Blade was not allowed to wake properly for three days. The doctor's draught kept him in a deep sleep, and when he roused, his manservant, Arken, administered more of the drug. Chiana visited him several times, concerned for his health, which seemed fragile. He looked oddly vulnerable when asleep, she thought, and did not resemble a killer by any stretch of the imagination.
When he was allowed to become fully alert, Arken plied him with nourishing broth and mulled wine. For some time-glasses, he lay in a befuddled stupor, listlessly eating the food Arken fed him and gazing at the ceiling with dull eyes. The healer's arrival to change his dressings dragged him from his lethargy, and the pain soured his mood, which did not improve when Chiana went to visit him upon learning that he was finally fully aware.
"What do you want?" he growled, scowling at her.
"How are you feeling?"
He looked away, presenting the less bruised side of his face to her. "Imagine being trampled by a herd of horses, then having your head beaten on the floor, and finally knives stuck into you. That may give you some idea."
Chiana averted her gaze. His skin was stretched too tightly over his fine bones, and lines of suffering bracketed his mouth and furrowed his brow.
"The Queen wishes to see you."
He sighed. "Not now. I am in no mood to be good company, and I fear my manners will fail me."
"They never were that good," she retorted, the words skipping off her tongue before she could bite them back.
Blade turned to glare at her. "You have a sharp tongue for a woman of doves, but yes, you are right. It is hard to learn courtly manners in the gutter."
"Surely assassins do not live in the gutter? I thought it quite a lucrative profession."
"I was not always an assassin."
"I find it hard to imagine you as anything else."
He looked away again. "Do not bother to try."
Chiana bit her lip, stepping closer to the bed. "A message has arrived for you."
"From whom?"
"I do not know. Do you wish me to read it to you?"
Blade scowled at her. "I can read." He tried to sit up, but grimaced and sank back with a groan. "God, does that damned healer have nothing to stop the pain?"
"The draught for pain makes you sleep, and now you must start to eat again and regain your strength."
Blade held out his hand, and Chiana placed a black-edged missive in it. The assassin's eyes narrowed as he studied it, and he shot her a hard glance. "When did this arrive?"
"This morning."
"Good. You may go."
Chiana opened her mouth to rebuke him, then recalled his rank and shut it. Spinning away, she marched out, banging the door behind her.
Blade contemplated the square of coarse yellow paper, its edges dipped in ink. He did not need to open it to know who it was from, only the assassin's guild used such a distinctive trademark, and he pondered its probable contents. He had received missives from the guild in the past, usually invitations to attend one of their gatherings, or to defend his title as Master of the Dance. Aside from defending his title, he had not gone, or replied. He had found no use for the guild since receiving his tattoo, and was not pleased to receive a summons now. With a flick of his fingers, he broke the wax seal and opened the letter, reading the few lines written in blood.
The letter bore only a drawing of a dagger at its end, and he frowned. It was another invitation of sorts, but there was more to it than that. The letter held a warning, which, though not spelt out, was sufficiently obvious to cause him slight alarm. That the guild should seek to warn him was unusual, assassins were not prone to protecting their own. The date of the meeting was two days away, and the place was a sacred site of ancient stones outside the city, where the guild always met.
A knock at the door startled him, and two liveried flunkies opened it to admit the Queen. Minna-Satu wore a floating, pale green silk morning gown over a deep blue, form-hugging dress. The colours enhanced her eyes and paled her skin, accentuating the contrast of her hair. Her eyes sparkled, and he wondered if it was with happiness or anger. Her first words solved the mystery.
"How dare you refuse to see me?" She came to his bedside and glared down at him.
Blade glanced past her at Chiana, who hovered by the door, looking smug. "I fear that my message was ill conveyed, My Queen. I merely said that I was not yet well enough to receive you properly, since I cannot arise from my bed to give you a proper greeting."
