The Queen's Blade Prequel II - God Touched (19 page)

“
Go to the market and buy me a woman's wig and a long-sleeved
dress, a large one.”

She looked
puzzled. “What for? Wait!” She held up a hand when he opened his
mouth. “Let me guess. None of my business?”

“
Correct. You may keep the change, but don't buy cheap
goods.”

“
Now?”

“
Yes, now.”

Lilu pouted,
but pocketed the coins and headed for the door. Blade leant back
and sipped his wine, regretting that he had thrown away the wig and
dress from Graleth's assassination. At least he had kept the rest
of the items.

Sensing a
presence, he looked up, surprised to find a Watch commander
standing over him. Many of the taproom's patrons gazed at the
commander with open curiosity, and the two assassins looked
suspicious. The weather-beaten man sank onto the bench opposite,
his leathery face set in lines of deep resentment. A harvester
beetle clung to his lapel like a badge, its iridescent wing cases
jewel-like against his dull brown uniform. He leant closer, his
black eyes glinting.

“
I dislike being forced to buy your services,
assassin.”

Blade tilted
his head. “I can see that. What forces you?”

“
A murderer. He has eluded my men for two moons now, and
murders every other night. Women, mostly, and a few children,
mainly street urchins, but still... he must be stopped.”

“
Why can't your men catch him?”

“
He's a damned ghost. No one ever sees him.”

“
That means you can't describe him, and nor can you name him or
give me his location, all of which are required before you may hire
me.”

The Watch
commander's scowl grew fiercer. “There's only one explanation for
his prowess, Dance Master. He's one of your kind.”

Blade shook
his head. “Impossible. The Guild would have ordered his death.”

“
Then he must be from another city, come here to kill with
impunity.”

“
Possibly. But since you can't meet my requirements, I can't
oblige.”

“
Perhaps you should ask your elders how pleased they'll be if
my men start arresting assassins.”

Blade frowned.
“How can I kill a man I can't find, any more than your men can
arrest him?”

“
Find a way. Ask your fellows to help, I don't care. I want him
dead.” The Watch commander banged a bag on coins on the table.
“Twenty goldens. Ten now, the rest when he's dead.”

Blade eyed the
purse. “I can't guarantee that I'll find him.”

“
Then I'll expect a refund.”

“
I may kill the wrong man.”

“
So be it. Then you keep trying. He kills in the slums, in the
dead of night. Mostly around the Twine District.”

The assassin
sighed. “Make it fifty goldens, and I'll see what I can do.”

“
Fine. Forty when it's done.”

“
That's a lot to pay to save a few unwanted urchins and
whores.”

“
Last tenday he slew Lady Emrith, who ministers to the poor in
that area. Her husband is enraged.”

“
Ah.” Blade nodded. “And Lord Emrith has the Queen's
ear.”

“
My orders come from Captain Redgard, commander of the palace
guard.”

“
To hire me?”

“
To do whatever it takes to kill this man.” The commander rose
to his feet. “I want his body. Bring it to a Watch station and tell
them who you are.”

“
And be arrested? I think not.”

“
You won't be. And if you are, not for very long.”

“
My trade doesn't include carting around bodies, Commander. I
leave them where they lie, for your men to find. So shall it be.
I'll inform them of its location, no more.”

“
Very well.”

Blade scowled
at the commander's broad back as he headed for the door, disliking
his newest assignment. Especially when he already had a booking.
Then again, he did not necessarily have to do it himself. Raising a
hand, he beckoned to one of the assassins who sat in another gloomy
corner. The man hesitated, clearly surprised, then rose and
approached, looking wary. Blade gestured to the bench opposite, and
the assassin sat down.

“
Have you a name?” Blade asked.

“
Slayer.”

“
How appropriate. I have a job for you. Ten goldens to slay the
man who's killing whores and urchins in the Twine District. No, I
don't know his name or what he looks like, nor do I have his
address. That's the job, take it or leave it.”

