Chiana spent most of the day comforting the Queen, plying her with wine, sweetmeats, cakes and pastries. Kerra's questions and demands grew less heated and intelligent as the liquor took effect, and her eyes drooped. The Regent summoned a bard to strum a lute and hum soft tunes, lulling the Queen further into an inebriated stupor. Chiana sat and worried about what might be happening to Redgard and her loyal advisors, but decided to stay with the Queen, even after she passed out.
Dismissing the bard, she waited for dusk, wishing the day would pass more quickly, and with it the threat of complete disaster. By the time the sun sank in red-gold splendour outside her windows, her nerves were raw and her stomach a sour knot. The closer nightfall came, with its promise of redemption in the form of a slim black-clad killer, the more nervous she grew that Endor would appear and ruin everything. His continued absence filled her with hope that he had drunk himself under the table, and now snored on a couch somewhere.
At supper time, she roused the Queen and persuaded her eat a little food, not wanting her to be drunk when Blade came. Kerra was muddled and sleepy, but amenable. After the meal, Chiana had her maids help the Queen to her rooms, which four sacred Knights of the Veil now guarded. The maids prepared her for bed and tucked her into it, and she fell asleep right away.
Chiana dismissed the maids, then rummaged in Kerra's closet and found a dark riding habit, which she laid out at the foot of the bed before gazing at the young Queen's innocent face, imprinting it in her memory. Kerra was the most precious treasure in all of Jashimari, the last legacy of a great queen, and she was being entrusted to a cold-blooded killer. Chiana smiled at the irony of it, for who better to protect this child than a man as deadly as Blade.
Drunken shouts from the corridor jerked her from her reverie, and she kissed Kerra's cheek, then went to find out what the commotion was about. In the corridor, the four sacred Knights of the Veil, backed up by six guards, barred entry to a flushed, swaying Endor.
Quite clearly he had been indulging in the palace's extensive cellars all day, and could barely stand. The Knights, most trusted of all Jashimari warriors, wore the long white tabards of the church, emblazoned with the coiled golden serpent that represented Tinsharon's earthly form. Silver chain mail clad their torsos under their tabards, and the golden collars that were their badge of office gleamed in the torchlight.
Endor berated the tallest of the four, who stood before the Queen's doors like a statue, his eyes filled with contempt. All six of the Cotti advisors who made their home in the palace backed up the drunken prince, as well as three of his soldiers. They were in the same state of intoxication, and of little use to the Endor. The rank odour of stale sweat and sour wine arose from the little party, making Chiana wrinkle her nose in disgust. Endor prodded the Knight, whom she recognised as Sir Raylin, in the chest to make his point, although his words were almost too slurred to understand.
Sir Raylin did not dignify the Prince's argument with an answer, but blocked his way, a hand resting on his sword hilt. The Knight was in his late forties, a former veteran officer whose familiar had been killed in battle and whose wife had died shortly after the war had ended. Upon her death, he had lost interest in life and contemplated suicide. Instead, he had taken the vows and undergone castration to become a sacred Knight of the Veil, charged with the protection of church property and the virgin priestesses who dwelt within the temples. On rare occasions, the Queen could call upon the Knights to serve her when ordinary soldiers would not do. They considered themselves to be already dead; some had even been given the last rites at their own request, and were therefore fearless.
Endor grew more forceful in his insistence, pushing Sir Raylin hard enough to make him step back, and the other three Knights fingered their weapons. Not wishing more bloodshed, Chiana stepped out of the shadows and addressed the Cotti advisors who stood behind Endor in the hope that they were a little wiser than the Prince, and perhaps a little less drunk.
"My lords, you know Prince Endor cannot be allowed to see the Queen in this state. Please advise him of this."
Berlon, a stout, bearded Cotti with a nervous tick, looked surprised. "If he wishes to see her, Regent, he may."
"In this land, the Queen commands respect. When the people hear that a drunken Cotti prince ravished her, how do you think they will react?" Chiana frowned at him. "Why are you here? Do you all intend to stand around and watch? Are Cotti such barbarians?"
The Cotti muttered, and Endor, becoming aware of the new challenge to his authority, rounded on Chiana. "You! Jashimari slut! Order these gelded dogs out of my way before I slit their throats."
"They will all die to protect the Queen, Prince Endor, as will every Jashimari soldier in this palace. If you want a war, this may well start it. The only reason I have not ordered you thrown out is because of your threat to Kerrion's wife, but be assured, although Kerra is your hostage, you will not be allowed to ravish her."
"You defy me?" Endor drew himself up, tottered, and almost fell over, but for the steadying hand of an advisor. Shaking the man off, he staggered towards her, his face suffused with blood. Sir Raylin's armoured hand brought him up short, and he ignored it.
