Invisible Assassin (24 page)

Blade rose and walked over to the basin to splash water over his head and torso. She watched, undecided, as he stripped off his boots and trousers, climbing into bed clad in the baggy grey flannel shorts that hung to his knees. When he blew out the lamp, she made her decision and climbed in beside him, allowing herself the bliss of pressing herself to him and holding him.

Chapter Twelve

The warm summer days passed too swiftly for Chiana, who spent every spare moment with her reluctant, resigned husband. As the days passed, he changed. The wine and ale he consumed by the flagon made his eyes' growing dullness worse. He sat down to three square meals a day, and soon a layer of fat smothered his lean contours. The ice in his eyes died, leaving them a clear sharp grey, usually bloodshot, for when he was not drunk, he was recovering from the previous bout. Lirek watered his wine and Jayon dragged him into the gardens for walks, which usually ended when Blade lay down under a tree and went to sleep. Chiana tried to interest him in something, bringing Kerra to visit him, whom he ignored, and challenging him to games and contests, which he lost without concern.

Nothing seemed able to drag him from his lethargy, and he made it more difficult by vanishing into the vast warren of cellars to nurse bottles of wine. Jayon tried to interest him in dagger-throwing contests, which Blade no longer carried. He tossed the weapons with drunken disinterest, missing the target by so far that he almost impaled his opponent on several occasions. He burnt the letters that arrived from the guild, and at night his tossing would have driven Chiana to seek her own room again, if being close to him had not been so important to her. This led to many sleepless nights until she grew used to his restless squirming and muttering. She hoped he would come out of his depression, but after a moon phase she sent a message to the Guild of Assassins, asking to meet an elder.

Two days later, one came to the palace, and was shown into her study. Chiana looked up at the dapper, well-dressed man with a distinguished air and a short beard streaked with grey, who bowed and introduced himself as Talon with all the aplomb of a lord.

Chiana invited him to sit and wasted no time in coming to the point. "You know the assassin called Blade?"

Talon smiled. "Who does not? But he's no longer an assassin, Regent."

"No, I suppose not. What is he now?"

"An elder."

"Like you?"

Talon inclined his head. "Yes, Regent."

"Since his retirement, he has lost all interest in life. He eats and drinks to excess and spends his days lying about in a drunken stupor. Why is this?"

"Ah. This happens sometimes, I'm afraid. I did fear that Blade would fall foul of this ailment."

"You feared nothing," Chiana said. "Rather, you hoped it."

"No, my lady. Tell me, did he try to take his life?"

She frowned. "Yes."

"And someone prevented him."

"I did."

"A folly, I'm sad to say. He shouldn't have been prevented."

Chiana's brows knotted further. "You wish my husband dead? Is that why you put drugs in the dye you used to mark him?"

"Ah. He's no fool." Talon shook his head. "I didn't wish him dead, but for some it's the best course."

"Why? What is wrong with him? What can be done?"

Talon looked unsettled, fingering his beard. "Blade has always been a driven man, Regent. He fell prey to outside influences that shaped his life, as you must know. Many assassins are made thus, but Blade more so than most. Always he's been driven by hatred and a lust for vengeance, which made him such a good assassin."

He frowned. "Upon his retirement all this fell away, leaving him with nothing, you understand? To put it bluntly, he has no will, my lady. None at all. Without the things that drove him, he's like a ship without wind, dead in the water. We all feel it to some extent when we retire, but he's a eunuch, which makes his plight far worse. Whereas most content themselves with wenching, a little drinking and training apprentices, Blade has only drink."

"Then he needs an apprentice," Chiana interjected, but Talon had clearly not finished.

"That wouldn't suffice. Blade was also the Master of the Dance, an office I urged him not to quit, but he did. This was the reason I tried to persuade him to keep it, for he's a legend in the Guild and I didn't wish to see him destroy himself. Now he has nothing, and anyone may push him hither and thither, he cares not."

"I noticed. But what can be done?"

