Authors: T. Southwell
Chiana looked doubtful, but made her prostration and left. Minna picked at a bowl of plump, bite-sized dil fruit while she waited, and was growing impatient by the time the two guards who stood outside pushed open the doors. Chiana entered and abased herself before rising to approach her Queen. Minna studied the man who walked behind her, a glance telling her more than Chiana had. He was a man of cats, and moved with the lithe grace of his kind, but more, he was an assassin, his trade clearly evident from the black dagger tattoo at the base of his throat.
When Chiana stopped, the assassin dropped to one knee and bowed his head, a gesture of respect that was by no means a prostration. Minna glanced at Shista, who snored in the sun. She turned her attention to Chiana as the advisor held out two slender daggers.
"He carried only these."
Minna nodded and looked at the man again. "Get up."
The assassin stood and raised his head, his gaze meeting hers for a moment. The odd colour of his eyes struck her, a pale grey ringed with darkness, like a winter sky lighted by a silver sun in eclipse. Never had she encountered a gaze so frigid that its brief touch made her shiver. A leather thong caught his long black hair at his nape, and a few strands straggled across his pale cheek. A red mark marred his lean jaw, and a speck of blood leaked from one side of his narrow nose. The grim set of his well-formed mouth spoilt its sensuality, and his fine brows were pulled together in a frown. Taken as a whole, his countenance possessed a fineness of feature not usually associated with the burly, hirsute inclination of his sex. His torso also bore the marks of fresh abuse, and his hands were clenched at his sides.
Minna was struck by the strangeness Chiana had seen, but unable to pin it down. Beneath his handsome appearance dwelt something deeper and far more sinister, which puzzled her. His expression betrayed his anger, but his eyes contained a deeper rage, an inner turmoil that burnt from his gaze, even though it was directed at her feet. He also lacked something, she realised as she struggled to identify his peculiarity. Although he was definitely a man of cats, betrayed by his lean build and graceful gait, his feline traits were slight, hardly noticeable to one who was unobservant.
Breaking with tradition, the Queen rose and approached him, rewarded by his brief, startled glance. He stood a mere half a head taller than she, not a big man by any measure, and he did not seem to mind being taller than the Queen, something others dreaded. On closer scrutiny, she noticed an oddity that had not immediately struck her. His cheeks were as smooth as a young boy's, yet he appeared to be several years older than she. Minna-Satu cast Chiana a probing glance.
"Why does he bear the marks of ill treatment?"
"I was told that he resisted the search, My Queen."
"And what had he to hide?"
Chiana shrugged. "Nothing."
"Well, Chiana, you are most unobservant." Minna's tone held a hint of censure. "Even now, I see more in him than you could tell me. He is a man of cats, and, I would say, one driven by a great hatred. Moreover, he is an assassin."
Chiana gasped, and her glance flew to the man, who shot the Queen a startled look. "An assassin?"
"Yes, do you not see the tattoo at his throat?"
"Now I do, but before it was hidden."
Minna appraised the man once more. He kept his eyes lowered, but a muscle in his jaw jumped, betraying his wish to speak. He awaited her permission, however, as he must.
She smiled. "I know one other thing, but that I will not tell you. All that remains a mystery is why he is here."
"If he is an assassin -"
"He would not have requested an audience, and besides, no one would wish me dead except the Cotti, and he is clearly Jashimari." Minna glanced at her slumbering familiar. "His presence does not bother Shista, so he bears me no ill will. You may return his weapons and leave us. I have decided to grant him an audience."
Chiana opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again. She held out the daggers, and the assassin took them with a nod. The chief advisor strode to the doors and yanked them open with unnecessary vigour. Under Minna's hard eyes, she closed them softly behind her. The Queen returned to her cushions and sank down with a sigh, gazing up at the slender man.
"What is your name?"
"I am called Blade... My Queen," he replied in a soft, husky voice, deep enough to be unmistakeably male, but pitched pleasantly above the rich baritone of most men, which Minna often found irritating. He would make a pleasing conversationalist, if he had the intelligence to hold a good discussion. He spoke decisively, and lacked the mumbling subservience of most commoners in her presence.
