Chapter Fifteen

 

Chiana sagged against the ropes that bound her to the chair, her mind fogged with pain, her throat raw from screaming. The man who had been torturing Inka dumped the injured bird into her cage and turned to the Prince, who sat watching the proceedings.

"She knows nothing, Highness."

Endor growled and jumped up. "Take her to her rooms and let her maids tend to her. She has work to do."

"Shall I release the bird?"

"No, I may kill it yet."

Endor left, and the guards untied Chiana and carried her to her bed chamber, where they dumped her on her bed. The man who had been torturing Inka bore the cage that held her away. A few minutes later, her maids came in and fussed over her, pressed a glass of strong port to her lips and wiped her brow with cool damp cloths. When she had recovered enough to sit up, they brought her trays of tempting treats and rubbed her feet with shay flower-scented oils.

The pampering restored a little of her colour, and she stared at the wall. The cries of her familiar still rang in her mind, and the days of suffering had run together in a blur. Her hatred of Endor knew no bounds, and she silently promised him a painful end when the time came. That Inka still lived was a miracle. The man who had inflicted such torment upon her was, without doubt, an expert at his trade.

Chiana looked up as a maid told her that her bath was ready, and rose to follow the girl into the screened alcove where a steaming tub waited. Her will seemed to have left her. She had no wish to do anything other than what she was told. She wondered how anyone could survive the death of their familiar, if this was how bad it felt just for Inka to be injured.

People underwent a little death when their familiar died, a deep coma that they fell into for a tenday or so. When they awoke, they had to endure the terrible emptiness and loneliness of being without their beloved beast. Blade had gone through it, and Inka's torture had given her a taste of what he had suffered, bringing with it a new understanding of his coldness. As she lowered herself into the hot water, she prayed that he would continue to outwit the Cotti and keep the Queen safe from Endor.

 

Kerrion looked up as Jadar burst into his study, waving a message. Having returned from his latest search just this afternoon, he had taken a few time-glasses to bathe and rest before deciding to glance at some of the papers piled on his desk. He hoped that one of the documents would contain some hint of who else may know where Minna was being held, for he intended to set out again the next day with fresh horses and men.

Jadar stopped before the King's desk, holding the message aloft. "A message from Lord Dinarth. Prince Chaymin is staying on his estate, right now."

Kerrion jumped up. "Excellent! This time I shall make the little toad tell me where she is."

Jadar's face fell. "Sire, if you do that, Trelath will make your wife suffer. And Chaymin may not know where she is. You must follow Chaymin until he leads you to Trelath, who can then lead you to your wife."

Kerrion thumped the desk in frustration. "If he discovers us again, he will slip away into the desert, and the next lord may not be so loyal to me."

"Send only one man, Sire, a spy of bird kin. When he discovers where your wife is, he will send a message to you."

"Unless Trelath or Chaymin kill him. I need a man who can infiltrate their men and become one of them."

"Trelath will hire no new men now, Sire. He only trusts the ones he has."

The King sank back into his chair. "Why do they have to be so damned clever?" He tapped his fingers together. "Send two men, then, separately, and make them the best I have. At least then if one is killed, the other will carry on."

"Yes, Sire. A good plan."

"And make sure you send only men with raptors, I want no crows or doves that might be eaten by an eagle."

"Yes, Sire."

Kerrion stared past Jadar, his eyes unfocussed. "I will find her, Jadar. I will."

 

Minna-Satu looked up at the sound of tramping feet in the corridor outside her prison, clutching Shista when the cat tried to rise, growling deep in her throat. The Queen was so weak now that it was all she could do to hold onto the cat, who did not tax her strength, but obeyed her tacit command. Two soldiers clad in Trelath's pale blue colours entered and took up position on either side of the doorway, and her heart sank.

Moments later, Trelath appeared, looking robust and smug, his clothes spotless and his golden accoutrements glittering. Minna leant against her cat and summoned a little venom into her eyes, fixing the Prince with a chilling glare. Trelath wrinkled his nose at the stench and gestured to the bucket, which a soldier removed. He approached the Queen, studying her as a doctor might inspect a new patient with a rare disease.

"So, you are still alive, though how you can live with this fetor is amazing." He pulled out a lacy handkerchief and held it to his nose. "I would not be able to withstand it. But then, I do not have to. I was going to let you die here when the boy ran out of food, but unfortunately your continued existence is required, at least for a little while longer. Our plans have been delayed somewhat, and I may still require a fresh appendage to show your beloved husband, who is still searching for you."

Trelath paused and eyed her, as if expecting a reply. When she continued to glare at him, he went on, "Of course, he is an idiot, or he would not have married you, and he will not find you. I should imagine that the food I left with the boy must be rotten by now. So, you will be happy to learn that I have brought fresh supplies, and even a few creature comforts."

The Prince clapped his hands, and two servants entered, carrying cushions and rich cloths, which they dumped on the floor. Minna stared at the cushions, her mind too numb to take in this bounty, and her pride preventing her from accepting it. Two more men carried in a tub, which they set in the corner and began to fill it with water. Trelath watched them, sending the Queen a broad smile.

