Invisible Assassin (17 page)

"He was the assassin," Ronan groaned.

Kerrion looked down at the Prince. "You have no proof of that."

"He admitted it!"

"You forced him to lie by threatening his sister."

Ronan shook his head, grimacing. "He was the assassin, I tell you."

"Your spies are ill informed. Lord Conash is a courtier. No assassin would attend my wedding in full view of my entire court."

Ronan glared at his brother, unable to refute this statement without proof, and Kerrion knew that his triumph was slipping away. If the guards had witnessed Blade's mark, they were dead, and his younger brothers were mere boys. Their testimony would not hold much weight, since they would be suspected of supporting Ronan. It came down to his word against the King's, and few would go against their monarch. The only accusation he could make was the one that had cost him so dearly, and he cried it in a petulant tone.

"He tried to kill me!"

"And for that he must die, if he is not already dead," Kerrion said. "Although, had he been an assassin as you claim, surely he would have succeeded?"

Ronan growled, slumping back, and a noble said, "Sire, he may be escaping even as we speak."

"Indeed." Kerrion nodded at the soldiers. "Go and bring him here. I want him alive." They rose and loped out, and Kerrion glared at the gawping nobles. "The rest of you may leave. Where is the healer for my brother?"

"He has been summoned," a portly lord said.

"Then go and speed his progress! My brother is in dire need of him."

The nobles dispersed, muttering, and one ran off to find the healer. Kerrion went to the window and scanned the gardens below for Blade's body, but the grass beneath the window was empty. Minna joined him, and he turned to her with a reassuring smile.

"He is gone."

She sagged, gripping his arm. "Thank God."

"I delayed them for as long as I could. Let us hope he makes good his escape."

"Thank you."

He cupped her cheek. "That was a very foolish thing you did."

"He was not going to fight or flee."

"I know."

"I could not let him be cut down like that."

Kerrion looked around as a healer trotted in with two assistants, falling to their knees beside Ronan. His eyes narrowed. "Why did he not kill Ronan?"

"I do not know." She glanced at the body of Blade's sister. "Poor Alenstra."

Kerrion nodded, pondering. "We must try to help Blade escape across the desert. Perhaps Olan can find him."

"I doubt that he will trust a Cotti, but I am certain he will seek the aid of Commander Jayon."

"Ah, yes, the man Chiana sent to spy on me."

The healer approached, hesitating before he addressed the King. "Sire, your brother is gravely injured."

"How badly?" Kerrion demanded.

"Sire... he will die."

"How can you be so certain of that?"

The healer gestured towards his midriff. "He has been stabbed in the belly many times, and also in the back, piercing two vital organs there. It is as if the wounds were planned, placed exactly where they will do the most damage. He will rot from the inside. There is nothing I can do."

Kerrion nodded, and the healer returned to his patient. Minna waited until the King faced her again, looking grim but triumphant.

"So, Blade did not fail."

"No." She paused, frowning. "He has ensured that Ronan will suffer for the death of his sister. I always thought that when he offered a slow death, he tortured his victim, but now I see that this is what he meant."

"Blade could not torture anyone. He cannot stomach the sight of blood."

"You noticed that as well?"

He nodded. "It is obvious sometimes, although he certainly spills enough of it."

She looked worried. "I hope he is not too badly hurt."

Blade ran through the gardens, keeping to the cover of shrubbery as he made his way towards Shamsara's statue. At first he had been lost, for the gardens around the palace were vast and undisciplined, but now he moved into a more familiar area. The fall had dazed him, forcing him to seek the shelter of a bush while he regained his wits with a few vigorous shakes of his head. Amazingly, he had broken no bones, even though the window from which he had jumped had been two floors above the ground.

Years of leaping from high places had trained him to absorb the impact with his knees and roll, but still, it had been a hard landing. The wound in his side sapped his strength, and burnt with every stride. Although shallow, it bled copiously, soaking his shirt and trousers. He paused amongst a clump of palms to tear a strip from the bottom of his shirt and bind it, slowing the bleeding, then ran on, dashing from cover to cover.

