anything. What would you like to discuss?”

“Nothing.”

“So then let's
toast... the future!”

Talon clashed
his goblet against Conash's again. The youth wondered what his
mentor was up to, and what had happened to supper. His stomach
growled, reminding him of its emptiness. The elder proposed toasts
to assassins, the Guild, the elders, the Dance Master, the Dance,
and being alive, insisting that Conash drain his cup each time.
After a time-glass of this, the boy's head swam and he was
pleasantly relaxed. Talon kept his apprentice's cup filled, and
when Conash's eyes drooped, he opened the bag.

“I bought
something for you,” he said.

“What?”

Talon drew a
pot out of the bag with a flourish, like a magician producing a
rabbit, and placed it on the table. Before the boy could ask what
was in it, Talon dipped into the bag and took out a woman's
silver-handled mirror, placing it beside the pot. Next he drew out
another pot, then a brush, and finally an even smaller container,
which he slapped down beside the two pots. He gestured to the items
with a smile.

“Your perfect
disguise. With this, you'll be able to walk into the best guarded
mansion, maybe even the palace itself.”

Conash eyed the
articles. “No disguise is that good.”

“This one is.
Trust me. As your mentor, I'll only do my best for you, remember
that. You want to be the best assassin in all of Jashimari? This is
the key.”

“So what is
it?”

“Ah, well, it's
a surprise. I'll put it on for you, and then I'll show you, all
right?”

Conash
shrugged, not giving the matter much consideration, since his mind
swam in a gentle, wine-induced fog. “I suppose so.”

“Good.” Talon
picked up a pot and pulled his chair around the table to sit beside
Conash, moving the lamp closer.

Dipping his
finger into the pot, he ordered the boy to close his eyes and
smeared powder on his lids. Using the brush, he painted under the
youth's eyes, then opened another pot and rubbed a sticky liquid on
Conash's lips. Finally, he dusted the boy's face with pale powder
and leant back to study the result, his expression wondering and a
little bemused. Talon tugged off the thong that bound the boy's
hair and combed it around his face, then scrutinised him again,
smiling.

“Perfect.”

Conash frowned.
“What is it?”

“You'll
see.”

“I'm not going
to like it, am I?”

“Probably not,
but you'll have to admit that it's effective.” Talon picked up the
mirror. “Prepare to meet... the Invisible Assassin.”

Conash glanced
at his reflection, surprised to find a girl with raven hair and
matt, milk-pale skin, a narrow, chiselled nose and sensuous red
lips gazing back at him with puzzled grey eyes, which the dark
powder that outlined them shadowed and enhanced. The lean visage
was perhaps a little too gaunt and the chin too strong, but the
overall impression was of striking beauty. He blinked, realising
that he was looking at himself. The wine-induced fog smothered his
anger, and he glanced at Talon.

The elder tried
to hide his look of enthralled admiration, but did not do so fast
enough.

“You bastard!”
Conash flung the mirror down as the red rage rose in him like a
flash inferno, and lunged at Talon. The assassin fell backwards
with a grunt, Conash straddling him, his hands locked around the
elder's throat. Talon struggled to free himself from the boy's
grip, the veins on his brow bulging as the blood to his head was
cut off. Gripping Conash's index fingers, he bent them backwards,
forcing the boy to release him or acquire a pair of broken
digits.

Conash jerked
free and punched Talon, splitting his lip, then the elder's hands
flashed up to capture the boy's wrists. With a heave, he sent the
youth sprawling and rolled over to pin him down. Conash snarled
curses and fought to get free, but the larger, experienced assassin
had the advantage of weight and skill.

“Stop it,
Conash,” Talon said. “Remember your oath! Obedience! Stop this
now!”

“Bugger your
oath, you boy buggering bastard!”

“I'm not a boy
buggerer. This disguise will make you the greatest assassin ever.
It's perfect. Others have tried to use the feminine ploy and
failed. A man's cheeks are too rough, his features too strong. Only
you can do this!”

“Get off
me!”

“When you calm
down. Hit me again, and I'll hit you back, understand? I hit a lot
harder than you, trust me.”

The youth
glowered at him. “If you don't let me go, I'll walk out that door
and never return.”

“Then you'll
die in the gutter. This was an experiment, nothing more. I wanted
to show you how effective it is. You don't have to use it if you
don't want to, but you can.”

“Let me
go!”

Talon released
him and rolled to his feet, out of reach. Conash scrambled up,
furious, and went to the basin to scrub his face with soap. Talon
sighed and sat down at the table, clearly glad that the storm was
over, and evidently satisfied that he had made his point.

When the boy
returned to sit at the table and drain his wine cup, he glowered at
his mentor with unadulterated loathing. “I'll never use that
disguise.”

Talon raised
his hands. “Fine. Don't. It's up to you.”

“It's
degrading!”

“It's a tool,
just like your daggers, that's all. An assassin called Venom used a
female disguise to infiltrate a powerful lord's household as a
whore. The unsuspecting man took Venom to his bed, but discovered
the subterfuge as soon as he touched Venom's cheek, though not
before the assassin had used his poisoned needle. The lord raised
the alarm before he died, and Venom was slain. Had it not been for
the stubble on his cheeks, he would have walked out of that
bedchamber.”

