Prince Endor looked up at his senior officer with a frown, pushing aside the plate of stuffed fowl and mashed rengal roots bathed in blood gravy, which he had barely touched. The conversation of the lords around the dining table abated as they became aware of the officer's presence, and glanced around. Two tendays ago, Endor had returned to his home in the King's palace in Ashmarad, capital city of Contara, where he had dwelt since he had been sent to rule Contara after Prince Armin's death, fifteen years ago. Then he had been happy to be placed in a position of power at such a tender age, but the years of ruling the rebellious kingdom had made him bitter.
The Contara people hated his reign, and their continual attempts to oust him had grown tiresome over the years. Many attempts had been made on his life, mostly when he left the palace to go on hunting trips. Five Contara assassins had met grisly ends, either at the hands of his soldiers or on the executioner's block. Seven Contara lords had been put to death or driven out for plotting against him, and several more were under suspicion and constant surveillance by his spies. He had fostered a considerable contingent of spies, some Cotti and some Contara traitors, a few of them lordlings.
Many of his cronies had followed him here, and been rewarded for their loyalty with rich estates. He kept them close, for support and protection, and they had been instrumental in foiling several plots against him. Regent Chiana's familiar resided in a gilded cage, and he occasionally tormented the creature for amusement. He intended to kill it, but he was waiting for the Queen's Blade to make his attempt, whereupon the bird would perish soon after the assassin. His spies in Jadaya had informed him of Blade's presence there, and his activities, so he knew that the assassin would not be arriving in Contara for some time yet. He was certain that Blade would make an attempt on his life at the behest of his wife, however, and was prepared for it.
The officer bowed. "My Prince. I have received word from the spies. They suspect that a Jashimari assassin is in the city."
Endor leant back and smiled. "Indeed. How interesting."
"He has been here for several days already, perhaps longer, staying in different inns."
"Ah, planning his attempt, no doubt. Do you know where he is now?"
"He moves each day. To avoid capture, I suspect."
Endor nodded. "He is clever."
"Do you wish to order his capture, or should we wait until he makes his attempt?"
The Prince smiled. "Let him try, General. It will be far more humiliating for him to be caught in the act."
The officer shifted. "If you are sure, Highness."
Endor stroked the snake that was coiled around his neck. "So, the Jashimari whore dares to insult me again by sending another second-rate assassin. She will pay. And so will he. Keep an eye on him, and be ready for his attempt. I am sure he will not be much of a threat."
"Yes, Highness."
When the door closed behind the general, Endor turned back to his dinner guests, four of his loyal Cotti lords. The eldest, a grey-haired man with broad, blunt features and dark brown eyes, raised his brows.
"Is that wise? Surely it would be better to send men to kill him in the city?"
"Wise, perhaps, but boring. I crave excitement, Margal, and there is precious little to be had in this infernal country. Even torturing Contara conspirators grows tedious."
Margal looked concerned. "But why do you want the Jashimari Regent to send the Queen's Blade?"
"Because it is a challenge. He has never failed, and he killed my father and my two full brothers, not to mention five half-brothers. His latest victim is Trelath, although Dravis is accused of it."
"Perhaps it is tempting fate."
Endor smiled and picked up his wine cup. "Which I enjoy doing. I have the best protection, even better than Kerrion himself. After all the attempts on my life, the men who guard me are experts at their jobs.
"No assassin will be able to get near me, not even the Queen's Blade. His attempt will be his last, and I shall send his head to his wife. Then I will kill her familiar, and Jashimari will be plunged into anarchy. Even if the child Queen returns, she will not be able to rule, she is too young."
The lords smiled and nodded, hiding their concern behind the bravado Endor so clearly expected of them. Margal proposed a toast to the death of the Queen's Blade, and they all raised their cups.
Lance walked along a dark, refuse-strewn alley, avoiding the litter. For seven days now, he had watched his target, mapped his movements and noted his routines. Endor kept few, being an impulsive man prone to sudden fits of excess, when he would visit an inn with a bevy of Cotti lords and drink himself senseless. He was a bully, and his excursions into the city were more to humiliate a few of its inhabitants than to drink, for there was plenty of wine and ale at the castle. On these occasions, he started brawls by shouting insults at Contara patrons until they retaliated, whereupon he and his friends would engage in fisticuffs with the hapless men.
Although most Contara avoided him as if he was diseased, a few were always prepared to put their pride before good sense and allow themselves to be riled. Endor played a dangerous game, for it only took one man with a weapon to get close to him to snuff out his unwholesome life. The men who protected him ensured that none did, however, only allowing them near the Prince when they had been knocked almost senseless, so Endor could finish them off. Occasionally, they would search a man and let him through comparatively unscathed, so the Prince could do the damage himself.
