Chapter One

 

The morning sun burnished Queen Kerra-Manu's tawny hair as she trod the path that led to the hidden garden within the Cotti King's palace. As the daughter of the Cotti King and former Jashimari Queen, Kerra's complexion was paler than a full-blooded Cotti, and remained so despite the tendays she had recently spent in the desert. Her immature features held the promise of a beauty that would one day rival her mother's.

Queen Minna-Satu strolled beside her, a slight smile curling her sensual lips, her azure eyes, which Kerra had inherited, alight with excitement. Her complexion remained pale even after sixteen years in the desert Kingdom of Cotti, for she stayed out of the sun. Time had taken its toll upon her beauty, however, as had her recent ordeal at the hands of Kerrion's younger half-brother, Prince Trelath, and faint lines bracketed her mouth and wrinkled the corners of her eyes.

The queens entered the lush tropical garden, where a slender, black-clad man stretched on the paving stones beside a fountain. He turned at their entry, and Kerra allowed her eyes to linger upon him. Short jet hair framed his sculpted features, whose fineness set him apart from the usually coarser inclination of his sex. His narrow nose and sensual mouth gave him an aristocratic look, and his level brows were drawn together in a slight frown.

Like Minna-Satu, he possessed the pale skin of a full-blooded Jashimari, a little tanned now due to the tendays he had spent in the desert. He radiated an air of subdued menace, and the pale grey eyes he raised to meet Kerra's held the freezing chill of a midwinter blizzard. A ring of darkness encircled the ice-pale irises, like storm clouds bordering a grim sky. Although older than Minna-Satu, he showed little signs of ageing, his skin as smooth as a young boy's, a legacy of his castration as a child. Most people, Kerra reflected, would fear him, for he was the deadliest assassin in all of Jashimari, and, in all likelihood, the Kingdoms of Cotti and Contara too. Few would not be uneasy in the presence of the Queen's Blade, and fewer still had survived a night time visit from him.

Kerra would have gone forward to greet him, but Minna drew her aside and bade her sit on a stone bench nearby.

"Watch," the Elder Queen advised.

Puzzled, Kerra sat down and gazed at the assassin. Blade bent to press his forehead to his knees, then straightened and raised his arms. He tapped a foot, looking pensive, then, to her amazement, he spun and leapt, landing lightly, his shoes tapping out a distinct cadence on the stones. Her mouth dropped open as he leapt again, seeming to hang in the air as he kicked his heels up behind him, then landed in a running set of fast foot-crossing taps. He made another mighty leap, lashing out with stiff legs that crossed in mid-air, striking together with a sharp report.

Again he landed gracefully, and performed a set of stamping steps, floating over the ground on blurring feet. He spread his arms and executed several forward kicks, flicking his lower leg sideways at the knee, his boots striking together each time with sharp clicks. Sweat gleamed on his brow as he set off on a series of graceful leaps that carried him high into the air, clicking his heels together at the pinnacle of each jump and landing in a rhythm of tapping that defied her eyes to follow his feet. He added a high forward kick, using his arms to aid his balance, his sweeping gestures adding to the strange beauty of his dance.

Kerra had never seen such an enthralling display of grace, agility, speed, stamina and strength. The years of practice that must have gone into the performance brought a fresh rush of admiration and respect for the taciturn assassin. The dance entranced her; she could not tear her eyes from him as he whirled and leapt, his feet beating out a perfect tattoo on the stones. No flaw marred his dance, no hesitation or loss of rhythm, even though the feat clearly taxed him.

When it seemed impossible that he could keep up his exertions any longer without collapsing from exhaustion, he made a final leap, falling to one knee as he landed, then rose and stood panting. Sweat streaked his cheeks and dripped from his chin, and he turned away to strip off his shirt and splash his chest and face with water from the fountain. After wiping himself dry with his shirt, he donned a clean one and walked over to the women, bowing to Minna-Satu.

"My Queen."

"My Lord. I have missed witnessing this spectacular dance of yours all these years. It is good to see it performed again. And you appear as good as you ever were."

"A little out of practice, I am afraid. I have had no chance to exercise for some time now."

