Sacrifice: The Queen's Blade (8 page)

The High Priestess wore a long-sleeved robe of crushed white velvet, a silver circlet in the form of a coiled snake with emerald eyes holding the hood in place. She turned as Blade approached, an aged woman of wrinkled mien and white hair, her green eyes sharp and venomous. Somewhere about her person, another serpent hid, for the High Priestess was obviously a snake. Queen Minna-Satu sat on her throne beyond, flanked by handmaidens and the plumed officers who guarded her. As Blade reached the High Priestess, she looked past him, and he turned.

Chiana wore a figure-hugging, white satin gown that swept the floor in a graceful, gleaming fall. Tiny blue flowers decorated the bodice and belt, and her hair was swept up in an elegant coil studded with precious stones and golden pins. Blade had to admit that she was beautiful, but then he had always thought so. The Queen outranked her in beauty, but right now Minna looked tired and Chiana radiant.

Blade wondered at the smile that curled his bride's lips and the sparkle in her eyes, which flicked over him as she approached, and seemed to like what they saw. He frowned and turned to face the High Priestess, aware of Chiana stopping beside him. The ceremony began without fanfare, and the High Priestess intoned the ritual words that differed from an ordinary wedding quite considerably.

"These two are here before us for the purpose of joining in marriage. Lord Conash, as a sacred Knight of the Veil, takes a maiden as his bride, who shall remain chaste for the rest of her days. Chiana, by marrying Lord Conash, becomes a priestess of our great god Tinsharon; his handmaiden and servant. This is the most sacred of all marriages, pure in spirit and exalted in the eyes of the church. A union in which celibacy shall rule. In such a marriage as this, only the worship of God is served."

Chiana glanced at Blade, but he stared ahead.

The High Priestess continued, "Since both have consented to the union, all that remains is to bless and witness it." She turned to the maiden who stood beside her, and the girl held up a golden basin of water that hissed, giving off a faint mist. The High Priestess dipped her hand into it and flicked a little onto Blade's brow, then repeated the process for Chiana.

"With this water from the sacred river, I bless this union, and I call upon those here to witness it."

The High Priestess stepped back, and a maiden advanced, holding a parchment bearing a considerable amount of bold black writing. This she handed to the High Priestess, who offered it to Blade. As he took it, a servant came forward with a polished wooden board, on which the assassin rested the paper. The same servant handed him a freshly dipped quill, and he signed his name at the bottom. The process was repeated for Chiana, and the High Priestess took the signed document, rolling it into a tight rod before tying it with a white satin ribbon. That done, she smiled coldly at Blade and turned away, her maidens filing out of the room ahead of her. Blade sighed, and Minna smiled and waved a languid hand.

"You may go, Lord and Lady Conash."

Blade bowed, startled when Chiana did the same. "My Queen."

Chapter Four

Blade turned from his window at a knock on the door, commanding the applicant to enter. A servant came in bearing a buff letter edged in black and handed it to him with a bow. Blade broke the wax seal and read the missive with a deep frown. He disliked receiving correspondence from the guild, which usually consisted of invitations to gatherings in which he had no interest, and, on a couple of occasions, challenges from young assassins eager to earn a reputation. He had not accepted the invitations or the challenges, but this challenge was different, since no youngster had issued it. His head jerked up as his door opened and Chiana strolled in.

He glared at her. "Do you never knock?"

"Not anymore. It is one of the privileges of being your wife. I am not expected to."

"Except by me. I would consider it a courtesy."

She smiled, her eyes darting to the letter. "What is that?"

He folded it and tucked it into his jacket. "Nothing that concerns you."

"Everything you do concerns me now."

His scowl deepened. "Chiana, I obeyed the Queen's order and granted you the rank you need to become Regent. Do not foist yourself on me now under the pretext that what we have is anything but a convenience. It is a marriage in name only, and accords you no power over me."

"I am not seeking power over you, only to know what you are doing. It is little more than I would have done before."

Blade folded his arms with a creak of leather. "But if I tell you, it will only lead to an argument."

She pouted. "You do not know me well enough to predict my response."

"No?" His brows rose. "It is a challenge, issued by an assassin from another guild."

"A challenge? To fight?"

"No, assassins never fight each other. In fact, I do my best never to fight at all. I am not particularly good at it."

