Sacred Knight of the Veil (36 page)

"We must leave this place before anything else goes wrong. Pull out the damned bolt."

She studied him. "You should sit down."

"Just do it."

Kerra lowered her gaze to the blood-encrusted wound and the ugly barbed quarrel that protruded from it. Fresh blood seeped down his arm and dripped from his fingers, staining the sand. Biting her lip, she gripped the sharp barbs and yanked it out, surprised at how firmly it was embedded. Blade hissed and leant against the wall, then slid down it, ending up sitting with his back to it. His pallor alarmed her, noticeable even under the skin dye.

Kerra squatted in front of him and pulled off his jacket, gulping as she studied the wound. It oozed dark blood from both sides of his biceps, and a bruise surrounded it. Tearing a strip from the hem of her jelabah, she bound his arm, ignoring his hiss and the glare he accorded her. When she finished, he turned to watch the horses.

"Fetch the brown dress from the pack and give it to your mother to change into, then go up the stairs to the room at the end of the corridor and bring me my wig. And bring the bag, we are leaving now."

"Should you not rest first?"

"Do you want Trelath to find us?"

"Of course not."

"Then do as I say," he said.

Kerra followed his directions, passing a body sprawled on the stairs and another slumped at the entrance to the room where Minna-Satu had been held prisoner, finding his wig on the floor. Averting her gaze from the swelling corpses, she went to the supply room and collected the bag. When she returned to the courtyard, Blade was redistributing the bags from the pack horse so Minna could ride it. He had changed into his cloth trousers and donned his Jelabah, ready to ride.

Kerra tied the extra bag to her horse, and Minna-Satu emerged from the keep, tottering over to them. Blade handed her one of the shawls, which she arranged into a veil and head covering. Kerra expected him to help the Elder Queen mount, but he indicated that she should. Minna swayed in the saddle, but pushed her feet into the stirrups and managed a wan smile. Blade scanned the crumbling walls with eyes narrowed to slits of silver, a dagger ready in his hand.

A movement jerked his gaze to a wall several yards away, and he flung the weapon as a man's head bobbed up and a crossbow string thrummed. The Cotti screamed and fell backwards as the dagger hit him in the cheek, clawing at the hilt. The quarrel thudded into the Minna's horse's shoulder, making the animal shy and grunt. Kerra clung to the beast's bridle, and Minna hung onto the saddle. Blade ran to the wall and vaulted over it. The soldier rolled about in agony, clutching the protruding hilt.

The dagger was wedged in his jawbone, and he could not pull it free. Blade slit his throat, then tugged the weapon out with some difficulty. After wiping the daggers on the dead man's tabard, he put them back in his belt and returned to the women, stopping beside the Queen's horse to examine its wound. Kerra still clung to its bridle, pale with shock, but Minna had regained her composure.

Blade glanced at Kerra. "Take hold of his ear and twist it hard."

She looked confused. "What for?"

"Just do as I say."

"I have a name," she snapped as she reached up to grip the grey gelding's ear, twisting it until the beast became still. Blade's hand flashed out in a blur, and the protruding quarrel vanished as if by magic. The horse flinched and groaned. Blade threw down the bloody bolt and strode to his horse. Kerra released the unfortunate animal's ear and mounted, following the assassin out of the oasis. The sky darkened as the sun lost its fury, burnishing the sand to deep gold. It seemed crazy to set out so late in the day, but she knew that it would do her no good to complain, especially with Blade in such a foul mood.

The doors to Kerrion's private bathing chamber were thrust open, and Jadar came in, waving a scrap of paper.

"Good news, Sire!"

Kerrion frowned, annoyed to be disturbed in the tub, and gestured to the manservant who was scrubbing his back to stop. "What news?"

"Prince Trelath has been found! A spy who was travelling with a caravan spotted him and his men riding across the desert, and he seemed to be in a great hurry."

Kerrion surged to his feet, slopping soapy water onto the floor. His servants wrapped a towel around him. "When? Where?"

"This morning, Sire. The spy is a man of sparrows, and his familiar delivered the message just minutes ago. Prince Trelath was to the west, some two days journey away. He was heading south."