Minna's brow smoothed, and her eyes narrowed as she too glanced at the advisor, who now appeared ill at ease. "I see." She turned back to him. "Obviously I do not expect you to leap up and bow, you are ill." She hesitated, then sat on the edge of the bed. "I am most pleased to see you awake. How do you feel? Have you much pain?"
"I am alive."
She inclined her head. "Those who injured you will be brought to justice just as soon as you name them, or describe them accurately to Captain Redgard."
"I do not know their names, and describing them would do little good, they look like common street thugs. They were hired men. I never saw their masters."
"But they would know who hired them. They can be made to talk."
Blade shook his head. "As I have said, I cannot describe them."
"Surely you must have fought when they captured you? Did you not injure any of them?"
"Yes, all of them. One has a shallow cut across his chest, another I stabbed in the stomach, one has a broken hand, and the fourth…" He looked away. "I cannot remember what I did to him."
"That is enough. You will describe all this to Captain Redgard, and he will find them."
Blade shrugged, wincing. "They may not know who hired them either, My Queen. If the traitors were clever, they will not have revealed their identity to these thugs, or their faces."
"Then we shall hope that those who hired these men were not that clever. I shall find out who is plotting against me. Such treason cannot go unpunished."
Blade closed his eyes, wishing that she would go away. As if reading his thoughts, Minna stood up. "I will leave you to rest now, Lord Conash. Captain Redgard will be sent to you when you are feeling well enough to receive him."
He nodded, feigning utter exhaustion. "My Queen."
When the door had closed behind his visitors, he found that his exhaustion was not wholly feigned, and soon fell asleep.
The following day, he described his assailants to an attentive Captain Redgard, then spent the day in a restful doze, rousing only to eat and drink. Arken tiptoed in and out of the room as he tended his patient, and the healer came in the afternoon to change Blade's dressings again.
The day of his meeting with the assassin's guild, Blade forced himself to rise from the bed. His knees almost buckled when he tried to stand, and he hung onto the bedpost, wondering how he would attend the meeting when he could barely walk. Trying to ignore the pain, he tottered across the room to peer into the mirror, examining the fading bruises on his face. The swelling had gone down, but greenish marks dappled his skin like sickly shadows. He fingered his nose, glad to find it unbroken.
"Do not worry, you are still as handsome as ever."
The sound of Chiana's voice made him turn too quickly, and his bad leg buckled. He grabbed the table under the mirror as he fell, bringing several ornaments crashing down around him. The advisor hurried over and tried to help him up, but he slapped her hands away.
"Are you all right?" she enquired, looking worried.
"No thanks to you. Do you never knock?"
"I thought you might be asleep. I did not want to disturb you."
"Mighty considerate of you." He levered himself into a chair. The pain made sweat pop out on his brow, and he gritted his teeth.
"I did not expect to find you out of bed. You are still too weak."
"I noticed."
She raised a brow, a slight, mocking smile tugging at her lips. "Was it so important to look in the mirror?"
Blade glared up at her. "What do you want?"
"The Queen wishes to know how you fare."
"I was much better until you sneaked up on me with your rude comments."
"I did not sneak up on you, nor was my comment intended to be rude."
He snorted, looking away. Chiana moved to sit on a chair in front of him, arranging her skirts. Blade noted the slight flush in her cheeks, and the way her eyes avoided his.
"I only spoke the truth," she went on, "though I am surprised by your concern."
"So you find me handsome, and think me vain?"
"Yes."
"And what possible reason, do you suppose, would I have for being vain? Do you think that I wish to attract members of the opposite sex?"
Her cheeks reddened further. "No, I suppose not." She hesitated, then glanced at him. "So why are you so concerned about your appearance?"
Blade gave her a gentle, mocking smile that made her look away. "I have to attend a meeting tonight, of the assassin's guild, and I do not relish the idea of meeting my peers looking like I have been beaten to within an inch of my life. Call it pride, if you will, but not vanity. Spare me your girlish assumptions."
