Blade rose at dawn and brushed the straw from his clothes, then stretched and yawned. The night spent in the palace stables had been peaceful, and the deep bed of straw had provided a pleasant resting place. Digging out the bag he had secreted there the night before, he consumed a frugal breakfast of biscuits and water before dampening a cloth and beginning the long transformation he hated so much. This time, however, he donned the female clothes over his own, and applied the skin dye only to those parts of him that were exposed.
After he had applied the kohl to his eyes and berry juice to his lips, he forced the earrings through the long-unused holes in his earlobes with a grimace. He studied the disguise in his mirror, brushed the blond wig and tucked away errant strands of jet hair, then donned jingling bangles and a cheap necklace. Satisfied, he reburied his bag and rose to brush straw from his skirts, checking the daggers strapped to his wrists inside his sleeves. Covering his hair with a rippling length of blue silk, he wandered from the barn with a woman's graceful, swaying gait.
Several of the guards he passed on his way to Kerrion's rooms winked and leered, and one tried to pinch his bottom. Along the way he pilfered a bottle of wine, then walked to Kerrion's door and knocked. The guards who stood outside it grinned at him, and Blade smiled and lowered his eyes. A gruff command to enter made a guard open the door, and Blade strolled into the Crown Prince's boudoir. Kerrion sat on the rumpled bed with his hair still tangled from sleep, and looked up from lacing his boots. He scowled when Blade thumped the wine bottle down on the table.
"What is this? I did not order wine. Get out."
Blade spoke in his own voice. "So it is true that Cotti men treat their women like slaves. No wonder you do it to Jashimari children too."
Kerrion grimaced. "Blade. The guards let you in?"
"Naturally. All they saw was a serving maid with a bottle of wine."
The prince straightened and studied the assassin. "No wonder you fool everyone. I did not have the opportunity to appreciate the perfection of your disguise on the night you abducted me."
"I did not come here for you to admire me. Let's get on with this."
Kerrion picked up an embroidered white tunic and shrugged it on. "I was starting to wonder if you had lost your nerve."
Blade glared at him. "You should learn to curb your tongue, antagonising me is not a good idea."
Kerrion completed his ablutions before summoning his familiar from her perch, and the guards snapped to attention as the prince marched past with the eagle perched on his shoulder, Blade following. The assassin found the walk through the palace educational, noting the corridors and rooms they passed through with keen interest. Its echoing emptiness struck him as amusing, but the decor's sheer opulence more than compensated for the lack of furnishings.
The desert mines were rich in many things besides metal, and, in some rooms, rows of quartz pillars glimmered in the warm light, streaked with shades of pink or blue. Quartz statues glowed with translucent beauty, and, in one vast room, a circular skylight let in shafts of pale pink radiance. The Prince seemed oblivious, marching past the breath-taking scenery without a glance at it.
Arriving at a pair of massive brass-studded doors, Kerrion turned to Blade. "Wait here until you are called. I have to convince them to grant you a pardon first."
Blade nodded. "Lerton will help."
"What do you mean?"
"You will see."
Kerrion gazed at the assassin in puzzlement, then turned and headed for the doors, which the guards opened for him. As they closed behind him, Blade moved closer to the wall and stood with his head bowed, pulling the blue silk over his face to foil curious stares.
Kerrion entered the immense audience room where the trial was being held, aware that dozens of hostile eyes followed his progress. Lerton, who sat with his brothers, smirked and waved. The judges stood in a row behind a long, polished palmwood table, watching him with hard, glittering eyes that belied their reverent bows.
The lords who filled the rest of the hall kept their expressions neutral, awaiting the outcome before they committed themselves to either side. Familiars sat beside them or perched on their shoulders, those that were not twined around their necks or resident in the palace stables. The group of officers from King Shandor's camp, which Lerton had called as witnesses, whispered amongst themselves, their eyes darting. Three male sand cats lolled at their feet, one snoring.
Kerrion stopped before the most senior of the seven judges and addressed him. "My Lord, before we continue with this farcical trial, I have one more witness to call."
The judge frowned, clearly displeased by the delay. "The time for witnesses is over, Prince Kerrion."
"I am aware of that, but this person can clear me of these ridiculous charges."
The judge raised his brows and glanced at his comrades, who nodded or shrugged as they seated themselves. "Very well."
"Before I do, My Lord, I must insist that this court grant amnesty to this witness, or the person will not come forward. By clearing me of the crime, the witness will be implicated, and I have promised that there will be no punishment."
"That is unheard of," the judge declared. "If this person is guilty of some part in your father's death, he must be punished."
"My Lord, by testifying for me, this witness is saving my life." Kerrion pulled the speech he had written the night before from his tunic and began to read. "In such an instance, where a witness comes forward to save the life of an innocent, and when that innocent is the future King, any means may be used to procure their co-operation.
"By saving the heir's life, the witness performs such a great service for the kingdom that no reward is too much. Surely the court must agree that the granting of amnesty is a small price to pay for the truth? By saving the court from the massive blunder of executing their future King, an act of high treason, the witness in question, even if guilty of the crime with which I am charged, must be protected in order to facilitate their testimony."