"Two days!" Kerrion brushed past the advisor and strode into the adjoining room, where a map hung on the wall. His servants tried to dry him while he studied the map, using a finger to trace the various routes across the desert. "Directly west, you say, and heading south?"

"Yes, Sire."

"There is nothing there. Lord Ishmat's keep is north of there, so maybe that is where he was hiding, but there is nothing south of that for hundreds of leagues. If he turns further west, he will encounter the town of Tryanar, but there is nothing else in that area."

Jadar studied the map, frowning. "I am certain there used to be, Sire. In your father's day, I could have sworn there was a keep there."

Kerrion thrust his arm into the tunic a servant held for him, frowning at Jadar. "Then I need an old map. Find me one."

Jadar trotted out, leaving the King to dress. Kerrion knew that the advisor would have to go to the library that held the old archives, where such a map might be found, and chafed with impatience. Almost a time-glass later, Jadar returned, filmed with dust, but triumphant. Kerrion was clad and armoured, giving orders to an officer, who saluted and marched out when Jadar arrived.

Kerrion swung to face him. "You found it?"

"I did, Sire. A very old map indeed, from before your father's time. The keep in question belonged to a Lord Armatar, who insulted King Shandor's honour early on in his reign. King Shandor ordered him and his entire household slain, then torched his estate and salted the wells. The keep was removed from all maps, and Lord Armatar's name stricken from the history books. I remember it because I was here when it happened."

"What was Armatar's crime?"

Jadar pulled a wry face. "He refused to give King Shandor his daughter in marriage. Apparently the girl favoured a young lord, and Armatar had promised her to him. Your father was mortally insulted by Armatar's insistence upon honouring the prior arrangement, and Lord Armatar paid the price."

"And the girl?"

"She was slain with the rest of her family, as well as their servants and livestock. Nothing of Armatar's was spared."

Kerrion took the fragile, dusty map and spread it on a table, tracing long forgotten routes that led to a keep marked boldly where modern maps were blank.

"The perfect hiding place. An estate my father wiped from maps and memory. Even from the grave, he reaches out to harm me. Have a scribe copy this onto a new map so I may take it with me. This one is falling apart."

"Yes, Sire." Jadar gathered up the crumbling parchment and hurried out again.

Kerrion walked over to the window and gazed out of it, narrowing his eyes against the shimmering glare of the pale city. Something had flushed Trelath from hiding, for until now, the Prince had been careful to keep his movements hidden, which was why no spy had found him before. He had probably travelled at night when other travellers were asleep, and his destination proved that he was hurrying to the place where he held Minna captive. The question that ate at Kerrion was why. What had happened to make him break cover and rush across the desert in broad daylight, risking discovery to reach his hostage? The answer he dreaded was that something bad had happened to Minna.

When Jadar returned with the map, Kerrion marched down to the courtyard, where his men awaited him. Within minutes, a cavalcade of mounted men galloped from the palace, an entire platoon of dog soldiers and a company of horsemen. Kerrion led them, his eagle soaring high above amongst a veritable flock of eagles, hawks, falcons and crows.

Chapter Nineteen

Trelath drew rein and dismounted, handing the reins to the soldier who hastened over to take them. Flanked by his highest ranking officers and a trusted advisor who doubled as a healer, he headed towards the keep, his eyes darting about. The place was silent, and seemed to be deserted, which was odd. The message he had received told of the capture of a Jashimari assassin who had come to free the woman. As he neared the keep, it became increasingly obvious that the situation had changed.

The first body he encountered was that of a foot soldier sprawled in the sand just beyond a crumbling wall. The swollen corpse lay in a pool of dried blood, a crossbow clutched in his stiff fingers. He had a wound in his face, and his throat had been slit. One of the officers squatted to examine the corpse, rising to meet the Prince's enquiring gaze with a solemn expression.

"He has been dead for at least two days, my prince."

Trelath pulled out a lacy, scented handkerchief and held it over his nose. "Send some men to dig a grave. Perhaps the others are still alive."