Slayer licked
his lips. “I'll take it.”

“
Good.” Blade slapped five goldens on the table. “When he's
dead, tell me where his body is. Off you go.”

“
Quick or -”

“
Don't be a bloody idiot. Just kill him, you dolt.”

Slayer
scowled, but scooped up the coins and left. Blade settled back and
sipped his wine.

The next
night, Blade donned the whore's disguise in his rooms, inspecting
himself in the mirror. Lilu had bought a tasteless bright pink
cotton dress with white ruffles, large enough to fit Blade's
shoulders, and a belt cinched his waist above the swaddling that
gave him womanly hips. The berry juice, eye colour and powder he
applied transformed him into the beautiful feminine stranger he had
seen in the mirror before. He arranged the long, wavy brown wig
into a fetching style with bangs to soften his face. Cheap baubles
glinted on his neck and wrists, where long sleeves hid his daggers.
Anointing himself with cheap perfume, he twirled in front of the
mirror, making the water bag bosom bounce. Fortunately, Lord
Rothwayer had a taste for robust girls.

On his way to
the mansion after dusk, he waylaid Rothwayer's whore, rendered her
senseless with a throat pinch and hid her in an alley. The gate
guards let him in without challenge, since Rothwayer used many
harlots. A liveried manservant led Blade through magenta halls
decorated with drab portraits and family banners to a bedchamber
whose decor was just as dull as the corridor's. A fire roared in
the grate and lamps lighted the room and the man who sat before the
fire, toasting his feet.

Lord Rothwayer
looked up when Blade entered, raking him with a measuring glance.
“My, you are a pretty one.”

“
Thank you, Milord.” Blade hung his head with a shy smile,
striving to appear humble and eager to please.

Rothwayer
gestured to a plush, velvet-upholstered chair beside his. “Sit.
Will you have some wine?”

Blade sank
onto the chair, arranging his skirts, and shot Rothwayer a coy
look. “Does Milord always pamper us girls like this?”

“
Some more than others, especially the pretty ones.” Rothwayer
poured a second cup of wine. “Are you in a hurry?”

“
Not especially, but the keeper's expecting me back to work
'afore too long.”

“
Of course.” Rothwayer studied him. “You could do better than a
seedy whorehouse, girl. Have you a name?”

“
Shelma.”

“
Lovely. Drink up then, so we can... play a little.”

Blade sipped
the rich, almost woody dry red wine. It would be more pleasant to
pass the time before he killed Rothwayer, he decided. Waiting
beside a cooling corpse was not his idea of fun. Rothwayer stared
into the fire, apparently lost in contemplation. He seemed like a
decent fellow, Blade mused, one who probably did not rape the
trollops he hired. Nevertheless, caution was always prudent.
Rothwayer glanced at him.

“
Feel free to remove your clothes whenever you wish, my dear.
You know my preferences, I assume?”

Blade hid his
shock behind a smile, averting his eyes. “They told me, yes,
although I'm a bit bashful, Milord.”

“
Well now, that will not do, dear girl. You are here to
entertain me.”

“
Yes, Milord. Don't you want to touch me too?”

“
All in good time. It helps if you are unclothed.”

“
I'd feel better if you helped.”

Rothwayer
sighed and cast Blade an irritated glance. “Why did they send a
girl who does not know how to disrobe?”

“
Oh, I do, Milord, I just think it'll be more fun if you helped
me. Then I can undress you too.” Blade put down his wine and rose,
approaching Rothwayer.

The lord
looked annoyed. “I did not tell you to come to me yet, girl. You
are too bold.”

“
I am that, I've been told.” Blade knelt beside Rothwayer's
chair, shooting a quick glance at the snow-white ghost owl that sat
on a perch beside the bed, its wide blue eyes fixed on him. Placing
a hand on Rothwayer's knee, he released the dagger from his other
wrist sheath and let it slide into his hand. He raised his head and
smiled at Rothwayer, who licked his lips and returned it in a
rather pathetic manner.