"But you are not well enough. You cannot travel."
"I will decide what I can and cannot do."
"You will tear open your wounds, and you barely have the strength to stand."
"I am not planning on doing anything more strenuous than riding a horse and talking to some old acquaintances."
She shook her head. "The Queen will not allow it."
"You will not tell the Queen until I have gone. I will need new daggers, and a horse tonight."
Chiana looked scandalised. "You cannot order me to keep secrets from the Queen."
"Why not?"
"She has a right to know where you go."
Blade's brows rose a fraction, and his lips curled at the corners. "She is not my keeper. I am free to go when and where I wish. Should she wish to prevent me, she must throw me into the dungeons and put me in chains. For this she has no reason."
"You endanger yourself, and she has need of you."
Blade leant forward, wincing. "Chiana, when she sends me to do her killing, she puts me in great danger, so do not claim that her concern is for anything other than selfish reasons. So long as I am a free man, my life is my own to do with as I see fit. I shall not die from my wounds, and this meeting is not dangerous."
Chiana shivered, and he wondered at the cause of it. Her expression told him that she would protest further, and he smiled, knowing it would cause the words to die on her lips. She averted her eyes.
"Then take someone with you, to help you, should you need it."
"You?"
"No, not unless you wish it."
"I must go alone, and I require no help."
She looked uncertain and worried, but nodded. "If this is your wish, Lord Conash, then I cannot prevent you, but the Queen will be angry when she hears of it."
He shrugged, unconcerned. "I am not afraid of her. Can you procure another dagger?"
"Of course."
"Good, bring me one before dusk, and arrange for a horse to be made ready. I shall ride out after dark."
"As you wish, My Lord." She rose to her feet. "And since you are feeling well enough to travel around attending meetings, I am sure you will have no trouble getting back to your bed."
With this tart remark, Chiana spun in a swirl of skirts and left, banging the door behind her. Blade gazed after her, then shook his head and struggled from the chair to continue his gentle exercise, loosening stiff muscles and forcing some strength into his legs.
By nightfall, the combination of exercise and good food had returned some of his vigour. Arken brought him a silver-hilted dagger, and a message that his horse was ready. The servant's frown held a wealth of disapproval for his charge's ill-advised jaunt. Blade dressed in his black leather garb, which had been washed and mended since the fight.
The ride to the meeting, although achieved at a sedate walk, proved to be painful and tiring. Blade arrived at the assigned location far weaker than he would have wished, and mustered all of his remaining energy to walk without a limp into the ring of torches that lighted the scene. A surprising number of assassins were assembled within the circle of tall grey stones whose origins had been lost in time. Their black clothes made them blend into a formless mass dotted with pale faces, their numerous familiars hidden amongst them. Many were apprentices, young boys barely in their teens.
Blade turned to face an older man who rose from the ranks, a dark wolf following him like a shadow. His former tutor's hair was touched with grey at the temples, and his well-trimmed beard bore twin white lines that gave him the distinguished air of a scholar. Then again, Blade mused, Kai had always looked distinguished, an asset that had helped his career. At almost forty years old, he was, by assassins' standards, venerable.
Had he remained an active assassin, he would not have achieved such a great age. Kai had retired in his late twenties, and now earned his living teaching young assassins for a share of their profits once they earned their tattoos. He was also an elder in the assassin's guild, which gave him the power to aid in their decisions and partake in the rituals, such as judging young assassins striving to attain their mark. Older retired assassins ranked above him, but in this instance, he was the guild's spokesman, as Blade's erstwhile tutor.
He smiled at his former pupil. "Welcome, Blade. I'm pleased that you have finally honoured us with your presence."
Blade inclined his head. "Talon." He addressed the elder assassin by his trade name, as was polite.