By the time he reached the statue, spots danced in his eyes, and he dug under the stone with shaking hands. Drawing out the scrap of parchment secreted there, he read it, groaning at the words on it. Jayon had overhead Ronan mention the assassin's sister and wondered what it meant. Blade cursed the fact that he had not checked the message earlier. Turning the paper over, he hunted around for a twig and chewed the end to make it soft. Dipping it in the blood that oozed from his wound, he wrote a brief note, instructing Jayon to meet him at the palace stables. Shoving the paper back under the stone, he limped towards his destination.

When he flopped down in the soft straw, his head spun and his vision had dimmed. He checked his wound again, finding it still bleeding, and struggled to bind it with weak hands. The clatter of running feet and shouted orders outside made him climb to the top of the straw pile and burrow into it. There he settled down to wait, unable to run any further, and listened to the racing of his heart.

Two healers bent over the writhing, sweating form of Kerrion's brother. Ronan sprawled on his vast bed, smearing the silken sheets with blood. The healers had bound his wounds, stopping most of the bleeding, but Ronan refused to take the medicine they prescribed. He smashed the cup from a healer's hands and pulled himself up against the pillows, glaring at his brother.

"You cannot save him now."

The King jerked his head at the healers, who left. "What makes you think I will try?"

"I know you brought him here to assassinate your rivals."

"He was brought here to protect the Jashimari Queen, even as he protected me when I was her prisoner."

"Queen!" Ronan sneered. "She is just a woman!"

"Who once ruled a realm as powerful as ours."

"By an accident of birth."

"Because her mother and all her ancestors were queens, yes, I suppose so." Kerrion wandered closer to the bed. "Just as I rule because my father was a king, also an accident of birth."

"Now you will have to watch him tortured to death."

Kerrion shrugged. "Perhaps. But if I know Blade, he will not be found."

"He is wounded! He is trapped like a rat in a strange city, surrounded by hundreds of leagues of desert. Where can he go?"

"He escaped from here before."

Ronan grunted, fingering the bandages around his waist. "This time he will not get far. When he is caught, I shall decide his torture, maybe even have a hand in it myself, when I am well enough."

Kerrion shook his head. "You are not going to get better. Blade saw to that. He has two methods of assassination," he went on chattily, ignoring Ronan's shocked look. "One is the quick method, which he prefers, where the victim dies so swiftly that they do not feel any pain. The second is the slow method, an option he offers his clients, though few choose it, I understand. That is the one he has practised on you, in revenge for the death of his sister. You will die, though it may take several days, and, I understand, a great deal of pain."

"That is a lie!"

"No, I have it from the healer, and he was certain of it. Apparently you will rot from the inside, and soon the stench of you will be hard to bear. Blade has a reputation for never failing, and he has not this time, either."

"You ordered him to kill me, did you not?"

"Only if you plotted against the Queen, which you did. I had ordered your death, but the Queen countermanded it. Had you not killed Blade's sister, or continued to plot, you would have been safe."

"Countermanded?" Ronan snorted, then grimaced. "So you take orders from a woman now. Why does that not surprise me?"

"I intend to change things around here. Women will be treated better, and my wife will be Queen one day."

"You will pay for this," Ronan growled. "When the nobles find out about this, you will be overthrown."

"They are not going to find out. I have given strict orders that no one is to disturb you. You will see only the two healers, and they are loyal to me. In a few days you will be dead, and my troubles will be over."

"I am your brother!"

"Half-brother. I did not want to do this, but you goaded Blade, so I do not feel all that guilty about it."

Ronan sneered, "One thing is for certain, you will not have your pet eunuch assassin to do any more killing for you. At least our younger brothers will be safe from you."

Kerrion smiled. "I am touched by your concern, although I know it to be false. You would have killed them yourself if it made you king."

"I was not trying to overthrow you, only to keep our blood pure. You would put a half Jashimari bastard on the throne."