“
Gods, girl, you are lovely.” His voice was hoarse, almost a
croak.

Blade raised
the dagger, which glinted in the firelight.

Rothwayer's
eyes widened, and he stiffened in alarm. “What are you doing?”

“
I'm not here to entertain you,” Blade said in his own voice.
“I'm here to kill you.”

“
Who are you? Why do you want to kill me?” Rothwayer did not
seem to notice the change in the timbre of Blade's
voice.

“
You're the only person I can share my little secret with,
Rothwayer, because in a few moments you'll be dead. I'm the Master
of the Dance, Blade.”

“
You... Who sent you?”

“
In truth, I don't know. A messenger brought the request for
your death, along with a great deal of money. Someone rich would be
a safe bet.”

“
I shall double it.”

Blade tilted
his head. “I am not for sale when my services have already been
engaged. How would that look, if victims were able to buy their
lives? Not good, I'd say. No, you are going to die. Don't bother
shouting for your guards, you'll die the instant you open your
mouth.”

“
You are her. The woman who killed Graleth.”

“
In a manner of speaking, except I am not a woman, so don't
imagine that you can overpower me. One foolish move and I snuff you
out.”

“
What are you waiting for?”

Blade
shrugged. “For enough time to pass so my leaving won't be
suspicious. How long do you usually spend with a whore? A
time-glass, by my observations.”

“
Something like that... Could I hire you, Blade, before you
kill me?”

“
That's never been done before.”

“
Probably because most assassins do not talk to their victims
first.”

“
Possibly.” Blade considered. “I don't see why not. There's no
rule against it, and you don't know who hired me.”

“
Why are you talking to me?”

“
It's better than waiting beside your corpse, and you forced me
to make my move when you ordered me to undress.”

“
Of course. So, will you assassinate Fremen Demar?”

“
For fifty goldens, yes. I shall expect it all in advance,
obviously.”

“
Yes, of course. It is in my desk. He is a wealthy merchant
from the Cloth District, and he wants to wed my daughter for her
status, but she hates him, and he is a commoner. If I die, she will
be at his mercy. My wife will not be able to prevent him. I suspect
that he is the man who hired you.”

Blade frowned.
“I don't require a reason for the kill. If he is my client, I may
have trouble with the Guild, though. How much money do you have in
that desk?”

“
A hundred goldens.”

“
I will do it for that, no less.”

Rothwayer
shrugged. “Help yourself; you could once I am dead, in any
case.”

“
I am not a thief.” Blade tilted his head, his curiosity
getting the better of him. “Why can your daughter not refuse to wed
him?”

“
Oh, she did, but with me gone, I think Fremen will ravish her,
get her with child and claim her by right of offspring. He is a
vile man. If he did that now, I would, of course, report him to the
Watch, but my wife... is not a strong woman. He will threaten her,
and my sons are too young. I love my wife. She almost died birthing
our youngest, which is why we cannot risk her falling pregnant
again. That is why I must use whores.”

“
You could go without. Do not seek to soften my heart with
pitiful tales of your misfortune, it will not work.”

“
I see that.” Rothwayer sighed. “You have suffered misfortunes
too, I suspect. That is why you can disguise yourself so well as a
woman, is it not? Who did it to you?”

“
None of your damned business.”

“
You are right. I apologise.”

“
Give me the address of this Fremen, and what he looks
like.”

“
He dwells at Eighteen Brightman Way, and he is middle-aged and
bald, with a hooked nose and sunken eyes. He is vulture kin, but he
is Shunned.”

Blade stood
up. “Fetch the money, it is almost time.”

Rothwayer
rose, his face pale, and went over to the carved coalwood desk that
stood in a corner. He drew out a heavy purse and handed it to the
assassin, who hefted it before stuffing it into his bodice.

Rothwayer
faced him. “Will it hurt?”