Talon glanced around at the assembly with its many young, curious faces, and raised his voice to address them. "For those of you who don't know him, I present to you the assassin Blade, our most renowned and accomplished member, and the Master of the Dance. Over two hundred kills, amongst them great lords, and, of course, King Shandor of the Cotti, his greatest triumph yet. What's most amazing is that he's still alive, and almost thirty years old." He swung back to Blade. "Still no plans to retire?"
The assassin shrugged, meeting Talon's slanted, yellowish eyes, which betrayed his kindred to the wolf. "I'm considering it."
"Perhaps you shouldn't delay it until your edge is lost, and with it, your life."
"Perhaps."
Talon walked around Blade, an old habit that brought back many memories to his former pupil. "But I wonder, should we address you as 'My Lord' now, and bow to you?"
"Do as you see fit."
"I also wonder what you are now. Are you a lord, or an assassin? Have you relinquished your trade? If you have, you know that your mark must be burnt off with a hot iron. If you retire, you'll be expected to teach the young, in which case, you may keep your tattoo."
Blade's back prickled as Talon passed behind him. "I haven't relinquished my trade, nor am I retired as yet."
"Then you're still an assassin, and subject to our rules."
"Yes. Is this the reason I was summoned here?"
"Not exactly." Talon stopped before him. "An assassin died in the palace, not too long ago. He was sent to kill Prince Kerrion, but he failed. Do you deny killing him?"
Blade straightened, stung by the accusation. "You think that I killed Slash? That's absurd. I have never broken the guild's laws. I had nothing to do with his death, I was only told of it afterwards. The soldiers guarding Prince Kerrion killed him."
"I find it hard to believe that an experienced assassin such as Slash was discovered by soldiers."
"He was not. The Prince discovered him, knocked him down and called the guards."
Talon's eyes narrowed. "Discovered by his victim? How?"
"He tripped over a rug. Slash should have retired before now, he was almost nine and twenty, and had lost his edge."
"I see." Talon circled him again. "And you, in turn, were beaten badly by four street thugs, hired by those who paid Slash. Weren't they seeking to remove you as an obstacle in their efforts to kill the Prince, because it was you who foiled Slash's attempt?"
"No, they were avenging the death of Lord Mordon, whom I was paid to kill after Slash's death. He was one of those who hired Slash."
"And this, we must assume, since you are an assassin before your peers, is the truth."
"It is."
Talon stopped before him again. "Yes, I suspect that the commoners would dearly like to turn us against our own. But they've presented us with another dilemma." He turned and beckoned to the audience.
A tall man stood up and walked over, his narrow face marred by a scar that ran from temple to chin, cutting through an eye, which a patch covered. A shiny black scorpion clung to his shoulder, its stinger curled over its back.
Talon placed a hand on the assassin's other shoulder. "This is Scar, aptly named. He's recently been asked to kill a certain Lord Conash, and offered a handsome fee. Since he knows that Lord Conash is also the assassin Blade, he came to me with the problem. As Lord Conash, you're fair game, but as Blade, you're not. He was told that you had relinquished your profession, and no longer enjoyed the protection of being one of us. He was told that you now answer only to the Queen, and have been called the Queen's Blade. Is this true?"
Blade shifted his weight off his injured leg, hiding his discomfort with a frown. "I have been called that, but I don't answer only to her. I'm still an assassin, anyone may hire me."
"That's good." Talon nodded and patted Scar on the shoulder. "So you'll have to do without your fine fee, Scar."
The tall assassin smiled lopsidedly. "A pity." He thrust out a hand. "Good to meet you."
Blade shook the proffered hand, surprised by the vigour with which his was wrung. "Is this the reason for this meeting, Talon?"
Talon nodded. "Amongst other things. There were a number of reasons, most of which we have now dealt with. No assassin may become one man's pet killer, or woman's, and it's this misconception that has put your life in danger. Those who tried to hire Scar may still pay ordinary men to kill you, as they have already."