The judge leant forward, the grey owl on his shoulder shuffling to keep its balance. "Are you saying that this witness is the true murderer?"
"That is for the witness to admit, or not, as the case may be. I ask that you grant this witness a pardon, no matter to what he or she may confess."
"We have not given our verdict yet, Prince Kerrion," another judge pointed out. "How do you know we have found you guilty?"
"I do not. Have you found me innocent?"
The judges glanced at each other, shifting in their hard, high-backed chairs.
Kerrion nodded. "As I thought."
"Let him call his witness," Lerton shouted from his seat in the gallery. "It is just another of his fabrications. His lies will not fool us."
"But my prince, if this person is indeed guilty…" the senior judge protested.
"How can he be, when Kerrion is the true murderer? It is a futile attempt to save his neck, nothing more. Grant the amnesty. You will be pardoning nothing more than a petty liar my brother has hired to take the blame for his crime."
The judges conferred, then the senior man turned back to Kerrion and nodded. "Very well, My Prince. We will pardon your witness for whatever crime he has committed, or will commit here by perjuring himself. Since your accuser has no objection to this, we do not either. What is your witness' name?"
"I would rather the witness remained nameless for now, My Lord. The reason will become clear soon enough. There is no one else outside, I assure you."
The judge turned to the guards who stood by the doors. "Call the next witness."
Kerrion turned to flash a triumphant smile at Lerton. "Thank you, brother."
Lerton looked smug, stroking the golden snake that hung around his neck. "Do not mention it, doubtless this will be entertaining."
"I am certain of it," Kerrion agreed as the guards pulled open the doors and bellowed into the corridor for the next witness.
Blade entered with gliding, graceful steps, pausing to bow to the judges before facing the officers from King Shandor's camp, who erupted with excited shouts.
"That is the whore from the camp!"
"She was the one who went with the King!"
Blade pushed back the blue silk to reveal the wig's long golden tresses and let them have a good look at him.
Kerrion turned to the officers. "You are certain?"
"Absolutely," a young officer stated, and Kerrion recognised the man who had kept Blade company for most of that evening while the King had dined. The Crown Prince had noticed the attractive whore long before his father had. The other officers nodded in agreement. Two of the sand cats roused sufficiently to yawn and stretch before flopping down again.
Kerrion pointed at Blade. "This is the woman who was with King Shandor on the night he died, you all agree?"
The officers nodded one by one as the Prince's gaze rested upon them, and when the last had assented, Kerrion turned to the judges.
The senior judge inclined his head. "So noted."
Lerton chuckled. "My Lords, she is his partner in this heinous deed, naturally she would come forward to exonerate him now that he has procured a pardon for her. This only proves my case."
"Either that, or she is a harlot who looks like the woman these good officers saw, whom I have hired to lie on my behalf, eh, Lerton?" Kerrion suggested with a smile.
"Exactly!" Lerton crowed. "And doubtless she will admit to murdering the King, a preposterous claim!"
Kerrion swung back to face the judges. "Is there any doubt in your minds that this is a woman, My Lords?"
The senior judge leant forward, scrutinising the assassin. "Let her speak. What has she to say?"
Blade spoke in a sweet, whispery voice. "I killed King Shandor."
"You see!" howled Lerton, thumping the railing in his glee. "Exactly as I said! My Lords, this is either Kerrion's partner in crime or some cheap harlot hired to speak those words."
"Why could it not be true?" Kerrion demanded of his brother. "Perhaps it is she who killed our father."
"Impossible!" Lerton asserted. "She is a woman! It would require a man's strength to overcome and stab a man as powerful as the King!"
"She is a large woman," Kerrion pointed out.
"No matter. She would not have the strength. She was sent to distract him so you could sneak in and stab your own father. Women do not kill in such a manner," he went on, becoming a little pompous in his mien. "They rarely have the stomach to kill, and when they do, they use poisons or hire assassins. They do not use daggers. Not only are they too weak and squeamish, they would not know how to kill a man so efficiently. My father was killed by an expert, someone trained in the arts of war, such as you, brother."
"So there is obviously no doubt in your mind that this is indeed a woman, and you seem to be quite an expert on the subject."
Lerton smirked. "I have known a lot of women, yes."
Kerrion faced the judges again. "My Lords, what do you see before you?"
The eldest judge shrugged. "A woman."
Kerrion nodded and turned back to Lerton. "I agree with you, brother, no woman would have the strength to murder King Shandor. He was a strong man, as we all know. But the person you see before you is, in fact, not a woman."
"Ridiculous!" Lerton shouted, leaping to his feet. "This is to substantiate your nonsensical story of an assassin who turns into a woman at will!" He laughed. "As if such a person could exist. No man can disguise himself as a woman without being discovered. I will show you!" He vaulted over the wooden partition that separated the gallery from the floor before the judges' bench and approached Blade. The assassin faced him, keeping his head bowed and his eyes downcast. Lerton stroked Blade's cheek, then turned to his brother with a triumphant grin.
