The Queen's Blade Prequel II - God Touched (2 page)

Taking out the
purse she had stolen earlier, she emptied it onto the table and
counted ten goldens. A small fortune, but healers were expensive,
and he would need a good one if he was ever to walk without a limp
again. Although she was deathly tired, and ached from the abuse of
her clients earlier at the brothel, she rose and picked up a shawl.
The best doctor she knew of lived on the Queen's Boulevard, a fair
distance away. She paused to gaze down at him, noting the pink
blotches all over his torso, arms, thighs and the side of his face
that would become bruises over time.

It took her a
time-glass to walk to the Queen's Boulevard, and a great deal of
pounding on the brass-studded door before a puffy-eyed middle-aged
woman wearing a furious scowl and a frilly bedcap opened it. Lilu's
demand to see the healer made the woman's frown more thunderous,
and it was not until the harlot flashed a golden at her that she
went to summon her husband. The tall, balding man with a saturnine
face and sunken eyes appeared in a rumpled jacket and trousers,
carrying his bag.

“
What's the problem?” he demanded.

“
A man's been beaten almost to death.”

The healer
grunted. “Broken bones?”

“
An arm and a leg, as far as I can tell.”

The doctor
vanished into a side passage and re-emerged with another, bigger
bag, then followed her back to her hovel. He looked disgusted when
she showed him into its shabby confines, where the Dance Master lay
on the bed, bathed in candlelight. He had not moved. Lilu gazed at
him while the doctor set down his bags and approached the bed. His
brows drew together when he caught sight of the tattoo.

“
He's a damned assassin.”

“
So? He needs your help.”

“
I don't treat bloody assassins.” He picked up his bags and
headed for the door.

“
Wait!” Lilu cried. “I can pay you... a lot.”

The doctor
paused, scowling. “It would cost you a lot.”

“
How much?”

“
Five goldens.”

“
All right.”

He looked
disbelieving and chagrined. Clearly he had hoped that she could not
afford it. “Where would you get that much money?”

“
I have it. It's his.” She nodded at the youth on the bed.
“He's the Dance Master of Jondar.”

“
All the more reason to let him die.”

“
Please!”

His eyes
narrowed, becoming calculating. “Seven goldens.”

“
Six.”

“
No.”

“
All right, seven.”

The doctor
dumped his bag again and approached the bed, sitting beside the
assassin to touch the side of his neck. “He's in shock. Did he lose
a lot of blood?”

“
He was bleeding from his head, but it was dark in the alley so
I couldn't see how much he lost. He's been stabbed,
too.”

The doctor
glanced up at her. “Bring me a basin of boiled water and rags.”

Lilu's heart
sank. “I-I can't get that now, it's the middle of the night.”

“
He'll have to take his chances then, but don't blame me if he
dies of a fever.”

Lilu sank down
on the rickety chair while the healer examined his patient,
grunted, sighed and clicked his tongue. He washed the stab wounds
and stitched them, then the deep wound in the youth's scalp. He
straightened the assassin's nose with a deft twist and crunch,
examined his face but found no crushed bones, then moved down to
his chest, where he reported three broken ribs. Lilu dozed while he
placed casts on the Dance Master's arm and leg, dressed his wounds
and strapped his chest. She snapped awake when he straightened with
a groan, rubbing his back.

“
That's the best I can do for him.”

“
Will he walk without a limp?”

“
I have no idea. If he's lucky, maybe.”

“
He must dance again.”

He snorted. “I
doubt that. He's lucky to have survived.”

The healer
packed away his implements and placed two bottles on the bedside
table. “That's a tonic, and the other one's to rub on his wounds.
Don't get them mixed up.”

Lilu nodded,
her eyes drooping with fatigue.

“
I'll take my money now.”

Wearily she
counted seven goldens into his palm, and he picked up his bags and
left. Lilu sat beside the bed for a while, stroked the assassin's
cheek and willed him to get better, then spread a blanket on the
floor and fell asleep on it.