Talon sighed. "It's a sticky problem, Regent. If not for your attachment to him, I would say put him out of his misery." He raised a hand when she gasped with outrage. "But there are other things that can be tried. He may improve, but he'll never be as he was, you understand?"

She nodded. "What are they?"

"I'll need to speak to him first, but tell me, did he express a wish for anything before he... gave up?"

"Yes, he wanted to go and live on his estate."

"But you wouldn't let him."

Chiana blinked. "No."

"Also folly. But you're blameless, of course."

"Why did you put that drug in the ink?"

"It's always done, my lady. It opens the mind and heart and lets out all the torment that has been buried over the years. Without it he wouldn't be able to stop killing. Sooner or later the thrill of the hunt would lure him back, only then he would kill without a client and fall foul of the law. Unfortunately some don't survive the experience, and they're better off. But it's always the best, those who have killed the most, who suffer worst of all. I had no great hopes of Blade surviving. I expected him to be dead, in all honesty. I sent letters -"

"Which he burnt."

"Of course." Talon shook his head. "May I see him now?"

"Certainly. You will most likely find him in the cellar at this time of day. I shall take you."

Chiana led the elder assassin through the palace and down into the damp darkness of the cellar that was now Blade's favourite haunt. They found him in one of the many aisles, slumped across a table with a pile of bottles at his feet. Jayon dozed nearby, but woke when Chiana and Talon approached. She stopped and sighed at the sight of her husband. He showed little signs of debauchery, since he had no beard to neglect and still bathed regularly, but the skin around his eyes had become puffy, making them narrower. She looked at Jayon.

"Can you wake him?"

The young commander shrugged. "After that much wine, I doubt it."

"Perhaps some cold water would help."

Jayon perked up at the prospect. "I'll fetch some."

As he trotted off, Talon sat beside Blade and shook him, evincing only a snort and some grumbling. The elder shook him more forcefully, and Blade promptly slid under the table. Chiana bit her lip, fighting her tears. Talon glanced at her.

"Don't distress yourself, my lady. He feels no pain."

"I know, but I do."

"And it's for your sake that I do this, not his. He will not thank me for it, mark my words."

"I can imagine."

Jayon returned with Lirek and four buckets of icy water. Between them, they dragged Blade out from beneath the table and proceeded to drench him. He woke spluttering, and cursed as he climbed to his feet. Staggering to the bench, he flopped down and glared at his assailants.

"Drown me, why don't you?" He spotted Talon and groaned. "Oh, no, not you."

"Blade, you are a disgrace."

"Am I? Too bad."

Talon stepped closer. "You're an elder of the Guild of Assassins. A legend amongst us, a celebrated hero. Yet I find you like a common beggar, drunk in your own piss."

Blade glanced down at himself. "It's water, I think."

"You have duties to perform. Where's your apprentice?"

"Go stick your head in a furnace, Talon."

The elder loomed over him. "I'll have your mark burnt from your skin."

Blade tried to stand, wobbled, and sat down again. "Try it, and I'll stick the bloody poker up your arse."

"I doubt that you could. Right now your wife could overcome you with ease."

Blade looked at Chiana and chuckled. "Probably."

Talon sighed and shook his head at her. "It's hopeless, I fear."

"Keep trying," she urged.

He turned to Blade. "You have a challenger. Swift wants his belt back."

"Top drawer, Chiana's dressing table." Blade slumped across the table, yawning.

Talon walked away. "He's too far gone, Regent. He doesn't care any more about anything."

Chiana fell into step beside him. "There must be something we can do."

"I've tried. He doesn't respond, nor will he. If you wish, you may resort to a more drastic action, but I cannot guarantee the results."

"I will try anything."

Talon looked pained. "You may not wish to do this."

"Tell me."

He stopped and turned to face her. "You must deprive him of his pleasures, and I don't mean argue with him. Take him to the dungeons and chain him up."

"You jest!" she gasped. "Do you know who he is?"

"Of course I do, he has more titles than the Cotti King. Listen to me. You must give him back what he's lost."

"Which is?"

"His anger and hatred."

Chiana shook her head. "I do not want him to hate me."