"Smooth as a baby's bottom! What fools do you take us for? Will you trot her out now and bring in a man, then claim that they are one and the same person?"
"No." Kerrion glanced around at the audience. "None of you are fools. I never said you were. This disguise, in all its perfection, has fooled many people. It fooled my father, it fooled me, and it has made fools of all of you. The person before you is a man."
"Rubbish!" Lerton retorted. "Next you will claim that he is a mage!"
"No."
"Then prove it! Beyond a shadow of a doubt!"
Kerrion turned to Blade, who unpinned the blond wig and pulled it off. Lerton gaped as the assassin stripped off the gown with swift movements, removing the water bags that hung from his neck, then took off the jewellery and added it to the pile on the table beside him. Hisses of surprise came from the audience as they witnessed his transformation. A few murmured to their neighbours, setting up an excited buzz that spread around the room. Blade pulled a damp cloth from his pocket and wiped away the berry juice and skin dye. The buzz of conversation grew louder as he revealed his pale skin, then he turned his back on the audience and faced the judges. Blade unhooked the earrings and wiped the dye from his hands, standing before them in his simple black outfit.
Kerrion walked over to his brother. "Lerton, I would like you to meet the assassin who killed our father."
Lerton closed his mouth, shaking his head in mute denial. Kerrion looked at the stunned judges, and a hush fell over the assembly. "My Lords, I present to you the Jashimari assassin, Blade. Also known as the Invisible Assassin, the Silent Slayer, and most recently, the Queen's Blade."
The eldest judge cleared his throat, staring at Blade. "You admit to killing King Shandor?"
Blade shrugged. "I do."
"You acted on the orders of your queen?"
"Yes."
"What were they?"
Blade glanced at Kerrion. "To assassinate King Shandor and bring his son Kerrion to her, unharmed."
"For what reason?"
"She wished to talk of truce."
The judge shot Kerrion a doubtful glance. "And he refused."
"He did."
"So she released him."
Blade nodded, clasping his hands behind his back.
"And now she sends you to testify on his behalf, even though he would not co-operate with her. Why?"
"The same reason that she released him. She wishes to deal with a Cotti King whom she perceives to be honourable and intelligent, not a devious, lying one, such as Prince Lerton would make."
"Our realms are at war," the judge pointed out, glancing at Lerton. "What difference does it make to her?"
"She still wants peace."
"But Prince Kerrion refused."
Blade shrugged again. "I am an assassin, not a politician."
"And a dead one!" Lerton shouted, recovering from his stunned stupor and stabbing a finger at Blade. "He murdered King Shandor, he must die!"
Kerrion stepped between them. "He has been granted amnesty."
"You would protect your father's murderer?"
"By coming here, he has saved my life. Had I not offered him amnesty, he would not have come forward, and I would be facing the gallows because of your lies."
"They were not lies!" Lerton protested, glancing at the judges. "The evidence against you was damning. No one believed this man existed. If you could call him a man."
"I have to keep my word. He is free to go."
The senior judge nodded. "Unfortunately, he has the right of it, Prince Lerton. We cannot charge him with a crime for which we have already agreed to pardon him. At your urging, I might add."
"He is dangerous!" Lerton cried. "You cannot let him remain free."
"Nor can you lock him up when he has committed no crime other than the one for which he has been granted a pardon," Kerrion stated.
"He is a Jashimari!"
"One who has done me a great service, and has thereby earned his freedom. Since I am no longer accused of any crime, I will soon be King, and he has my protection so long as he obeys the laws of our land."
Lerton's eyes grew cunning. "He might have been sent here on the pretext of saving you, in order to assassinate someone."
Kerrion shot his brother a surprised look. "He did not need a pretext to come here. He arrived undetected in my rooms last night, and offered to testify for me if I was able to grant him amnesty. Had he wished to assassinate someone, he could have done it then. One thing is certain, he was not sent to assassinate me."
Lerton paled, stepped back and shot Blade a hunted look. His snake hissed and coiled more tightly around his neck. The assassin smiled and gathered up his disguise.
Kerrion turned to the judges. "My Lords, what is your verdict?"
The senior judge stood up to address the throng. "We find Prince Kerrion innocent of King Shandor's death."
As if released from a trance, the audience burst into a hubbub. Some members turned to each other, others rose and left to carry the news far and wide. The judges filed out through a door at the back. Lerton returned to the clutch of brothers that awaited him, vanishing into their midst as they drew close to listen to him.
Blade glanced at them, then at Kerrion. "Perhaps I should get rid of a few more of them."
The Prince gave Blade a push towards the door. "Try to control your bloodlust, Blade. They are still my brothers."
Back in Kerrion's rooms, Blade dumped his burden and perched on the edge of the desk to pour a cup of wine. Kerrion went to the window and stared out, his hands clasped behind his back. Kiara flapped to her perch and preened herself.
"Did Minna send any other messages with you?"
Blade tasted the wine and grimaced. "Not really."