Lance had weighed the odds, and, after spending several days watching the castle, had decided that his best chance would be at one of these brawls. The castle crawled with soldiers day and night, including a great many dog men, whom Endor favoured. He became a far easier target when he left the castle with his cronies and a few bodyguards. Public assassinations were tricky, however, because so much could go wrong. A lot was left to chance, and bad luck could ruin everything. While Endor courted danger in the city, he did not court death, and wore chain mail under his tunic.
Slaying him with a thrown dagger would entail hitting him in the eye or neck, small targets, particularly in a crowded taproom, when he would be in constant motion. A crossbow would have been better, but when the Prince entered an inn his guards searched the patrons and confiscated all weapons. Endor was the hardest target Lance had ever had, and he had spent many time-glasses going over Blade's teachings, searching for something that could aid him. Endor's men brought harlots to the castle when he was in the mood, so enlisting the aid of one to get him alone was out of the question. He had come up with a plan that involved a disguise and a concealed weapon, which an armourer had made for him, and he had collected it today.
Rumour had it that Endor would come into the city that night, and Lance made his way towards the Prince's favourite inn. He wore a hooded robe of dirty homespun, and a loosely woven cloth covered his eyes. The fact that he was Jashimari did not matter in Contara, where people came in a variety of skin tones and hair colours. Most were crossbreeds, their ancestors born to mixed marriages before the Endless War.
Before he reached the inn, Lance hunched his shoulders and bowed his head, tapping the street with his wooden staff. He groped his way along a wall to the door and pushed it open, entering the taproom's warm, smoky confines. The patrons who glanced at him saw only an old blind man. Shuffling to a table, he sank down on a bench by the wall, keeping the staff close at hand. He ordered ale from a serving wench and settled down to wait. The rumours of the Prince's visit had brought several young bravadoes to the inn, along with a smattering of veteran soldiers and embittered men, who all hoped for a chance to vent their ire on Endor. The establishment had prospered under the Prince's patronage, and its taproom was unusually clean and well furnished.
Several time-glasses passed, and Lance had begun to wonder if the rumours were false when a group of Endor's men thrust open the taproom door. They pushed into the crowd and searched the patrons, garnering a few daggers and garrottes, which they confiscated. The soldiers were thorough, and a husky Cotti dragged Lance from his seat to grope him, then thrust him back onto his bench. As he had hoped, the soldier did not bother to take his staff, and he sat clutching it as an old blind man would. A few minutes later, Endor entered with a group of Cotti lords, all of whom appeared to be quite drunk.
The Prince shoved a Contara patron, laughing when the man spilt his ale and almost fell into another man's lap. He called insults to those around him, tipping another man's ale over his chest. Angry growls arose, and Endor encouraged them with more insults, shoving one of his lords at a Contara man. At first he seemed intent upon starting a brawl immediately, then he ousted a group from their table and sat at it, his lords jerking chairs from under other customers and seating themselves. A serving wench came over with a tray of brimming ale tankards, having her bottom pinched and her bosom groped. Endor did not pay for anything; the inn's proprietor had to give him what he wanted or have it taken by force.
The Contara men glared at the Prince when he banged his tankard on the table and sang a lewd ditty, his lords joining in. His soldiers stood amongst the crowd, vigilant for signs of trouble. Several war dogs accompanied them, and snarled at anyone who dared to come too close. Lance hunched over his mug of ale and waited for the brawl to start. Endor finished two tankards before he initiated the conflict by tripping up a passing man, making him sprawl and spray ale from the flagon he carried, which splattered nearby customers.
Endor and his cronies roared with laughter, and the Prince rose to kick the supine man, sending him rolling into the crowd. A Contara man charged the Prince, only to be brought down by a soldier who stepped into his path and punched him in the face. More Contara joined the fray, engaging lords and soldiers alike. Lance watched through the cloth that covered his eyes, waiting for the right moment. Within seconds of the first punch being thrown, a full-scale brawl was in progress, furniture smashing under heavy bodies or being broken over them. Tankards flew, trailing wakes of ale in graceful arcs and landing with discordant clatters amid the sea of heaving bodies.
The assassin stood up and groped his way into the melee, cowering away from combatants who buffeted him. Most left him alone when they realised that he was just an old blind man, but a few gave him a passing cuff or pushed him aside. He made straight for the Prince, the staff gripped before his chest. A Contara man tried to wrench it from him, undoubtedly planning to use it as a weapon, but Lance jerked it back and pushed past.