"I'll have you flogged, whore! You'll die beside your neutered husband tomorrow, and that stupid girl will become my concubine if I so choose!"
"Until then, you will abide by our laws, and remove yourself from the Queen's proximity."
Endor tried to push past Sir Raylin and failed, which enraged him further. He shoved the Knight, who braced himself, causing Endor to stagger back into the advisors. Berlon hissed something in the Prince's ear, but Endor shook him off.
"I'll not be ordered around by a simpering cow! Get these geldings out of my way before I have them killed!"
"You would be of no use to the Queen, even should she wish your foul attentions," Chiana stated.
Endor growled and tried to draw his sword, but it became stuck halfway out of its scabbard. His action, however, caused an instant reaction from the Knights, who drew their weapons with a hiss of steel, making the advisors stiffen. Endor eyed the Knights, tugging at his sword, then realised that he faced four naked blades and staggered back in alarm.
"You dare to threaten me?" He released the hilt of his weapon and came at Chiana, but again was barred, this time by bare steel. Endor glowered at Sir Raylin and pointed a wavering finger at him. "You'll die tomorrow, along with your cohorts, for this outrage."
"You will gain no access to the Queen, Endor," Chiana said.
"And you!" Endor swung on her. "You will entertain my troops before you die, bitch!"
Berlon and another advisor tried to tug Endor away, muttering in his ear. He shook them off, but retreated, glaring at Chiana and the Knights. Finally the Cotti advisors persuaded him to leave, and he reeled away down the corridor, shouting threats and foul insults over his shoulder. When at last he was out of sight, Chiana let out a great sigh and smiled at Sir Raylin. The Knights sheathed their weapons and bowed to her.
"Regent, you may rest assured, the Queen will be safe tonight," Sir Raylin said.
"I know. But tomorrow will be another story. Leave the palace at dawn and return to your temple. You will be safe from Endor there."
"We will die to protect the Queen, Regent."
"That will not be necessary, Sir Raylin. Rest assured, no harm will come to her."
"But Prince Endor..."
Chiana glanced at the Cotti soldiers who stood on the other side of the corridor, watching them. "We can do nothing to Prince Endor, so long as his brother holds Kerrion's wife hostage."
Sir Raylin inclined his head. "As you wish, my lady."
"Goodnight."
Chiana left as they bowed, and walked down the corridor to her rooms, where she closed the doors with a sense of relief. Another catastrophe had been averted, and she hoped that her luck would hold until the morning. Tomorrow would be another ordeal, perhaps even worse than today, but at least the Queen would be safe.
Blade opened his eyes a slit and surveyed the room. From the pale light that slanted through the window, he deduced that the moon was high and full, which was bad. It told him that it was late, however, and time to make his move. He located the two guards seated at a table on the other side of the room, engrossed in a game of cards. His ploy had worked, and they had not bothered to bind him. Now all he had to do was get them to come within his reach. His head pounded, his shoulder throbbed and his teeth ached from Endor's blow. He groaned.
The guards turned to look at him, and one made a crude comment that made the other snigger. They tried to return to their game, but Blade groaned more loudly and writhed about, distracting them. Soon the first man grew tired of his antics and told the other to silence him. The second man rose, pulling a dirty cloth from his pocket to gag the prisoner. He stopped beside the bed and leant down to peer at the assassin, frowning. Blade's fist cracked into the side of the man's head, and the guard went down as if poleaxed.
Blade crossed the room before the other man had time to draw breath to shout. The assassin's foot thudded into the Cotti's solar plexus and drove him backwards into the wall. His head cracked against it, and he slumped. Blade retrieved two of his daggers from the guard's belt, slipping one into a wrist sheath and using the other to slit the unconscious man's throat. A lizard scuttled from the Cotti's pocket and thrashed about in its death throes. Blade slit the other guard's throat, not bothering to wonder what creature would die with him, and then headed for the window.
A full Death Moon hung in the sky, an ill omen for most, but good luck for assassins. He wished it was not quite so full as he waited while a pair of sentries passed below. Easing himself over the sill, he found cracks in the stonework with deft fingers and climbed down the wall, glancing down often to assure himself that no unexpected Cotti guards patrolled below. Reaching the ground, he ducked into the nearest bushes. From their cover, he scanned the gardens, hunting for the guards who patrolled around the palace at night. When he located them, he waited until they moved away before he left the bushes and trotted along the palace wall.
Reaching a familiar stretch, Blade glanced up at the windows of the Regent's private rooms, and beside them, the Queen's. The royal rooms were two floors up, a fairly long climb. He ducked into a shadow as two guards wandered past, then moved to the wall and ascended it. The patrol patterns around the palace were well known to him, he had slipped in and out of the grounds without being seen many times. No extra guards appeared to be on duty, but he had not expected any, although he had considered the possibility that Endor might set some of his men under the Queen's window.
