The Queen's Blade V - Master of the Dance Page 5

  "Of all my brothers, he looks the most like you. The rest of us have our father's nose, but Dravis does not."

  Blade turned from the window. "Can you get the clothes and dagger today?"

  "Yes. I will send a manservant to his rooms when he is out on his daily stroll in the gardens."

  "And when would he be alone in his chambers?"

  "At dusk, I would assume, when he bathes."

  The assassin strolled back to the chair and sank into it. "Find out for certain, your spies must know. He too may have been forewarned by Trelath, and change his routine. What is his familiar?"

  "A scorpion."

  "Good, nothing large."

  "You intend to throw suspicion on Dravis, yet he is in league with Trelath and Endor. He helped to plan Minna's kidnapping."

  Blade fixed Kerrion with an arctic stare. "I intend to let him take the blame for Chaymin and Trelath's deaths. The courts will not care that they were his friends. The evidence will condemn him. He will be seen meeting with Trelath, and his dagger will be found in his brother's heart. Even if the courts believe him to be innocent, they certainly will have no idea who the real killer is."

  "It will add to the confusion, certainly," Kerrion agreed. "And if he is condemned, so much the better. He will be banished for treason."

  "Right."

  "It is a wonderful idea, My Lord," Minna enthused, her eyes shining. "I did not know that assassins were willing to let others take the blame for their work."

  "It is allowed, but usually very expensive. Most assassins like to have it known that they were responsible, that is why most use a particular method of killing."

  "As you do."

  He inclined his head. "Exactly. Specialising also makes one more adept, diversifying leads to errors and a lack of skill. I, for instance, would not try to use a garrotte or poison, I have little knowledge of them."

  "Have you ever done this before?"

  "Only once. A rich merchant wished to be rid of his brother and his wife, so he required that the blame fall on her. He paid dearly for it, and I left one of her most prized baubles beside his brother's body. She was imprisoned for the murder."

  "Yet you often use a disguise," Minna pointed out.

  "Indeed. But that is to facilitate the kill and my escape, not to put the blame on a particular person."

  Kerrion glanced at the window. "I must tend to my duties. We should go." He stood up and held out a hand to Minna. "I shall have the clothes sent to you as soon as possible, Blade."

  "Good." The assassin rose and bowed to Minna-Satu. "My Queen."

  "My Lord." She inclined her head, then swept out on Kerrion's arm.

  Chapter Four

  Upon arriving in his study, Kerrion installed Minna in the sun room that adjoined it, where she could relax on the cushions he had ordered placed there, and read or embroider. Shista stretched out in a cool corner and went to sleep, and Kerrion set Kiara on her perch next his desk before he sat down to read the missives that awaited him. He had barely begun to peruse the first when the door flew open and Trelath marched in, his expression grim. He did not bother to bow, but stopped before the desk and glowered at his brother. One eye was blackened and swollen shut, a blemish that Kerrion shared, but in addition, Trelath's nose and jaw were blue with bruises. He wore his sword, and Kerrion was reminded of his confrontation with Ronan after Targan had been killed. This time, at least he knew that Minna was safe.

  "Call off your assassin, Kerrion," Trelath said.

  "My assassin?" The King's brows shot up. "Are you accusing me of ordering Chaymin's death?"

  "We both know you did."

  "Do we? Even if you are right, why would I?"

  "Because I know that I am next, and he will fail this time."

  Kerrion put down the document. "Then why are you asking me to call him off? If you capture him, you can torture him into telling you who employs him."

  "Then you admit that he is yours?"

  "I admit nothing."

  Trelath looked desperate, and a glint of fear lurked in his eyes, well-disguised. "He is the same one who killed Shandor, Lerton, Ronan, Armin, Targan and Rigal, is he not? He is the one called the Queen's Blade."

  Kerrion shrugged. "I do not know. What if he is?"

  "Call him off, or I will go to the courts and tell them that you assassinated Chaymin. You are killing off your brothers again, just as you did sixteen years ago."