She stood up. "Here is Kerra, as you wished. I shall leave you to whatever it is for which you have asked her here."

Blade bowed to the Elder Queen. "My Queen."

He turned to Kerra as Minna left, eyeing her gown. "It would have been better if you had worn trousers, but I suppose you will be dressed this way if you ever have to use the skills I am about to teach you. Stand up."

She obeyed, and he raised a hand to tap the centre of his chest, just to the left of his breast bone. "This is the best place to stab a man, through the heart. If you get it right, he will drop dead on the spot. If you miss, he will be badly wounded, and should die within a few time-glasses or minutes, depending on what you hit. Remember this spot. The neck is another good place, although it is messy, and you are likely to get covered in blood. Here, on the side, where you can feel a pulse in your own."

Blade waited while she fingered her neck, found the pulse and nodded. Drawing a dagger from his belt, he held it point upwards, as one would hold a flower or hairbrush. "This is the correct way to hold a dagger, not with the point down. You thrust it in like you were poking a stick, and you need to do it fairly hard. Hold it firmly, because if you hit a bone, you could hurt yourself."

Putting the dagger away, he stepped closer to her. "If you choose to sleep in my room, you will not be in any danger from an assassin, against whom you will have no chance anyway. There is no point in teaching you how to fight; you do not have the strength or the temperament for it."

"What do you mean?"

"Your instincts are all wrong. You have never been in danger, and if someone attacked you, you would be indignant or outraged, maybe startled."

She raised her brows. "And what should I be?"

"Afraid. Fear is something else you have not experienced. That is what makes your heart pound and speeds up your reactions. Without it, you will be far too slow, and that is something I cannot teach you."

"I disagree. What do you think made me ask you to guard me, if not fear?"

"That is not true fear. Mild trepidation is more like it. Anxiety would also be accurate, but it is not the sort of fear I am talking about. What did you feel when those thugs grabbed you in the inn?"

"I was terrified!"

He smiled, shaking his head. "Describe your physical reaction."

"I fought them. I grabbed the sheets and screamed."

"That is not fear, it is outrage and struggle. Fear makes your stomach knot and your heart pound. It makes you hair prickle and your hands sweat. You knew those men were not going to kill you, or at least that is what you assumed, is it not?"

She frowned. "I suppose so. I did not have time to think about it."

"Exactly. Fear is not an instinctive reaction for you. If you have to think about it, you will be dead. You have been raised surrounded by guards and nannies who would have given their lives to protect you, and you knew it.

"You would, of course, experience it if you had enough time to realise that your life was in danger, but by then it would be too late. It would take months to teach you to react violently to an attack. If struck, a fighter's response would be to hit back, but you would probably be too shocked to do anything at first, and then you would either run or scream for help."

"What would you do if someone hit you?"

"Duck. I have taught you to sense the presence of someone you cannot see, so use it. Always be alert, even when the guards are around, for they will not stop a Prince. Keep a small dagger hidden where you can reach it quickly, and do not be afraid to use it. The Princes will not expect you to defend yourself, so that gives you an advantage."

Blade turned away, and Kerra protested, "Is that all you will teach me?"

He faced her again. "What more do you want?"

"Show me how to stab someone, let me practice it. Teach me to throw a dagger."

"I have shown you how to stab someone, and learning to throw a dagger would take too long."

She followed as he went to the fountain to gather up his wet shirt. "Let me practice on you then."

"Tomorrow. I would like to bathe now, and have my breakfast."

Kerra stood gazing after him as he strode from the garden, then followed, returning to her rooms for breakfast.

 

Chiana sat before the dressing table mirror and gazed at her haggard, dull-eyed reflection with a heavy heart. As she had trained herself to do over the last several tendays, she did not dwell upon the atrocities and humiliations Prince Endor had heaped upon her. Instead, she concentrated on the business of running the country, keeping hot-headed lords in check and reassuring others of her continued well-being, while attending to her everyday duties. She had heard nothing from Kerrion, but then, Endor intercepted all of her messages. Her only joy was her husband's continued freedom, which brought a warm glow to her heart whenever she thought about it.