"See how well I care for you, woman. From now on, I will place guards here as well, and as soon as Kerrion disobeys Endor or myself, I will send for a finger or an ear. I had not planned on keeping you alive this long, but now it seems I have no choice. But rest assured, your husband is no closer to finding you now than he was at the outset. Even now, he is chasing after my brother Chaymin, who is serving as an excellent diversion."

A grey rat poked its head out of the Prince's tunic, and he stroked it. Shista pricked her ears and licked her lips. Trelath glanced at the tub, which was now filled with cold water, towels and a bar of soap placed next to it.

"You will bathe. Your stench offends me, and I require another lock of hair, in case I need to send it to Kerrion."

Trelath gestured to the servants, who approached the Queen, clearly intending to drag her to the tub and dump her in it. Shista's hackles rose, and a deep growl rumbled in her chest. The men hesitated, glancing at the Prince.

"Control your familiar, slut, or I shall order my men to dispatch her now."

Minna sat up, summoning her remaining strength to lift her chin. "I will bathe myself, Trelath. I do not require the aid of your servants. Leave me."

"Do not presume to give me orders. Get in the tub now, or I shall have my men wash you."

Minna-Satu raised her manacled hands. "Do you expect me to stretch the chain to reach it?"

Trelath gestured to his men, took a key from his pocket and handed it to one. The soldier approached, eyeing Shista as he bent to undo the manacles, but the cat merely watched him with blazing eyes. Minna's silent command kept her familiar's wish to tear out the throats of her friend's tormentors in check. As the iron bracelets fell away, Minna rubbed her callused wrists and rose to her feet.

Her ragged, dirty clothes hung from her thin shoulders, and, although she longed to bathe, the prospect of doing so in front of these strange men nauseated her. The Prince's threat was real, however. She knew he would take great pleasure in watching his soldiers drag her to the tub, strip and scrub her. To salvage what little pride and dignity she had left, she would have to endure the humiliation of bathing in front of them.

Minna walked to the tub, stopped beside it and shot Trelath a look of deep loathing. Now more than ever, she would have to comport herself as a queen, thereby denying the Prince the pleasure of her humiliation. To do this, she must remain unashamed, and not give way to the need to cringe and cover herself. Unclasping the ragged dress, she let it fall and stepped from it as proudly as a courtesan undressing for her lover.

Her slender body remained taut and shapely even after birthing three children, and her recent deprivation had honed it further. The awareness of her beauty removed all shame from her nakedness, and she stepped into the cold water with her head high. Fortunately it was a hot day, so the water was a pleasure to sink into, and she sighed as she scooped it over her face. Trelath walked to the window and stared out of it, clearly displeased that his attempt to humiliate her had failed.

The soap was hard and smelt of jasmine, but after tendays of her own aroma, it was bliss to scrub away the grime. Minna washed quickly, knowing that the Prince would have little patience, and dragging her out of the bath would be just as satisfying as dragging her into it would have been. She washed her hair as well, turning the water brown and scummy. As she bathed, she wondered what had caused this delay in the Prince's plans, and who had achieved it.

Not Kerrion, or she would have lost a finger by now. Someone else caused problems for the princes, but, since she did not know what they were forcing Kerrion to do, she could not guess who else might be involved, nor was she going to ask. She washed until Trelath began to tap his foot, then stepped out and rubbed herself dry with the towel that a servant handed her. Scorning the filthy clothes she had shed, she picked up one of the rich cloths and wrapped it around herself.

Trelath approached her, pulling a knife from his belt, and took hold of a hank of her hair, which he sawed off. She stared through him, showing no sign of pain. When he had put the knife and hair away, he gripped her chin and forced her to meet his eyes.

"Since I must keep you alive until we have what we want from Kerrion, I may just return and make you grovel for your life before I kill you."

"That, I will not do."

"We shall see about that. I have made strong men beg for their lives, and you are just a woman."

"I am a queen." Minna jerked her chin from his grip. "Born from a long line of queens, sole heir to the Jashimari throne, while you are just a prince who will never be King, a product of your father's lust."

Trelath reddened and drew back a hand, but restrained himself when Shista rose from her resting place, her low growl filling the room like distant thunder. He glared at the cat, clearly longing to slay her and put an end to her threat. Killing Minna's familiar, however, would cause her to fall into a coma, and then he would be forced to care for her until she recovered. Since she was already in such a weakened state, she may not survive the ordeal. If she perished before her usefulness was over, his plans might fail. In addition, slaying such a large and lethal cat would be dangerous, and some of his men would doubtless perish in the attempt. Since he was the current focus of Shista's ire, he would be her first target. The Prince wagged a finger at Minna.

"When I return, your familiar will die. Then you will pay for your insults, Jashimari whore."

"I merely state the facts, Trelath. I do not stoop to name calling."

He glared at her. "Your screams will be music to my ears, when the time comes."

"Do not count on it. You may be disappointed."

"No one will be coming to rescue you, stupid woman. This place is not marked on any maps, and your dear husband has not been anywhere near it."

"I am not afraid to die, but I doubt the same can be said of you."

The Prince's lip curled. "No one is going to kill me."

"I would not be so certain of that."

Trelath swung away with a growl and signalled to his men, who emptied the tub out of the window as he strode to the door, where he paused to look back.

"Until we meet again, whore. I look forward to it."

