The sun rose with its usual suddenness, gilding the tops of the dunes and turning the blowing sand into a golden haze. As the light increased, their captors broke up their little party, and the green-eyed woman led them over. Her gaze flicked over the women, dismissing them as unimportant, and came to rest on the assassin.
"I'm Asrah, leader of this group. You've killed six of my men, and the rest want you dead, but I have yet to decide. Before I do, I want some questions answered. If you refuse, you'll die." She paused, studying Blade. "You claim to be Jashimari, but your skin is the wrong colour. Are you brown from the sun?"
"No, it is a skin dye. It washes off with soap."
She turned to the man beside her. "Untie him, and bring me soap and water."
The bandit cut Blade's bonds, and he sat up, inspecting his bloody wrists. The woman tossed him a water skin, a cloth and a bar of hard soap. "Prove it."
Blade washed his face, taking the opportunity to scrub the golden dye off his arms and chest as well. If he was going to die, he did not wish to look like a Cotti. Asrah squatted down to inspect him. In the daylight she looked older, in her thirties, her skin roughened by the sun.
"So, a full blooded Jashimari. We do not see many of your kind, except for slaves and our mothers. You killed six skilled warriors and wounded two more. What are you?"
Blade peeled off the leather patch that hid his mark, and Asrah's eyes widened.
"An assassin. I did not know assassins were fighters."
"We are not."
"You could have fooled me."
"We know how to kill, not fight."
Asrah glanced at the queens. "And these? Half breeds?"
"Only Kestra. Milla is pure blooded. Kestra is her daughter."
"How did you three come to be out here?"
"I was sent to free Milla by her brother in Jashimari, and Kestra came too."
Asrah's eyes flicked over him. "A strange mission for an assassin."
He shrugged. "I also killed the Cotti lord who enslaved and abused her."
"Why did her brother wait so long?"
"He thought she was dead, then he heard that she still lived."
Asrah glanced at Kerra. "Only one child?"
"Only one daughter. Her sons had been sold."
"And the familiars?"
Blade glanced at Shista, the only flaw in his story. "She kept the cat hidden."
Asrah pondered his words, then ordered the men to free Minna and give her the soap and water, watching her wash off the dye and remove the blond wig. When the queen had finished her transformation, Asrah looked thoughtful, and pulled one of Blade's daggers from her belt to examine it.
"From your prowess last night, I assume that you are a good assassin."
His lips curled in a slight, mocking smile. "I am."
"Then I will make a bargain with you. Normally I would sell the women and kill you, but I have a use for you."
"You want someone dead."
"Yes. If you succeed, I will free all of you. Unfortunately, one of my men claims blood fee, because you killed his brother. You will have to fight him."
Blade glanced at the men who stood around them. "I am not a warrior. I would rather not fight anyone."
The men chuckled, and Asrah growled, "You are not being given a choice. Fight him, or die."
"I am not a fighter," Blade repeated.
"Well, he wants you dead, and I am going to let him try. How you stay alive is your affair."
A huge, dark-haired, brown-eyed man stepped forward, glaring at the assassin. "I am going to kill you, you murdering bastard."
Blade turned to Asrah. "His brother would have killed me, given the chance, so how am I a murderer?"
She shrugged. "If you had been killed, your brother could have demanded blood fee. It is our way. Vengeance is our creed. We make the Cotti pay for what they did to us and our mothers."
"Yet you sell the women you capture into slavery. Why do you not free them?"
"And do what with them? We're nomads, few women would wish to stay with us, and besides, we only attack Cotti."
Blade nodded. "I see. If I accept your offer, and should I be killed while assassinating your father, will you take Milla and Kestra to Jadaya?"
"You're astute. But why Jadaya?"
"They have friends there, who will take them home."
"I'll take them to within a day's walk of the city."
He inclined his head, glancing at Minna. "Fair enough."
"But first, you must survive Imbar's blood fee."
"You say you're going to let him try to kill me, but what happens if I kill him?"
She shrugged. "Nothing, unless he asks you not to."
"He may not get the chance."
"You're confident, assassin."
"Death is my trade."
Imbar stepped closer, his eyes murderous. "I'm going to rip your head off, you little runt."