"Is there any way I can repay her?"
"Make peace."
"I cannot do that." Kerrion turned to scowl at him.
"Jashimari cannot fight two kingdoms and survive. The Contara will overrun us, and you will descend like vultures to feed on the spoils."
"That was Lerton's plan."
Blade sipped the wine. "And you approve of it."
"No!" Kerrion gestured. "It is dishonourable. I have inherited a war that I have no wish to continue, but cannot end without being overthrown." He paused. "If she surrenders to me, I can promise her fair treatment. I will ensure a peaceful occupation, offer her protection and banish the Contara back to their land."
"She will never surrender, not to you, or anyone else."
"Then the Jashimari will be wiped out."
"You will continue the war against your daughter?" Blade enquired.
"She will not take power for five and twenty years, but then no, I will not."
"Jashimari will not outlast the spring, and when Jondar falls, your daughter will be at the mercy of the Contara. Why not end it now?"
Kerrion sighed, rubbing his eyes. "If only I could. My nobles will not agree to end the war against Minna-Satu, but they too will not wish to fight against a Cotti Queen."
"Half Cotti."
"What if the child is a boy?"
Blade shrugged, frowning at the sour young wine in his cup. "Shamsara predicted a girl, chances are, he is right."
"The Idol of the Beasts should not be interfering in politics. It is not his place."
The assassin put down his goblet and stood. "Have you any messages for the Queen?"
Kerrion shook his head. "Only my offer of peaceful occupation. No slavery, no atrocities, no massacres."
"Only oppression."
"I cannot do any more than that."
"You are the King," Blade said. "Or are you just a puppet?"
Kerrion's frown deepened. "I am no puppet, but the nobles wield a great deal of power, and have fifteen princes to choose from. If I try to end the war, they will turn the people against me, accuse me of treason or cowardice or something. I have no hope of support from the armies, they exist only to do battle. Without a war, they will be jobless and destitute.
"You saw how close I have already come to the gallows, and for no other reason than that my younger brother wished to get rid of me. It is well known that he was my father's favourite, and that he wanted Lerton to inherit the crown. I am not well liked because of that, my claim to the crown is only upheld because I am the first born son. Perhaps, over the course of a few years, I can make powerful friends and talk to them of the disadvantages of war, but I cannot call an end to it the moment I am crowned."
He turned away and bowed his head, his shoulders hunched. "If I am overthrown, the next in line will see to it that my daughter does not survive. I have to be King to ensure her safety. If I am King when Cotti invades Jashimari, I will protect them both, I swear it. I shall not allow any harm to come to Minna-Satu."
Kerrion's voice deepened. "Usually Cotti warriors take little notice of women. They are inconsequential, and if captured, spoils of war. But the fact that the child is of royal blood, both Minna's and mine, will ensure her death, should I be ousted.
"I suspect that Minna knows this, which is why she sent you, her most valuable ally, into the jaws of death to redeem me. Minna's child can only bring peace between our kingdoms if she is the daughter of the Cotti king. Even so, we would face another five and twenty years of war, if Jashimari could last that long."
Blade toyed with the wine cup, remembering the Queen's sadness on the night she had gone to Kerrion's bed, her strange depression since then, and her constant promises of peace, soon. "I do not think she would have waited five and twenty years, and now she cannot."
Kerrion swung to face him. "What do you mean? Every Jashimari Queen rules for five and twenty years."
"Obviously Minna-Satu will not, since the Contara will invade in the spring, but I think her rule will end before the Contara reach Jondar."
The Prince closed the gap between them and gripped Blade's shoulders, his eyes filled with anxiety. "What are you saying?"
Blade shook him off. "You know perfectly well."
"She cannot do that! She cannot put an infant on the throne!"
"She can. If she appoints a regent, your daughter could be Queen in just a few moons."
Kerrion gave a despairing groan. "She will place me in an impossible position." He frowned, becoming thoughtful. "But how? She cannot step aside."
"She can, by taking the Queen's Cup."
Kerrion turned away. "I see."
Blade headed for the door, collecting his bundle. "Your brother dies tonight."
"Wait!"
Blade turned at the door, his hand on the knob. Kerrion ran a hand through his hair, looking confused and upset. "Tell her that she cannot do this. She must give me time. A year or two, at the very least."
"I am sure she would like to, but I do not think the Contara will allow her that option. With the spring, they will be able to advance swiftly on the capital city. Your daughter must take the throne before Jondar falls, so you will be forced to come to her aid, or not, as your conscience dictates.
"Of course, if you do not, the Contara will conquer Jashimari, and all your centuries of war will be for nothing. How will your people feel if their prize is stolen from under their noses? If you take advantage of Jashimari's weakness now, you will have to slaughter every last man, woman and child before there is peace again." He paused. "Besides, I may not live to deliver your message." A slight, ironic smile curled his lips, tinged with sadness.
Kerrion stared at him. "Blade… let Lerton live."
The assassin frowned. "No."