  "I did not order him to kill my brothers then, nor have I now. If you know anything about the Queen's Blade, you know that he is Jashimari, and he would not take orders from a Cotti. There is a reason why he is called the Queen's Blade, and in case it has escaped your notice, I am not a queen."

  "Then it is your treacherous wife who is responsible, is it? You pretend to be a devoted husband, yet you blame her?"

  "No." Kerrion scowled at his brother. "If you take this to the courts, you can prove nothing. It is your word against mine, and you will not be there to testify. You will be dead by then."

  Trelath paled. "Call it off. Whether you admit to it or not, I know you can stop this."

  "Why should I? You kidnapped my wife and tried to force my daughter to be Endor's servant. You would have killed Minna if she had not been rescued. I have no reason to wish to spare you."

  The Prince placed his hands on the desk and leant closer. "Tell me what you want, to spare my life."

  Kerrion smiled and leant back in his chair. "Are you begging for your life?"

  The Prince's mouth twisted with distaste. "Yes. Does that satisfy you?"

  "Then you are not so confident that you will be able to survive his visit, or trap him, are you?"

  "I may, but I would rather not take the risk."

  Kerrion leant forward. "If my wife had asked for her life, would you have spared her?"

  "Yes. I was going to return her as soon as Endor had your daughter, I swear."

  "Liar. You told her you were going to kill her."

  "Empty threats."

  The King shook his head. "No. You intended to do it."

  "Then this is just revenge?"

  "Partly."

  "What else? Tell me what you want."

  Kerrion steepled his fingers and studied his brother, smiling. "I want my wife to be the Cotti Queen. I want to pass laws against kidnapping women, end their oppression and prevent their abuse."

  Trelath pushed himself away from the desk and paced in a circle, running a hand through his hair. "You need the support of all the princes for that."

  "And I intend to get it."

  "You are going to blackmail them."

  "Just as you did to me. You and Endor taught me a lot about blackmail, and how helpless it can make a man, even a king. Now you will all find out what it is like to be on the other end of the bargain."

  Trelath stopped and faced the King. "Then why did you have Chaymin killed?"

  "I did not, but he was an example to the others, just as you will be."

  "So you know who is ordering this assassin to kill us?"

  "No." Kerrion smiled at the traps Trelath tried to set. "It is an anonymous benefactor who wishes to aid me."

  "The Jashimari Queen."

  "Not necessarily, but probably a Jashimari woman."

  Trelath approached the desk again. "But you could call him off? If I agreed to support you and helped to persuade the others?"

  "Why should I trust you? Even now, you are trying to trick me into saying something incriminating, and after what you did to my wife, I am not feeling generous towards you. So if I could stop this assassin, why should I?"

  "I am not trying to trick you," the Prince cried. "I do not want to die!"

  "You should have thought of that before you plotted against me. Did you think I was helpless to retaliate? Just yesterday, you refused to apologise, and added insults to the injuries you caused my wife. Now you are begging for mercy. I do not trust you."

  "Yesterday I thought I could beat him! I set a trap in Chaymi
n's rooms, but he escaped. I will do anything you ask if you spare me."

  "Indeed. And if I did, it would prove that I control this assassin, would it not?"

  Trelath slumped and leant on the desk, his head bowed. "Then you cannot help me?"

  "Perhaps you should apply to my wife. She may be able to, and doubtless she will find your entreaty amusing."

  Trelath raised his head. "You just want to see me beg her for mercy. If you spare me, I swear I will not tell the courts of it."

  Kerrion tapped his fingers on the desk, considering the matter. If he spared Trelath, he could indeed be useful in persuading the other princes. Trelath was cunning and devious, however. He would take the first opportunity to betray his brother once the threat to his life was annulled. It would, of course, spare Blade the risk of assassinating him, but Trelath had already proven himself to be untrustworthy, and if he lived Minna would be in constant danger. He shook his head, glancing up at Trelath's desperate visage.

  "I am afraid I cannot help you. I do not control the assassin who killed Chaymin. If I did, I would be guilty of treason."

  Trelath straightened, his expression grim. "If he kills me, your wife will die. I will see to it that my death will be avenged. I may even arrange for yours, since once I am dead, I cannot be charged with treason."