A soldier came over and snapped the shackles onto her wrists. She sank down on the nearest cushion, grateful for its softness after tendays of sitting and lying on the hard floor. Shista prowled around the room, huffing at the scent of the Cotti, her tail twitching.

 

Blade glanced at the young queen who rode beside him, stroking her familiar and cooing to him. The direfalcon had made contact with her the day after they had left Faranot, gliding down to perch on the wrist guard he had bought for her. The rapport that had sprung up between them had delighted her, and she had learnt that the direfalcon's name was Myasha. Blade recalled the wonder and joy of the first days of bonding, when the tenuous affinity became stronger by the time-glass, and he had experienced the singular joy of sharing Rivan's awareness. The bird suited her, being fierce and proud, but he disliked the way it hissed like a snake.

Pulling his jelabah over his face, he squinted ahead across the burning sands for the first glimpse of the little oasis that would be their next stop. They had spent the last two nights in the desert, but according to the map he had purchased, they should reach the oasis this afternoon. The jelabah covered him from head to foot in loose white cloth, deflecting the sun's heat and allowing the hot wind to dry the sweat on his skin.

Beneath it, he wore a thin sleeveless white shirt and grey cloth trousers, his heavy leather outfit stowed aboard the packhorse. Without it, he was vulnerable, but he would have been cooked alive if he had worn it. He retained his boots, and the daggers strapped to his forearms were in plain view whenever the Jelabah rode up his arms. Kerra also wore a jelabah, and had yet to master the art of not becoming tangled up in it. At the oasis, he would change the Queen's disguise in readiness for the first town they would encounter, another three days ride ahead.

A black, shimmering dot appeared on the horizon, and he spurred his horse into a trot, eager to reach the cool shade of the distant palms. The three new horses he had purchased were desert bred, able to withstand the harsh conditions far better than the dead Knight's steeds would have done. They were long-legged and slender compared to the heavier Jashimari breeds, but they possessed an amazing vigour and endurance. His mount was black, while Kerra rode a bay and the packhorse was a dark grey, but suitable for Minna-Satu to ride if he found her. He had little faith in Shamsara's prediction, but now that he was in Cotti, there was a possibility that he might stumble over the Elder Queen.

Blade guided his horse into the pemra trees' shade and drew rein, sliding out of the saddle with a sigh. He led the animal over to the walled well in the centre of the oasis, where a bucket waited to fill the stone trough beside it. While the horses sucked down the water, he stripped off the jelabah to let the cool air dry his skin. Kerra unsaddled her beast while it drank, and he noted the many shy glances she flung in his direction.

Under her jelabah, she wore a thin shirt and cotton trousers, but he had no desire to study her in the way she seemed driven to watch him. He had often wondered what it was like to have the desires of the flesh that had been taken from him, even though they seemed to cause most people a lot of embarrassment. Perhaps teasing her had not been such a good idea, for she was young and impressionable, and now seemed even more coquettish towards him. He turned his back on her and dumped his saddle in the sand, then removed the bags from the packhorse and sat down with his back against a pemra palm tree, whose huge, umbrella-like fronds waved high above.

Digging a wine skin from the bag beside him, he poured a generous amount down his throat to wash away the dust. Kerra settled in front of him and pulled off her jelabah. Blade hid a smile at her blatant flirtation, of which he was certain she was unaware, and did from sheer instinct. Many women had flirted with him over the years, from whores and serving maids to fine ladies and rich married women, even a regent. Now he could add a young queen to the list, and that amused him. She watched him consume the wine.

"You drink too much, Blade. It is not good for you."

He corked the skin and set it aside, wiping his mouth. "Allow me my little pleasures, will you? I have few of them. In fact, I think this is my only one."

She looked away. "How far to the next town?"

"Three days." He dug in the pack and took out a bar of soap, which he tossed to her. "Here. Go and wash that dye from your hair, it is time you became a Cotti."

"But I have blue eyes."

"I noticed. Just keep your eyes lowered."

"What will you be?"

"I will also be a Cotti when the time comes, and yes, I know my eyes are the wrong colour too. I will wear a sun screen, as some men do, which will hide them."

She took the opportunity to study him. "But your skin and hair... You are a true Jashimari, the opposite of a Cotti."

"I will correct that, do not worry."

Kerra rose and went over to the well to draw a bucket of water, glancing up at the direfalcon that perched in a tree. While she washed her hair, Blade pondered his situation. They had plenty of supplies, and no one seemed to be chasing them, but what really bothered him was that he had no idea where he was going.

The notion of wandering aimlessly around the desert did not appeal to him. Travelling through this harsh sandy land was dangerous and unpleasant. He could not ask locals about a kidnapped woman without arousing suspicions, however, especially the wife of the King. He also doubted that anyone would know where she was, apart from Trelath and his cronies, into whom he did not wish to bump.

Kerra returned, her hair golden once more, and flopped down beside him. "Is that better?"

"Very Cotti." He dug a jar from the pack and held it out. "Now rub this on your face and arms, up to the shoulder, and your neck."

She took it with a grimace, wrinkling her nose when she opened it and sniffed the oily golden paste. "Just when I thought I was going to look normal again."

"You will be my concubine. You do not speak unless I tell you to, and if we walk in a town, you follow behind me with your head bowed."

"Must all my disguises be that of a servant? Could I not be a boy?"

