Sacred Knight of the Veil (12 page)

The prince seemed confident that his wishes would be obeyed, however, and the only one who would dare to endanger Kerrion's wife by stealing the young queen was supposed to be locked up and unconscious. Evidently Endor had also decided that Kerra could not escape through her windows. The rough stone offered meagre finger holds, but they were sufficient for his needs. Even so, he was sweating when he reached the Queen's window and hauled himself inside, partly due to the pain that shot through his injured shoulder every time he moved it.

Blade paused to get his bearings and rub his aching fingers. He was in the sitting room, moonlight striping the marble floor with bars of silver. Moving to the bed chamber's door, he paused to scan the room before he entered it. He did not think that men would be allowed in the Queen's quarters, but he was ever cautious. Many an assassin had met his end because he did not expect the unexpected, and familiars were a problem too. Kerra had no familiar as yet, which simplified matters.

Approaching the canopied bed, he made out the form of the young Queen beneath the satin covers, her hair spread across the pillow. He gazed down at her, vaguely amused that even she was not beyond his reach. Now all he had to do was wake her without alarming her, an alien concept, for his victims usually woke with a dagger in their heart. He found one of his daggers in his fist, and did not remember drawing it. Old habits die hard, it seemed. He put it away and lowered himself onto the bed beside her, surprised that she slept so soundly with what she faced tomorrow.

As he leant over to whisper her name, he caught the faint scent of wine and understood her untroubled slumber. Clever Chiana, as long as she was not comatose. He clamped a hand over her mouth, and her eyes flew open. She drew breath to scream, raising her hands to try to push him away. Blade resisted her puny struggles and leant closer.

"Hush! It's Blade."

She froze, her eyes wide as she strived to make out his face in the darkness.

"Will you be quiet?" he asked.

At her nod he removed his hand, and she pushed herself up against the pillows, peering at him. "Lord Conash?"

"Yes."

"I thought you were -"

"That was necessary, in case Endor spoke to you."

"I would not have told him anything."

Blade shook his head. "You would not have had to; your manner would have given you away."

"How did you get free? And how did you get in here?"

"Get dressed." He rose and pulled back the blankets, taking her arm to haul her from the bed. "I will explain later."

The girl shivered in her thin nightdress, and Blade found a riding habit thrown across the foot of the bed, tossing it to her.

"Put this on."

Blade went back into the sitting room to peer out of the window, then returned to the bedroom to strip the sheets from the bed. Kerra, in the act of dressing, gasped and turned her back on him, but he ignored her, striding back to the sitting room. He knotted the sheets together, then settled down at the window to watch the guards. Kerra joined him a minute later, clad in the riding habit. He waited as two patrols sauntered past, aware of the tension in the girl crouched beside him. She had done well so far, and he turned to tie the end of the sheets under her arms.

"I am going to lower you quickly, so do not be alarmed, and for God's sake do not scream."

"I am not a fool, Lord Conash, so do not treat me like one."

"Good. And stop calling me Lord Conash."

"Very well... Blade."

He watched the guards. "This is new to me. I work alone, and am unused to being burdened with amateurs. Do exactly as I say, without question or hesitation, understand?"

She nodded. "My life depends on it."

"As does mine. If not for you, I would be leagues away by now."

"I know -"

"Be quiet." Blade watched the last guard vanish around a corner, then turned and pulled the Queen to her feet. She reacted well, climbing over the ledge without hesitation, and he took up the tension on the sheet. Kerra glanced down at the dizzying drop, her fingers gripping the ledge with white knuckles.

"Let go," he ordered.

Blade thought he would have to pry her loose, but to his surprise she obeyed. Her weight made him stagger, and the window ledge dug into his thighs. The sheet burnt his hands as he let it slip through his grasp, slowing her descent only enough to prevent her from being hurt when she hit the ground. When the sheet went slack, he leant out of the window to peer down. Kerra unfastened the sheet, and he pulled it back up as she vanished into a shadow.

