The Queen's Blade VI - Lord Protector Read online

  Storm struggled to rise, shaking his head. Blade turned to the window, the closest exit, and furthest from Storm. As the Cotti assassin staggered to his feet, Blade charged the window and threw himself through it with a crash of breaking glass. He fell amid a spray of glittering shards and landed on the roof of the first floor with a grunt, broken glass raining down around him.

  Blade rolled down the steep roof, carried by the momentum of his fall. Without arms to stop himself, he hit the gutter and sailed over the edge, twisting, cat-like, to bring his legs under him. He succeeded well enough to cushion his landing and roll as he hit the ground, although the impact jarred his legs and knocked the wind out of him.

  Passers-by stopped and stared as he struggled to his feet, many glancing up at the window from which he had jumped. Blade looked up too, glimpsing Storm as he retreated into the darkness. Slipping into a nearby alley's shadows, Blade loped down it, searching for something with which to cut the cords that bound his wrists.

  Chapter Two

  Chiana jumped up, almost upsetting the tea tray. Even clad in her usual plain grey, she was a daunting sight when angered, and recently her temper had become short. Kerra, seated a fair distance from the Regent, stared at her in surprise. Insash, who was the third informal tea guest, froze with his teacup poised before his lips.

  They sat in Chiana's sumptuous sunroom, where delicate gilded furniture gleamed in the weak winter sunlight that flooded in through tall paned windows. Swathes of deep blue silk, trimmed with silver, framed the vast portals, and the polished white marble floor held glints of gold. The brocaded silk cushions upon which the trio sat were located strategically in the pool of sunlight, and a low table held a glinting silver tea service and platters of sugared pastries.

  "How could you lose him? What sort of inept imbecile are you?" Chiana demanded.

  The spy spread his hands and hunched his shoulders. "There was a brawl at the taproom. I went outside to avoid becoming embroiled in it. I thought his lordship would do the same. Afterwards, I heard that a big man dressed in black had knocked his lordship out, but I could find neither of them."

  Chiana paled. "Then another assassin attacked him. Someone has paid for his death."

  The spy shook his head. "Later, a man jumped from one of the inn's windows and ran off."

  "And you think it was Lord Conash?"

  "He matched Lord Conash's description."

  Chiana sank down on her cushions, still furious, but now thoughtful as well. "Then you must find him. Take however many men you need. What about the man who attacked him?"

  The spy shrugged. "No one knows who he is, merely a rich traveller."

  "I want him found also, and arrested at once."

  "Yes, Regent."

  The spy bowed and retreated, and a handmaiden showed him out. Chiana picked up her cup and sipped her tea, frowning.

  Insash cleared his throat. "I am sure there is no need to worry, Regent. Lord Conash is well able to fend for himself. It is this brigand who should beware. He is now marked for death, surely?"

  Chiana's eyes flicked to him, and her frown deepened. "My husband is not an indiscriminate killer, Insash. Without a client, he may not hunt this man down. He can only kill him in self-defence, which gives his assailant the advantage, I think."

  "But already he has foiled the man once, and escaped. Now he is forewarned."

  "Even so, if this stranger is an assassin, as I suspect, my husband is in grave danger."

  Insash smiled. "Regent, your husband has killed more men than a small army, including two assassins at once..."

  "What has happened in the past may not happen in the future. Is this assassin Contara? Did we execute the wrong man? Or is he another, more dangerous foe? Do not forget that Blade has lost the use of his right arm."

  Kerra put down her cup with a clink. "Why do you not contact Blade's guild? Will they not know who this stranger is, and perhaps do something about him?"

  Chiana shook her head. "They may know who he is, but they will not protect Blade. This man cannot be Jashimari, since our assassins do not kill their own kind, so he must be Contara or Cotti."

  "Does the Guild allow foreign assassins to kill Jashimari?"

  Chiana looked impatient. "As far as I know, yes. They do not care who kills who, so long as they obey the Guild rules."

