Chapter Twenty Three

 

"The Queen's Blade is in Ashmarad."

Endor turned away from his senior general to hide the triumphant, nervous smile that twisted his lips. "Good. Where is he staying?"

"The spies are unable to discover that. His presence is learnt of only after he has left the place where he was seen."

"They are certain it is him?"

"Yes, My Prince."

Endor swung to face the officer. "I want you to find me the four best assassins in Ashmarad. Offer them a vast payment and tell them to go to Jondar and kill the Jashimari Regent."

"May I ask why, My Prince?"

"Why I want that whore dead? I would have thought that fairly obvious, Ballel. She wants me dead, so I am reciprocating in kind. Jashimari should have been thrown into turmoil when she fell into a coma, but it was not, because he became the damned Regent.

"Now she must pay the ultimate price for sending him to try to kill me. This time he will not be there to save her, or his accursed kingdom. Before he dies, I shall inform him of her imminent demise. It will make my triumph complete."

"Yes, My Prince." The officer bowed as Endor dismissed him with a gesture. The Prince went to the table and poured himself a cup of strong spirit, slugging it back with a grimace. Now that his wish was granted, he found the prospect of being hunted by the legendary assassin far more disquieting than he had anticipated.

To comfort himself, Endor contemplated the tortures he would inflict upon Blade when he captured him, and refused to entertain the notion that the assassin might succeed. In the back of his mind, a lingering doubt plagued him, however, and he found himself glancing into the shadows often, wondering if a black-clad man might be secreted there. He doubled the palace guard and locked himself in his rooms at night, but the precautions did little to allay his fears.

 

Blade studied the castle from a neighbouring hilltop, using his spyglass to count the guards that patrolled it, noting their routes and the times of their changing. So far, he had found few weaknesses. Endor seemed to have devoted his entire army to guarding himself. This did not surprise Blade, and experience had taught him that there was always a weak point, either overlooked or dismissed as impossible by the defenders. Each night, he returned to the city and slept in a different inn, arriving late and eating his meals in his room.

Each day, he rode around the castle, which was situated on a hill just outside the city, studying it from different angles. He had visited the two largest and most affluent brothels to make discrete enquiries into Endor's taste in women. There he learnt that Endor sent for women regularly, even though he had a harem of wives and concubines in the castle. His preference was for buxom, bosomy young girls, however, short of stature and plump of face. This ruled out the use of Blade's female disguise, somewhat to his relief. Endor's cruelty to the girls was well known. They always returned bruised and beaten, and some did not return at all.

Ashmarad's populace had suffered under Cotti rule. Endor's taxes had beggared the city's wealthier citizens and brought the entire economy down. The areas closest the castle comprised mansions and businesses; the rest was a sprawling warren of stinking, squalid slums. Cotti culture had influenced the architecture, and the temples had domes and minarets instead of steeples and tiled roofs, while the houses were similar to those in Jashimari. Cotti had influenced the language too, and it possessed more of the shortened words that Cotti liked to use, but without their accent.

Blade had spent the past tenday studying the city and the castle, as well as learning all he could about Endor's habits. The tale of Lance's attempt was still told in taprooms, and he had heard it several times now. His apprentice's plan had not been a bad one. Its only flaw was that he had been dealing with a Prince guarded by soldiers, and not a rich merchant with a few bodyguards. Cotti princes were trained in combat, and so were dangerous in themselves, but to attack Endor while he was surrounded by dog soldiers had been a fatal mistake.

Blade had already rejected the idea of making the attempt when Endor was in the city, and turned his attention to the castle instead. Most assassins would have viewed it as impregnable, but Blade had yet to find a building that could keep him out. Each night, after studying the castle, he would make a foray closer to it, enter the grounds and creep about the gardens and courtyards to spy out the lay of the land. The place abounded with dog soldiers, which would have been enough to put off most men.

It presented a problem, but Blade had already come up with a solution. There was a stray bitch in the city that was near to her heat, and he planned to enlist her aid. Familiars were less inclined to be influenced by carnal pursuits, but they were not immune to them. He had considered various plans by now and rejected them, resolving to rely purely upon his skills of stealth and trickery, with a little help from the bitch.