Endor raged about it often, and spent time-glasses venting his drunken spleen, shouting insults and threats at her. He kept her familiar as his hostage, so she dared not speak in her defence. Recently, he had started drinking more, abusing the servants and even his men, so that many of the serving maids had fled. She wondered when this terrible situation would end, praying it would be before she snapped under the pressure. Only two of her handmaidens attended her this morning, and they worked silently, their faces glum.

Chiana was surprised when the maid who was arranging her hair bent closer and whispered, "The Cotti guards are gone, My Lady."

"Gone?" Chiana looked up at the girl. "Where?"

"We do not know, but they are not in the palace."

"None of them?"

The girl shook her head. "We did not see any on our way here."

"What about Endor?"

"No one has seen him today either."

"He could be sleeping off last night's binge."

"But his men are gone."

Chiana fought to quell the surge of delight that swelled her heart. "Go to Endor's room and see if he is there. If he is not, go to the barracks and summon Redgard. Tell him to bring his men."

"Yes, My Lady." The girl put down the hairbrush and left.

Almost half a time-glass later, the maid returned with Redgard, whom Chiana had not seen since Endor had forced her to order her men to their barracks. She sat in her day room, and Redgard stopped before her to bow, then sank down on a cushion when she gestured to it. She wasted no time on niceties.

"Where is Endor?"

"As far as I can tell, he is gone, Regent. My men are searching the city now, but he is not in the palace."

A wave of joy rushed through her, warmed her cheeks and curved her lips. "Then Kerrion has found his wife, and it is over."

Redgard smiled. "It would appear so, My Lady."

"Send a message to Kerrion by bird, asking for confirmation. I do not want to go after Endor unless his wife is safe."

"I am certain she is, Regent. Why else would Endor have stolen away in the night?"

"Why did Kerrion not inform me, then?"

"He probably did, and Endor got his message."

Chiana looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap. "Where is my familiar?"

Redgard's expression became mournful. "We cannot find her or the cage she was in. I think Endor took her with him."

"To stop me from sending men after him. But I do not believe he will release her."

"He may."

"You do not believe that any more than I do, Redgard. Be honest."

The guard captain shook his head. "He is not the sort of man to give back what he has stolen."

"He will kill her, once he is far enough away. It will be his revenge for the failure of his plan." Chiana covered her mouth as it twisted with grief.

"What shall I do, Regent?"

"Find me the assassin who was once Blade's apprentice. If he can reach Endor before he kills Inka, perhaps she can be saved."

"You are going to order Endor's death?"

She nodded. "It was the price Blade demanded for hiding Queen Kerra, and I was not reluctant to grant it. Now, I am happy to do it."

"Do you know this assassin's name?"

"No. But if you ask for Blade's apprentice, I am sure you will find him."

"I hope he is as good as his mentor, My Lady."

"I wish Blade was here to do it."

"Indeed." Redgard inclined his head. "Is there anything else?"

"Replace your men at their posts. Everything is to return to normal."

Redgard rose and bowed. "I shall see to it, Regent."

Chiana ordered a bottle of wine and drank a cup to settle her nerves, trying not to think about the danger her familiar was in. Now that Endor's plan had failed, he would have no more use for Inka, and killing her would undoubtedly give him a great deal of satisfaction. She went to her study at the usual time, glad to find her men back at their posts and the servants smiling. As soon as the news spread, Armelin and Insash came to see her, offering advice and comfort. They agreed that Endor would kill Inka as soon as he felt he was a safe distance from the city, which added to Chiana's worry.

Redgard returned in the afternoon, accompanied by a stocky young man with short dark hair and hard green eyes, whose silent watchfulness reminded her of Blade. Redgard introduced him as Bolt, and his weapon of choice was the tiny crossbow that hung on his belt, alongside numerous quarrels. He wore the tight black leather clothes assassins favoured, and walked with a gliding, graceful stride. The red and black-striped spider that clung to his shoulder was of a particularly venomous variety, and the sight of it made her shiver. It struck her as odd that Blade would take on an apprentice who was spider kin, since he disliked them. Bolt bowed, and sat when she gestured to a cushion, his eyes darting about the room.