  "Perhaps we should suggest that this may be a Jashimari assassin, then they might do something to find him."

  The Regent sighed. "Kerra, forget the Guild. They will not help us."

  Kerra drew herself up. "They are citizens of this city and this kingdom. How can they refuse an order from their queen? What if we hired one of them to find and slay this foreign assassin? That would not be against their rules."

  "No..." Chiana picked up her cup and sipped the steaming tea. "But an assassin requires the name and location of his target. You cannot give him such vague instructions. No assassin would accept such an assignment. If he kills the wrong man, it would be murder in the eyes of the Guild, and he would be punished. We cannot even give an assassin a description of this stranger, and if we could, he is probably now disguised."

  Kerra slumped, frowning. "Why does Blade not come to the palace? Here we could protect him."

  "Because he does not want our help, Kerra. This is the last place he will come. If those idiot spies find him, I shall have him watched by men who can protect him, but until then there is nothing I can do."

  "Except worry yourself sick about him."

  "That is my problem, not yours."

  "I am worried about him too, Chiana."

  The Regent sighed, her expression softening. "Of course you are, my dear."

  Blade entered the livery stable and walked along the aisle, searching for the stalls in which his three new horses resided. His bag contained a change of clothes and a few oddments, as well as the components of several disguises. Over his traditional black garb, he wore a thick, fur-lined coat.

  His decision to leave Jondar in the middle of winter had not been an easy one, but he was tired of spending his days as prey, constantly on the alert for Storm's next attempt. It wearied him, and he knew Storm would wait for his alertness to wane with all the patience of a trained assassin. Patience was far easier for the hunter than it was for the hunted, and although he could don a disguise and vanish for a while, that would only be a temporary reprieve. Eventually he would become tired of his disguise, or Storm would find him, and he disliked skulking and hiding. It was humiliating.

  Over the last tenday, he had contemplated several ways of defeating his foe, including asking Kerra to be his client. The prospect of asking for even so trivial a favour from the childish Queen annoyed him, however. He had considered paying one of his former apprentices to hunt the Cotti assassin, but had little confidence that any of them would succeed. Storm would be a hard target, and he disliked the idea of being forced to pay one of his ilk to do the deed.

  Perhaps pride was foolish when a man who was clearly an excellent assassin hunted him, yet he could not help it. Pride was all he had, and he clung to it. As the best assassin in Jondar and probably all of Jashimari, he would kill the Cotti, even if he was at a disadvantage. To lessen the disparity, he had decided to choose his ground for the encounter, somewhere less crowded, where Storm's disguises would avail him little.

  As Blade set down his bag outside the stall of one of the sturdy horses he had purchased, his internal alarms jangled. He spun around, drawing the daggers from his sleeves in a smooth, practised motion. A shadowy figure stepped into the lantern's dim light, and Blade relaxed, lowering his weapons.

  His former mentor wandered closer, eyeing him. "It's not like you to be so nervous, Blade."

  Blade sheathed his daggers. "I have reason."

  "Indeed? The jealous husband of some poor infatuated woman who doesn't know you're no threat to him? Is that why you're leaving Jondar in the middle of winter?"

  "No."

  "But you are leaving."

&n
bsp; "That's my business."

  "Actually, the Guild is very interested in you right now. Your injury seems to be healed, yet you haven't announced your retirement, nor have you attended the dances."

  Blade sighed. "I'm not interested in the dances any more, and I'll retire again when I'm ready."

  Talon bent to fondle his wolf's ears. "You know the rules. While you were the Master of the Dance, you only had to attend when you were challenged, and few did. But now you must take part in the competitions, otherwise the choice of the best assassin is flawed, and that's not allowed. The man who now holds the title is no match for you."

  "I don't care. Let him have it."

  "We can't do that, I'm afraid."

  "I'm too old to dance."

  "Then retire."