Talon leant
forward. “It's not as if you'd be the first to do it, but you'd be
the first to do it successfully. Few attempt it, for the risk of
discovery is high, although the benefits are immense. One or two
have pulled off a few kills using such a disguise, but it's
difficult for...”

“A man.”

“A man with a
beard.”

Conash frowned
at his wine cup. “So what am I?”

“At the moment,
a youth, but you will grow into a man. One with a secret weapon
that no one else has, and no one will suspect you of having. You'll
be able to walk into a fortress with a basket of flowers and a
smile. Guards will open doors for you; warriors will smile while
you kill them, all unsuspecting.

“You alone can
do this. The Cotti mutilated you, but you can use it to improve
your lot. Turn their atrocity into an advantage; don't ignore such
a valuable asset. You may become proficient with your daggers and
good at the Dance, but this disguise will make you the greatest
assassin ever.”

The boy said,
“It's demeaning!”

“No, it's not.
Who's going to laugh? The man lying dead with your dagger in his
heart? I don't think so. No one else ever needs to know. I won't
tell anyone, rest assured. As your mentor, I'm not allowed to, and
I'd be a fool to compromise you. Your achievements will reflect on
me, so I want you to succeed. An elder is only as good as his best
apprentice. I want you to be the best.”

“I can be the
best without resorting to such low tactics.”

“Low? You call
this low?” Talon shook his head. “Low is crawling through a league
of sewage pipes to emerge in a man's commode and shove a poisoned
blade into his arse. Low is capturing and torturing a man's
familiar to force him to come to its aid, then killing the beast
and slaying the man in his death sleep. Low is using an innocent
child to give a man poisoned sweets. Low is -”

“All
right!”

“This is not
low. This requires a great deal of skill and finesse. You'll have
to learn how to walk and gesture like a woman. You'll have to learn
how to seduce a man with your smile and speak in a woman's voice.
If you get it right, no one will be safe from you. You'll succeed
where no one else can. You'll be the Invisible Assassin.”

Conash drained
his goblet and refilled it. “You knew I'd hate it, that's why you
tried to get me drunk first.”

“I did get you
drunk, because I knew you'd probably try to kill me, and I was
right. I don't know why you find it so abhorrent, and I don't want
to know. It's not insulting. It's just a perfect disguise, which is
rare. “

“Only until he
shoves his hand down my britches.”

Talon shook his
head. “First of all, you'll be wearing a skirt, and he'll be dead
before he tries that. God, I'm not suggesting that you lie with
him! He dies as soon as he strays within your reach, unless you
wish to toy with him first. That's up to you. You'll need to wear
perfume, of course, and some baubles. Get your ears pierced, and
make sure you wash well before you don the disguise, to remove your
masculine scent.”

Conash thumped
the table. “I'm not going to do it!”

“All right. I
think you're a fool, then, but it's up to you. If you change your
mind, though, remember my instructions.”

“How would you
know what to do any better than I? How many times have you dressed
up as a woman? I'm not a fool.”

Talon rubbed
his chin. “Unfortunately, I became hirsute at eighteen, so I've
never had the option, but if I had, I would have used it. And I
probably know a little more about women's habits than you, since I
have more experience with them.”

“So will I, one
day.”

Talon sighed
and quaffed his wine. “Of course. Tomorrow, you'll receive a
punishment for striking an elder, and another for striking your
mentor, since I'm both. And one more, I think, for refusing to use
my rightful title.”

Chapter Eleven

“Where are we
going?” Conash asked for what seemed like the eighth time, although
it might have only been five.

At eighteen, he
was almost as tall as Talon, and the rigorous exercise regimen his
mentor had forced him to undergo had broadened his shoulders and
padded his chest and arms with muscle. He now possessed a whipcord
build with narrow hips and powerful thighs, the last of his
childish scrawniness banished by a good diet and endless body
building, at which he excelled. The manly features it bestowed
pleased him, and, although his cheeks were still smooth, his face
had become a little more masculine.

Talon cast him
an irritated glance. “To buy something to use in your
training.”

“What?”

“You'll
see.”

The youth
glanced around at the filthy streets of the poor quarter, not
seeing any shops or vendors. Mystified, he followed his mentor into
a smelly alley strewn with rubbish, where Talon stopped and knocked
on the rickety door of a dilapidated hovel. The dwelling's roof
sagged, and it appeared to lean against its equally squalid
neighbour. Such shanties populated the entire area. A hag opened
the door with a creak of rusty hinges, raking the elder assassin
with a hard glance.

“We've come for
the body,” Talon said.

“Right.” She
shuffled aside and pulled open the door, which scraped across the
floor with a screech that made Conash grit his teeth.

The crone led
Talon into a dim interior and past a patched, moth-eaten curtain,
Conash following. He stopped with a start of surprise when he spied
an old man lying on a dirty bed, who, judging by his sunken eyes
and exposed teeth, had been dead for several time-glasses. The hag
gestured to the corpse with a gnarled hand.

“There he is,
Elder.”

Talon bent to
examine the corpse, then straightened with a nod. “He'll do.”

The woman held
out her hand, and he counted six silvers into it. Conash shifted
uneasily, averted his eyes from the corpse and tried not to think
about what was causing the rancid, sickly smell. Talon turned to
him as the hag pushed the money into her apron pocket and shuffled
off to stand on the far side of the hovel.

“Bring him,”
the elder ordered.