Dropping the cloth, he slipped over the sill and lowered himself, his fingers gripping the slight crannies in the stone. A few feet above the ground, he let himself drop, landed like a cat on the grass and joined the Queen in her shadows. She started to speak, and he hushed her as two guards appeared around the corner, right on time. They passed within a few feet of their hiding place, glancing about. As soon as they were out of sight, Blade took the Queen's wrist and set out across the moonlit lawn, heading for the far wall. She struggled to keep up with him, and panted by the time they reached the shadow of a tree.

Blade paused there for a few minutes to let her catch her breath, glancing about as he kept watch for the guards. He knew better than to leave anything to chance, and, although he knew their patrol pattern perfectly, there was always the possibility that a dog soldier's familiar might pick up their scent and raise the alarm. Often it was familiars that posed more of a threat to an assassin than the humans, and he was ever on the alert. He had always spied on his victim first to learn what kind of familiar they had, if any. That way, he was never taken by surprise, but he had no idea what kind of familiars these guards possessed.

When Kerra stopped gasping, he took her wrist again and led her towards the wall, staying in the shadows of the many shrubs that bordered the garden paths. He had allowed her to rest only so an alert soldier or his familiar would not hear her gasping. Silence was essential, and he ensured that they walked only on the grass. Reaching the wall, he led her to the overhanging tree he sometimes used when he did not want to scale it.

Kerra scrambled up it without being told, and he followed her, ready to grab her if she slipped. To his surprise, she proved to be an able climber, and reached the overhanging branch without mishap. There she paused, glancing at him, for the drop on the other side was quite far. He stepped onto the wall and lowered himself over the edge, then dropped, absorbing the impact with bent knees. He crouched for a moment and scanned the empty streets before he stood up and turned to the Queen, raising his arms.

"Come!" he rasped.

Kerra hesitated, clearly daunted by the length of the drop, but then she eased herself over the edge of the wall, clinging to it before letting go. Blade caught her with a grunt as his bruised ribs protested and his injured shoulder sent stabs of pain through him. Setting her on her feet, he took her wrist and dragged her into the nearest shadow, where he paused to scan the streets once more. When he was satisfied that no one was about, he led her along a narrow alley, heading into the city.

In a smelly back alley choked with refuse, he pushed open a rotting door and pulled the Queen into a room that stank of mildew and damp. The faint shapes of furniture were visible in the gloom until he closed the door behind them, then the darkness became complete. He groped around while she stood where he had left her, cursing as he stubbed his toe on some unseen object. Finding the lamp, he lighted it and set it on the table, adjusting the wick until the flame was bright.

Kerra glanced around at the squalid little room, stained with soot where someone had lighted a fire in the corner. Pools of candle wax patterned the rickety table and a pile of dirty blankets hunched in the corner. A solitary chair stood beside the table and a basin of water rested atop an old crate under a window covered with a ragged curtain.

Blade finished adjusting the lamp and turned to study his charge, who was pale but composed. Without the flowing skirts and finery she had worn in the palace, she looked younger, less certain and as slender as a reed. He sank down on the sagging cot with a soft groan, pulling aside his jacket to inspect the reddened dressing on his shoulder.

"You are just a little slip of a thing, aren't you?"

Her eyes glittered. "I am almost as tall as you."

"That is no great feat. I am not exactly a giant."

"What are we doing in this horrible place? Is this where you live?"

"Resting." He fingered his jaw, then his nose, wincing. "And no, I do not live here."

"We should leave the city at once. Endor will start searching as soon as he finds me gone."

"Do I look like an imbecile? If I could grow wings and fly I would, but just how do you think we are going to get far enough away in a few time-glasses? With any luck, Endor will be stupid enough to start by searching the forests around the city. This place is a warren of rotting dumps, and I know it like the back of my hand."

Kerra glanced around, her nose wrinkling, and Blade lay down with a groan. "Sleep if you can. If not, be quiet."