On the eleventh night, a Death Moon hung in the sky like a grinning skull, and various religious cults emerged to worship it. This was unheard-of in Jashimari and Cotti, where all worship other than Tinsharon's was forbidden, and punishable by death. In Contara, however, he had discovered that morals and religions were free to do as they pleased, which led to a rather debauched society with a plethora of myths, cults and strange gods. On this, the night of a full Death Moon, bonfires were lighted in the city, and scantily clad people danced around them. Torch-bearing processions marched through the streets, and the people, dressed in robes and skull masks, chanted and sang.

His study of the castle had at last revealed a weak point, as he had hoped. One side of the building was a blank wall some fifty feet high, devoid of widows or parapets, and consequently, guards. His study of Endor's movements had narrowed the position of his rooms to an area atop the wall, the most difficult place to reach, unless one scaled it. Even reaching the base of the wall was fraught with peril, and to do so he would require the bitch, and a distraction.

When darkness fell and the celebrations in the city were in full swing, Blade made his way into the slums to find the bitch. She was surrounded by admirers, but followed him when he slipped a rope around her neck and showed her the piece of meat he had bought for her. With a pack of dogs at his heels, he made his way through the outskirts of the city towards the castle, his bag heavy with the rope and tinder he had brought.

Reaching the castle wall, he tied the bitch to a tree and located the rough patch he had found on a previous foray, where his fingers could find purchase between the stones. On top of the wall, he waited while two quartets of guards strolled past, then slid down it into the shadows at its base. Across the courtyard lay the armoury, filled with spears and bows, which would provide an excellent distraction once he had set it ablaze.

To reach it, he had to make his way along the walls, since crossing the well-lighted courtyard was out of the question. This took several minutes, and he was forced to freeze in the shadows a few times when guards appeared. He had bathed before he had left the inn, scrubbing off all odour, but even so, the dogs would smell him if he was not careful to stay downwind. Reaching the armoury door without mishap, he found it locked. It took only a few moments to pick the lock, and he slipped inside.

In the gloom, he pulled some tinder from his pack and set to work with his tinderbox, cursing as the sparks refused to land on the tinder for a couple of minutes. Eventually he coaxed a fire into being and added fuel to it until it was large enough to spread once he had fed it the butts of several spears. The old wood was dry and oiled, and the flames licked hungrily at it. When he was certain that the fire had taken a firm hold, he opened a side window to give it air, then slipped out and locked the door behind him.

Retreating to the shadows beneath the wall, Blade waited for the fire to grow and be noticed, watching the faint orange glow in the window brighten. The smoke would also help to mask his scent from the dogs in the courtyard. Flames leapt in the window when one of the dogs smelt the smoke and raised the alarm. Soldiers rushed to the armoury, some armed with buckets of water, while those who arrived first broke down the door.

Officers shouted orders, and the flames roared when the door was beaten down, filling the courtyard with smoke and garish light. In the confusion, no one noticed a black figure sprint across the courtyard and vanish through a recently abandoned gate. Blade untied the bitch and led her into the courtyard, her bevy of admirers following. Skirting the ruckus around the armoury, he trotted through two unguarded gates, their sentries gone to fight the fire. Beyond the second gate, which led into another courtyard, the atmosphere remained quiet and undisturbed, and sentries manned their posts.

Blade released the bitch and hurled the piece of meat towards the next gateway, where four dog soldiers stood, two at either end of a short corridor that led through the section of the wall. The castle was designed in such a way that the broad courtyard that ran around most of it was divided into sections. In the event of invaders scaling a portion of the outer wall, they would find themselves trapped in a courtyard, where archers could pick them off. The pack loped after the bitch, and the sentries' familiars attacked the intruders, then discovered the bitch.

The men rushed into the fray, shouting at their dogs, which were as smitten as the rest of the pack. Blade smiled as he slipped through the shadows to the gate and into the next courtyard. On the far side, another quartet of dog soldiers guarded the gateway, but now the time had come for him to take the assassin's highway. He scaled one of the little huts that abounded within the courtyards, used by the soldiers or servants and built wherever space permitted. Walking along the roof to the next hut, he jumped the narrow gap and stepped onto a wall that led to the base of the cliff-like side of the castle.