Endor stood just ahead, kicking a supine young man who yelped and writhed. The Prince spied Lance and left his sport, finding the prospect of taunting a blind man irresistible, as Lance had hoped. He walked up to the assassin and poked him in the ribs, giggling when Lance shied away and swung around in apparent confusion. Endor stepped closer again and bellowed in the assassin's ear, and he jumped theatrically, which made the Prince guffaw.
Lance pretended to try to get away, knowing that the Prince would not let him. Endor grabbed his robe and yanked him back, spinning him around. This was the moment for which the assassin had waited. He pulled on the end of the staff, which parted several inches down to reveal ten finger's span of gleaming steel. Lance lunged at the Prince, the dagger aimed for his throat. As he did, a war dog leapt at him, its jaws closing on his calf. The blade skimmed past Endor's neck, opening a gash but missing the jugular by a hair's breadth.
The Prince recoiled with a shriek, clutching his throat as blood oozed from it and splattered his pale blue tunic. Lance tried to jerk his leg from the dog's jaws, but the hound hung on, worrying his calf and sending shafts of pain up it. Another dog rushed into the fray, leaping for his arm, but missed when he jerked it away. Soldiers charged towards him, drawing their swords, and he knew that his chance was slipping away.
Lance stabbed the dog that worried his calf, but as it fell the other took its place, and he knew that if all he did was try to free him, he would achieve nothing else. His chance of escape was almost gone, but killing Endor was still possible if he acted quickly. Although the dagger, with its clumsy wooden handle, was not designed for throwing, he flipped it in the air, caught it by the blade and flung it at Endor. The Prince stared at Lance in astonishment and horror, and the unbalanced dagger struck him in the cheek and bounced off the bone, leaving an ugly gash.
Lance could still have dropped to all fours and crawled out between the brawler's legs, but for the hound that worried his leg. Bending, he punched the animal, and it fell with a yelp, releasing him. He dived into the melee, avoiding the Cotti soldiers who bore down on him with murder in their eyes. Squirming past two sets of wrestling men, he left his pursuers struggling to fight their way through. Intent only on escape, he headed for the door, pushing past the brawlers. A man swung a punch at his head, and he ducked, letting it skim over his hair, then punched the man in the solar plexus. His assailant doubled up with a cough, his legs buckling.
Lance elbowed his way past, leapt aside to avoid a chair that was flung at his chest and collided with another combatant. The Contara swung a fist as Lance ducked, and the patron hit the soldier who had been about to grab the assassin from behind. Lance dived under a table and crawled out the other side, but several Cotti soldiers converged on him, one blocking his route to the door. Veering, he headed for the nearest window. Before he could throw himself through it, something hit his shoulder from behind, spinning him around. He crashed into the wall, and turned to find two dogs leaping at him, teeth bared.
Lance kicked one in the jaw, sending it rolling with a yelp, but the other hit him in the chest and sank its teeth into his arm. He brought his fist down on its head, then the soldiers were upon him, kicking, punching and beating him with their sword hilts. A blow to his temple made stars flash in his eyes, and the Cotti pinned his arms. He kicked a soldier in the groin before his legs were gripped, then his struggles became futile, and he relaxed.
The soldiers hauled him to his feet and ripped off the cloth that covered his eyes. Endor headed towards him, holding his cheek. Blood seeped between his fingers and ran down his chest from the neck wound, and he held Lance's dagger in his other hand. The squad that had been summoned from outside had stopped the brawl, and now held the patrons at bay. The Cotti lords brushed at their clothes and fingered their bruises as they eyed the captive assassin. Endor stopped in front of him and raked him with hard eyes, his brows drawn together in a thunderous scowl.
"So, you are the Jashimari assassin." He glanced at his senior officer. "How in Damnation did he get in here with a weapon?"
The officer held up the other part of Lance's staff. "A clever trick, My Prince. It was concealed in this staff, and he was disguised as a blind man."
"Clever indeed." Endor glared at Lance. "But not clever enough." He wiped the blood from his cheek. "You will pay the price for trying to kill me, assassin, which is death. Once I have had a little fun with you, of course. The other one fared even worse than you. He never even shot his bolt."
Lance met the Prince's eyes with a blank, cold stare. Endor glanced around the taproom, then turned and headed for the door. The soldiers twisted Lance's arms behind his back and marched him after the Prince.
Blade glanced up as Minna-Satu entered his rooms, concealing his annoyance by looking away.