Kerra glared at him, but he closed his eyes and turned his head away. For several minutes, she listened to his soft breathing, her mind whirling with the exciting events of the night and the danger the morning would bring. She wondered how he could fall asleep so quickly when there was so much to worry about, yet, as the adrenalin drained from her blood, she experienced the lethargy that follows extreme tension. The wine Chiana had given her also had a lingering effect, which only became noticeable as she calmed down.

Kerra's eyes grew heavy, and she looked around for somewhere to sleep, frowning at the former assassin, who occupied the only thing that even resembled a bed. She contemplated waking him up and demanding to sleep on it, then recalled the way he had made her shiver with a mere glance. The thought of incurring his wrath daunted her, although her royal upbringing demanded that he should defer to her, even as a deeper instinct warned her not to challenge him. She gazed at him, puzzled and intrigued by this enigmatic man about whom so many legends had sprung up.

According to Chiana, he was the deadliest assassin ever to have lived, and the Regent had never tired of singing his praises all through Kerra's youth. His name had come up often in her studies of recent history, and she had longed to meet him. She had envisioned him bowing to her and calling her his queen, however, not informing her with such cold haughtier that she was no more than an ignorant child. Her anger at his manner had been tempered by the deep respect Chiana had accorded him and the sweetness of his slight, insincere smile. Now she was dependent upon him for her safety, and thought it wise not to provoke his temper. With a sigh, she spread out the old blankets, ignored their musty smell and curled up on them.

Chapter Eight

The sound of voices woke Kerra, and she sat up in alarm. Pale morning light filtered in through the ragged curtain, and the voices came from outside, mixed with the clop of horses' hooves and the rumble of cartwheels on cobbles. Blade stood before the basin, splashing his face. He spared her a cursory, unfriendly glance as he dried his face with a grey towel. His jaw was swollen and blue, and puffy, discoloured flesh ringed one eye. He opened his jacket to inspect the bruises blossoming on his belly, and she looked away.

Pulling a pack from under the cot, he dug in it until he found a new thong with which to lace his jacket. Her eyes were drawn back to him, and she gazed at the scars on his chest. Chiana had told her the story of their infliction by a Cotti torturer just before he had saved her life. A small black dagger was tattooed at the base of his throat, the mark of his trade, and under it was the red tear drop that signified his retirement. A throng of questions clamoured to be asked, but he did not look in a particularly good mood. When he was finished, he went to the door, then paused, as if remembering her.

"I'm going to buy a few things. You stay here."

Blade slipped out before she could reply.

Chiana rose at dawn, after a sleepless night spent tossing and turning, which left her eyes gritty and her head aching. Fighting a strong urge to enquire after her husband, she waited while her maids dressed her, counselling herself to be patient. If he had succeeded, she would know soon enough. Her maids tried their best to hide the increasing ravages of fatigue and worry on her face, but the end result was still fragile and hollow-eyed. The excessive powder made her look sick and pale, but she barely glanced in the mirror, not caring about her appearance. She picked at her breakfast, sipped the tea and left the pastries, her stomach clenched with trepidation.

When her sitting room doors crashed open to admit a furious, red-eyed Endor, it was almost a relief. The savage rage on his face told her that Blade had taken Kerra, and her heart leapt with joy. She did her best to hide it, rising as he marched up to her. Her guards started forward to intercept him, but she waved them away.

"You planned this, you slut! It is all your doing!"

"Planned what, Prince Endor?"

"You know full well!" The prince looked like he had a splitting headache, dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. "That little trollop is gone! Your damned murdering neutered pig of a husband killed my men and fled, taking that bloody girl with him."

"Did he? And what makes you think I had a hand in it?"

"I am certain you have a hand in everything that goes on around here, like the meddling female that you are! You ordered him to take her, did you not?"

Chiana shook her head. "No."

Endor slapped her, sending her staggering, and her guards rushed to defend her. Once again she raised a hand to forestall them, holding her stinging cheek as she faced the prince.

"You will pay for your insolence!" Endor shouted. "When I find that girl, you will be tortured, then executed, along with your damned husband."