  Blade flung up his hands. "Fine, tell them I'm retired."

  "I can't do that. You have to go through the ceremony again."

  "No."

  "It's not a choice. There's a meeting tonight, and the elders insist that you attend, either to compete or retire. That choice is yours, but attendance is not."

  Blade rubbed his shoulder, which ached. "They insist?"

  "I'm afraid so."

  "And they sent you to make me obey them?"

  Talon smiled. "There are others waiting outside."

  "I see."

  Talon stepped closer and laid a hand on Blade's shoulder, his smile widening. "Come, your journey can wait until tomorrow."

  Blade shrugged off Talon's hand and bent to pick up his bag. "That doesn't make this any less annoying."

  The number of assassins who waited at the standing stones surprised Blade, who wondered how there could be enough trade to support so many. Most of them were apprentices or elders, however, only a third were active assassins.

  As he walked through the woods towards the ring of stones, aware of the flitting shadows that followed, he recalled how Bolt had struggled to find work, and knew that most of these assassins shared that problem. Only the Master of the Dance was busy and well paid, lesser assassins killed for a couple of silvers and counted themselves lucky to find any work at all.

  Blade paused at the edge of the woods to take in the scene. The wooden platform, which four torches lighted, would be used for the competition. A sturdy frame with strong uprights supported the polished boards, ensuring that they did not wobble or bend. Over the years, beams and stones had been added to produce a solid dais upon which the dancers performed.

  A fire roared in front of the platform, illuminating the figures that ringed it. Groups of muttering men passed wine skins around, which struck Blade as odd. A tense, brooding atmosphere hung over the assassins, and anger simmered amongst them. This was not normal at a guild meeting, and he glanced at Talon.

  "What's going on?"

  Talon smiled and patted his shoulder. "Come and find out."

  Blade glanced back at the five figures that detached themselves from the shadows and followed at a discrete distance. Talon shot him an appraising look.

  "How fit are you?"

  "Fit enough to tell them I'm retiring."

  "What about dancing?"

  "Definitely not."

  Blade's suspicions grew when they reached the firelight and a hush fell over the throng. The number of eyes that watched him made him uncomfortable. He had always disliked being the centre of attention, especially at guild meetings. As they neared the middle of the ring, a group of elders approached. Its leader spread his arms as the party halted before Blade and Talon, smiling.

  "Welcome."

  Blade nodded, wondering when Archer, the former Guild leader, had died, since he was not in attendance. The new elder was a man named Pierce, who had become robust in his retirement, and lacked a good deal of hair. Talon moved aside with the elders and engaged in a muttered conversation that involved a great deal of head shaking. Blade watched them with growing unease, wishing he was somewhere else. The huddle of elders broke up after a few minutes, and Talon returned with the senior elder. Blade tugged open his collar to reveal his tattoo and the patch that covered the mark of his retirement, intending to rip it off and put an end to the speculation about his status.

  "Wait!" Talon raised a hand.

  Blade frowned, fingering the leather patch. "What for?"

  Talon glanced at Pierce, who hesitated, then licked his lips and said, "The honour of the Guild is at stake. We need you to -"

  "No."

  "Accept the challenge of a Match."

  "No."

  "He's defeated all our best dancers. There's no one else -"

  Blade shook his head. "No."

  "He'll take away our belt. The Guild will be without a Master of the Dance."

  Blade frowned. "How is that possible?"

  "It's rare, but a foreign assassin can challenge for the belt, and if he wins, he keeps it. To reclaim it, we would have to send a challenger to his guild."

  "I see. I'll wager that he's Cotti, and his name's Storm."

  Pierce glanced at Talon, who nodded. "How did you know that?"

  "Because he was sent to kill me."

  A short silence fell, then Pierce cleared his throat. "He can't do anything here, be assured of that."