Blade's brows rose. "How nice." He turned back to Asrah. "What assurance do I have that you'll keep to your bargain?"
She smiled. "Only my word. But you can refuse and die now, if you prefer."
"Doubtless staked out in the sand with my entrails wrapped around my neck."
"Something like that." She used the dagger to cut the thong that bound his ankles and rose to her feet, stepping back.
Blade fingered the bloody wounds around his wrists and winced. The possibility of taking her hostage while she was close to him had occurred to him, but the bandits would only threaten the queens to free their leader. The bandits formed a ring, and Imbar walked into the middle of it, where he waited for the assassin. Blade rose to his feet, brushing sand from his trousers, and approached Asrah, who stood in the circle.
"I'll need one of my daggers."
She smiled again, shaking her head. "It's Imbar's choice, and he's opted for unarmed combat."
He glanced at the brawny giant, grimacing. "He would."
Imbar growled, "Not so brave without your little daggers, assassin?"
"Bravado has never been one of my strong points."
Imbar beckoned. "Come and get the stuffing kicked out of you, little runt."
Blade looked at the queens, who sat outside the circle, watching him. Kerra chewed her lip, but Minna gazed at him with calm, confident eyes. Her faith in him was amazing, he mused, considering the size of the man he faced, and she had seen him almost defeated once before in his fight with Prince Rigal. He did not have so much confidence in his abilities, for he was not trained as a fighter, and unarmed, he was even more likely to lose. A broken neck was a quicker death than disembowelment, however. He turned and walked closer to the big bandit, stopping a few paces away.
Imbar grinned and cracked his knuckles in a ritual that Blade had seen performed many times in taprooms and brothels. The bandit oozed confidence, obviously certain that an unarmed assassin was no match for his strength, especially a man as slender as Blade. The assassin banished his worries, ensuring that his mind was clear and sharp, ready for the challenge of combat and the swift decisions he would have to make in order to win. The sand would hamper him, and, combined with the growing heat, sap his strength. He waited for Imbar to attack, since he had no intention of initiating the combat.
The big man did not disappoint him. He charged with a roar, like the great bear with whom he was kindred. Blade waited until the last instant, then skipped aside and kicked him in the gut. The bandit grunted and stumbled past, swinging around with a furious growl. Blade leapt and kicked Imbar in the ribs, then in the side of the head as he folded over. The bandit staggered sideways, shaking his head, and Blade kicked him in the back of the knee. The big man fell to his knees with a grunt, and the watching bandits groaned, calling encouragement and taunts.
Imbar leapt up and spun around with surprising speed, his eyes glittering. He lunged at the assassin, who threw himself backwards to avoid the meaty hands that reached for his throat as Imbar loomed over him. He narrowly evaded the bandit's grasp and rolled sideways when he hit the sand, springing to his feet just out of Imbar's reach. The giant lunged for him again, forcing him to retreat, then dive sideways, allowing Imbar to plough into the men in the circle. They caught him and pushed him back into the ring, shouting encouragement.
Blade retreated around the ring, wishing that he was anywhere else at this moment than facing a furious giant who lusted for his death. Imbar grinned and followed, his arms outstretched as if daring the assassin to brave their embrace. Blade had no intention of doing anything so stupid, but he would not win the match by staying out of reach. His instinctive wish to avoid physical contact would do him no good in this situation, and the temperature increased with each minute as the sun climbed into the blue heavens. Already sweat beaded his brow and coursed down his cheeks and chest, dripping off his chin and dampening his hair. The sun burnt his fair skin and reddened his shoulders.
Minna watched Blade with her heart in her mouth, praying that he would win, or at least survive. The bandit looked huge next to the assassin, and her outward calm hid a churning emotional turmoil. It was not only her dread of what may happen to them if he lost that filled her with anguish. The thought of him being killed brought a sharp pang to her heart, reminding her of the strong feelings she had for him.
Although she loved Kerrion passionately and thought him handsome and noble, Blade had long ago entranced her with his beauty and grace. His aloofness and unattainability only added to his strange allure, and to see him threatened with a brutal death made her ill with concern. As she watched him, she was reminded of the dance she had seen him perform many times when he had practiced the Dance of Death in Kerrion's palace sixteen years ago. Now, as then, he displayed the grace and strength he had honed through years of practice, leaping and spinning, using his feet as weapons instead of his hands.