"You do not understand. His death will delay my coronation. Six tendays of mourning will be declared, a whole moon phase. Then another three tendays before I can be crowned. I will not have time to pick up the pieces."
"You will have to manage."
"I could warn him."
Blade shrugged. "You already have."
Before Kerrion could think of a reply, the assassin opened the door and slipped into the passage, closing it behind him. The Prince stared at the door for a long time, his mind whirling with possible solutions and their pitfalls. Conflicting emotions filled him with despair and sorrow as he went to the desk and poured a goblet of wine. Draining it in a few gulps, he wandered to the window and stared out at the pale city shimmering under the sun. Kiara flapped from her perch and landed on his shoulder, allowing him to stroke the sleek feathers of her breast. He gestured to the sky.
"Fly, Kiara. Take my thoughts with you, that they might find some solution closer to God."
Kerrion watched the big bird soar with none of the elation it usually brought him, then returned to the desk to pour more wine.
"I hope you fail this time, Blade," he muttered. "Not because I am particularly fond of my brother, but because of all the trouble you will cause if you succeed, you bastard."
Blade walked through the palace, returning to the stables. Using the servants' narrow passages, he avoided guard posts and kept his head down, averting his face when he passed servants. He did not wish too many Cotti to see him. Even his brief exposure in the courtroom had been tainted by the fact that he had not removed all of his face paint. Those who had glimpsed his visage would soon find it hard to remember, for he had avoided eye contact and wiped his countenance with a cloth when he had confronted the gallery. Protecting his identity was second nature to him, since becoming well known could be fatal for an assassin. Even though he did not intend to return to Cotti, his caution was instinctive and well advised. Although he stood out here, he made sure that no one had a good look at him. With a blond wig and skin dye, he would become anonymous again quite easily.
The peace of the stables, with its warm redolence of horses and hay, was a welcome relief after the palace's tension and the palpable hatred of its denizens. He stretched out on the straw and ate some bread and cheese while he plotted the night's assassination. Forewarned, and knowing of his abilities, Lerton would undoubtedly have guards in his room and not allow any women entry. He needed to gain entry without causing an outcry, so the stealthy approach would not work. The task called for a disguise, but not a female one. Fortunately Lerton's snake familiar was not a deadly variety, and snakes could do little to raise the alarm. His dislike of snakes made the task of killing the Prince's familiar a less odious one, if it came to that.
After a while, he fell asleep in the straw, awaking in the late afternoon. By then, a plan had formulated in his mind, and he quit the straw's comfort to wander along the rows of stables, patting their inmates. These were the mounts of elite Cotti cavalry, officers and the King's personal guard. Since most of those men were horse kin, the majority of the beasts were familiars, and immune to the blandishments of strangers.
The intelligent glint in their eyes made familiars easy to spot, and he noted those that were not. He did not have to wait long before a young officer entered the stables armed with a bunch of cariroots for his steed. Blade eyed him, weighing his suitability. He was a man of otters, which made him vulnerable, since his mount would not object to his injury and his familiar was not with him. The young man wore the insignia of a cavalry officer, but without it, he might have been a guard sergeant.
Blade waited while the officer fed his mount the cariroots, positioning himself out of sight on the route to the door. As the officer walked past, his task complete, Blade stepped out behind him and gripped the man's neck, his hands finding the nerve bundles that would render the officer unconscious. He dragged his victim to the straw pile and stripped him of his uniform, then bound and gagged him before burying him in the straw. That done, he hid the pilfered uniform and settled down to get some more sleep.
The assassin woke again in the pre-dawn chill. Rising, he lighted the lamp that hung in the stables before donning the officer's uniform with shivering haste. He anointed his face and hands with the pale brown skin dye, inspecting the result in the mirror. The dye also lightened his brows, making them brown instead of black. To add to the disguise, he glued on a blond moustache he had brought with him for just such an occasion. The plumed helmet, with its chain mail neck guard, hid his hair. Removing the cavalry insignia from the uniform, he buried his clothes and supplies, then blew out the lamp, dusting himself off as he strolled from the barn.
The palace slumbered in semi-darkness, the few torches that still burnt sputtering as they ran out of oil. Sentries dozed at their posts, some making sleepy salutes as he passed. Most were dog soldiers, and their familiars slumbered beside them or glanced up incuriously. Blade had scorned the officer's heavy boots and retained his soft ones, which made little sound. Lerton's rooms were not far from Kerrion's, as the spy had described, and two alert guards stood outside the doors. They snapped to attention when he approached, and he stopped before them.
"Have you checked on your fellows inside?" Blade demanded in perfectly accented Cotti.
"A couple of time-glasses ago, sir," one sentry replied.
"They could be asleep by now, dolt! Is this how you protect your prince? They should be checked every time-glass."
"I'll check on them now, sir," the man offered, turning to open the door. The war dog beside him sat up and whined, sniffing Blade.
"No." Blade raised a hand. "I'll do it myself. There will be hell to pay if they're slacking, and I don't want you covering for them."
The sentry snapped to attention again. "Yes, sir."