Minna gestured to the floor. "Sit. Tell me what you will."
Blade settled on a cushion and tucked his daggers away. He licked his lips, and his mouth relaxed and frown faded. Without it, he looked much better, Minna thought. He glanced at her, then away again, and she got the impression that the speech he had readied for this occasion had deserted him. She plucked a fruit and popped it into her mouth, casting an irritated glance at Shista, who continued to snore, oblivious to the stranger.
The assassin raised his head. "I have heard that you offer a mighty reward for the death of King Shandor."
Minna nodded, unsurprised. "To my soldiers. If I wished to hire an assassin, I would have done so."
"But an assassin is what you need."
Minna plucked another fruit. "Is that why you have come? To offer your services?"
"Yes."
"This is not a task for an assassin. I also require that his son be brought to me, alive."
Blade nodded. "I can do that."
"How did you hear of the reward?"
"In a brothel. Your soldiers visited it before they went to their deaths."
"And what were you doing there?"
He shrugged. "Drinking."
"Of course." Minna ate another fruit. "I have no need of your services. I have despatched another group of men, and expect to hear from them soon."
"They will fail."
She frowned, and the assassin looked away. "I dislike your tone, Blade. You are insolent."
"I am not accustomed to the company of queens, nor is my nature well suited to grovelling." He raised his eyes to meet hers, his gaze as bleak as a midwinter's day. "I did not resist the search. Your men took delight in hurting me. Had I chosen to resist, they would be dead now."
"You have a high opinion of your abilities."
"From experience."
Minna considered him, irked by her curiosity. She had never been so interested in a commoner before. This assassin, she sensed, harboured many dark secrets that she longed to know. At the same time, she was aware of his secretive nature, and the mystery that surrounded assassins and their strange, barbaric laws.
"Tell me about your life." The demand tripped unbidden off her tongue before she could bite it back.
"You mean how I came to be as I am?" His lips twisted in distaste. "I did not come here to entertain you with the tale of my misfortune. I have made my offer. What is your reply?"
Annoyed, Minna retorted, "I have no need of an assassin."
He rose to his feet, startling her. "Then I shall waste no more of your time." He swung away.
"Wait!"
Blade pivoted to face her, balanced like a dancer on the balls of his feet.
The Queen said, "I have given you no leave to go. Offer me any more insult, and I shall see you punished." She flung a cushion at the slumbering sand cat. "Shista!"
The cat snorted, opened a bleary eye, and yawned. Noting the Queen's ire, she rose and stretched, padding over to her friend. Minna glared at the assassin, knowing that Shista would sense her mood and treat the subject of her anger accordingly. Perhaps the sand cat could intimidate him when the Queen could not. Shista wandered over to the assassin, sniffed him, and purred, rubbing her silken length against his legs. Blade, unperturbed, scratched the cat's ears, and she flopped down, her purr growing to a great rumble of pleasure. He smiled and crouched to stroke the recumbent cat.
"Why would you have me stay, when we have no more to discuss?"
Minna stared at him, at a loss for words. The smile lighted his countenance, and she was unable to look away. As if aware of it, his smile faded, and he bowed his head.
The Queen gave herself a mental shake. "I will consider your offer, if you tell me why you want the task so much."
He scratched the sand cat’s throat. "What difference does it make to you?"
"How can the reward tempt a man like you?"
"Does it surprise you that I should want riches and land when I shall never have sons to pass them on to?"
"Yes."
"Perhaps I tire of living in brothels and inns, killing men for a fee and earning nothing but scorn and hatred from all those I meet." He looked up. "I am still young enough to enjoy the reward myself, but, in truth, it does not interest me as much as the prospect of killing King Shandor. If ever there was a man who deserved to die, it is he, and perhaps, by killing him, I shall make my existence worthwhile."
"I see." She nodded. "I shall consider this. You will remain in the palace until I have decided."
His frown betrayed his dislike for her order, but he turned to her and fell on one knee, bowing his head. "My Queen."
"You may go," she said, as he rose and swung away.
Blade stalked to the doors and let himself out. Moments later, Chiana returned, her eyes full of curiosity. Minna made her wait for several minutes before she spoke.