He shook his head. "Without the thick jacket, you do not look like a boy. And Cotti men wear their hair short, most shave it off."

The Queen dipped her fingers into the paste and rubbed it on her cheeks. Blade sat up and pulled off the thong that tied his hair, letting it fall free in raven wings. Drawing a dagger from his belt, he hacked it off as short as he could. Most assassins wore their hair short, some even shaved their heads, but he had always kept his shoulder length, apart from when he was forced to cut it, like now.

Kerra paused to stare at him, then returned to her chore. When he was finished, he took out the rest of the disguise he had purchased at Faranot and laid it out on a cloth. It consisted of a short blond wig and moustache, a bottle of glue and a piece of soft leather. He started by gluing the piece of leather over the dagger tattoo on his chest, then pulled the wig on and glued the edges to his brow, lowering his hairline.

By that time, Kerra had finished with the skin dye, and he stripped off his shirt, amused again by her shy glances. He rubbed the golden oil onto his face, arms and torso down to his waist, then used a small mirror to ensure that he had reached the edges of the wig. That done, he glued the blond moustache to his upper lip and studied the result in the mirror. Apart from his eyes, he could pass for a Cotti, and the dye would also protect his pale skin from the sun.

Blade turned his scrutiny upon the Queen, touching up the places she had missed with the paste. She held her breath when he cupped her chin and tilted her head this way and that to make sure he had not missed any spots, her eyes riveted to him, as if she expected him to do more than merely ensure that her disguise was complete. He hid his amusement and resisted the temptation to tease her again.

There was one chore that he required her assistance with, however, and he handed her the pot and turned his back to her, the inference clear. After a pause, she applied the dye to his skin, and he smiled at the way her hands trembled. When he was satisfied, he put away the pot and mirror, then took out the long white dress, veil and headscarf that would hide all but Kerra's eyes.

"Why must we put this on now?" she asked. "Could it not wait until we are closer to the town?"

"We may meet other travellers. It is better to be prepared."

She smiled. "You look funny with a moustache."

"Good. As long as I do not look like a Jashimari. Although the kingdoms are no longer at war, we are not well received in Cotti."

"Chiana says there is increasing trade between us and Cotti."

"We are not traders, so they will think we are spies."

Kerra turned to gaze into the distance. "Do you think she is all right, Blade?"

"You will call me Jarran while we are in Cotti. And you will be Kestra."

She frowned at him. "You did not answer my question."

He sighed. "She is all right. Endor cannot do too much damage."

"Do you care?"

"She is my wife."

"That is not an answer."

"It is all you are going to get. Go and find something to burn, there should be some dried dung lying around that we can use."

Kerra pulled a face, but rose to search for droppings, leaving Blade gazing after her. The change in the young queen was quite remarkable, and he knew that most of it stemmed from her desire to please him. Chiana had been a poor substitute for a mother, since she had been far too lenient, treating Kerra as a queen instead of a child.

Kerra longed for a firm adult hand against which she dared not rebel, and she had found that in him, along with an attraction that stirred up adolescent desires, apparently. His threats of a spanking had been empty, but had brought about the desired effect, curtailing her pride and disdain for those of lesser rank. A few tendays ago, she would have flown into a rage at the mere mention of picking up dried horse manure, but now she complied without protest. She returned with a handful and some dead palm fronds, which he broke up to make the fire.

The following day, they set out across the desert once more, heading into a shimmering nothingness that seemed to stretch on forever. At night, the cold forced them to share a leather tent, and Kerra woke Blade often as she shifted in her sleep, for he was used to sleeping alone. The wig was hot and itched, and the moustache kept peeling off, but at least sweat did not wash off the skin dye.

They met a caravan of Cotti traders, who paused to exchange courtesies and the strong sweet tea they drank, which Blade loathed. The encounter assured him that his disguise was passable, and, although the men stared at Kerra, she kept her eyes lowered as he had ordered. He wore a strip of thin black muslin over his eyes, which filtered out much of the glare, and was acceptable attire for a desert traveller. They passed through a town, where Blade bought more supplies and no one gave them a second glance, then carried on towards Jadaya. He was sure that Trelath would not have taken Minna more than two days ride from the capital, and plotted a route that took them around it at that distance.

 

After six days, they detoured to visit a town and buy more supplies, listening to the local gossip at an inn. Kerra was surprised that unveiled women in revealing outfits served the beverages, whom the customers pawed and sometimes took upstairs. In a society where women were kept cloistered and hidden, she had not expected to find harlots plying their trade so blatantly. It had taken a little time for her to become used to such things in Jashimari.

When she asked Blade about it, he told her that the whores belonged to the inn's owner, and he received whatever money they made from their trade. She found this even more shocking, for slavery had been outlawed in Cotti, but he pointed out that its being illegal did not prevent it from happening. Like other crimes, it continued on a lesser scale, hidden from the law.

Much of the gossip in the tavern related to the King's stolen wife. Most men thought Kerrion a fool to search for her, and especially to allow himself to be blackmailed. Their opinions were typical of Cotti. They thought he should find a younger wife, or several of them, and a few concubines as well.