Blade pushed open the door and entered a dark room, closing it behind him. Two guards turned at his entrance, relaxing when they saw his uniform. He beckoned them over, then placed his hands together and gripped the hilts of the daggers strapped to his wrists. The young soldiers stopped before him and stood to attention. There was no sign of their familiars, as he had expected. The Prince did not want dogs in his bedroom, due to their smell and fleas. Blade had counted on that, for two dogs would certainly have complicated matters quite considerably. He hoped that the beasts were safely caged in the barracks, where they could not raise the alarm when their friends died, as familiars were wont to do.
Blade remarked, "I'm glad to see you're awake and alert, men, good work."
They smiled, and one said, "Thank you, sir."
"You're welcome." Blade jerked his hands apart, raising them in a flash to slit the soldiers' throats. They coughed, pawing at their necks as they collapsed. The faint clatter of their falling bodies was unavoidable, and Blade hid his hands behind his back as the occupant of the vast, silk-strewn bed sat up, peering into the gloom.
"Who is there?" Lerton demanded.
Blade stepped forward, deepening his voice to a gruff baritone, lest the Prince recognise the peculiar timbre of his speech. "Don't be alarmed, My Prince, you're in no danger."
Lerton glared at him, the moonlight that streamed in through the window revealing features puffy with fatigue. "What woke me? Who are you, and what are you doing here? Where are my guards?"
The assassin wondered if all Cotti princes were so full of questions. It seemed to be a family trait. "The guards were tired, My Prince, I sent them for replacements before they fell asleep. The closing of the door woke you, I apologise."
Lerton slumped back, scowling as Blade strolled closer, keeping his hands hidden. "And who are you?"
"An officer of the Watch, Jickal by name. I will guard you until the new sentries arrive." Blade reached the side of the bed and stopped.
"Well do not loom over me, go away," Lerton said peevishly. "Go stand by the door."
"Yes, My Prince." Blade did a fair imitation of a guard's salute and made as if to turn away. Instead he jerked up his hands, and his daggers flew to their target. One embedded itself at the base of Lerton's throat, cutting off any outcry, the other hit the pillow beside the Prince's head. Lerton stared at Blade with bulging eyes as his life oozed out in a crimson river. While he still had an audience, the assassin doffed the plumed helmet and smiled.
"A gift from Queen Minna-Satu. In case you do not recognise me, I am Blade."
Lerton's mouth moved as he strived to speak. Blade leant over to retrieve the dagger that had missed its mark.
"I must be getting sloppy in my old age," he mused as the Prince's eyes glazed. When the last flicker of life had dimmed from them, Blade pulled the dagger from Lerton's throat and stepped back, wiped the bloody weapon and slipped them back into his sleeves. He glanced around for the stone snake, which was curled up on a chair nearby. Already it glided towards him, its black tongue tasting the air, its cold eyes fixed on him.
Fortunately it was a slow creature, and he grabbed it and snapped its neck, dropping the coiling body. The mindless writhing of the dying snake filled the room with the soft slithering, adding to the discomfiting sight and stench of the Prince's blood. Eager to quit this chamber of horrors, he left. The sentries snapped to attention again, and Blade paused to inspect them.
"Your friends inside are awake, luckily for them. I don't think they'll be dropping off now, but I'll be back in a time-glass to check on them."
"Yes, sir."
Blade nodded and headed back towards the stables. Bleary-eyed guards watched him pass resentfully, his unwanted presence disturbing their napping. Moving with some urgency now, he dug his bag out of the straw and put the cavalry insignia back on the uniform before saddling the young officer's horse. He rode unchallenged from the palace courtyard and out into the city, breathing a sigh of relief when he had passed the final sentries. Only the city guards stood between him and freedom, easy to pass before the alarm was raised.
The Cotti spy waited at the appointed place with horses and supplies, stamping his feet to ward off the chill. At first he did not recognise the assassin, then set about swathing him in the flowing robes of a Jadaya citizen, grumbling at the ungodly time and the cold as well as the ordeal of leaving a warm bed and plump wife to go travelling across the freezing desert.
Blade ignored his complaints and mounted, riding away to speed events, leaving the spy to follow. By the time they reached the city gates, he was heartily sick of the spy's endless carping, and pointed out acidly that he was being richly paid for the work, which silenced Valda for a time. As soon as they were out of the city, Blade urged his horse into a canter, eager to put as much distance between himself and Jadaya as possible.
Shortly after dawn, several soldiers and two senior advisors flung upon the doors of Kerrion's room with a bang. The guards began to search the room, poking their swords into the curtains that hung against the walls and framed the windows. Their dogs sniffed around, tails wagging. Kerrion sat up, glancing about at the activity with an air of confusion. The advisors bowed, perhaps not quite as deeply as they should have, giving Kerrion a twinge of unease. He frowned at them.
"What is going on? What is the meaning of this intrusion? I was asleep!"
The elder advisor looked apologetic. "We beg your pardon, Sire, but we have terrible news."
Kerrion glared at the guards. "Why are they searching my room? What are you looking for?"
