Sacred Knight of the Veil (25 page)

As he had expected, the novelty of the adventure had worn off, and the discomforts had become too much for the young queen to bear in silence. He had borne her carping for only a few time-glasses, and she had sulked ever since he had told her to be quiet in a manner that brooked no argument. Having spent most of his life in cities, either on the streets or in taverns, he did not enjoy the hardships any more than she did. He had no idea how to cook a meal, and the fare had consisted of journey bread and dried meat purchased at the towns through which they had passed. They had spent two of the four nights at inns, but when they had been forced to camp beside the road they had endured cold, miserable nights. It reminded him of his youth, and he disliked the memories it evoked, which put him into a foul mood.

The trail ahead levelled off, and they rounded a rocky outcrop to find a sheltered grotto extending into the mountainside. A copse of large-leafed, grey-barked nahin trees filled it, and a stream gurgled from the rocks to drain away across the road. Blade guided his horse off the trail and stopped beside a well-used campsite amongst the trees, whose dense canopy of dark foliage formed a private shelter carpeted with soft leaves. This was the only place for miles around that offered a little shelter and space to get off the narrow trail. So dense was their foliage that nahin trees could even provide shelter from light rain for a few time-glasses.

Several parties could camp here, and there was grazing for the horses. Blade sighed as he slid from the saddle, stretched his legs and rubbed his posterior with a grimace. Unsaddling his mount, he removed its bridle and put a halter on it, then led it to the stream to drink. He tethered it so it could graze and walked back to his saddle to unpack some food.

Kerra tended to her steed with ill-disguised resentment, clearly missing the servants she was used to having around to do all the onerous tasks. The assassin had made it abundantly clear from the outset that he had no intention of helping her with her chores, other than to tell her how to do them. The Queen dumped her saddle on the ground and led her horse over to the stream, leaving Blade beside the ring of stones used for campfires.

The assassin glanced around for the bird, finding the sky empty. When he had first seen it, he had thought it might be a spy, but it had stayed with them ever since, and had not left to report to a human. Now he was certain of what it was, and was curious about its species. He found it perched high in a puffwood tree beside the road, but it was silhouetted against the afternoon sun, and he could make out no details. Putting away the piece of dried meat he had been chewing, he rose and headed into the woods, passing Kerra as she tethered her horse.

"I am going to find firewood," he informed her. "You find some too."

Kerra pulled a face as he turned away, but he did not bother to show that he had seen it. Her childishness amused and annoyed him in turns, but right now he was not in the mood for either. He walked deeper into the copse, gathering a bundle of dry wood. The pickings were slim, forcing him to search further afield. He did not like letting the girl out of his sight, but they had passed no other travellers on the road that day, and if he was right about the bird, she needed to be alone for a while.

When he had collected enough wood, he set the pile down and took the opportunity to do some much needed exercise. If he was forced to protect the Queen, he needed to be fitter than he had ever been, yet he had been unable to do much exercise at all. The prospect of protecting the girl irritated him. He was not a bodyguard, and his skills were not intended for anything other than self-defence. Setting aside his disgruntlement, he bent to press his forehead to his knees and stretch his tendons, easing their stiffness after the day's ride.

After loosening his joints, he performed a series of slow, precise movements that used every muscle. Soon he warmed, and stripped off his jacket, hanging it on a tree. The exercises demanded perfect balance and focus, training his muscles for the rigours of swift movements with slow ones. Many of the graceful motions were used in the Dance of Death, only in this version he never left the ground. When the sweat coursed down him, he stopped, surprised to find that he was still quite fit. He stripped off his shirt and went to the stream to wash in the icy water, emerging refreshed, his skin tingling and muscles jumping. Collecting the fire wood, he headed back to the campsite.

Blade stopped at the edge of the clearing and glanced around for the girl. He found her on the far side, gazing up into the lower branches of a spreading tree. The bird sat there, studying the young Queen in the gathering dusk with fierce, pale blue eyes. Its species surprised him, for he had been expecting a hawk or kestrel. This raptor was easily identifiable from its distinctive plumage. He leant against a tree and smiled at the young queen's tentative attempts to coax the bird down.