"You are good at lying, though. I saw those four roughnecks who kidnapped you, and they bore the marks of your skill."

He smiled and shrugged. "A desperate attempt to defend myself, I can assure you. Usually I run away."

"An excellent strategy."

"Indeed?"

"Of course." She wandered closer. "Why fight when you need not? It is a waste of energy and risks injury."

Blade eyed her, surprised by her agreement. "How astute of you."

"This challenge, if it is not to fight, then what?"

He frowned, turning to gaze out at the garden, where an industrious gardener trimmed a hedge. "Assassins have a ceremonial dance. We call it the Dance of Death, for it proves our speed and agility, which are most necessary for our trade. Once an assassin has earned his tattoo with his first kill, he must perform the Dance of Death in all its complexity. Failure to complete the Dance results in his tattooing being delayed until he can. The Dance is extremely taxing. Only a fit man can complete it."

"And you are the Master of the Dance."

"In this city." He glanced at her, startled. "Who told you that?"

"The Queen. She says that you told her, and since then, I believe she has learnt a great deal about it from the assassin Talon."

"Ah, yes, it seems he has become quite talkative about our traditions."

Chiana smiled. "When the Queen asks for information, few will gainsay her." She moved closer to stand beside him. "Are you going to accept this challenge?"

Blade pulled a face, staring out at the garden, where the gardener had finished one hedge and started on another. "I have no choice this time. If it was only a young assassin from my guild I would not, but this man is from another city. The advancing Contara have driven him and his fellows here, and now he wishes to challenge me. He is a Master of the Dance too, so if I do not accept, I will dishonour my guild and forfeit the Master's title to him. But I cannot win."

"Why not?"

"I am not fit enough. I cannot complete the Dance of Death."

"Do you have to perform it?"

He frowned. "No, not necessarily. The challenger must perform the Dance in order to be judged good enough to tender the challenge, then he sets the pace for the duel. But the duel could be gruelling if he is good, for until I can better all of his steps, he will continue to challenge."

"Then you must ensure that your mastery is so obvious that he will admit defeat before you grow tired."

Blade chuckled, unfolded his arms and placed his hands on his hips. "What makes you think I can do that?"

"I know you can." She gazed up at him with disconcerting intensity, and he moved away, discomfited.

"I am surprised that you have no objection, as you did last time I went to the guild."

"Last time you were badly injured. You should not have left your bed."

He stopped beside the bed and turned to face her again. "Well, now you know where I am going. Is there anything else?"

"Yes, I want to go with you."

Blade gave a bark of laughter. "You jest!"

"No, I am in deadly earnest."

"Deadly is right. No one who is not an assassin is allowed to attend a meeting of the guild."

"What about an assassin's wife?" she asked.

"There is no such thing."

"Really, then what am I?"

He studied her determined face with a slight smile. "You are an assassin's wife, my lady. Talon would only have himself to blame." He chuckled. "Perhaps a fitting revenge."

"Revenge?"

His eyes narrowed and his smile faded. "For allowing this marriage."

"I see." She looked crestfallen. "Yes, I suppose it would be."

"You may be in danger though. You had better seek the Queen's permission before you put your life in jeopardy."

"Would you not protect me?"

"From more than a hundred assassins? What do you take me for?"

Chiana frowned, clearly vexed by his lack of gentlemanly manners. "Surely you have some influence, as Master of the Dance?"

"Yes, I have some, but the eldest member makes the decisions."

"Talon?"

Blade shook his head. "A man named Archer rules the guild."

She hesitated, then murmured, "I will speak to the Queen."

"As you wish."

When Chiana left, Blade read the letter again, frowning at the name of his challenger. The man was a stranger, but his name was Swift.

That night, Blade rode out of the palace on an ebon mount, and Chiana followed on a bay palfrey. Apparently the Queen had no objections, but her presence irritated him, much like a dog that would not stop following him around. Upon his advice, she wore a long black velvet cloak with the hood pulled up to conceal her face.