"He will stay in the palace for a while. See to it that he has whatever he needs."
"My Queen. He is an assassin."
Minna nodded. Assassins were held in the lowest esteem, deemed no better than paid murderers. Most were men of the snake or scorpion, cold, unfeeling people without remorse or love. Blade, however, was of the cat, warm, generous individuals whose affections ran deep and strong, who treasured relationships and were prone to love deeply. Despite his lack of a familiar, Blade must share some of these traits, though his trade did not go against his kind, for cats were predatory.
"He is my assassin now. Ensure that he is comfortable."
The chief advisor bowed and retreated, looking puzzled and doubtful.
Chiana found the assassin waiting in the corridor, the two guards who stood outside the Queen's doors watching him. He had donned the black leather tunic of which he had been stripped earlier, and was employed in lacing it up. She averted her eyes from his sculpted torso, visible through the jacket's open front, and turned to lead the way down the corridor.
Twice she glanced back to ensure that he was following, for he walked as silently as his feline kindred. Arriving outside the door to a servant's room, she pushed it open and stood aside, allowing him to enter. He surveyed the chamber with obvious dislike, his lip curling as he turned to her. Chiana raised her chin and met his chilly gaze. As before, his grey eyes sent a jolt through her.
"If you wish for anything, there is a bell pull by the bed, which will summon a maid. Your meals will be brought to you here."
His lips twisted further. "Am I a prisoner then?"
"Certainly not. The Queen has ordered that you have every comfort; it is merely a matter of convenience. You present a slight problem of protocol, since you are not a servant, nor a noble, and so may dine with neither."
"I did not ask to be kept here, Chief Advisor."
She flushed, cursing her traitorous reactions. "You have not given me your name."
"You may call me Blade."
Chiana lowered her eyes, unable to hold his gaze, and glanced at the slender hands at his sides. Beautiful hands, unsuited to a man, especially a killer. She suppressed a shiver. "I must return to the Queen."
The assassin inclined his head, and she closed the door and walked away down the corridor. She frowned as she recalled her first, unnerving encounter with him in the audience room.
Rarely did commoners request an audience with the Queen. Usually their grievances were aired through the lords who governed them, and nobles always applied for an audience in writing. Captain Redgard had informed her of this unusual application, and she had entered the audience chamber to find Blade standing amid a quartet of guards. She would never forget the way he had turned slowly to face her, and the shock of meeting his icy gaze. Her heart had jumped at the sight of him, her breath catching in her throat. Even after he had left, his effect on her lingered. When she had seen him again, battered by his encounter with the guards, she had experienced the same strange reaction in his presence.
Chiana returned to her duties, striving to push his image from her mind.
Chapter Three
A tenday later, the message that Minna-Satu awaited arrived from the front. The soldiers had failed yet again, and King Shandor still lived. Captain Redgard brought the news himself, delivering it with a tinge of reproof in his tone. Minna kicked a cushion across the room, causing Shista to raise her head and look around.
"Shall I select the next group of volunteers, My Queen?" the captain enquired without enthusiasm.
"No. I shall send no more soldiers to perform this task."
Redgard slumped. "As you wish."
"It is not a mission suited to soldiers, Redgard. Do you not agree?"
"As we have seen -"
"Yes, yes. It is a task better suited to an assassin, is it not?"
"Well..." The captain hesitated. "Perhaps, My Queen, but I doubt that an assassin would succeed either. The job is simply impossible."
"No, not impossible. There is little that is truly impossible." Minna paced the floor. "For a man to flap his arms and fly, that is impossible. For a man to live beneath the sea, that is impossible. But to kill King Shandor... is possible, for an assassin."
"Certainly they would be no great loss, and, being men of greed, they will flock to claim the reward..." He trailed off under Minna's glare, and she gestured.
"You may go."
The captain prostrated himself and retreated. Minna went to the window to gaze out at the sun-drenched gardens. Over the last tenday, she had glimpsed Blade twice in it, wandering amongst the flowers and shrubs, his black leather garb soaking up the light. His solitude told of sorrow and pain, and she sensed that death walked in his shadow, a hated ally at his side.