"I am honoured to meet you, Regent." His hand rested on the hilt of a single dagger in his belt.

"You are Blade's first apprentice?"

"Yes."

"Are you as good as him?"

Bolt hesitated, then shook his head. "No."

"But he trained you."

"I am probably the best you can hire in Jondar."

"Are you the Master of the Dance?"

Bolt smiled. "No. The belt is held by Blade's second apprentice, Lance."

"Yet you claim to be the best."

"I am, My Lady. I have little talent for the Dance, but I kill from afar, and have never missed my target."

She studied him. "Blade did not give me a name, but he told me to hire his apprentice, so I must assume he meant you."

"I am sure he did. Lance is an excellent dancer, but he is not as good an assassin as me."

"I hope you are right. I wish to hire you to kill Prince Endor."

The assassin's eyes brightened. "A worthy target, My Lady. A man who deserves to die is always a pleasure to kill."

"You enjoy killing?"

"If I did not, I would not be an assassin."

"Of course." She became brisk, realising that this man was nothing like Blade. "What is your fee?"

Bolt named a reasonable sum, and she agreed to pay it. Insash and Armelin had concurred that Endor would head for Contara, so she told Bolt to search in that direction, described Endor and his familiar, and offered him a bonus for a speedy outcome.

When all the details had been discussed, she added, "Endor has my familiar with him, in a cage. She is a dove, and I will reward you handsomely if you save her and free her."

He inclined his head. "I will do my best, Regent."

"I expect more than your best. I require your utmost effort in this regard. Her safe return is vital." Chiana controlled the rising urgency of her tone, striving to remain calm. "Captain Redgard will see that you have whatever you require, as well as a down payment. You will depart immediately."

"As you wish."

"You understand that Endor will be well guarded? If you fail, he will know I sent you, and kill my familiar. If that happens, I shall fall into a deep sleep from which I cannot be awakened, and Jashimari will be without a ruler for that time. It could lead to a disaster."

"I understand, Regent. Never fear, I will kill Endor."

Chiana eyed him, wondering if he was really as good as he claimed. He seemed too confident, and the fact that he was not the Master of the Dance worried her. Had Blade been speaking of Bolt when he had told her to hire his apprentice, or Lance? She longed to be able to ask him, but all she could hope was that Bolt was telling the truth, yet a nagging doubt ate at her. After the assassin left, she went to the palace temple and prayed for his success.

Four days passed while Blade waited for Prince Trelath and Chaymin to obey Kerrion's summons and return to the palace. The King's younger half-brothers, having failed to force Kerra to become Prince Endor's hostage by kidnapping Minna-Satu, remained at large. Kerrion had ordered their return, so Blade could kill them, and the King planned to have his vengeance first. Blade took his daily exercise in the garden, and did a little reconnaissance at night, spying out the terrain. He spent some of the time teaching Kerra the finer points of killing, although he doubted that she would ever need the skills, and if she did, that she would have the stomach for it. It helped to pass the time, however, and she seemed to enjoy it, although he suspected that much of her enjoyment stemmed from spending time with him.

Blade dined with the royal family a couple of times, at Minna's invitation, but took little interest or part in the conversation. The manservant, Olan, attended to the assassin's needs with the same surly attitude he had affected on Blade's previous stay. Blade met Minna's sons, who were reserved in his presence, but treated him with respect. He suspected that Minna-Satu had regaled them with the tales of his deeds, but they hid their fascination better than Kerra had.

The morning of the fifth day found Blade strolling in the hidden garden, enjoying the fresh air and pleasant scenery. Kerrion came into sight on the path ahead, and stopped before him, his expression grim.

Blade halted, eyeing the Cotti King with some annoyance.

Kerrion announced, "Chaymin has returned, and Trelath has been sighted a day's ride away. Since Endor is in hiding, and has not received my summons, we will proceed without him."

"Endor has left the palace in Jondar?"

"Yes. I do not think it will be possible to summon him here -"

"No, but his death is assured."

Kerrion nodded. "Of course, Chiana will hire your apprentice to kill him, as she agreed. I am going to meet Chaymin now, and tomorrow night you will kill him."