When armed with his daggers, he had seemed invincible, and without them, he displayed a curious vulnerability that was utterly at odds with the vicious blows he dealt the shambling giant. She glanced at Kerra, who sat transfixed, chewing her lip as she watched Blade with concern shining in her eyes. The assassin had made another conquest of the young Queen, and it saddened Minna to know that she would also suffer his rejection, should she ever make her feelings known to him. The fact that Kerra was his queen did not seem to impress him. Minna had been amazed by how he ordered Kerra around, and how she obeyed him.
Minna turned to watch the fight again, wondering if Blade would deal as harshly with Kerra as he had with Chiana. Glancing past the combatants, she caught sight of Asrah on the far side of the circle, and was surprised to find the woman frowning, looking uneasy and worried. Was she afraid that Blade would lose, foiling her wish to have her father assassinated? Or was she concerned that he may kill the big warrior? Both possibilities seemed plausible, yet the way the bandit woman's eyes followed Blade seemed to indicate another reason, and she turned her gaze upon the combatants once more, wondering.
The assassin stopped retreating and stood his ground, allowing Imbar to approach. The big man's eyes narrowed, and he slowed his approach. A look of delight came over his features as he came within reach. Evidently he thought that the assassin planned to engage in a wrestling match, which he could not win, but Blade had no such intention.
As Imbar lunged for his throat, Blade kicked him in the crotch. The bandit grunted and fell to his knees, clutching the offended region while his comrades winced and groaned in sympathy. Blade kicked him in the chin, sending him sprawling on his back, then walked around him to finish the job. The bandit saw his defeat looming and made a grab for the assassin's legs. Blade leapt out of reach, stumbling in the sand, and Imbar rolled to his feet with a grunt. He straightened, eyeing the assassin with newfound disgust and fury, then roared and charged.
Blade leapt aside, the sand slowing him, and Imbar hooked his fingers into the assassin's vest. The garment ripped, but the yank threw Blade off balance. He staggered, struggling to stay on his feet. Imbar lashed out with a meaty fist, landing a glancing blow on Blade's cheek as he ducked and twisted aside. The blow sent him reeling, lights flashing in his eyes. Imbar followed and punched him in the gut. The air left Blade's lungs in a whoosh, and he threw himself backwards, rolling away as the big man came after him again.
Imbar aimed a kick at him that would have broken his ribs, but Blade twisted aside, struggling to draw air into his tortured lungs. The bandit followed, determined to get hold of his elusive quarry, and grabbed Blade's vest as he rolled to his feet. The tug spun Blade around, and he dropped as Imbar's fist skimmed over his head. He buried his fist in the bandit's rock-hard belly, making Imbar grunt and stagger back. The vest tore, and Blade stumbled out of reach, nursing his hand.
Blade's cheek throbbed, and pain knotted his gut. The vest hung in tatters around his thighs, exposing more of his skin to the sun. The bandits cheered, sensing Imbar's impending victory, and the big man grinned as he came after the assassin once more. Blade retreated, panting and cursing the sand that sapped his strength and denied him the ability to jump high enough to kick Imbar in the head. When he had recovered a little, he allowed the bandit to approach again. This time Imbar was wary, and circled out of reach of Blade's feet. The assassin waited for him to attack, since his skills were defensive, and therefore more effective against an assault.
Imbar threw himself at the assassin with such unexpected speed that Blade only just jumped aside in time, but Imbar was expecting it now and veered, diving after him and grabbing Blade's legs. The assassin fell with a grunt, then jerked one leg free and kicked Imbar in the face. Blood spurted from the bandit's nose, and he roared with pain. Blade kicked him again, and Imbar released him, rolling away. Blade rolled to his feet as Imbar leapt up and charged. The assassin scooped up a handful of sand and flung it in Imbar's eyes.