  Kerrion glared at him. "Get out."

  As soon as the Prince left, Kerrion sent for Olan, who was one of the few servants he trusted, and sent him to fetch the clothes and dagger from Dravis' room.

  Blade was trimming the long blond wig when Olan came in, carrying a bundle of pale green clothes and a handful of jewellery. The servant placed them on the table, laying a finely-crafted, ivory-handled dagger beside them. Blade set aside the wig and went over to pick up the weapon and examine it, testing its balance and keenness. He found it a little hilt heavy, and glanced up at Olan, who gazed at him with hard eyes.

  "I have a message from the King," the servant said. "Dravis will be in his bath at sunset."

  "Good."

  "Is it to be Dravis, then?"

  "Trelath."

  "That rat." Olan shook his head. "He's a bastard all right."

  Blade put down the dagger. "What makes the King trust you so much?"

  "'Cause he can, and he knows it."

  "Why?"

  The Cotti frowned. "I don't have to tell you."

  "Did he save you from something?"

  "Yeah, the gallows."

  "Ah. You were innocent."

  Olan shook his head. "No, I did it. I murdered my brother after he raped my wife."

  "So why did Kerrion save you?"

  "He needed me." Olan smiled. "He was just a prince then. He came to my cell and made me swear an oath of loyalty, on my life and my wife's. There was no one he could trust, you see. His father was trying to get him killed, accidental like. So long as I never betray him, I get to live."

  "Clever Kerrion," Blade murmured. "If you cannot earn loyalty, buy it."

  "Don't speak against the King, Jashimari. He's a good man."

  "Better than his brothers, at least, but then, that doesn't say much for him."

  The servant muttered, "I still reckon I could flatten you."

  "I wouldn't advise you to try."

  "Only reason I don't is 'cause the King told me to treat you nice."

  Blade picked up the green tunic. "I want you to take a message to Trelath, and tell him it is from Dravis."

  Olan scowled. "I don't serve Dravis."

  "I don't care... Ah. You mean it would be suspicious."

  "Very."

  "Then could you leave a note in his rooms?"

  The servant nodded, and Blade dropped the tunic, turning to the desk that contained writing implements. A minute later, he handed Olan a brief, scrawled missive that he hoped looked like Dravis had written in a hurry. Even if it did not, it should make Trelath curious enough to do as it asked, or he may assume that Dravis' scribe had written it.

  Olan took it and left, and Blade started the long process of donning the necessary disguise. First he glued the shoulder-length blond wig in place, brushing it to a high shine. He used the golden oil to darken the skin of his hands, neck and face, rubbing it into his brows to lighten them to brown. Since Dravis was larger than him, he donned the tunic and trousers over his clothes, padding them with rags. Finally he put on the rings and hung the gold chains around his neck. He studied the result in the mirror, changing his expression to one that gave the impression of youthfulness, raising his brows and curling his lips in a slight smile. As he was practising it, Olan returned, stopping dead when he entered the room. He stared at Blade, his startled expression changing to one of amazement.

  "That's damned uncanny, assassin."

  "Do I look like Dravis?"

  "You could almost be his twin. But the brows are wrong. His are thicker, and arched."

  Blade turned back to the mirror and picked up a pot of golden powder, which he used to cover the ends of his brows. He then mixed the powder with soot to form a brown colour, with which he drew arched brows. Olan studied the result and nodded.

  "Now you're the spitting image."

  "Good. You delivered the note?"

  "Of course."

  "Did anyone see you?"

  Olan shook his head. "Trelath was out. There was no one there. But I saw him returning just after I left."

  "Excellent." Blade glanced at the window. "Another time-glass until sunset. He was probably making arrangements for his protection tonight."

  Olan leant against the wall and eyed the assassin. "What if he doesn't come?"

  "Then I hope this disguise is as good as you say it is."

  "I wouldn't mind seeing you caught and executed, assassin, but you'd probably drag my king down with you, and I don't want that."

  "Because you would end up back on the gallows."

  "Exactly."

  Blade checked the daggers in his wrist sheaths. "You have mellowed since last we met."