"Chaymin will die when Minna-Satu requests it, not you."

Kerrion shrugged, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "As you like. I shall inform her that you want to hear her wishes from her."

"Good. I will need information on Chaymin and Trelath."

"I have it here." Kerrion reached into his tunic and drew out two scrolls. "If I have omitted anything, let me know."

"I shall." The assassin tucked the scrolls away and brushed past Kerrion, continuing his stroll down the path.

 

The King watched Blade walk away, wondering what it would be like to have him as a friend. Though unlikely, the possibility had a great deal of appeal for him, for he found the assassin to be oddly likeable, despite his taciturn manner and frosty looks.

Turning away, he entered the palace and headed for the training arena at the back, where royalty and those of noble blood honed their combat skills. Usually it was filled with young men practising their talents on each other or instructors, the sons of Kerrion's cousins, aunts or sisters, well removed from the succession. One of the massive marble chamber's walls had a row of windows in it to allow cool breezes to enter. Square columns supported a high vaulted ceiling, and murals of battle scenes graced the walls. Hard-packed sand covered the floor to provide firm footing whilst cushioning the occasional fall. Racks of wooden sparring spears, swords and staffs stood against a windowless wall, and a row of straw-stuffed dummies awaited sparring partners at the far end. The King frequented it four times a tenday at a prescribed time-glass, when all others were banned, save his sparring partner, an expert instructor.

Today he had requested its use, although it was not his usual time, and he found it empty save for the thin youth he had ordered to meet him there. Chaymin looked nervous, his beady dark eyes darting about as if seeking escape routes. He was only twenty, and his face bore the scars of the acne that had ravaged it. Even without the unsightly blemishes, Chaymin would never be a handsome man, possessing a too-narrow face, low cheekbones and a large bony nose.

Chaymin was the only son of Shandor's youngest wife, the daughter of a loyal lord who had sought to curry favour with the King. She had produced weak, sickly children, and had quickly fallen from Shandor's favour. As a result, her father had lost his high standing, and been forced to return to his estate. Chaymin had no great aptitude for combat or intellectual pursuits, and had become his stronger, more intelligent half-brothers’ pawn. Kerrion almost pitied him, but his involvement in Minna's abduction was unforgivable.

The King stopped before his half-brother and raked him with hard eyes as the Prince performed the low, complicated bow that minor lords favoured.

"Chaymin."

"Sire." Chaymin straightened, keeping his eyes lowered.

"When you helped Trelath to kidnap my wife, did you consider the consequences if his plan failed?"

"I only -"

"It matters not how little you did. You were in league with him. You knew of his plans and did not warn me. Your familiar carried messages for him."

"He threatened me!"

Kerrion snorted. "Then you should have come to me at once. Do not lie to me, Chaymin. What did he promise you? Land? Riches? Have you not enough already?"

"I did not want to do it."

"Then you should not have. Who else was part of his plan?"

Chaymin lifted his head and met the King's eyes, blinking. "No one. Only Endor."

Kerrion took hold of the front of Chaymin's tunic and dragged him closer. "Who else?"

"No one, I swear!"

"You are lying. Tell me who else was involved, and I may go easy on you." He drew back a fist, and Chaymin's eyes widened.

"You cannot! I am your brother!"

"I can, and you are a snivelling, spineless little runt who goes along with anything the others suggest in the hope of gaining status in their eyes. But all you earn is scorn, because you do not have a mind or a will of your own. Trelath would have cast you aside like one of his concubines when he had no more use for you. Now tell me who else was involved."

"I cannot! I know nothing! Do you think Trelath would tell me?"

Kerrion's fist cracked into his brother's face, and Chaymin staggered back, almost falling. He straightened, clutching his cheek, and sidled away, his eyes filled with pleading. Kerrion followed, rubbing his fist.

"Who else, Chaymin?"

"No one!"

Kerrion punched Chaymin in the stomach, making him double over, retching. He gripped the Prince's hair and jerked his head up, glaring into his moist eyes.

"Last chance, brother!"