"Yes, just as the Jashimari now have a half-Cotti Queen. The war will never start again, once the kingdoms are ruled by brother and sister. As for trying to overthrow me, that would have been almost impossible to do once Lerton's plan failed, and I am sure you were a part of that too."

"Lerton would have made a better king than you."

Kerrion sighed. "Lerton would have carried on the war, which ultimately would have destroyed our people, and he would have rid himself of you, too."

"Just as you have."

Kerrion turned away. "I tire of this argument, it achieves nothing. I have explained myself quite enough. I would advise you to take the draught for pain. I understand this death is agonising."

"Damn you!" Ronan snarled. "You will not get away with this!"

Kerrion turned at the door. "I believe I already have."

As dusk fell, Blade's eyes flicked open and he tensed beneath the thin layer of straw. The sound that had alerted him was of someone walking cautiously, unlike the bustling grooms who had just finished feeding the horses. The running about of soldiers continued outside, but further away now. They had already searched the stables and left, now only the horses snorted and stamped in their stalls. He pushed aside the straw and peered out, spotting a dark form creeping along by the wall. Easing himself down the straw pile, he tried to get nearer, suppressing a groan. The intruder walked past a torch, and he made out Jayon's worried features.

"Psst! Jayon!" he hissed, causing the youngster to whip around in surprise.

"Blade!" Jayon trotted over, his eyes widening. "You're hurt!"

"Don't remind me. You've got to help me get out of here. I have to leave Jadaya."

"The soldiers outside, they're looking for you?"

Blade nodded. "It's a long story, but I have worn out my welcome here."

"What do you want me to do?"

The assassin sank back on the straw, clutching his wound. "First, get me something to stitch this wound. Every time I move it bleeds. A needle and thread, some ointment, can you manage that?"

Jayon nodded, looking concerned, and Blade's frown eased. "Good. Also some food and water, then find us a safe place to hide in the city for a few days."

"But the soldiers..."

"Yes, I know. Bring me some glue as well, and one of those ragged hoods the veterans wear. Oh, and a dagger."

"I have one." Jayon dug in his waistband and produced a poor quality knife.

"Good." Blade took the knife and tucked it away. "Now go, before all the merchants close for the night. You have money?"

Jayon nodded, eyeing the assassin. "Are you sure you'll be all right here?"

"They've already searched this place, and anyway I cannot go anywhere like this. Just hurry."

Jayon nodded again and headed for the door, his strides purposeful and his shoulders set. Blade reminded himself that Jayon had once been a patrol leader, and perhaps was a little more capable than he gave him credit for. He tried to remember himself at that age, but the memory was blurred, a confusion of conflicting images he had no wish to plumb. Instead, he crawled back into the straw, covering himself. The wound oozed fresh blood, and he clasped the soaked cloth to it as he settled down to wait again.

It seemed like an age before Jayon returned, but darkness had barely fallen. He closed the stable doors and produced a lamp from the bundle he carried, which he lighted from one of the torches. Blade slid down the straw pile and sat at the bottom. Jayon knelt beside him and set the lamp on the floor. He dug in the bag, handing Blade a loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese and a water skin. The assassin slaked his thirst first, then tore at the bread while Jayon unpacked the bag. He laid out a packet containing a needle and thread, a tub of ointment, a roll of bandage and a coarse shirt. Blade nodded his approval of the items for which he had not asked.

"Good thinking, boy." He spoke around a mouthful of bread and cheese, washing it down with a gulp of water. "I always knew you weren't a complete dolt."

Jayon shot him a sour glance. "Even though you treated me like one."

The assassin shrugged. "You acted like one."

"Tell me what happened."

Blade told the story while he ate, and Jayon's eyes grew wider as he listened. When Blade finished, Jayon lifted the assassin's bloody shirt to examine the sword slash in his flank, which was almost two hand spans long and bled whenever he moved.

Jayon grimaced. "You need a healer."

"Well, you've always wanted to be one, now is your chance to get some practice."

"But I've had no training."

"Just sew it up like a piece of cloth, boy."

"You'll have a terrible scar." Jayon opened the packet and started to thread the needle.

"I'll add it to my collection."