Sacred Knight of the Veil (38 page)

"No, you would not," Kerrion agreed, turning to glare at the pale Prince. "So much for your lame story. My wife has been taken, has she not? The assassin who slew your men took her."

Trelath shook his head. "An assassin tried to free her, but he was killed. My men have her."

"Then where is his body?"

"They disposed of it, threw it down the well."

"You are lying!"

"No. The squad I sent to relieve these men found him as he was leaving with your wife, and they killed him."

Kerrion swung away and left the room to escape the stench, drawing a deep breath of clean air outside. He turned to face Trelath again.

"If you are lying, I will know soon enough."

Trelath smirked. "She is safe, so long as you do as you are told, brother. Find your daughter and send her to Endor, then you will get your precious slut back."

The King's hand cracked across Trelath's face, making him yelp and clutch his ear. "Once I have her back, every insult to her person will be avenged tenfold in kind, brother. Remember that, when you contemplate harming her."

Kerrion marched away down the corridor, heading for the courtyard. His officers trotted after him, catching up as he reached his horse, and he paused to address the colonel.

"Have him followed, and if he sends a messenger, have it followed. If he knows where she is, he will lead us to her eventually, if not, she will be returned."

"You think he still has her, Sire?"

"No. But I cannot risk locking him up, if he does."

"We also found a young Jashimari slave boy, hiding in the keep. What shall we do with him?"

Kerrion ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Bring him with us. When this is over, Trelath will be punished for keeping a slave, too. He will be a witness."

"Yes, Sire. Where are we going now?"

The King pondered, squinting across the shimmering desert. "After two days, her trail is gone. There is no hope of following it, is there?"

"No, Majesty."

"You will divide the men and search all the towns around here. Trelath's new hideout cannot be as good as this one was. We have more chance of finding her now. Someone might have seen her. I am returning to Jadaya with a squad of men. If she has been freed, he will take her there."

"Who, Sire?"

Kerrion smiled. "The Queen's Blade, colonel. He is the only man I know who kills in such a distinctive manner, and with such ease. If you should find him, be sure not to harm him. I want him alive and well, understand?"

"Yes, Sire."

Chapter Twenty

Blade gazed out of the window of a shoddy inn at the sandy street that ran through the ramshackle town in which he had chosen to rest while Minna recovered from the four-day journey that had brought them here. After three days, she looked a little stronger, and his wounds were healing with the aid of a revolting potion and poultice that a local healer had supplied. He reflected that all his injuries over the years had resulted in him ingesting a vast variety of foul concoctions, each worse than the one before. This latest one tasted like goat excrement and camel piss, in his opinion.

The ride through the desert had taken its toll on all of them, sapped the last of Minna's strength and even exhausted the apparently tireless sand cat. Myasha alone had been unaffected, soaring high above on broad wings, his sharp eyes scanning the terrain ahead. Minna-Satu was most impressed with Kerra's familiar, and admired the direfalcon, making Kerra swell with pride. A little arrogance had returned to the girl's manner, and Minna encouraged her, to Blade's annoyance. He had renewed his disguise before they reached the town. A fresh coat of dye darkened his skin, and the blond wig was glued on once more. The moustache tickled his nose, and he fought the urge to scratch it. Minna wore his other blond wig, and her skin had been tinted to a Cotti's golden hue.

The town had sprung up on a trade route crossroad to service the needs of travellers. It abounded with nomadic bandits and merchants, and its governor was a lord who dwelt in a modest keep just outside it. Three more strangers would not be noticed, and it was far enough from Trelath's hideout that it would not be the first place he searched. The horses were installed in the local livery, which was nothing more than a picket line in the shade of a few palm trees.

Three days of baths, comfortable beds and good food had restored them to better health. Blade glanced at the queens, who lay on Minna's bed, engaged in a murmured conversation punctuated by occasional giggles. He would have liked to have left the town yesterday, but Minna's health was still fragile, forcing him to delay their departure. She seemed delighted with her daughter, and the two had spent most of their time talking, catching up on all the events they had missed in each other's lives. They had invited Blade to join in, but he had declined, having no interest in their experiences or sharing his own.