Chaymin gasped, his tears overflowing. "Trelath threatened to make me disappear if I did not do what he said, and the same if I talked."

"If you do not talk, I will cripple you. I cannot kill you, but I can do whatever else I like. A couple of broken legs will make your life very difficult. Maybe a broken arm will make it even more unpleasant." Kerrion caught Chaymin's wrist and twisted his arm behind his back until the tendons popped.

The Prince squealed, "Dravis!"

Kerrion released him and stepped back in surprise, shaking his head. "You lie!"

Chaymin nursed his arm. "No. Dravis was in on the plan from the beginning. He made several suggestions. I did not."

"You are too stupid. But Dravis is just a boy!"

"He hates you. He blames you for our father's death."

"I had nothing to do with it," Kerrion said.

"No, but your wife was the Jashimari Queen, and she ordered his death so you would become King. What is more, you saved her life, wed her, and will put her sons on the Cotti throne."

Kerrion stared at the cowering Prince. "I see. There is a certain amount of truth to that, I suppose. But Dravis never knew Shandor; he was just a baby when the King was killed."

"Which is why he idolises Shandor. He does not remember what he was like. I was only five when father was killed, but I remember."

"Yes, he had a particular dislike for you, did he not?"

Chaymin nodded. "He called me a runt. He used to slap me and order me to leave his sight. He said I offended him, and that I was not his son."

"I remember. At least he did not try to have you killed."

"Lerton was his favourite."

"Yes. But Dravis?" Kerrion shook his head. "He is only eighteen."

"He would like to see you dead."

The King lowered his gaze to the sandy floor, thinking about his youngest half-brother. Dravis was known as the golden child, and his sharp, intense mind matched his good looks. He was the fourth son of Shandor's third wife, brother of Rigal, whom Blade had killed fifteen years ago. Some doubted that Dravis was Shandor's get, for he had inherited none of his father's traits or looks, nor did he take after his mother. He possessed smooth, sultry features with slanted, dark-lashed golden eyes and a smiling mouth.

Rigal had been a handsome youth too, but he had looked more like his father. Dravis possessed a boyish charm that led most to believe he was a cheerful lad with a sunny disposition. Kerrion had never suspected him of any involvement in his brothers' plots, for he was independent and clever. Kerrion looked up at Chaymin, recalling the one fact that supported his brother's accusation. Dravis had a powerful and nasty familiar. He was scorpion kin, and his familiar was a deadly species of sand scorpion often found in houses, and responsible for many deaths.

"What was his involvement?"

Chaymin shrugged, rubbing his cheek. "Only in the planning, as far as I know. He found the abandoned estate, and he insisted that your wife should be killed once you had done as Endor wished. He said she should be made to suffer for Shandor's death. He encouraged them both."

"But it was Endor's idea."

"I do not know," the Prince admitted. "It could have been Dravis'. He has boasted that his familiar could kill you, and no one would suspect him."

"I wish he had known his father."

"Shandor would have liked him."

Kerrion snorted. "You did not know Shandor as I did. He would have hated him. Dravis is too clever and independent. Shandor liked Lerton because he emulated him and praised him constantly. Lerton was Shandor's true son. They were cut from the same cloth."

"May I go now?"

Kerrion eyed his brother, who clutched his midriff. "Yes. Get out of my sight."

"Will you send me away?"

"You will find out soon enough."

Chaymin bowed and hastened out, leaving Kerrion gazing after him. Chaymin probably did not deserve to die, he reflected. He would never be a threat, since he was too stupid and malleable to plot against the throne. The cowardly Prince would follow his treacherous brothers, however, which made him as bad as them. Kerrion had hoped that his younger brothers, being so far down the line of succession, would abstain from their older siblings' plots, but it seemed that this was not the case.

Dravis would be added to the list of potential targets, and sacrificed to keep the others tractable if necessary. The fact that Dravis had threatened Kerrion's life disturbed him, and his deduction that if the King died of a scorpion's sting, blame was not likely to fall on him, was an astute one. Although the palace was relatively free of the deadly creatures, they had killed a few people, even here. Kerrion rubbed his neck to ease the growing tension in it, glanced around, and left the arena.