Blade paused to glance back. The fire was a distant glow, beyond four walls. So far, it had been relatively easy, but he was still in an outer courtyard, and had moved around the castle, not into it. The route through it to Endor's rooms was a gauntlet of walls, gates and doors, all guarded by alert dog soldiers and their keen-nosed familiars. That was why he had chosen the unguarded wall, a daunting climb, but he was more likely to succeed in scaling it than he was to find a way past the scores of guards. The reason he had entered the courtyard further around the castle was because of the barracks outside the wall of the courtyard where he was now.

Blade rubbed his fingers and glanced up at the towering cliff, settling his bag more comfortable on his back. The rough wall afforded excellent purchase for his skilled fingers, but the height of it would tire him, and take some time to ascend. For this reason, he had killed no sentries before beginning his ascent, so his presence would not be suspected. Once upon the wall, he would be vulnerable, with no hope of escape should he be spotted.

Slipping his fingers into the gap between two stones, he stepped off the wall. As he climbed, he pondered what he may find at the top. First he would have to locate Endor's rooms, and, although the Prince was in the palace tonight, there was no guarantee he would be asleep in his bed. Since it was not that late, it was highly unlikely, and he may have to wait for several time-glasses yet.

This did not bother him. Patience was something he had in abundance, and he did not think the guards would bother to inform Endor of such trifling matters as a fire in the armoury and a bitch in the outer courtyard. They would probably think it was the work of saboteurs and pranksters, on this night of revelry and bonfires. Even if they did inform him of it, there was nothing to suggest that it was the work of an assassin, who did not usually resort to such distractions. Blade disliked using such methods himself, but in this situation stealth alone would not suffice.

Halfway up the wall, he paused to rest, his fingers aching and his arms cramping. He released one hand to rub it on his hip and shake the stiffness out of his muscles, then did the same with the other. Sweat dewed his brow and his gasps steamed in the chill air. He had never attempted such a long climb, but so far, he had no cause for concern. As he continued to ascend, he decided it was just as well that he would have to wait a while when he reached the top, for by then he would require a rest. The weathered stone scraped his fingertips, making him wish that they were not quite so soft. Callused hands did not grip a dagger so well though, and what was an advantage in one situation was a disadvantage in another.

By the time he was a few feet from the top, his arms trembled with fatigue and his hands cramped. He did not glance down, for he knew the folly of contemplating the vast drop below him. One slip would end his life now. Just beneath the top of the wall, he paused to listen, straining his acute senses to detect any presence above him. Finding none, he pulled himself up the last few feet and onto the top of the wall, slipping over it into the shadows. There he rested, rubbing his hands to banish the cramps and stiffness, while he scanned the parapet for guards.

His study of the castle during the day had found only two sentries here, and they were men of hawks. This close to the Prince, dog soldiers and their smelly companions were not in abundance. Once he had rubbed the feeling back into his hands, he waited for his breathing to return to normal and his arms to stop aching. Then he crept to the door that led from the parapet, not bothering to find the two guards, who were nowhere to be seen. The door was unlocked, and he descended a short flight of steps that led to a well-lighted corridor

At the bottom of the steps he sat down and strapped on his boot-blades, muffling their metal soles with leather sheaths. He peered around the corner, finding a short corridor with many doors in it, and a pair of guards at the end of it. They were not dog soldiers, and leant on their spears, engaged in a soft conversation. Since there were no shadows in the corridor to hide him, he stepped out of the stairwell and strolled towards them. He was only a few yards away when they turned to stare at him in surprise.

Blade yanked a dagger from his belt and threw it, impaling one guard in the eye. The other gaped at his companion as the man collapsed, then lowered his spear and charged with a yell. Blade sidestepped at the last moment and kicked the man in the gut with a blade-tipped boot. The guard doubled over, dropping his spear. Blade pulled out another dagger and stabbed him in the side of the neck. The sentry collapsed, gurgling, and Blade bent to finish him off. He wiped his weapon on the man's tunic, then retrieved the other dagger and sheathed them.

Not wishing to leave the bodies where they would soon be found, Blade dragged one over to the nearest door and pushed it open, stepping back in surprise. A bevy of Cotti women turned to gaze at him, many gasping and reaching for their veils. Some lay on thin pallets or reclined on cushions strewn about the floor, and four sat in chairs. The room lacked any ornaments or amenities other than a hearth in which a fire blazed and a copper tub half hidden behind a curtain in one corner. A low table held an assortment of food, bowls of nuts and fruit, and a pitcher of wine.