  "I'm not worried. So this is why you've sent for me so late at night, and intended to drag me here by force if necessary." Blade glanced back at the five assassins who stood behind him. "I'm your last hope, and that's sad, elder, because I have no intention of doing it."

  "You must! You're our only hope. If you were still the Master of the Dance, you would have faced him first -"

  "But I'm not," Blade interrupted, "and therefore I'm not obliged to defend the belt."

  "No. But if you don't, it goes to Cotti with him, and we may never be able to reclaim it."

  "Then make yourselves another one. It's only a bit of leather and silver."

  The elder shook his head. "That's forbidden."

  "You and your damned rules. If you had trained decent dancers, you wouldn't have to rely on me."

  "I doubt that Lance would have beaten him, so don't accuse us of failing."

  Blade snorted. "Then he deserves it. You'll get it back when I kill him."

  "Then it will be sent to his guild. We can't claim it."

  Blade shrugged. "So send a challenger with it. They can't all be better than your best."

  "You could put an end to this now."

  "But I won't." Blade raised a hand to the patch again.

  Talon stepped forward and gripped Blade's arm. "Wait. Think about this. Will you let a Cotti take your belt?"

  "It's not my belt."

  "It is! This is your guild. Its honour is in your hands."

  Blade jerked free of Talon's grip. "Your dancers failed. They're the ones who have let the Guild down."

  "You're one of us, and we can call upon you to defend the belt, just as we did them." Talon gestured to four despondent-looking men who sat with their heads bowed on the far side of the fire.

  "Not if I'm retired, and you can't prevent me from doing that."

  "Actually, we can refuse to accept your retirement," Pierce said, "but we don't want this to get ugly."

  "It's already ugly. You can't force me to do this, even if you drag me onto that stage."

  One of the other elders pushed past Talon. "It's your damned fault this man is here. He's doing this for your benefit, to humiliate your guild. If not for you, we wouldn't be in this predicament."

  Blade's hand dropped to the hilt of a dagger in his belt. "Yes, he is, because he knew you'd drag me here to face him. He had lost me in the city, now he's found me again, thanks to you."

  "Are you afraid to face him?"

  "Do pot-pigs fly?"

  Talon made a curt gesture, and the truculent elder stepped back. "Let's not get heated over it. Blade, the Guild has never asked for your help -"

  "You shouldn't need it. You have at least three hundred assassins here, and you're telling me that not one of them can beat this man?"


  "No, we do have one whose prowess is legendary, and of whom we're all rightfully proud."

  Blade smiled. "Good, bring him out then."

  "He refuses to do it."

  Blade snorted and swung away, eyed the men behind him, then spun back to face Talon. "No."

  The bellicose elder surged forward again, raising a finger to shake at Blade. "You're a damned coward!"

  "And you're a damned fool. That man is twenty years younger than me, and doubtless has practised for days to get into shape. What makes you think I can beat him?"

  "All we ask is that you try." Talon pushed the belligerent elder back with a stern frown. "No one will blame you if you fail."

  "Of course they will." Blade gestured to the assassins who watched them. "Look at them. They all expect me to win. They're counting on it."

  Talon shook his head. "They're hoping for it, nothing more. They all know you retired fifteen years ago. They're hoping you can do the impossible, and I know you can. You can beat this man with one arm tied behind your back. There's never been a dancer, living or dead, who could match you. That's why I demanded a Match, so your stamina wouldn't be the deciding factor. It's your speed that will win it, and I know you still have that."

  "A Match? You think that's easier?"

  "Than a Duel? Definitely."

  Blade turned away to glare at the fire. "You're mad, all of you."

  "And you're afraid of failure," the pugnacious elder snarled. "You don't want to be humiliated in front of the Guild, but you don't care if we're robbed of our belt."

  "And what will you do the next time a foreign challenger beats all your dancers? Call me out of retirement?"

  "You're not retired, and that was no doing of ours. We could accuse you of murder, since the Guild didn't sanction your return to active status."