As for his daughter being forced to become Endor's captive and concubine, well, there was nothing wrong with that. The King should have given her to his brother, in any case, if Endor desired the girl. Kerra gasped and choked on her glass of water when she heard this, earning herself a stern glance from Blade. He sipped his sour young wine and strained to hear more from the men who sat at nearby tables, but there was nothing else of interest.

 

Just as Blade was considering retiring for the night, an evil looking individual slid onto the bench seat opposite him, making Kerra glance around in surprise. The man leered at her, then turned to Blade, his dark eyes gleaming with lecherous greed. Blade's hackles rose, and he noted the man's glance at the dagger sheaths on his wrists. Without the protection of his tattoo, however, their threat was debatable, since many men carried weapons, but could not necessarily use them well.

Blade had removed the sun screen, for he knew that in the tavern's dimness his eyes would appear dark, reflecting their surroundings. Judging by his garb, the sly looking man was a trader of mediocre success, his wealth displayed as thick gold earrings and chains around his neck, as well as his rich velvet robe. He leant across the table, inviting the assassin to do the same with a meaningful look. When he did not, the trader addressed him in a conspiratorial tone.

"Your woman looks young, friend. Any thoughts of trading her?"

Blade kept his face impassive. "No. And I'm not your friend."

The man raised his hands. "No need to be touchy. I have a string of excellent horses with me, and I'll trade you three of the finest for her, if she's pretty."

"She's ugly."

The man shot Kerra a measuring glance. "You don't look like the sort of man who keeps ugly women."

"How would you know what I like? Ugly ones are cheaper, and they're all the same in the dark."

The stranger chuckled. "True. But some lords like to collect the pretty ones. I'm offering you a good trade. Let me see..." His hand flashed out and whipped up Kerra's veil, and his eyes widened. "Very nice. I'll offer you four of my best horses."

Blade frowned at the man's rudeness. "I'm not interested."

"Come now, you could buy two good concubines for that, and as you say, they're all the same in the dark. Why do you refuse?"

"She's carrying my child."

"Ah." The Cotti's face fell. "Of course, that explains your reluctance."

"Refusal."

"Well, I'm sure you have many children, as a man of your years and breeding should. I could arrange to have the child sent to you after it's born, if it's a boy."

Blade leant closer. "Do you have a hearing problem? Or don't you understand the word 'no'?"

"I'm making a generous offer..."

"I don't care."

The man sighed and raised his hands, casting a sorrowful glance at Kerra. "Very well, as you wish. Good day to you."

Blade watched him leave the taproom, frowning. The trader did not strike him as the sort to give up so easily. He had a dishonest look about him. The assassin did not trust people at the best of times, but the sly looking man made him even more suspicious than most. Finishing his wine in a gulp, he sought out the proprietor and asked for their meals to be sent to their room, then led Kerra upstairs. She turned to him as soon as he closed the door, shed the veil and headscarf and threw them on the bed.

"What a hateful man! How dare he offer to buy me? As if I was an animal!"

Blade pulled off his jelabah and moved towards his bed. Since Kerra was no longer disguised as his apprentice, he had hired a room with two beds, much to her delight. "That's how it works in Cotti. I told you."

"I wanted to slap the smug little bastard! My father would have him tortured to death!"

"Probably. But all Kerrion's good intentions have made little difference in Cotti society. His outlawing of slavery helped a few Jashimari men return home, but the women are still here, hidden." He sank down on the bed. "We will stay in the room tonight, and tomorrow we leave."

She shot him an incredulous look. "You think he will try to steal me?"

"It's highly likely."

"Even though he thinks that I am carrying your child."

Blade nodded. "There are ways of getting rid of unwanted children."

"That is horrible!"

"Then he'll get a healer to make you a virgin again."

"But I am a..." Kerra shuddered and turned away. "I do not want to know how they do that."

"Quite easily, I assure you."

"But you will not let them take me, will you?"

He smiled. "I'll do my best."

"I find that reassuring." She faced him, a soft smile curling her lips. "No one could defeat you, could they?"

The assassin laughed. "I have been beaten on a number of occasions. Don't get any ideas that I'm invincible."

"Armin did, but he had a lot of men."

"Indeed."

"And my father, but again, you were outnumbered."

He smiled. "Sort of. I was also beaten to a pulp in an alley one night, by a few men with cudgels."

"You were drunk."

"Ah, Chiana told you about that. What about the time I was captured by a bunch of thugs and held prisoner?"

"You were taken by surprise."

He inclined his head. "And I could be again. Just as I could be outnumbered, or shot in the back with a crossbow."

"What are you trying to say?"

"That you should not think me invincible, because I'm not."

She frowned, coming closer to stand before him. "And what should I do if that happens?"

"That is a tricky question. Nowhere is safe for a woman alone in Cotti. Probably the best thing would be to tell them who you are, and hope that they ransom you to your father. At least that way you will not end up in some lord's harem."

Kerra nodded, looking doubtful, then picked up her veil as a knock on the door heralded their meal. After they had eaten a rather spicy chicken dish, Blade stretched out on his bed and closed his eyes, foiling the young queen's desire for more conversation. She curled up on her bed, tossing and turning for a while before sleep claimed her.

The soft click of the door latch being lifted woke Blade, who rolled off his bed as it was flung open, dropping to the floor on the far side. Five men entered the dark room in a rush, relying on surprise rather than stealth. Two headed for Kerra's bed, three charged over to his. A cudgel struck his pillow hard enough to splatter his brains, had his head still been there.