"Sire, your brother has been slain."
Kerrion ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Which one?"
"Prince Lerton."
"So why are you searching my room?"
The advisor's eyes slid away. "We can only assume that Prince Lerton was killed by the assassin Blade, whom you were entertaining here yesterday."
The subtle accusation was not lost on Kerrion. "So you also assume that he is hiding here after killing my brother? I think not, gentlemen. The Jashimari assassin left here yesterday at noon. I have not seen him since."
"Were you aware of his intentions, Sire?"
"Of course not! How dare you voice such an unfounded accusation?"
"There was no love lost between you and your brother," the advisor pointed out.
"That is no secret, but you forget, the assassin Blade does not work for me. He obeys the Jashimari Queen, only she could order Lerton's death."
"You allowed him to remain free, by granting him a pardon."
"I did not grant him a pardon," Kerrion retorted, "the court did. Otherwise he would not have testified to my innocence and I would be facing the gallows. You know very well what happened, Darjel. I had no idea that he had another task. Do you think I would have left him free if I had? Stop wasting time searching my room and seal the city gates. Search the city, arrest all suspicious persons and check for disguises. Are you morons? Do you expect to find him under my bed? Get out, all of you!"
Kerrion's obvious fury intimidated the advisors, who retreated with the soldiers. He sat on the bed for a while, his head buried in his hands, cursing Blade.
"How in Damnation did you do it, you bastard? Two guards in his room, no women allowed, two guards at the door and four patrolling under his window. It should have been impossible."
The Prince rose, washed and dressed, then went into his suite's living area and called in one of the advisors. Sitting behind his desk, Kerrion glowered at the man.
"What happened?" he demanded. "How did he kill my brother?"
"We do not know, Sire."
"You must know something, Darjel. Tell me what happened."
The advisor sank into the chair before the desk, looking more subdued than before. "The watch in the Prince's room was changed at midnight, as were the guards at the door. Just before dawn, an officer came to inspect them, and found the guards awake and alert. No one else entered the room until the bodies were found shortly after dawn."
"Bodies?"
"The two guards were also slain, Sire."
"How?"
Darjel made a feeble gesture towards his throat, looking sick. "Their throats were cut."
"And they did not fight or call out?"
"Apparently not, Sire. It seems they were killed at the same moment."
"Why did their dogs not raise the alarm? Were they slain also?"
The advisor shook his head. "Their dogs were not allowed in the room, by order of the Prince."
"And my brother?"
Darjel looked down. "Stabbed, Sire, through the throat."
Kerrion stared at him. "The officer."
"Pardon, Sire?"
"The officer was the assassin."
"But…" The advisor gestured towards his mouth.
"What? He had a moustache? A beard? What fools do we employ as guards here? No doubt he had dark skin and spoke perfect Cotti as well. Did no one listen to me in the court yesterday? Blade is a master of disguise, and not just female ones. Somewhere you will find the body of the officer whose uniform he stole." Kerrion thumped the desk. "Are the guards such buffoons? They should not have allowed anyone into Lerton's room."
"They thought he was an officer."
Kerrion jumped up. "That is what they were supposed to think. I want him found! Send patrols into the desert towards Jashimari. If he has already left the city, which is probable, that is where he is. I want his head on a plate! We must show the Jashimari Queen that she cannot send an assassin to murder a Cotti prince and get away with it."
The advisor rose, then hesitated. "What of the guards, Sire?"
"What, must I have them flogged for stupidity? Throw them out, they are not fit to be soldiers."
"Yes, Sire."
After the advisor left, Kerrion sat and stared into space. Reluctant admiration warred with deep resentment for the elusive assassin, whom he did not doubt was far across the desert by now, out of reach. He did not mourn Lerton's death, but disliked the ease with which Blade had achieved it. It gave him a nasty, vulnerable feeling, even here in the bastion of his people.
One part of him prayed that the assassin reached Jashimari lands safely and bore his message to the Queen, another part longed for his death. Each time they met, Blade had humiliated Kerrion in one way or another, first by his ill treatment of the captive Prince, and now by offering his aid with such mocking effrontery and then killing Lerton despite the precautions that had been taken. Forewarned was forearmed, but against Blade, it seemed to do little good.
Blade turned to scowl at his companion, wishing for the umpteenth time that the man would stop grumbling about every little thing. If it was not the sand in his clothes or the heat of the day, it was the discomfort of the saddle or the glare hurting his eyes. Most of all, it was the fast pace Blade set so relentlessly. With the mountains of Jashimari visible in the distance, the assassin was tempted to leave the man behind and gallop to the border. His horse, however, had little energy left for such an effort, and he disliked torturing a blameless beast for Valda's crime.
"Anyone would think that the Hounds of Damnation were after us," the spy carped for the hundredth time. "Why we can't simply walk is beyond me, all this jolting and jiggling is bad for my constitution. It makes me sick to my stomach and hurts my head, to say nothing of my rump. We don't even stop to eat, and I can hardly chew when my teeth are rattling. Trying to drink water when it's splashing all down your front is no fun at all. Not to mention -"
"You may stop if you wish," Blade interrupted, startling the spy with his remark after days of silence. "The mountains are there before us, I can reach them by dusk, and you can catch up at your leisure."