The officer looked towards the keep and pointed. "There are two more bodies there, my prince."

Trelath went over to them, keeping his distance as the stench hit him in a wave. Flies blackened the dead men's faces, but a brown wolf guarded one corpse, identifying it as that of the squad's leader. Trelath walked past and entered the keep, a faint hope still lingering in his heart. Reaching the room his men had used as a dormitory, Trelath entered it, and recoiled as the stink of rot made him gag, stumbling back into the corridor.

Almost trotting, he passed the supply room and headed for the stairs, where he found a fourth corpse sprawled. He continued to the room where the Jashimari woman had been held, his dread growing. A sentry lay crumpled across the doorway, his throat slit, the room beyond empty. He walked down the steps and stopped in the centre of the room, holding the handkerchief over his nose.

The cushions still bore the indents of the woman's body, and a blackened area showed that a fire had been lighted there. The shackles lay open on the floor, although the key still resided in his pocket. He stared out of the window at the dying trees while he waited for the rest of his men to join him. If the woman returned to Kerrion, all his plans would fail, and he did not doubt that his brother would find many ways in which to punish him. This was something for which he had not bargained.

The two officers entered, followed by his advisor, who paused to study the sentry's corpse. They presented themselves before him and bowed, clearly fearful of his wrath.

"Well?" he demanded.

"All the men are accounted for, my prince," the senior officer stated. "They are all dead."

"How?"

The officer glanced at the advisor, Erron, who hypothesised, "I believe that they were killed by two men, and they used daggers."

"You expect me to believe that a dozen of my best soldiers were killed by two men? How is that possible?"

"Well, the men in the dormitory were killed while they slept, all save one, who appears to have been awake, though it did him no good. The sentry was also killed while asleep. The men in the courtyard died with swords in their hands, so they fought the intruders and lost.

"The man in the empty room downstairs seems to have attempted to put up a fight as well, but with little success. I found a strap on the floor, as if a prisoner had been kept there. The one beyond the wall had a crossbow, but was also killed with a dagger, and the other also fought his assailant. The only exception is the man on the stairs, who appears to have been killed by a sand cat."

Trelath glared out of the window, only the flaring of his nostrils betraying his ire. "And what do you deduce from all this? How could two men kill all those soldiers?"

"I would say that they came here at night and slew the sleeping soldiers, then the sentry, freeing the woman. They left the keep and encountered the two men in the courtyard, perhaps surprising them. One was then captured and imprisoned in the room downstairs. That was when the message was despatched. He was freed by his accomplice, who slew the soldier who guarded him."

"And where was the woman?"

"I would venture to say that she fled, My Prince."

Trelath waved a hand. "Continue."

"They went in search of the woman, and encountered the man who fought them with a sword, and finally the soldier with the crossbow."

"You have not explained how they managed it."

The advisor turned to the officer beside him. "In that matter I defer to Captain Ambar."

Trelath pinned the officer with a glare, and Ambar cleared his throat. "My prince, the men were assassins, as the message clearly said. They killed six men while they slept, in an assassin's cowardly manner."

"But the other six were wide awake, I assume."

"Yes, my prince. They were all stabbed or had their throats cut. A man who is skilled with a dagger is a formidable opponent, and I would venture that these assassins were exceptionally skilled."

"When you have quite finished singing their praises, Captain..."

"My prince, a man who can hit a moving target with a dagger is more than a match for a warrior with a sword, since a swordsman must get close enough to use his weapon."

"They were wearing armour," Trelath growled.

"They were struck in the throat or face. The assassins must have been carrying a number of daggers, at least four each."

"I have never heard of two assassins working together." Trelath remarked. "And the man who guarded the prisoner allowed this other assassin to take him by surprise?"

"He may have let his attention wander, Highness. Or perhaps it was dark. Assassins are renowned for their ability to sneak about in the dark."

"They were lax!" The Prince roared. "All of them! The sentry was asleep! They let him escape through sheer incompetence. If they were not dead, I would have them all flayed and strung out on the sand. Where is the boy? Bring me that damned slave boy. Find him!"