Kerra screamed as she was dragged from her bed, hanging on to the sheets so her abductors found themselves hauling the mattress with them. The three who had attacked the assassin groped in the darkness for his body, cursing when they did not find it. Blade sat up and yanked the two daggers from under his pillow, turning to find a target.

The abductors were silhouetted against the faint light that came through the doorway from the lamp in the hall, allowing him to see more than they could. He flung a dagger at one of the men who held the Queen, and she shrieked as blood splattered over her from his throat. The thug with the cudgel looked up to find the assassin with another dagger poised to throw and raised his weapon, but Blade stabbed him through the heart.

The other two hurdled the bed and threw themselves at him in typical Cotti fashion. Blade yanked the daggers from his wrist sheaths just before they reached him. One groaned and folded up as a hand span of cold steel pierced his chest, but the other sent Blade sprawling with a shoulder in his gut. He gasped as he was crushed beneath the larger man, the air punched from his lungs and spots dancing in his eyes. He had lost a dagger in the other man's chest, and his assailant grabbed his wrist, preventing him from using the one he held. He slapped the man's ear with his free hand, making the Cotti yelp and recoil.

Kerra kicked and struggled in her captor's grasp, but he pinned her arms, then picked her up and headed for the door.

"Blade!"

The assassin fought for air, his throat crushed beneath his opponent's elbow as the man tried to pry the dagger from his fist. Knowing that he could not match the brawn of a man so much bigger and stronger, he went limp, letting his head loll to one side. The Cotti took the dagger from the assassin's lax fingers, then paused. Blade held his breath as he waited for the man's next move, expecting the cold steel of the dagger to be pressed to his throat. Playing dead was an effective ploy, as long as his opponent did not decide to make sure.

The Cotti seemed satisfied that he was no longer a threat, however, for he rose to his feet and headed for the door, eager to catch up with his cohort. Blade rolled to his feet in a smooth movement and yanked a dagger from one of corpses that littered the floor. The Cotti turned at the sound, and received the dagger through his throat. Blade collected his weapons and sprinted down the corridor after the Queen, his boots ringing on the wooden floor. Fortunately, he had chosen to sleep in his clothes, due to the threat of abductors. The sleepy proprietor watched him pass from the doorway of his room, holding a lamp high.

Blade yanked open the inn's front door and dashed out of it, skidding onto the sandy street. A glance up and down the road found a fleeing figure disappearing around a corner, and he raced after it. He rounded the corner as the thug vanished into a stable down the street. Blade loped after him, slowing as he approached the livery. As he had suspected, more men waited within, and he pressed himself to the wall to listen. A voice that he recognised as belonging to the sly looking trader congratulated the abductor.

"Good, you got her. Well done."

"At a price. That damned fellow killed the others."

"All of them?" The trader sounded shocked.

"All of them. I hope she's worth it."

Blade peered around the corner as the big man dumped Kerra on her feet, holding her wrists with one hand. She bent her head and bit him, and he snatched his hand away with a curse. Another man grabbed her as she tried to flee, swearing when she kicked him in the shins. He spun her around and twisted her arms behind her back, foiling her attempt to kick him again. Blade counted four men, apart from the trader, all armed with swords and knives, two of them with loaded crossbows hooked to their belts.

The trader asked, "Did you kill him?"

"I think Mirtal did, but he didn't follow me, so he must be dead too."

"That's amazing."

"I'm sure he was expecting us."

The trader shook his head. "It's a pity he's dead. Do you know how much a fighter like that would be worth?"

The thug grunted and turned away, clearly more annoyed by the loss of his comrades than the trader. The merchant took a lamp from the wall and held it close to Kerra's face, examining her in its light.

"Very nice." He peered at her. "Damn! She's a bloody half breed. She has blue eyes."

He glared at the thugs as if it was their fault, and they frowned and glanced at each other. The one who had carried Kerra from the inn growled, "You picked her, and don't try to say we brought you the wrong girl, either. You should have checked her better."

The trader turned away with a muttered curse and replaced the lamp on its hook, then swung to glare at the hapless girl. She raised her chin, her eyes glittering with rage.

"Let me go, you bastard!"

He laughed. "Hark at it! Someone forgot to beat this one. On top of being virtually worthless, she's a harpy. I won't even be able to give her away."

"My father -"

The trader's hand cracked across the Queen's cheek, and Blade winced. The merchant had his back to the door, and the four thugs stood facing it, one holding Kerra. The odds were not in Blade's favour, but he had no reason to think that they would improve if he waited. The men probably had their horses here, ready to leave, and once they rode away he would be hard put to follow them and find her again. The trader was a fair distance away, standing in the corridor between the rows of stables.

The element of surprise was vital. Blade could not risk the possibility of discovery by trying to get closer, even though the stable was poorly lighted. Without his usual black garb, he would be visible to the four men who faced him as soon as he stepped into the doorway. The lack of his leather jacket with its chain mail also made him vulnerable, and he hoped he would not regret its lack before this night was over. He checked that his daggers were all where they should be, then pulled the two from his belt and held them ready as he stepped into the doorway.