A few of the girls were swollen with child, others nursed infants. Almost all of them had bruises on their arms or faces, and two had healing cuts on their lips. Without a doubt, he had stumbled upon Endor's harem. Blade raised a finger to his lips. From what he knew of Cotti women, they would not raise the alarm unless he harmed one of them, since they had no interest in the affairs of their menfolk. Most of them lowered their eyes at his gesture, returning their attention to their children or embroidery.

A doe-eyed, flaxen-haired girl rose from one of the chairs and approached him, her gaze flicking to the dead guard at his feet. Although short and buxom, she moved with supple grace and appeared to be no more than eighteen years old. The sight of the dead guard did not seem to dismay her, and she met his gaze boldly with dark brown eyes that had raked his clothing with an intelligent glance.

"Are you going to try to kill him, assassin?"

Blade inclined his head. "I am."

"You have done well to get this far."

He smiled, deciding that the girl was not Cotti, but Contara, a far bolder breed of female. "He dies tonight if I can find his bedroom."

"He is not in it as yet. He disports himself with drinking companions in the main hall. Bring the guards in."

"Will that not endanger you?"

Her lip curled. "We are nothing but lowly females, beneath the notice of men. They will not question us, but if they do, we will tell them that an assassin dumped the dead guards here. It is not our place to tell the men of your presence. We are less than animals, and they would not."

"The Cotti are fools to treat women so."

Blade dragged the guard into the harem, then went back for the second man. When he had dumped them on the floor next to the door, the doe-eyed girl gestured to the empty chair.

"Sit, have some wine while you wait."

Blade noticed that although many of the women glanced at the dead guards, none of them showed any disquiet. The doe-eyed girl gave him a cup of white wine and settled on a cushion, studying him. He grimaced when he tasted the sour young wine, and she pulled a face.

"The wine is bad. It is considered only fit for women, but it helps to alleviate our pain."

"You are a wife, are you not?"

"His favourite at the moment. Hence the special boon of a chair to sit on, while the others must sit on the floor. I am Eshra."

"Can you tell me how to find Endor's rooms?"

She smiled. "Of course. It is a journey we have all made far too often for our liking. Tonight one of us will make it again, when he sends for her."

"And the dead guards?"

"A servant comes. She will not tell anyone. Five Contara assassins have perished trying to kill him, but none of them got into the castle. How did you achieve it?"

"Up the wall."

Her eyes widened. "The tall one? All the way from the bottom?" When he nodded, she glanced at one of the other women, then asked, "What is your name?"

"Blade."

"The Queen's Blade!" Eshra's eyes sparkled, and she grinned, revealing little white teeth. "It is an honour to meet you. We have heard tales of your prowess. They are most impressive. And you defend a queen. You are a man who serves a woman." She glanced around at the other women, whose taut, stiff expressions had relaxed, many of them into smiles. "You are welcome amongst us. Were you sent by a woman?"

Not wishing to disappoint them, he nodded. "The Jashimari Regent, Chiana."

"Your wife."

"Yes." Blade was surprised at how well informed she was. "How do you know so much about me?"

"We may be kept as prisoners, but we have the means to purchase news from the outside world through the servants. The city has been abuzz with rumours of your impending arrival, ever since the other assassin failed."

"Is he dead?"

"No, he is still in the dungeons, as far as we know. Endor has been torturing him."

"Do you know where the dungeons are?"

"Of course." Eshra gave him precise directions, which made him wonder if she had been there herself. She went on to describe the way to Endor's rooms, then added, "It would be easy to dress you in a gown and veil. You could go there with the servant when Endor sends for tonight's unfortunate."

"Are there many guards between here and there?"

She shook her head. "Only the four who guard his door, now that these two are dead. I doubt that he expected you to get this close unchallenged. The rest of the castle teems with guards, but Endor likes his privacy. He does not want his men to share the joy of listening to the screams of his women."

"Then I will go there later, when he is asleep."

Eshra looked away, a fleeting expression of pain crossing her features, and he guessed that she expected to be the chosen one. "When tonight's plaything returns, he will be asleep soon after."

"And dead soon after that. You will never suffer at his hands again."

A slight, bitter smile twisted her full lips. "Many have failed. It may be you who joins your comrade in the dungeons tonight."