"Those men weren't sent to kill me. They only wanted me out of the way then, and they wanted information. The Queen foiled their plans by sending Prince Kerrion back to the desert, thereby putting him out of their reach." Blade turned to Scar. "If I knew who hired you…"
The tall assassin's smile twisted his scar, and the cold glint of his eye betrayed his kind. "He went to great lengths to hide beneath a hood, and didn't give his name, but I can tell you that it was Lord Bellcamp."
Talon looked disapproving. "Who's now doubtless a dead man, and his accomplices will know who betrayed them."
Scar shrugged, making his scorpion twitch. "They shouldn't have hired an assassin to kill one of his own."
"I thank you for telling me," Blade said, "and I would say that he and his cohorts will be dead before they can have their revenge."
"That's as well," Talon commented, "for assassins shouldn't reveal their clients to anyone." Again he cast a stern glance at Scar. "If you pay the price, you have only yourself to blame."
As Scar opened his mouth to reply, Blade interjected, "If that's all the business you have with me, I'll take my leave."
Talon stepped closer to peer at him. "Are you unwell?"
Blade toyed with the idea of telling the truth, then rejected it. Even though his rigid stance and pallor should have been obvious, he did not wish to reveal his weakness before his peers. "No, I'm well, but it's late, and I have business to attend to."
"Supper with the Queen, perhaps?"
Blade shook his head, ignoring Talon's sarcasm. "Nothing quite so important, I'm afraid."
"A pity," Talon murmured, glancing around. "Many of these youngsters would like to meet you."
"Another time, perhaps. I bid you goodnight." With a curt nod, Blade turned away.
The information Blade gleaned mollified Queen Minna-Satu's fury at his jaunt somewhat, though his refusal to identify the assassin who had told him sparked her ire afresh. He had regarded her with wintry eyes that challenged her to punish his disobedience, but she had not. Instead she ordered Lord Bellcamp's immediate arrest, only to find that the traitor had already fled, warned by his spies in the palace. Realising the strength of her opposition, she ordered that the assassin's rooms be guarded and started a manhunt for the traitorous lord.
A tenday later, Captain Redgard arrested one of the men who had attacked Blade, but the cutthroat could tell him nothing, having never seen his employer's face. He did, however, reveal the identity of the other three men, who were arrested and put on trial, found guilty and executed all in one day.
Blade healed more quickly than the healers had predicted, regaining his health a mere two tendays after the executions. To his disgust and amusement, the Queen assigned a bodyguard to protect him, and forbade him to leave the palace without his watchdog. Blade found it incongruous that an assassin should have a bodyguard, but Minna was adamant and would brook no argument. The soldier set to guard him was a pleasant, burly man named Lirek, a man of dogs with a brindled warhound familiar called Fang. True to the breed, Fang stood above knee height, with a robust, muscular frame, a whip-thin tail and lupine ears.
The conspirators met once more before Lord Bellcamp fled the city, this time in Mendal's house. Suspicion and recrimination thickened the air, with Lord Bellcamp at the centre of the animosity. Lord Javare's scathing remarks made Bellcamp's hand stray often to the hilt of his sword, and Mendal barely managed to keep the three lords from each other's throats. Lord Durlan mopped nervous sweat from his fat features, his small eyes darting between the other two. Until this incident, he had been the most hated of the three, now Bellcamp had usurped him. When at last Javare had exhausted his supply of vitriol, the meeting became more business-like.
Mendal frowned at the three lords. "So, Bellcamp has been discovered through his foolishness in trying to hire an assassin to kill one of his own. The point is, what are we going to do about it?"
"You are the advisor," Javare retorted.
"Bellcamp will have to leave the city, of course," Mendal said, turning to address the bearded lord. "Where will you go?"
"I have a sister in Luxborg," Bellcamp said with surly indifference. "I shall stay with her."
"We must kill the assassin," Durlan asserted, frowning.
"Which one?" Mendal enquired.
"Both, preferably, but particularly the bastard who lives in the palace."