Chapter Two

When Lilu woke
just before noon the next day, she was relieved to find the
assassin still alive, although he had not moved. The foul smell
still hung about him, and his clothes reeked. She bundled them up
and took them to the wash house down the road to scrub them,
hanging them up in her room upon her return. Fetching a basin of
warm water from the kitchen, she used the grey towel to wipe all
those parts of him that were not covered with bandages, dressings
or casts.

In the
process, she removed his last vestment and discovered that the
reason for his lack of a beard was not extreme youth. His
mutilation shocked and saddened her. Who would do such a thing to a
man, and why? It seemed a particularly cruel thing to do,
especially to one so young. Sacred Knights underwent voluntary
castration, but she doubted that the Dance Master had submitted
willingly.

In the
afternoon, she bought a bowl of watery soup from the tavern at the
end of the street and propped her patient up on the pillows to
spoon it into his mouth. He swallowed on reflex, consuming most of
it. Satisfied that she had done all she could, she went to the
brothel to earn her keep, returning in the early hours, as always.
The assassin still had not moved, but his skin remained cool and
dry. As she lay down to sleep on the floor, she thought about her
children, in the care of the fishwife down the road. She must go
and visit them again soon; she missed them.

Five days
later, Lilu bustled around her shabby room, tidying up. She had
long since packed the assassin's clothes away in the sagging
cupboard, and he lay as still as ever, the sheet covering him to
his chest. She fed him nourishing broth every day, wiping away what
spilt down his chin. Sometimes he twitched and his eyelids
fluttered, making her catch her breath. Two days ago, he had
developed a raging fever and tossed and moaned, soaking the sheets
with sweat. She had been forced to call the healer again, and pay
him five more goldens to overcome his reluctance. It had used up
all her savings, and she had had to work harder to survive.

A soft groan
made her swing around, the damp rag she was using to wipe the dusty
shelves clutched to her chest. The assassin had turned his head to
the side. She crept closer, her heart hammering. Her enquiries at
the fish market had told her that his name was Blade, and his
reputation, according to gossip, was as fearsome as it was
mysterious. How could one who was God Touched be a killer? She
wished that he would wake up, but also dreaded it. At least she
knew assassins did not kill without a client, so she was safe.

The assassin
turned his head again, and his eyes opened a slit. Lilu held her
breath, creeping closer still. Blade's eyes flicked up to her, and
their frigid greyness made her shiver. He raised his head and
grimaced, sagging back, then licked his lips and coughed.

“
Where am I?”

Lilu took the
last few steps and sank down on the bed at his side. “You're in my
room on Tarbriar Way.”

He scowled.
“Who are you?”

“
My name's Lilu, and I found you in Pitcairn Alley, more dead
than alive. Someone tried to beat you to death.”

“
I don't remember.” He looked down to the sheets that covered
all but his arms, his eyes lingering on the cast. “How badly am I
injured?”

“
You have a broken arm and leg, three broken ribs, two stab
wounds and a cut on your head. I paid a doctor to splint your bones
and bought his tonic and salve. Oh, and your nose was broken. The
healer fixed that too.”

He stared at
the ceiling, grimacing as he tried to move his broken limbs. Sweat
popped out on his brow, and he hissed. “How about something for the
pain?”

“
I can't afford it, and you were asleep anyway.”

“
I wasn't asleep, I was unconscious.”

“
Same thing.”

“
No it isn't. Why did you bring me here?”

“
You needed help,” she said. “You would have died if I'd left
you there.”

“
Then you should have.” He pulled a face. “God, why does it
taste like something died in my mouth?”

“
You've been unconscious for five days.” She frowned. “Why
would you want to die?”

“
None of your business.”

“
I think it is my business, since I went to so much trouble,
not to mention expense, to save you.”

“
You shouldn't have bothered.”