The prince seemed confident that his wishes would be obeyed, however, and the only one who would dare to endanger Kerrion's wife by stealing the young queen was supposed to be locked up and unconscious. Evidently Endor had also decided that Kerra could not escape through her windows. The rough stone offered meagre finger holds, but they were sufficient for his needs. Even so, he was sweating when he reached the Queen's window and hauled himself inside, partly due to the pain that shot through his injured shoulder every time he moved it.
Blade paused to get his bearings and rub his aching fingers. He was in the sitting room, moonlight striping the marble floor with bars of silver. Moving to the bed chamber's door, he paused to scan the room before he entered it. He did not think that men would be allowed in the Queen's quarters, but he was ever cautious. Many an assassin had met his end because he did not expect the unexpected, and familiars were a problem too. Kerra had no familiar as yet, which simplified matters.
Approaching the canopied bed, he made out the form of the young Queen beneath the satin covers, her hair spread across the pillow. He gazed down at her, vaguely amused that even she was not beyond his reach. Now all he had to do was wake her without alarming her, an alien concept, for his victims usually woke with a dagger in their heart. He found one of his daggers in his fist, and did not remember drawing it. Old habits die hard, it seemed. He put it away and lowered himself onto the bed beside her, surprised that she slept so soundly with what she faced tomorrow.
As he leant over to whisper her name, he caught the faint scent of wine and understood her untroubled slumber. Clever Chiana, as long as she was not comatose. He clamped a hand over her mouth, and her eyes flew open. She drew breath to scream, raising her hands to try to push him away. Blade resisted her puny struggles and leant closer.
"Hush! It's Blade."
She froze, her eyes wide as she strived to make out his face in the darkness.
"Will you be quiet?" he asked.
At her nod he removed his hand, and she pushed herself up against the pillows, peering at him. "Lord Conash?"
"Yes."
"I thought you were -"
"That was necessary, in case Endor spoke to you."
"I would not have told him anything."
Blade shook his head. "You would not have had to; your manner would have given you away."
"How did you get free? And how did you get in here?"
"Get dressed." He rose and pulled back the blankets, taking her arm to haul her from the bed. "I will explain later."
The girl shivered in her thin nightdress, and Blade found a riding habit thrown across the foot of the bed, tossing it to her.
"Put this on."
Blade went back into the sitting room to peer out of the window, then returned to the bedroom to strip the sheets from the bed. Kerra, in the act of dressing, gasped and turned her back on him, but he ignored her, striding back to the sitting room. He knotted the sheets together, then settled down at the window to watch the guards. Kerra joined him a minute later, clad in the riding habit. He waited as two patrols sauntered past, aware of the tension in the girl crouched beside him. She had done well so far, and he turned to tie the end of the sheets under her arms.
"I am going to lower you quickly, so do not be alarmed, and for God's sake do not scream."
"I am not a fool, Lord Conash, so do not treat me like one."
"Good. And stop calling me Lord Conash."
"Very well... Blade."
He watched the guards. "This is new to me. I work alone, and am unused to being burdened with amateurs. Do exactly as I say, without question or hesitation, understand?"
She nodded. "My life depends on it."
"As does mine. If not for you, I would be leagues away by now."
"I know -"
"Be quiet." Blade watched the last guard vanish around a corner, then turned and pulled the Queen to her feet. She reacted well, climbing over the ledge without hesitation, and he took up the tension on the sheet. Kerra glanced down at the dizzying drop, her fingers gripping the ledge with white knuckles.
"Let go," he ordered.
Blade thought he would have to pry her loose, but to his surprise she obeyed. Her weight made him stagger, and the window ledge dug into his thighs. The sheet burnt his hands as he let it slip through his grasp, slowing her descent only enough to prevent her from being hurt when she hit the ground. When the sheet went slack, he leant out of the window to peer down. Kerra unfastened the sheet, and he pulled it back up as she vanished into a shadow.
Dropping the cloth, he slipped over the sill and lowered himself, his fingers gripping the slight crannies in the stone. A few feet above the ground, he let himself drop, landed like a cat on the grass and joined the Queen in her shadows. She started to speak, and he hushed her as two guards appeared around the corner, right on time. They passed within a few feet of their hiding place, glancing about. As soon as they were out of sight, Blade took the Queen's wrist and set out across the moonlit lawn, heading for the far wall. She struggled to keep up with him, and panted by the time they reached the shadow of a tree.