"It is Scar's head that I want," Bellcamp snarled. "He is the one who betrayed me."
"That will not be easy," Mendal pointed out. "He is a good assassin, I have heard. He will not be an easy target, and you will find few willing to take him on."
"We had no problem with Blade."
"It is well known that Blade is no fighter, but Scar, by all accounts, is a different matter."
Bellcamp snorted, swinging away to pace the length of the room. "Then we should get rid of Blade. At least that would prevent him from learning more from his cronies."
Mendal shook his head with a sigh. "There is no more to learn. No one else will try to hire an assassin to kill him, and now he has a bodyguard, so he too is a hard target. The Prince has been sent back to the desert, and the war continues unabated, so whatever the Queen had planned to bring about peace has failed. I say we leave well enough alone. Our kidnapping Blade had the unexpected effect of making the Queen send the Prince home, thus breaking off her discussions with Kerrion. There is no point in doing anything more. We have succeeded."
"We have to avenge Mordon's death," Durlan said.
"The Queen ordered it, My Lord, Blade was just the tool. According to our laws, she is responsible. Do you propose to kill her?"
Durlan looked away from Mendal's glassy stare. "Of course not."
"Then I say we lie low and see what develops. Bellcamp will go to Luxborg, where I daresay he will have to spend the remainder of his days, for to return to Jondar would be suicide."
Bellcamp shrugged. "I shall not miss it."
"Good, then we are agreed."
"I will put a price on that bastard's head before I go," Bellcamp avowed. "If he ever comes into the city without his bodyguard, he will die."
"Lord Conash is not to blame," Javare said, breaking his sombre silence. "As Mendal has pointed out, the Queen sanctioned Mordon's death."
"That is not the reason for it," Bellcamp argued, shooting Javare a glare. "If not for Blade, Mordon would be alive. The courts would not have convicted him for trying to kill a Cotti Prince. Because of him, Prince Kerrion was sent back to the desert, and now the threat of him hangs over us like an executioner's axe. We should have killed him when we had the chance. He will only get in our way again."
Mendal shook his head. "Providing the Queen makes no further attempts to stop the war, we have no reason to set ourselves against her."
Bellcamp snorted, raking the advisor with a scathing glance. "You of all people should know that Queen Minna-Satu does not give up so easily."
"She has spoken with Kerrion and failed. What more can she do?"
"I do not know, but I will wager that she will think of something."
"Let us not build any bridges where there are no rivers, My Lord. When we know in which direction she is going, then we can start thinking about how to stop her. Until then, we do nothing."
Two tendays after Blade had recovered from his wounds, the advisor Symion returned from the front with four prospective consorts for the Queen. Although she praised his diligence, the Queen sent Symion away without considering any of the young men, merely ordering that they should be housed in the palace. This puzzled all but Blade, who did not bother to enlighten anyone, not even Chiana, despite her accusing stares, or perhaps because of them.
An uneasy tranquillity settled upon the palace, which deep currents of suspicion and anticipation underscored, as if everyone held their breath. The only one this did not touch was Blade, who ignored the whispers around and about him, going blithely about his business. Several times he gave Lirek the slip long enough to enjoy some solitary drinking, and even once to perform an assassination for a merchant client.
Minna-Satu affected contentment, hiding her unhappiness behind a facade of well-being. Her daily routine went unchanged, though perhaps she showed a little more zeal than previously, as if to provide a distraction from her thoughts. Her countenance remained gloomy, despite the antics of monkey-kin jesters and graceful flamingo-kin dancers.
Blade was exercising in the garden when Chiana appeared through the hedgerows bearing a plain, grubby missive. She paused to admire him in the moment before he revealed that he was aware of her presence, and he raised mocking brows when he turned from his fluid movements to face her. Looking embarrassed, she held out the letter, turning away without a word when he took it.