The beautiful, deadly direfalcon lived almost entirely on snakes. Its pure white breast contrasted with the silver-grey feathers of its back and wings, the tips of which looked as if they had been dipped in black ink. A black stripe offset its blue eyes much like a robber's mask, blending into the cruelly curved beak. Razor sharp talons tipped its long black toes, and its forked tail was tipped with black as well. The raptor's wingspan exceeded even that of the desert eagle, but it was more lightly built. In spite of this, tales of them carrying off yearling lambs abounded amongst shepherds. The direfalcon suited Kerra, Blade mused, matching her quick temper and superior ways, and he guessed that her compassion would not extend to snake kin.

Blade sauntered to the campsite and dumped the firewood into the ring of stones, making her spin around with a gasp. She raised a finger to her lips.

"Hush, you will frighten him away. Is not he beautiful?"

Blade glanced up at the bird, finding that she was right about its sex. It had the narrow red stripe across its throat that indicated that it was a male. This marking had also led to its being called the cutthroat falcon. The bird stared back at him without fear, as he had expected.

"Do not worry, he is not going to leave now." Blade squatted down to arrange the wood, noticing that Kerra had not gathered any.

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

"Are you a moron, girl? He has been following us since we left Dramali. He is your familiar."

Kerra turned to stare at the bird again, raising a hand to her mouth. "A direfalcon?"

"Indeed."

"What do I do?"

"Nothing. When he is ready he will come to you. Until then, just try to think good thoughts."

She walked closer to the tree, holding up her arms. "Come down, you beautiful creature."

Blade coughed to disguise a chuckle. "I would not advise you to do that, Kerra."

She swung to face him again. "Why not?"

"He is not a cuddly toy. He has talons like razor blades, and although he will not mean to harm you, he may. Tomorrow I will buy you a wrist guard in Faranot."

"But I want to touch him! I want to know his name!"

"All in good time. You cannot rush this. You must let him choose the time and place. It will be better that way."

Kerra gazed at the bird while Blade tried to light the fire with the tinderbox. He found it an annoying contraption, and the sparks it spat never went where he wanted them. Each time he aimed it at the tinder, it spat sparks in another direction. He cursed, wondering if he would have any flint left by the time he had lighted the fire. It pinched his finger, and he dropped it with an oath, sucked the injured appendage and glared at the wood. The direfalcon took wing and sailed away over the trees, leaving Kerra staring after it.

"You frightened him away."

"I did no such thing. It is almost dark. He is gone to find a roost for the night."

She came to sit beside the stone ring. "Why do not I feel any bond with him?"

"You have not touched him yet."

"And then I will?"

"Not straight away. It takes a little time. A few days," he added to answer her next question.

"Where did you meet your familiar?"

"In the woods."

"What happened?" She hesitated. "If you do not mind telling me."

Blade raised a brow at her. "Well, starting to learn some manners, are you?" He sighed and picked up the tinderbox. "I was six years old, and he had been watching me in the forest for several days. One day I tried to touch him, and he ran away. I followed, and soon got lost." He turned the tinderbox's wheel, spraying sparks over his boot. "Rivan came back when I started to cry. It was getting dark, and I was afraid. He led me back to my parents' house, and just before he left, he let me touch him. At that moment, I knew his name and that we would always be together. It was beautiful. The rest you know."

The tinderbox sprayed sparks to the right of the kindling, and he cursed, glancing up at the Queen, who grinned at him.

"What is so amusing?"

"I was trying to imagine you as a small, crying boy, lost in the woods. I cannot."

He smiled. "I remember you as a tiny infant with a little pink face."

"Did my mother... hold me?"

He glanced at her in surprise. "Of course. She doted on you."

"I do not remember her. I have only seen her portrait."

"She was very proud of you."

"But she left me."

"She had no choice."

Kerra frowned. "Yes she did. She chose to die."

"To end the war." He aimed the tinderbox again, and this time the sparks landed on the kindling and a tiny wisp of smoke arose. Blade knelt and blew on it, fanning the sparks to an embryonic flame.