"My Queen, I have listened to all the arguments on the subject of my leaving that I am going to. The laws are passed and my wounds are healed. There is no more need for me to stay here."
"I need you, My Lord."
"For what?"
"Dravis is still at large, and I am still in danger."
He glanced at her, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "Come now, do you think your husband so incapable of protecting you? What would you have me do, sleep at the end of your bed?"
"No, but why do you wish to rush back to Jashimari? Are you concerned for Chiana?"
"No. I wish to claim my reward from Shamsara, or discover his trickery, as the case may be."
She walked closer to where he sat on the window seat, a book on his lap. "If you suspected him of trickery, why did you accept his patronage?"
He shrugged. "There is always a chance that he will honour his debt."
"I see. But still, there is no hurry, surely? At least stay for my coronation."
Blade put aside the book with a sigh. Minna's upcoming coronation was a hated event amongst the Cotti, and Kerrion had been inundated with petitions calling for its cancelation. The princes were unable to stop it now that the new laws had severely curtailed their powers, but they had whipped up the lords into a frenzy of protestation, and they vented their displeasure to the King at every audience.
This was the reason for its speedy implementation, for then the new laws would force lords and princes alike to accord Minna-Satu the same respect as the King or face imprisonment. The prospect of seeing the Cotti nobility forced to bend their knee to the former Jashimari Queen held a modicum of attraction, but not enough.
He sighed. "What would be the point? I cannot attend."
"You could disguise yourself -"
"No." He held up a hand. "No more disguises, My Queen. Not as your handmaiden, nor as a Cotti. Spare me that, at least. If I cannot go as myself, I shall not go at all."
"As a priest?"
"No."
"I wish you could be there, Blade. I wish you could dance for me as you did at my wedding. That would make my happiness complete."
He shook his head. "You do not need me, Minna. My work here is done. You will become the first Cotti Queen. Kerra is here to see you crowned, and your sons."
"But you made it possible. You should witness it too."
"I dislike pomp and ceremony. I have no wish to witness it."
She paused, thinking. "What about Dravis? I want him dead."
"I cannot kill a man I cannot find. Let the courts deal with him. They will catch him sooner or later."
"Until he is recaptured, he is a danger to me, and you could find him if you looked, My Lord. Is your thirst for the blood of Cotti princes quenched?"
Blade rose and walked across the room to pour himself a cup of wine, offering one to Minna, which she declined. His conversations with her always made him thirsty, he found. "No, it never will be. If we were in Jashimari I could find him, but in this city, I doubt it. In fact, he is probably not in the city, but fled to one of his cronies' estates. Besides, it is not an assassin's job to hunt down his target; it is the employer's to provide the victim's location. Since you cannot, I must decline."
"Very well. Then I want you to return with Kerra, and guard her on the journey."
"I am not a bodyguard, but if you insist, then she too will miss your coronation."
"Blade! You know perfectly well that I meant after the coronation, with her escort."
"If she has an escort, why does she need me?"
Minna snorted, frowning. "They are Cotti!"
"And you will soon be the Cotti Queen."
"At times you can be most frustrating, My Lord Conash."
He shrugged and sipped his wine. "As many people have discovered. My mind is made up. I will set out for Jashimari tomorrow, and be glad to quit this horrible country."
She sighed and sank down on a chair. "I shall miss you terribly. Is there no way to change your mind?"
"I fear not, My Queen."
"Chances are, I shall never see you again."
He nodded. "That is true."
"Do you regret that?"
"I shall be glad to return to Jashimari, which I miss, and to my retirement."
"That does not answer my question."
"I cannot stay here. Eventually I will be discovered, and I have no wish to return to the executioner's courtyard."
"No." She looked down at her hands, which were clasped in her lap. "I have no wish for that, either. Of course you must go. I just thought, a few more days..." She looked up. "I would like to see you dance once more."
He shook his head. "It is not meant to be entertainment."
"Will you refuse me even this one small wish?"
The assassin sighed, smiling. "No, My Queen."
"The Dance of Death?"
"That is forbidden. And extremely taxing. I fear that I grow too old for it now."
"Nonsense. Part of it, then."
Blade studied his wine cup, pondering her request. It was a minor one, which he had granted her in the past. She had regularly watched him practice in the garden, this was simply to be a more complex performance for her benefit alone, and he could hardly refuse his queen. He inclined his head. "Very well. Return here tonight."
She smiled and rose, smoothing her maroon satin skirt. "Until tonight then, My Lord."
He bowed as she swept past. "My Queen."