Blade shook his head and sipped the sour wine. "I doubt that. I do plan a particularly painful death for him, however."

Her eyes brightened. "I wish I could watch."

He considered this, wondering if it was possible. "How many guards between his rooms and the dungeons?"

"Two pairs."

"Dogs?"

"No, he keeps the dog soldiers for more important duties. Do you plan to free the other assassin?"

Blade shrugged. "I doubt that he will be in any condition to leave the castle with me."

"I did not know assassins cared for each other."

"He was my apprentice."

"Ah." Eshra gazed at him sadly. "Then you have even more reason to wish Endor dead."

Blade jumped up as the door opened, drawing two daggers from his belt. An elderly woman came in, her eyes widening when she spied him. Eshra rose and went over to her.

"It is all right, Mellin. He is here to kill that bastard."

Mellin caught sight of the dead guards and gasped, recoiling, but Eshra took her hands, distracting her. "Is it time? It is early yet."

"He is returned, full of wine and lust."

"Is it to be me?"

"No. Elya."

A plump young girl gasped and paled, receiving comforting pats and encouraging whispers from her neighbours. Blade watched her rise to her feet as he put away his daggers, noting the trembling of her hands as she pulled on her veil. Eshra went over to her and kissed her on the brow, then put an arm around her shoulders and walked with her to the door, where the serving woman waited. After they left, Blade sank down on the chair again. Eshra walked back to stand before him.

He looked up at her. "Are you certain that you can trust the serving woman?"

"Yes."

"How can you be so sure?"

"She is a woman. Around here, men are the enemy. None of us would betray you."

"Even though I am one of the enemy."

"Are you?" She reached out and stroked his cheek, then smiled. "Do not number yourself amongst those who did this to you. They do not deserve to be called your equals."

"You do not consider me to be a man?"

"No. Nor should you." She sat on the cushion before him. "They are pigs, ruled by their lusts. Made cruel and depraved by them. You are pure. Be proud of it."

Blade contemplated her. "You have suffered much at the hands of one, but not all men are cruel."

"Perhaps not, but I have yet to meet one who is not. And even if you were a... an uncut man, you are here to kill Endor, which makes you our ally. We will do all we can to help you."

"Does he keep any guards in his room?"

She shook her head. "He considers himself safe with four outside his door. His windows overlook one of the inner courtyards, which is full of soldiers."

"Good."

She tilted her head, considering him. "How do you plan to get past the guards?"

"Kill them."

"Without awakening Endor?"

"Yes."

Eshra looked doubtful. "If he wakes, he has but to shout out of the window and dozens of men will be upon you in a few minutes. Considering how you got in, you will not be able to escape."

"All assassinations have an element of risk."

"Some more than others."

He nodded. "The fact that no assassin has ever got into the castle before has made Endor overconfident. He is well prepared, but he, or his captains, overlooked the wall. All his men are guarding the way through the castle, which only a fool would attempt.

She smiled. "But you did not know that when you climbed up here. He might have had a dozen men outside his door and another dozen in his room, standing over his bed with their swords drawn. What would you have done then?"

"Climbed back down and thought up another plan. But I know Cotti princes. I have killed enough of them. They dislike bodyguards. They pride themselves in their combat skills, and I have never known one to have more than six guards outside his door. Endor is the best protected that I have had to deal with, but now only four men remain to stop me."

"And if it had been six?"

Blade shrugged. "It would have been a little more difficult."

"How do you plan to kill four soldiers without allowing them to give a single shout of warning?"

"Quickly."

Eshra glanced at the corpses. "You have already managed two, but four?"

He smiled. "I have done it before."

Eshra glanced around at the women, many of whom were settling down for the night, cuddling whimpering infants or stretching out on their pallets. Rising, she doused some of the lamps, then returned to ply him with more questions. Many of them, especially those pertaining to what he planned to do with Endor, he could not answer, since he had not yet considered that.

Blade had never tortured a man before, but he could not leave Endor to die a slow death. He would whip up a tremendous manhunt if he survived for even a few days. With the Prince dead, the lords and generals would most likely bicker amongst themselves about who should lead them until a new prince was sent from Cotti. Even so, they would hunt him, and he planned to leave the city as soon as he had completed his task.