One of the thugs yelled a warning, but Blade's dagger hit the trader in the back before he could turn. He coughed and sank to his knees as two of the men pulled the crossbows from their belts. Blade ran at them, flung the other dagger at one of the crossbowmen and ducked as a bolt thrummed past his head and thunked into the wall behind him. The crossbowman staggered back, the black hilt of a dagger protruding from his chest, and dropped his bow as he reached up to try to pull it out.

Blade released the daggers from his wrist sheaths and flung one at the second crossbowman, who fired a wild shot that missed Blade by a good hand span. The crossbowman fell with a gurgle, impaled through the eye. The other three Cotti fled, releasing Kerra with a rough shove that sent her to her knees. Blade stopped beside her and watched the thugs race out of the other end of the stable, one skidding and falling in his haste.

When they vanished around the corner, he glanced down at the kneeling queen, who buried her face in her hands. Blade went over to the fallen men and retrieved his daggers, despatching those who still writhed and moaned. The trader raised a pleading hand, his eyes wide with terror, blood bubbling from his lips.

"Mercy," he wheezed.

"I have none," Blade murmured as he slid the dagger into the man's heart, then he dragged the bodies towards a haystack against one wall. The two thugs were heavy, and the trader still twitched, but within a few minutes he had buried them in the hay.

Kerra rose to her feet, trying to control the soft sobs that racked her. She stumbled towards Blade as he took the lamp down and extinguished it, plunging the stable into darkness. Finding him, she tried to cling to him, but he fended her off, took her wrist and headed for the door.

"Blade... I thought you were dead..."

"Hush." He stopped just inside the doorway, listening.

The clatter of running feet came from the street, and he pulled her back into the darkness, clamping a hand over her mouth. It could not be the thugs returning, they were not brave enough for that, and, since their employer was dead, they had no reason to face him again. More likely, someone had summoned the Watch. He dragged the Queen deeper into the shadows, moving along the rows of stalls in which sleepy horses stirred.

The footsteps approached the doorway, and four men appeared in it, silhouetted against the moonlit street. A glimpse of their white tabards and the glint of armour confirmed his suspicions, as one of the soldiers raised a lamp and peered into the stable. He cursed as they entered the livery, spreading out to search the stalls. Reaching the end of the row, he found himself back at the haystack where he had hidden the bodies. He toyed with the idea of trying to slip out of the other door, where the thugs had gone, but his exit might be noticed and their suspicions aroused by his flight.

Instead, he pushed Kerra down on the hay and lay close beside her, silencing her whimper of protest with his hand.

"Lie still, and be quiet," he whispered.

Blade waited until the soldiers were almost on top of them. As the light from their lantern fell on him, he rolled on top of the Queen and pressed his lips to hers. Kerra stiffened in surprise, then her arms slid around him. Blade listened to the soldiers' footsteps stop nearby, and they chuckled. He raised his head and turned to frown at them, shielding the girl.

The men stood grinning, and the one with the lantern lowered it and said, "Sorry to disturb you, friend, but we were told there was a disturbance here."

Blade smiled. "Were we making that much noise?"

The soldiers laughed, and their spokesman shook his head. "I doubt it. Must be the wrong stable."

They turned and sauntered back the way they had come, chortling and swapping ribald comments. As the light of their lantern receded, Blade rolled off the Queen. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he found that he could see the girl quite clearly when he looked down at her. She lowered her eyes, and he chuckled.

"Enjoyed that, did you?"

She fiddled with the front of his shirt, refusing to look at him. "I was... surprised."

"I will wager so."

He started to get up, but she gripped his shirt. "They may come back."

"I doubt it." He studied her, wondering what strange sensations his proximity sent through her, responses he had never had, nor ever would experience. Sometimes he longed to know what it was like to have those desires, but more often he put such useless thoughts from his mind.

Kerra glanced at him through her lashes. "Have you kissed many women?"

"Masses."

"Liar."

He smiled. "Why would I want to kiss a woman, Kerra?"

"What about Chiana?"

"The same applies."

"You seem quite good at it."

His brows rose. "And you are judging me against...?"

"No one. That was my first kiss. It is just... it was nice."

"I am so glad to be able to provide you with a little entertainment. Necessity was my reason for trampling upon hallowed ground, as it were, and not your pleasure."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Your first kiss should have been with a boy your own age, not me."

"I am glad it was you. You may do it again if you wish."

"Indeed?" He chuckled. "Thank you for the invitation, but I do not wish to."

Blade tried to rise, but she held onto his shirt. He sensed that part of the reason for her clinging to him was for reassurance after her ordeal, but he had little patience with such things, and growled, "Let go. I am not giving you kissing lessons, and we are lying on top of three dead men. It bothers me, even if it does not bother you."

Kerra released him with a gasp and scrambled to her feet, while he lay in the hay and grinned up at her.

She frowned. "Liar. It does not bother you at all, does it?"

"I shared a bed with your grandfather after I killed him, and he got quite cold before I left."

"If you are trying to make me dislike you, it is not working. My grandfather was a monster, by all accounts."

"True. But I remember just a couple of tendays ago, you called me a monster because I told you I could kill a woman. I am still the same man, yet now you want me to kiss you."

Kerra rubbed the side of her face where the trader had hit her. "I know that. I am not a fool."