Blade frowned at her back, wondering why the Queen's chief advisor should be the one to deliver a missive to him, then shrugged it off and tore it open. The scrawl within was barely legible, though written with great care and smudged with dirty fingerprints and tears. Blade sighed as he finished reading it, and raised his head to gaze around at the sunlit garden.
His retainers had rejected Lilu, despite the letter he had given her, which they had dismissed as a forgery. She was now living in someone's barn, working as a milk maid in utter squalor. Her predicament did not unduly trouble him, but her letter gave him a good reason to travel to his estate, which he longed to see. His request to see the Queen was granted, as always, and she smiled at him when he bowed to her.
"My Lord Conash, it is good to see you. Since your remarkable recovery, I have scarcely had your company."
"You are busy, My Queen. I do not wish to intrude."
Minna-Satu waved it away. "You never intrude. Would you care for lunch?"
"No, thank you. I have come about a matter of some importance to myself."
The Queen sighed and sank onto a mound of silken cushions, glancing at the sand cat who slumbered in a patch of late autumn sunlight. Shista's ears and whiskers twitched as she hunted prey in the land of dreams, her paws jerking.
"So," Minna grumbled, "you have not come for the pleasure of my company, but for some favour."
Blade hesitated, surprised by her testy tone and obvious displeasure. Minna glance up at him and gestured to the floor in front of her. "Do not loom over me, Blade, sit."
He settled on a cushion. "I have not come for a favour, My Queen, only to inform you that I shall be visiting my estate."
Minna's brows rose. "To inform me? Not to ask permission?"
"No." Blade leant forward, frowning. "Whatever is troubling you, I ask that you put it aside for the moment. I have done nothing to deserve such rancour."
"No?" Minna jumped up and strode over to the window, staring out. "You have disobeyed me on numerous occasions, defied my wishes and flouted my instructions. You have even refused to answer my questions, for which a lesser man might have lost his head. I, on the other hand, have rewarded you richly, elevated your rank to one of the highest in the land, and saved your life. For all this, you do not see fit to ask my permission to leave? You brashly announce that you will be leaving, without asking me if I can spare you?"
He gazed at her stiff back, noting that her hands were clenched at her sides, and his frown softened. "Why do you not write to him?"
Her shoulders slumped. "And say what?"
"Ask if he is well, tell him of your unhappiness and of his child."
She turned to face him, looking defeated. "You are far too perceptive. It will get you into trouble one of these days." She sighed. "I cannot write to him, my letters would never reach him."
"Kerrion is a man of eagles, his familiar is a desert eagle. An eagle could bear a message to him and bring his to you. All you need is a man or woman of eagles who you can trust to have their familiar carry the missive."
She returned to sit on her cushions once more, her eyes dark with sadness. "How long will you be gone?"
He shrugged. "Not too long."
"You will be back before the winter storms begin? Once they do, the roads will be impassable."
Blade nodded, hiding his reluctance. "Of course."
"I will have need of you once my condition becomes known. People will suspect, there will be much speculation. My enemies will plot against me again."
"Unless you give them no reason to." She shot him a puzzled glance, and he elaborated, "If you take one of the consorts to your room, they will assume -"
"No. I cannot do that."
"He has only to sleep on the floor, so long as you can trust him. It will buy you some time, allay their suspicions until they realise that the consort could not be the father of your child."
She considered this, her eyes flicking over his face. "You are clever, Blade, though your cleverness does seem rather underhand. I do not like stooping to such measures, deceiving those around me with charades and lies. I shall, however, think on the matter, for it is my child's life that is at stake here, not mine."
For several minutes she appeared lost in thought, and he waited until she became aware of his presence once more and said, "Go to your estate then. All is quiet here for now, but return before the winter storms. I shall give you a company of men to guard you, for there are perils on the journey."
Blade did not want a company of men, but saw no point in arguing the matter. The Queen could be implacable at times, and he sensed that this was one of them. Instead, he rose and bowed.
"My Queen."
She inclined her head. "Safe journey, My Lord Conash."