  Olan shrugged. "I'm getting old." He pushed himself away from the wall. "If you don't want anything else, I'll go."

  The assassin nodded and wandered over to the window to gaze out of it as the servant left. He considered his plan, looking for flaws. By the time the sun sank into the desert in a display of fiery glory, he was calm and prepared. He left his rooms and took a roundabout route to the place where he had asked Trelath to meet him, avoiding guard patrols. Arriving at the enclosed back garden, he strolled past the pair of soldiers at the entrance, who snapped to attention.

  Blade wandered along the paved path to the spot he had selected earlier, where several bushes blocked the guards' view. Many mingled, flowery fragrances spiced the air, as pale night blooms opened in the gathering darkness. This garden was particularly overgrown, deliberately so, he assumed, since all the others were so well kept. Branches encroached on the paths and creepers scaled the trees, trailing flowering tendrils. Benches hid in secret niches, and moss-covered statues of beasts and children posed amid beds of blooms.

  Arriving at the appointed place, he waited while the gloom deepened. Nocturnal insects began to sing, replacing the birds that had fallen silent in the gathering dusk. Frogs croaked in a nearby pond and a fountain added its splashing to the evening chorus. Just as he was starting to wonder if Trelath would come, footsteps made him turn. The Prince walked towards him alone, as he had stipulated in his note. He knew Trelath would not find his request suspicious, since plotting against the King had to be carried out in secret. Even the most trusted guards or servants could be the King's spies.

  Blade changed his expression to a guileless, youthful one, as he waited for the right moment to strike. He did not expect his disguise to fool Trelath upon close inspection, but the closer he came, the easier it would be. The Prince, however, seemed too preoccupied to pay close attention to the man he took to be his brother, glancing instead at the bushes that bordered the path. He came within a few paces before he turned his gaze on Blade.


  "What is the problem, Dravis?" Trelath frowned, peering at the assassin and coming closer still. "I do not like being here, so make it quick."

  Pleased that his disguise was as good as Olan had said, Blade murmured, "Afraid of the assassin?"

  "No, I just do not like these bloody gardens. I thought you knew that."

  Blade was curious to see if Trelath would realise his mistake, but the Prince merely looked peeved, stopping a pace away. Blade crossed his hands, gripped the hilts of the daggers in his sleeves and stepped closer. As Trelath opened his mouth to speak, Blade whipped his weapons out and slammed them into the Prince's chest. Trelath gaped, a soft mewl escaping his quivering lips as his eyes stretched wide in surprise and horror.

  The Prince sank to his knees, and Blade leant closer to whisper, "It is nice to meet you at last, Trelath. I am the Queen's Blade, and this is for your ill treatment of my queen."

  Trelath's mouth worked as he strived to call the guards, but the daggers lodged in his heart and lungs robbed him of the power of speech. Blade watched him die, only pulling the daggers out when Trelath's eyes glazed and he slumped to the ground. Since he could not wipe them on his victim's clothes as he usually did, he sheathed them and drew Dravis' weapon from his belt. He pushed the ornate dagger into one of the wounds and checked himself for blood, wiping a little off his fingers with his handkerchief.

  Satisfied, he walked back along the path and past the guards, who bowed. As he retraced his steps to his rooms, he reflected that it was fortunate Cotti soldiers held their princes in such high regard. It might be time-glasses before the men plucked up the courage to see why Trelath was still in the garden.

  Back in his rooms, he summoned Olan and ordered a bath, then stripped off the disguise. When the servant returned with drudges laden with hot water, Blade gave him the clothes and ordered him to return them to Dravis' rooms. The servant looked doubtful, but left with the items. Lying back in the tub of hot water, Blade experienced the euphoria that usually followed a successful assassination, which the extreme tension of his escape had denied him the night before.

  Kerrion was eating supper with Minna and Kerra in his private quarters when Jadar brought him the news of Trelath's death. The elderly advisor looked upset, wringing his hands. Kerrion glanced at his wife, who picked at her roast fowl without expression, then at Kerra, who met his glance before turning her attention back to her grilled fish. The King assumed a suitably shocked and tragic aspect when he turned to Jadar again.