When they neared the ring of stones, several miles outside the city, Blade stopped and tethered his horse to a tree, continuing on foot. Even before they reached the ancient stones, the numbers gathered there were evident from the many torches and the black-clad masses that engulfed the feet of the stones like a sable sea. Usually no more than a few dozen assassins attended a meeting, but evidently they had all come to this one, the new guild swelling their numbers further. A wooden platform stood in the centre of the ring, and torches danced with yellow brilliance. Most of the assassins sat between the stones, but two muttering groups stood before the platform.

Blade hesitated before entering the light, aware of the slight figure that followed him. Talon and his wolf turned to face him, the former smiling in welcome.

"Ah, Blade, at last."

"I'm not late."

"No, no, of course not." His smiled vanished as his eyes slid past Blade. "Who's this?"

Blade turned to Chiana. "My wife."

A hiss started amongst the assassins, growing in volume. Talon frowned. "She's not allowed, you know the rules."

"What rules are there, for an assassin's wife, Kai?"

Talon's frown deepened at the insult of his real name. "She must leave."

Blade glanced past him at Archer's white-haired figure. "What say you, Archer?"

The elder assassin, a tall man in his late fifties, frowned at Talon. "You asked for permission to allow Blade to wed, Talon, and now you object to his wife's presence? We've already broken the rules once because you insisted that the Queen demanded it. There are no rules for an assassin's wife, since none but Blade has one."

"But it's unheard-of," Talon protested.

"So is an assassin marrying. We can't allow the one and forbid the other. She may remain."

Talon looked furious, and leant closer to Blade. "You do this only to embarrass me."

"Of course. I had no wish to be married, and until you revoked it, a perfectly good reason not to."

"Do you think the Queen would have taken no for an answer?"

Blade shrugged. "We'll never know, will we?"

Talon turned as the second group approached, indicating the eldest, a plump man with iron-grey hair. "This is the elder of the Vordan guild, Sting, and this is your challenger, Master of the Dance in Vordan, Swift." He bestowed a stiff smile on the strangers and indicated Blade with a sweep of his hand. "This is our Master of the Dance, Blade."

The man named Swift stepped forward and held out a hand. Blade shook it, measuring the challenger. Swift appeared to be in his early twenties, tall and well built. His hair glowed a deep copper in the torchlight, and green eyes glinted in a coarse-featured face that freckles made uglier. He grinned nastily as his eyes flicked past Blade.

"Your wife? I heard rumours, but hardly believed it."

Blade met the man's mocking gaze with a wintry stare. "Now you have proof."

"A tasty morsel, I must say."

Blade turned to Talon. "Shall we get on with it? I believe this man has something to prove."

Swift growled at the insult as his elder took his arm and led him away, jerking free with a curse. Returning to his guild, he was met by mutters of encouragement from his fellows, who shot hard looks in Blade's direction. Swift shucked his cloak and jacket, revealing a tight-fitting black leather vest and a silver-ornamented belt. The muttering died away when Archer held up his hands, and Swift bent to buckle the metal pieces onto his boots, then climbed the steps onto the stage. He flashed a confident grin at his audience, strutting around the stage as he made a great show of stretching and limbering up. When he was satisfied that everyone was convinced of his suppleness, he raised a languid hand to the stocky assassin who manned the drum. The drummer beat a slow cadence, one that would speed up as the Dance progressed.

Swift started flamboyantly with an unnecessary flourish, his metal-shod feet beating a swift tattoo on the wood. Then he leapt high, landing lightly, and settled into the tapping rhythm of the Dance, moving around the stage with light, floating strides. Blade became aware of someone close beside him and glanced down at Chiana. She pushed back her hood.

"Is he good?"

Blade watched the assassin. "Yes."

"Can you beat him?"

"I do not know yet."

The tempo of the drum speeded up, and Swift's feet kept pace, his steps becoming more complex, as the Dance demanded. His leaps were graceful and high, allowing him to hang in the air. The Dance grew faster still, and sweat beaded the challenger's brow as his mouth opened to gasp air. The rattle of his metal-shod feet beat out a rhythm that seemed impossibly fast, and his hands now rested on his hips as he concentrated on his feet. Blade's eyes narrowed as he waited for a misstep or a sign of tiredness as the dancer leapt and stamped. Neither came before the Dance ended with a final leap, and the assassin sank to one knee and spread his arms with a flourish. Applause from his guild lauded his efforts, and he descended from the platform, his chest heaving, to shoot Blade a challenging glance.