"He will not, once he realises what you've done. But as soon as he recovers, you must send him to his estate, or it will only be a temporary reprieve. If you care about him, you must do this."

She gazed at Blade, who had opened a fresh bottle of wine. "I care a great deal."

"Then do it. I can't help you any more than this."

Chiana nodded. "I will. Thank you, Elder Talon."

He bowed and walked away down the echoing aisles.

She turned to Jayon. "Take him to the dungeons and chain him up."

Jayon gaped. "On what charge?"

"Drunk and disorderly behaviour."

"But -"

"Just do it, Commander." Chiana spun away, not wishing to watch her husband's undignified removal.

Jayon and Lirek half carried, half dragged the assassin through the palace to the dungeons beneath the barracks. Finding an empty cell, they ignored the puzzled looks of the jailor and his sentries and shackled Blade's wrists to the wall and his ankles to the floor. The cell's thin straw pallet provided a place to sleep, and Blade was too drunk to notice. He fell asleep before they left him, quite content.

When Blade woke the next morning, his headache prevented him from doing anything at first, but when it wore off, he shouted for release. Only the guard came, with half a loaf of bread and a cup of water.

Four days passed before Chiana dared to enter his cell, her hopes high. Blade looked up from his blank-eyed perusal of his feet, meeting her eyes with a dull stare.

"Hello, Blade."

"Ah, my wife, the Regent. What happened to 'My Lord'?"

"How are you feeling?"

He shrugged. "The rats are good company."

"You are not angry?"

"I stink. How do they expect me to piss when my wrists are shackled to the wall?"

Chiana sighed. "I will come and see you again soon."

"What did I do, snore too loudly?"

"No, you lost yourself."

He looked down. "I seem to be all here."

"It is not you." Chiana turned and left, unable to bear the sight of his dull, apathetic eyes.

Four days later she returned, but little had changed. Blade had lost weight and developed a habit of spitting half-chewed bread at a target on the far wall. He smiled sweetly when she entered the cell.

"This won't work."

"Why not?"

"If Talon thinks this will make me angry he's mistaken. It's boring, I admit, but little different from what I had before."

Chiana shrugged. "At least you are no longer draining the cellar."

He stared at her, looking puzzled. "I didn't think that was a crime."

"It is not."

"How long do you mean to keep me here?"

"Until you recover."

He shook his head. "I'm not sick."

"Yes, you are." She left him, hiding her tears as she walked from the dungeon.

This time she stayed away for eight days. Blade looked distinctly gaunt when she saw him again, and his eyes had a bright, feverish glint to them.

"Nice of you to drop by," he sneered, and hope flared in her.

"You are feeling better, I see."

"My clothes are rotting and so are my teeth. When you haul me out of here you'll have no prize."

She shrugged. "I shall order the guards to brush your teeth for you."

"I'm getting tired of this."

"Good."

Chiana left him, ignoring his shouts, which followed her from the dungeons. The next four days she spent in better spirits, for Blade was growing angry. When she returned, his demeanour had changed drastically. The cold light had returned to his eyes and his mouth had settled in a familiar grim line.

"This has gone on long enough, Chiana," he said.

"Has it? I am not so sure."

"I know what you're trying to do, and it's worked. Now release me!"

"No, I do not think so, not yet."

Blade yanked at the chains, glaring. "You have no right to do this. It's my life, not yours, and I shall live it as I see fit!"

"You were not living, you were dying."

"That is my choice!"

"Perhaps, but I think that you have much to live for. I will not let you throw it away."

He snorted. "Like what?"

"Think about it."

Blade's furious shouts followed her from the dungeons again, but she left with a lighter heart, certain that next time she saw him he would be ready to leave his chains.

Chiana wrote to Talon to tell him of her success, and the next day he came to the palace. Surprised, she offered him wine, but he declined.

"I've come to warn you, Regent. You say Blade has found his anger, and rants with it. You must not release him in this state."

"You speak as if he is a rabid dog."

"In a way he is. This anger must pass. You must allow him time to regain control, or he will be very dangerous. When he's calm, then release him, but not before."