"I would rather she had lived to raise me."

"She wanted to."

"But she did not."

Blade dropped some twigs onto the flames. "If she had not done what she did, Jashimari would have been invaded by Cotti and Contara, and you would not have been born. Your mother was a brave woman."

The girl scowled at the fire, and Blade dug in his pack for the pot he used to boil water for tea. He toyed with the idea of telling her the truth, then discarded it. If he found Minna-Satu, she could tell her daughter herself. It was her secret.

The next morning, the direfalcon returned to watch Kerra from afar as she mounted her horse, then took wing to hover high above. They arrived on the outskirts of the sprawling town of Faranot at mid-afternoon. The town had sprung up around a river that ran out of the mountains, supporting an area of verdure before it sank away into the sand. During the war, Faranot had fallen to the Cotti, and remained in disputed territory.

Blade waited until after dusk to enter the town, wary of the Cotti soldiers who thronged its streets. Under cover of darkness, they found an inn and stabled the horses, then checked in with the Cotti proprietor. Blade asked that a meal be sent to their room, and went straight upstairs, avoiding the taproom with its boisterous Cotti clientele. Being in close proximity with so many Cotti made his skin crawl, and he knew their penchant for stirring up trouble, especially with Jashimari. Although the war was over, resentment still lingered, and most Cotti liked to point out that they had won the war, even though they had never occupied the kingdom.

After dining on bland goat stew, Blade washed in the basin provided and stretched out on the bed, leaving Kerra to curl up on the floor. The Queen squirmed and tossed, trying to make herself comfortable. Raucous singing and laughter came through the floorboards, making it difficult to sleep. As she lay awake in the darkness, she pondered that in all the time she had been out in the world, she had not seen much of it. The assassin kept her close to him at all times, and avoided the company of common people.

In her role as his apprentice, she had received no more than a few incurious glances from the patrons of the various inns at which they had stayed. Blade's simple disguise of boy's clothes, black hair and dirt had proven effective. The singing and stamping, mingled with the faint strumming of a lute and loud gales of laughter, made her wonder what it would be like to sit with the men downstairs. A faint snore from the bed assured her that the assassin slept, and she sat up, rubbing her aching back. What harm could it do, to go down and listen to the entertainment for a while? She was not tired, and the noise was keeping her awake anyway. Blade, she had discovered, could sleep through anything when he was tired, as long as the noise was present when he went to sleep.

Kerra pulled on her boots and crept to the door, lifted the latch and slipped out into the corridor. These days, she slept in her clothes, since she did not use a bed. Closing the door, she walked to the top of the stairs, where she hesitated. If Blade woke and found her gone, he would be furious, and she recalled his threat of punishment if she disobeyed him again. Part of her insisted that even he would not dare lay his hands upon the Queen, however.

Throwing caution to the winds, she descended the stairs and slipped into the taproom, keeping to the back of the room, where no one would notice her. The place was packed with men, mostly Cotti, and a few serving girls braved their pinching, groping hands to serve them ale. A young Jashimari minstrel sat on a stool in the centre of the room, strumming a battered lute, and the Cotti howled the ditty at the top of their voices. Most appeared to be drunk, and some swayed together, their arms around each other's shoulders, waving tankards of ale. Kerra studied the handsome minstrel, who had pale green eyes and thick brown hair. She jumped when someone touched her arm, and turned to find a serving maid smiling at her.

"Ale for the young master?"

Kerra shook her head. "I have no money."

"Ah, that be a shame." The woman winked. "Here, have one on the house. Can't have a handsome lad like you going without, can we?"

The maid thrust a tankard into the Queen's hand and vanished into the crowd before Kerra could refuse. She sipped the beverage, finding it bitter. Leaning against the wall, she watched the minstrel play and listened to the crude ditties. The ale tasted better as she continued to sip it, and soon made her light-headed. She had finished half of it when a Cotti jumped up and attempted to dance, but tripped and spilt his ale over another, who leapt up and grabbed the offender by the throat.