Blade paused there for a few minutes to let her catch her breath, glancing about as he kept watch for the guards. He knew better than to leave anything to chance, and, although he knew their patrol pattern perfectly, there was always the possibility that a dog soldier's familiar might pick up their scent and raise the alarm. Often it was familiars that posed more of a threat to an assassin than the humans, and he was ever on the alert. He had always spied on his victim first to learn what kind of familiar they had, if any. That way, he was never taken by surprise, but he had no idea what kind of familiars these guards possessed.
When Kerra stopped gasping, he took her wrist again and led her towards the wall, staying in the shadows of the many shrubs that bordered the garden paths. He had allowed her to rest only so an alert soldier or his familiar would not hear her gasping. Silence was essential, and he ensured that they walked only on the grass. Reaching the wall, he led her to the overhanging tree he sometimes used when he did not want to scale it.
Kerra scrambled up it without being told, and he followed her, ready to grab her if she slipped. To his surprise, she proved to be an able climber, and reached the overhanging branch without mishap. There she paused, glancing at him, for the drop on the other side was quite far. He stepped onto the wall and lowered himself over the edge, then dropped, absorbing the impact with bent knees. He crouched for a moment and scanned the empty streets before he stood up and turned to the Queen, raising his arms.
"Come!" he rasped.
Kerra hesitated, clearly daunted by the length of the drop, but then she eased herself over the edge of the wall, clinging to it before letting go. Blade caught her with a grunt as his bruised ribs protested and his injured shoulder sent stabs of pain through him. Setting her on her feet, he took her wrist and dragged her into the nearest shadow, where he paused to scan the streets once more. When he was satisfied that no one was about, he led her along a narrow alley, heading into the city.
In a smelly back alley choked with refuse, he pushed open a rotting door and pulled the Queen into a room that stank of mildew and damp. The faint shapes of furniture were visible in the gloom until he closed the door behind them, then the darkness became complete. He groped around while she stood where he had left her, cursing as he stubbed his toe on some unseen object. Finding the lamp, he lighted it and set it on the table, adjusting the wick until the flame was bright.
Kerra glanced around at the squalid little room, stained with soot where someone had lighted a fire in the corner. Pools of candle wax patterned the rickety table and a pile of dirty blankets hunched in the corner. A solitary chair stood beside the table and a basin of water rested atop an old crate under a window covered with a ragged curtain.
Blade finished adjusting the lamp and turned to study his charge, who was pale but composed. Without the flowing skirts and finery she had worn in the palace, she looked younger, less certain and as slender as a reed. He sank down on the sagging cot with a soft groan, pulling aside his jacket to inspect the reddened dressing on his shoulder.
"You are just a little slip of a thing, aren't you?"
Her eyes glittered. "I am almost as tall as you."
"That is no great feat. I am not exactly a giant."
"What are we doing in this horrible place? Is this where you live?"
"Resting." He fingered his jaw, then his nose, wincing. "And no, I do not live here."
"We should leave the city at once. Endor will start searching as soon as he finds me gone."
"Do I look like an imbecile? If I could grow wings and fly I would, but just how do you think we are going to get far enough away in a few time-glasses? With any luck, Endor will be stupid enough to start by searching the forests around the city. This place is a warren of rotting dumps, and I know it like the back of my hand."
Kerra glanced around, her nose wrinkling, and Blade lay down with a groan. "Sleep if you can. If not, be quiet."
Kerra glared at him, but he closed his eyes and turned his head away. For several minutes, she listened to his soft breathing, her mind whirling with the exciting events of the night and the danger the morning would bring. She wondered how he could fall asleep so quickly when there was so much to worry about, yet, as the adrenalin drained from her blood, she experienced the lethargy that follows extreme tension. The wine Chiana had given her also had a lingering effect, which only became noticeable as she calmed down.
Kerra's eyes grew heavy, and she looked around for somewhere to sleep, frowning at the former assassin, who occupied the only thing that even resembled a bed. She contemplated waking him up and demanding to sleep on it, then recalled the way he had made her shiver with a mere glance. The thought of incurring his wrath daunted her, although her royal upbringing demanded that he should defer to her, even as a deeper instinct warned her not to challenge him. She gazed at him, puzzled and intrigued by this enigmatic man about whom so many legends had sprung up.
According to Chiana, he was the deadliest assassin ever to have lived, and the Regent had never tired of singing his praises all through Kerra's youth. His name had come up often in her studies of recent history, and she had longed to meet him. She had envisioned him bowing to her and calling her his queen, however, not informing her with such cold haughtier that she was no more than an ignorant child. Her anger at his manner had been tempered by the deep respect Chiana had accorded him and the sweetness of his slight, insincere smile. Now she was dependent upon him for her safety, and thought it wise not to provoke his temper. With a sigh, she spread out the old blankets, ignored their musty smell and curled up on them.