The bandit yelled and swung away, his eyes screwed shut, shaking his head and pawing at his face. Blade leapt, using all his strength to achieve sufficient height to kick the big man in the side of the head. The force of the blow spun Imbar around, and he fell to his knees, then onto his hands, blood dripping from his nose. Blade walked up to him and kicked him again, sending him sprawling on his side. The circle of bandits fell silent, staring at their defeated comrade and the man who stood over him. Blade glanced at Asrah as he straddled the prone man and bent to grip his hair in one hand and his chin in the other.
"Is it death?" he enquired.
She shook her head. "Spare him."
Blade released Imbar and stepped away, raising a hand to rub his throbbing cheek with a grimace. The bandits muttered, some glaring at him, others scowling at Asrah, who lifted her chin, daring them to challenge her authority. A few spat on the sand as they turned away. The circle of men broke up, some helping Imbar, while others set off in the direction in which Blade knew their horses lay. Many shot him dark looks and muttered insults under their breath, proving that his victory had only deepened their dislike for him, instead of earning their respect.
Blade walked over to the tent and picked up his jelabah under the watchful gaze of several bandits. Since he had won the fight, he supposed that he was now in Asrah's employ. He scooped up a water skin, went over to the queens and untied Kerra, letting them drink before he took the skin and slaked his thirst. He tore off the tattered remains of his vest and wet it, using it to wipe the sweat off before it became rank.
Minna touched his shoulder. "That was magnificent, Blade."
He grimaced and inspected his hand, rubbing it. "It was stupid, unnecessary and a waste of time and energy. Why do men always want to fight me?"
"Because you walk in death's shadow, and they fear you."
"Then they should leave me alone."
"Only an intelligent man will respect your abilities. Others will always want to prove themselves better. And you killed his brother. You should understand vengeance."
"If vengeance was what he wanted, he should have slit my throat while I was bound, or persuaded Asrah to torture me to death, as I thought they would."
Minna let her hand linger on his shoulder. "But she has other plans for you, so this was his only way of securing his revenge."
Blade glanced at the recumbent Imbar. One of his comrades wiped the blood off his face while another poured water into his slack mouth.
"Does that look like vengeance to you?"
"He thought he could win."
Blade donned his jelabah, forcing her to remove her hand. "The way I have been trained, he stood no chance."
"Could you kill any man who attacked you?"
He turned to look at her. "That depends. With equal weapons, or none, yes."
"So if your attacker had a sword and you were unarmed, he could win?"
"Probably."
Blade watched the activity around them, and she sensed his dislike for the topic. Like so many other things about himself, he did not enjoy talking about his abilities, or lack of them.
The bandits dug graves for the men he had killed, and soon others led in a string of horses and offloaded them. It seemed that they intended to spend the day here, burying their dead. Two men erected a spacious tent, and Asrah invited the trio to join her within it.
Inside, Blade sank down on the sand, and the queens settled beside him, eyeing the bandit leader. Asrah sat and offered them a wine skin, which Blade accepted.
"For a man who claims not to be a fighter, you did well to defeat my strongest warrior in unarmed combat," Asrah commented.
Blade sipped the sour young wine and pulled a face. "I only defended myself. I don't consider it a fight."
"Do all Jashimari assassins defend themselves that way?"
"Probably Cotti ones, too. We're not trained to fight. We don't challenge our victims to a duel, we slit their throats while they sleep."
Her eyes became shuttered, hiding a deep pain. "I want my father to suffer. I don't want him to die in his sleep."
"As you wish."
"You can do that?"
"I always offer that option to my clients. What about your mother? What will happen to her?"
"She's dead. He beat her to death when I was fifteen. Then he killed my cat, Danon, and I ran away." Her gaze raked the assassin. "Where's your familiar?"
"Dead. Cotti soldiers killed him when I was twelve."
"I see. Then we both have reason to hate the Cotti."
Blade nodded. "I more than you."
"How so?"
"They also killed my entire family and enslaved me for four years."
"You escaped?"
"Yes."
She leant forward. "Then killing a Cotti will bring you great satisfaction."
"Indeed."
Asrah nodded and rose to her feet. "I must see to the burial of my men."
As soon as she left the tent, Minna turned to Blade. "I do not trust that woman."
"Nor do I."
"Yet you will leave us with her?"
Blade rubbed his cheek. "What choice do I have? She will ensure that we cannot escape, of that you can be certain."