Blade's aloofness had disappointed Kerra, but Minna had smiled, obviously expecting his refusal. Shista snored in a corner, and Myasha roosted on the perch provided for avian familiars. Blade rubbed his aching arm and returned his attention to the street outside, watching the traffic. He longed to be back on the trail, heading for Jadaya and the completion of his mission, then back to Jashimari to collect his reward. Being cooped up in a stuffy inn disagreed with him, even one with good food and a relatively comfortable room. The spaciousness and comfort of the inn had surprised him, for the exterior was far humbler.

The following day, his vigil at the window resumed, and at midday his worst fears were realised when a squad of Trelath's troops rode into town and questioned people in the street. When they reached the inn, the proprietor would betray the trio. He toyed with the idea of bribing the innkeeper, but he seemed like the sort of man who would take the money and betray them anyway, and Blade's funds were running low. While the soldiers were still on the far side of town, he slipped across to the livery and got the horses, taking them to the back of the inn. Minna and Kerra met him there, leaving the tavern through the kitchens to avoid alerting the proprietor, who sat in the front room. The soldiers would waste time searching the inn, giving them a longer head start.

They rode hard for several time-glasses, using whatever firm ground they could find. Minna's horse had recovered from its wound, proving itself to be a hardy and vigorous animal. Myasha scouted behind, finding no sign of the soldiers. Nevertheless, Blade rode well into the night, heading for a town two days ride away, since Jadaya was six days journey to the east, and they did not have sufficient supplies to reach it.

They set off again at dawn the next day, but were soon forced to stop and endure several time-glasses of misery when a sandstorm found them. They sat with their backs to the wind, their eyes shut and cloths over their noses to keep out the stinging sand. By the time the storm passed, Blade was certain he had lost several layers of skin, although the queens looked unscathed. The sand storm had delayed them, but it had also erased their trail, and when Myasha scouted, he found no sign of Trelath's men.

What he did find was a band of nomads to the west, on a parallel course. Blade set off at once, hoping to avoid them, and they came no closer, apparently heading for the same town. When they camped that night, Blade was uneasy. Had he been alone, he would have continued to ride, but the women needed rest, especially Minna-Satu. He kept watch for several time-glasses, but was forced to join the women in the tent and get some sleep. He found sharing such a confined space with two women disturbing, for he was used to sleeping alone. Even though he was tired, the uneasiness nagged at him, keeping him awake for a while.

Blade woke with a jerk and sat up in the darkness to listen. His nerves jangled, and familiar frissons of alarm went through him, subtle warnings that had dragged him from a deep sleep. Distant, muffled hoof beats reached him over the women's soft breathing, and he turned his head towards the sounds. Minna and her daughter shared a blanket, while he slept as far away from them as he could in the small tent. Their soft sounds had dulled his senses to the slight noise that had woken him far later than it would have, had he been alone. He listened to the hoof beats, which approached at a walk, and were still quite distant. Mingled with the thudding hooves was the jingle of harness. The uneasiness that had plagued him earlier was far stronger, and all his instincts warned of impending danger. He woke Minna, placing a finger on her lips to still her questions.

Leaning closer, he whispered, "There is someone outside. Stay here, no matter what you hear, and keep Kerra quiet."

Minna nodded, and he crawled to the tent's opening, where he paused. All his instincts and training warned him that danger lurked outside, and he did not want to be caught in the tent. As he slithered from its shelter, he sensed the presence of several men close by in the darkness. Their stealthy approach was due to the soft sand, which muffled their cautious steps and had allowed them to get so close without him hearing them. The moon had set, and only starlight illuminated the night.

Pulling the daggers from his belt, he moved forward on his belly, seeking cover. There was none in the desert, however, and all he could do was keep close to the ground. A few paces from the tent, he stopped and listened to the furtive footsteps of several men, straining to spot them in the moonlight. A figure revealed itself, no more than a dark shape in the gloom, and he raised himself, took aim, and threw a dagger. The man collapsed with a gurgle, clawing at his throat, and Blade sank down, remaining still as everyone froze.