"Then why are you trying to flirt with me? It is quite impossible to seduce me, you know." He stood, brushing straw from his trousers. "The most experienced courtesans have tried and failed, so do not expect to succeed."

"I was not trying to seduce you!"

"Liar." He chuckled. "You thought that your charms would be irresistible to a mere commoner. Who could resist the flirtations of a young virgin queen? Not many, I will grant you, but certainly an old, bitter eunuch like me."

"You kissed me."

Blade stopped brushing at his clothes and glanced at her. "I had a good reason." He turned and strode towards the stable door, and Kerra trotted to catch up.

"I thought you might have enjoyed it too."

"Not as much as you, apparently."

"But you did?"

He shot her a frown. "It was not unpleasant. Why do you ask?"

"I just want to know."

"Well, now you do, so can we drop the subject?"

Blade stopped in the livery's doorway and glanced up and down the street to make sure it was empty, then marched back the way they had come. Kerra caught up and trotted beside him to the inn, which he found quiet and dark, as he had hoped. Had it been swarming with soldiers summoned to investigate the death of the erstwhile kidnappers, he would have been forced to abandon their belongings.

Kerra waited outside the room while he collected the bags, stepping over the bodies that lay in congealing pools of blood. Fortunately, the innkeeper had not bothered to investigate the earlier commotion, apparently not wishing to be involved in whatever had transpired under his roof. Woman snatching was probably a common occurrence here, and obviously he did not expect anyone to have been killed in the process.

The innkeeper would be surprised by what he found in the morning, but by then Blade planned to be far away. Leaving a few coins to pay for the room, he went across the road to the livery where he had stabled the horses and saddled them, leaving money to pay for their keep. Men who had been paid for their services were less likely to describe him to the soldiers who would search for him in the morning.

They left the town, whose name he had already forgotten, at a brisk pace, putting as much distance between them and the place as quickly as possible. By the time the sun rose, Kerra slumped in her saddle, yawning, but Blade carried on until noon. At dusk, they continued until the Queen grew tired again, then stopped for the rest of the night.

By the following morning, they had caught up on lost sleep, and set off at dawn as usual. According to Blade's map, there was nothing until the next town, seven days ride away and further to the south. He resisted the temptation to veer south, and kept to his chosen route, two days ride from Jadaya. In the desert, people took the most direct route from one oasis to another. To wander off into the arid wasteland invited disaster, and the Cotti knew better than to do it.

Even armed with a map and a compass, a person could become confused and lost, and wander around until their water ran out. Some Cotti called this desert madness, when the shimmering mirages appeared real, and led unwary travellers on fruitless, fatal quests for illusionary water. Blade had made sure that the pack horse carried plenty of water and grain, since the only thing he dreaded more than getting lost was being forced to walk through the deep sand, which sapped a person's strength so fast that one day's journey would exhaust them.

Kerra adapted well to the heat and dryness, perhaps due to her Cotti blood, but Blade found the temperature enervating, and the dry air burnt his throat. His dislike for the desert grew each day, and his resentment of Shamsara with it. As far as he was concerned, he was on a wild goose chase through an arid furnace, and he did not enjoy it. His short temper kept Kerra silent, and he endured the ordeal with ill-concealed rancour.

When he spotted a distant clump of palms one afternoon, he consulted the map with a frown, wondering if he had become lost after all. According to the map, no such oasis existed, and since they did not spring up overnight, he found its appearance worrying. He turned towards it, glad to find water and shade even if it was not on his map. A nagging doubt made him halt the horses some distance away and turn to Kerra.

"Send Myasha to those trees and ask him what is there."

Kerra grinned, delighted to have work for her familiar, and called the bird down from his lofty vigil. The direfalcon landed on her wrist, and she stroked his snowy breast while she communed with him. The raptor took off at her behest and soared towards the oasis, leaving them to wait on the stamping horses. He returned within a few minutes, and she bent to listen to his silent message. Familiars communicated with mental pictures and shared sensations, and the knack of understanding them took practice. When she raised her head, she looked puzzled.

"He says that there are men there, wearing metal."

"Soldiers." Blade gazed at the oasis with narrowed eyes. "What colour?"

She glanced at the bird. "Eye colour. Blue."

"How many?"

Kerra cocked her head, and Myasha hissed. "He cannot count. A few."

Blade held up his hand. "This many?"

"More."

The assassin shifted in his saddle. "What are soldiers doing way out here?"

"Maybe they are just passing through?"

"That place is not on the map, nor is it on any route. That in itself is strange, for oases are precious." He slid from his saddle and stretched his legs. "We will camp here. I will go there tonight and see what is going on."

"Why not now?"

"Because that is a perfect place to keep a hostage hidden, and if I'm right, those soldiers are not going to let us ride in there. In which case, I don't want to have to deal with more than a handful at once."

Kerra stared at the oasis. "You think my father's wife is there?"

"Maybe. Trelath's colour is pale blue, just like his older brother's was."

"Who was he?"

"Armin."

She turned to him. "You killed him."

"Yes."

Kerra dismounted and unsaddled her horse. Blade pulled the saddle off his mount and dumped it on the sand. Soon the horses were picketed and fed, and the tent set up. They ate some dried meat and drank a little water before stretching out in the little tent.