“
But I did, and I can't get my money back now.”

His icy eyes
impaled her. “Then you're a fool.”

“
I couldn't just leave you there to die.”

“
Yes you could. I would have. I'd have spat on me too, for good
measure. Nothing quite so satisfying as a dead assassin.” He
smiled. “You do know I'm an assassin, don't you?”

The singular
sweetness of his expression transfixed her, even though it did not
reach his eyes. “Yes, I know all about you.”

His smile
vanished. “So, you've been prying. I'll wager you didn't know when
you brought me home, though, huh?”

“
It wouldn't have made any difference.”

He snorted.
“Yes it would. You thought I might be a wealthy merchant, I
suppose, worth money to his family if you saved him. Where's my
purse?”

“
I spent the money in it, and I wasn't prying!” Lilu glared at
him, floundering to keep up with his accusations and
insults.

“
Of course you did. I'll bet you bought some frocks and
baubles, didn’t you?”

“
No! I used it to pay the doctor, and it still wasn't enough.
He wouldn't tend your injuries until I paid him seven
goldens.”

“
So there should be three goldens left.”

“
There would be,” she said, “except I had to pay him another
five when you had a fever two days ago.”

“
And you expect me to believe that?”

“
It's the truth, and I don't care whether you believe it or
not.”

“
I'm not so easily duped by a...” His eyes raked her.
“Trollop.”

“
Well this trollop saved your life.”

He looked
away. “And what do you expect for that? A reward? You'll be sadly
disappointed if you think –”

“
I thought you were worth saving, but I see that was a mistake
now.”

“
Only an idiot saves an assassin.”

Lilu jumped
up. “In that case, get out of my house!”

“
It's not a house, it's a dirty room, and –”

“
Get out! Go on!” Lilu grabbed the broom in the corner, raising
it.

He eyed her.
“You won't use that.”

“
Don't bet on it, buster!”

“
Go on then.”

Incensed, Lilu
brought the broom down on his legs with a thud. The assassin
stiffened, the blood draining from his already pale visage, which
twisted in a grimace. “You bitch!”

Lilu
brandished the broom. “Go on, insult me some more and see what
happens! You want to be a bastard? I can give as good as you!”

“
If I wasn't injured, you'd be sorry.”

“
But you are! How long do you think you'll last if I throw you
out on the street? An injured assassin! The gutter-boys will stone
you to death and piss in your ear.”

Blade raised
his eyes to meet hers, his frown easing. “Why would you care if
they do?”

“
I don't!”

“
Then why did you save me?”

Lilu lowered
the broom and thrust her face closer. “Perhaps I wanted an injured
man to torture, to get my own back for all the times they've hurt
me. How would you like that?”

“
It sounds more believable.”

She whacked
his legs with the broom again. “Insult me again, go on!”

He writhed,
biting his lip. “Throw me out then. Death will be better than
this.”

“
You brought this on yourself! You...” She trailed off as his
eyes closed, and he slumped.

Lilu dropped
the broom and perched on the edge of the bed, a hand clamped over
her mouth. She could not believe he had made her so angry, so
quickly. His ashen, battered face tore her heart, the left side of
it black with bruises, his nose swollen and one eye puffy and
bloodshot. How could a God Touched want to die? Plainly he did,
hence his attempt to goad her into throwing him out into the
street.

Most would
have, but she could not. He was helpless and in pain, which was
probably why he was so angry. That, and being shackled to a bed by
his injuries. She regretted hitting him now, although at the time
he had deserved it. He was not what she had expected. She was not
sure what she had expected, but definitely not such rancour and
insults from a man she had nursed for five days. She pulled back
the sheets to inspect his legs, finding them unharmed, although the
cast had a slight dent in it. Evidently it had taken the brunt of
her blows. Blue bruises mottled his chest, arms and legs, and she
knew he must be in a lot of pain, especially with three broken
ribs, too. She sighed and pulled the sheet up again.