Several minutes passed, then a shadowy figure crept towards the fallen man, whispering a query. Blade flung his second dagger, and a blood-curdling scream followed the thud of its striking as the man fell backwards with a black hilt protruding from his chest. Blade reached for the daggers in his boots, and the night erupted into a confusion of shouts and running figures as the attackers sought the enemy in their midst. Taking advantage of the commotion, he rose and confronted a man, no more than a shadow himself in the darkness.

The stranger died with a hand-span of cold steel through his heart, his eyes wide with surprise. Blade jerked the weapon free and turned to find another victim, picking them off like a wolf in a herd of sheep. Two more died before one saw his intent before he struck and shouted a warning, leaping back to avoid the dagger aimed at his heart. Blade went after him, the soft sand hampering him, and his opponent drew a dagger and stood his ground.

The assassin paused, surprised to find himself facing another dagger man, then threw a dagger, and the man dropped with a cry of pain. After retrieving his weapon, Blade slid down the dune to the harder ground at the bottom, drawing the attackers after him. He longed for the protection of his leather garb, for he wore only a cotton vest and cloth trousers, and the night air was freezing.

Lying in the shadow of the dune, he listened to his pursuers' shouts, reflecting that he was always the quarry in these situations. Two men ran over to the body of the man he had just slain, cursing and muttering. Blade waited for them to come after him, since his footprints were clearly visible in the sand next to the corpse. To his surprise, they went back towards the tent. Blade cursed and started up the dune after them.

Screams ripped through the night, and Blade broke into a run, labouring through the soft sand. A group of bandits stood near the tent, and two dragged the struggling women from it. Usually the assassin would have slipped away into the night, uncaring of those he left behind, but now they were his responsibility, and although the temptation to leave was strong, he fought it.

Walking into danger was not something he made a habit of, however, it tended to be bad for the health. The situation was hopeless. More than a dozen men stood around the tent, far too many for him to defeat. The bandits lighted lamps to inspect their prizes, and Kerra screamed his name at the top of her lungs, shouting obscenities and insults in between. Blade crouched behind the crest of a dune, watching the men.

To walk in there now would be suicide. He had a far better chance of freeing the queens if he hid until an opportunity presented itself. The crack of a hand on a cheek put an end to Kerra's shrieks, and Blade winced and peered over the dune. The men examined and bound the queens, while Shista prowled amongst the crowd. Minna had wisely prevented the sand cat from taking action, it seemed. He searched for the direfalcon, wondering if Kerra had as much sense as her mother, but the bird was almost blind in the dark, and still perched atop a saddle.

A shriek made Blade's scalp prickle, and a string of obscenities from Kerra followed, then her shout, "Blade! Blade, show yourself or they will hurt me again!"

The assassin cursed foully as he was thrust into a quandary, but one he should have expected, had he thought about it. Normally such tactics would not have worked on him, for no one was important enough to force him to do anything to save them. If he did not save the queens, however, the kingdoms would be plunged back into war, and he would not get his reward.

Yet if he gave himself up, the bandits would surely kill him. He had just slain six of their comrades, so they would not spare him, and he had no taste for self-sacrifice, especially since they would torture him before they gave him a slow and painful death. Another shriek from Kerra made his hair bristle, and he moved around the dune, keeping low.

Since giving himself up would achieve nothing save his demise, he must try to free the queens while he had the chance. Creeping along like a shadow, he circled the camp towards the horses, which he could use for cover, and where his crossbow resided in his pack. The bandits argued amongst themselves, and a woman's voice amid the deep male murmur surprised him.

Reaching a point beyond the horses, he crept towards them, his eyes on the packs that lay close by. He had almost reached them when the sand on either side of him erupted. Two men burst from it and lunged at him, knives in their fists. Blade leapt back, straightened and lashed out with a foot, sending one man spinning away with a grunt. The other rushed at him, and Blade spun aside, his dagger slicing the man's arm. The bandit shouted, and his cohorts rushed towards them as the assassin turned to run.