"Oh, no," Valda asserted, "I must be seen to deliver you to the Jashimari soldiers, so I can collect my reward. You don't think I'm putting myself through this for nothing, do you?"
"I'll tell them you did your part."
Valda shook his head. "If I'm not with you when we arrive, they will think me incompetent or soft or something, and I'm none of those things."
"Just full of endless complaints."
"With good reason! I sweat all day because you insist on going so fast, and we haven't enough water to give the horses, so they'll probably drop dead from thirst soon enough, then I'll have to walk. My blisters have blisters, and I might as well have run across the desert, so tired am I. Once the horses give out, I'll be on foot, and I don't think I need to tell you how much I'll enjoy that!
"Yet you can't even tell me why we're in such a damned hurry. You went to deliver a message to Prince Kerrion, so I was told, and to meet with Prince Lerton on some vital matter, so why the rush to return? If it's an urgent message for your queen, why wasn't a familiar dispatched to carry it? In fact, why didn't a familiar bring the message to Kerrion? Why did you have to go there yourself? I could understand -"
"I was not just sent to deliver a message," Blade interrupted again, desperate to put an end to the constant grumbling. "We're being pursued. That's why we must go so fast."
Valda glanced back at the empty desert. "I see no pursuit. What did you do, bed Prince Kerrion's favourite concubine?" He laughed. "I hardly think the prince would mind, I hear he's not partial to women, unlike his brother, Lerton. If she was one of Lerton's, I wouldn't worry either, he's got so many that he wouldn't notice. He has…"
Blade closed his eyes, wishing that he could be struck deaf. It seemed that giving Valda any information only broadened the subject matter of his constant chatter. Valda went on to enumerate Lerton's concubines, compare their charms and the number of children they had borne him, then started to talk about their families and pedigrees or lack of them.
Unable to stand it any longer, Blade snarled, "Damn it, be quiet! Lerton's dead, and I don't care about his bloody concubines!"
Valda gaped at the assassin, granting Blade a short respite. All too soon, however, he recovered and demanded, "When? How did he die? Why didn't you tell me this before?"
"For this very reason, I suspect," Blade growled.
"You must tell me! I have a right to know, he was my prince. He should have been King, not that snivelling weakling, Kerrion. Lerton was the one with visions and plans. He took after his father, the great King Shandor. How was he killed? A riding accident? Lerton was ever one for riding spirited horses, he was -"
"One of his concubines stuck a knife in him, I heard," Blade drawled.
"Impossible!" Valda shouted. "They wouldn't dare, and he would strangle them for even trying! Don't lie to me, it's not a jest!"
Blade shrugged. "All right, he slipped in some dung and broke his neck."
"Don't insult Prince Lerton! He was the best of the princes! He was a great warrior, a strong man! Tell me the truth!"
Blade sighed. "I don't know, nor do I care. Perhaps one of his enemies killed him, or maybe his mother did what she should have done at his birth and drowned him. Just be quiet."
"No! You know what happened, I demand that you tell me!"
"I've just said I don't know. I heard that he was dead, that's all."
Valda scowled at the assassin, and, for almost half a time-glass, Blade thought he had finally silenced the spy's grumbling. He hoped that the man would retreat into gloomy introspection, which was why he had informed him of Lerton's demise. Blade sensed the spy's eyes boring into him. The Cotti's scrutiny made him uneasy, and he shot the man a hard glance. Valda's mouth was set in a grim line, and the assassin glimpsed a flash of pure hatred in the man's eyes. Then it vanished, and his face became oddly expressionless. Blade turned to study the spy, becoming wary. For all that Valda was a well paid informant, he was also a Cotti, and perhaps a little too clever. Although it had achieved the desired result, he now regretted telling Valda of Lerton's death.
Blade looked ahead again, shrugging off his misgivings. Of course the spy hated him. He was Jashimari, and he had just insulted Valda's favourite prince. It did not mean that Valda suspected him of anything. Nevertheless, he was on his guard. As far as he knew, Valda was unarmed, although he now wished that he was certain of that. For the next time-glass, only the thudding of the horses' feet and the occasional raucous comment from Valda's familiar broke the silence in which they travelled.
Valda broke the quiet by muttering, "I'm tired, I'll let my horse walk for a while. You go on ahead, I'll catch up."
Blade shot him another suspicious glance, but had no objection to this idea. The further he was from the spy, the better. Valda reined his horse in and fell behind as Blade continued at a trot. He gazed ahead at the mountains that beckoned to him, filled with the promise of green grass and cool mists. By dusk he would reach them, and quit this accursed desert, hopefully forever.
Something struck him in the back, punching the air from his lungs with a coughing grunt. The force of the impact propelled him forwards, the world tilted as his limbs lost their strength and he slid from the saddle. Sand hit him in the face, and everything went black.