Authors: T. Southwell
"What, has my father failed to satisfy you, whore?"
Blade smiled, walking closer with a slow seductive gait. "The King snores. May I not stay with you?"
"No, get out." He turned away.
The assassin was a mere two strides from his quarry, and inched closer so the Prince would barely notice that the gap between them grew less. Blade lifted slender, be-ringed hands in a graceful female gesture. "May I help you to disrobe, mighty Prince?"
Kerrion swung towards him, startled by his sudden proximity. Blade released a dagger, its cold hilt filling his palm. Before the Prince could protest, he slid the weapon under the thongs that bound Kerrion's tunic, parting them, and the tip of the blade came to rest at the Prince's throat.
"One sound, and you die."
Kerrion froze as a drop of blood oozed from the tip of the weapon, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Blade nodded. "Good. Now, put your right arm around my shoulders."
The Prince obeyed, moving stiffly as the dagger pricked him.
"That's it," Blade murmured. "You and I are going for a walk, and if you make a sound, or disobey me, you will die instantly, understand?"
Kerrion nodded.
Blade scanned the tent, his eyes coming to rest on a big golden bird asleep on a perch in the corner. A desert eagle, female, judging by the black stripes on her tail feathers. He turned to the Prince.
"If your familiar attacks, you will both die."
"She is asleep," Kerrion croaked.
"Be silent! You live or die at my whim, remember that."
Blade gazed coldly into the Prince's terrified eyes as he searched Kerrion's clothes for weapons. Finding none, he allowed himself a slight smile. He slid his left arm around the Prince's waist, then transferred the dagger to it in a brief embrace that brought his face inches from Kerrion's. Once again, he found the place between the fourth and fifth ribs under the Prince's armpit and pressed the point of the dagger to it until Kerrion flinched.
Blade murmured, "If I push this blade in, you will die so quickly that you will have no time to shout or struggle. You will drop dead in your tracks, and no one will save you. I am an assassin, Prince Kerrion, and skilled at my trade. Obey me, and you will live. Try to get free or call your men, and you will die. Is that clear?"
Prince Kerrion nodded, frowning. The shock of his predicament was wearing off, which was bad, and Blade hoped that he did not find his courage too soon.
"You will not get away with this," Kerrion muttered.
"Be silent!" Blade jabbed the dagger deeper, making the Prince wince again. "You speak when I tell you to, not before. Now, we are going to walk out of this camp, and it is up to you to make sure we are not stopped. Your life is in your hands. If a guard becomes suspicious, you will die before I do. So the choice is yours. My Queen wants you alive, but if she cannot have you, you must die."
Kerrion nodded again, impotent anger in his eyes. He clearly knew that Blade could kill him with a jerk of his wrist. The assassin smiled and turned his captive towards the tent flap, using the dagger as a goad. Its painful jabs forced the Prince to walk with him, clasped together like lovers strolling in the moonlight. To add to the illusion, the assassin kept the pace unhurried, and they wandered through the sleeping camp. By the time they reached the outskirts, Blade's wrist was stiff from holding the dagger poised, and the Prince sagged from the pain.
Here sentries patrolled, scanning the desert for any sign of the enemy. One stepped out from behind a tent ahead, and Blade leant closer to whisper, "Your life is in your hands."
The soldier started in surprise at the sight of the Prince strolling in the arms of a whore, and peered at them as if to make sure his eyes did not deceive him. "Your Highness?"
"Yes?" Kerrion raised his chin and glared at the man.
The soldier saluted. "Is everything all right, My Lord?"
"Quite all right, soldier."
They walked past, but the sentry followed. "You should stay in the camp, Highness, it's not safe -"
"I shall do as I please," Kerrion asserted.
"But My Prince..."
Blade stopped the Prince and turned to smile at the soldier. "Would you spoil our fun, sir?"
The sentry shot him a confused glance, then addressed the Prince. "You must take a guard, My Lord."
Blade laid a hand on Kerrion's chest, making him shudder. "I have persuaded his Highness to experience the joys of making love in the sand, under the silvery moon. We would enjoy it more, I think, without any prying eyes."
The soldier scowled, his concern for his Prince clearly warring with the seductive innocence of Blade's smile. "The safety of the Prince is more important -"
"Soldier," Kerrion interrupted, "I wish to be left alone. The desert is empty for miles, and I shall be no more than a few hundred paces away. You are not to follow us, understand?"
The sentry saluted and stepped back. Blade silently congratulated Prince Kerrion, and twisted the dagger a little to remind him of who was in charge. The Prince nodded to the guard, and they walked on, leaving the man gazing after them.
Blade walked parallel to the mountains, leading the Prince into the gentle swells of the dunes, a moon-silvered sea of sharp-edged, undulating shadows. The sentry stood at the edge of the camp and watched them with a deep frown of uncertainty and concern. Blade wondered if he would have the initiative to call an officer, and glanced back several times to ensure that the soldier was not following, but he stayed where he was, gazing after them. When a dune hid them from the watchful sentry, Blade turned towards the mountains.
"You will not get away with this," the Prince snarled.
"Be quiet."
"The men know I do not lie with whores."
Blade jabbed the dagger a little deeper into the wound, making Kerrion grunt.
The Prince said, "Within a time-glass, they will come to search for me."
"They will not find you." Blade stopped and released his captive, turning to face him. He pulled two leather thongs from his bodice and used one to tie Kerrion's hands behind his back, the other as a leash around the Prince's neck. Tugging him forward, Blade set off at a trot, holding the skirt up to free his legs. Kerrion cursed vilely as he was dragged along, the thong digging into his neck. The deep sand dragged at Blade's feet, invaded the flimsy woman's sandals and made the straps cut into his ankles. The Prince stumbled after him, his bound arms and the constant tugging of the leash throwing him off balance.
Much as he enjoyed Kerrion's discomfort, Blade was glad to reach the stony ground at the foothills of the looming grey Endine Mountains. After a pause to find his bearings, he dragged the Prince up the sloping rocks to the cave. Inside, he pushed Kerrion ahead, sending him reeling into the darkness, where he flopped down. The Prince was right that Cotti soldiers would soon give chase, and since there was no way to hide their tracks, Blade knew he must take the Prince over the mountains with all haste. The Cotti would lose the trail in the stony foothills, so it was unlikely that they would find the cave. Nevertheless, the assassin wanted to be far away before they reached the mountains. Blade groped for the packs and struck flint to light a torch, then removed the sandals and stripped off the woman's clothes and baubles. His careful disguise, which had taken him time-glasses to don, was almost gone in a few moments. Kerrion stared at him with wide, incredulous eyes.
"You are a man!"
"Surely you jest?" Blade said. "Did you really still think me a woman?"
"You certainly…” The Prince shook his head. "My father will hunt you down, no matter where you go."
"Your father is dead."
Kerrion gaped at him. "You killed him."
"With a great deal of pleasure. As for being hunted down, will your men find you in the Queen's palace, do you think?"
"My brother will send men to rescue me."
"Your brother will be happy to let you rot in the Queen's prison. Now be quiet."
Blade dressed in his own clothes and stuffed the whore's disguise into the pack, then tied it on the Prince's back, ignoring Kerrion's glare. Shouldering the other pack, he picked up the leash and dragged his captive from the cave.
Avoiding the guarded pass to the west, Blade set off along a narrow goat trail that led over the mountains to the east, a route he had known about since childhood. The Prince stumbled after him, laden like a packhorse with the bulk of the baggage.
As the first hint of dawn coloured the sky with pale pink and yellow, Blade led his prize down into the foothills on the far side of the mountains. In the distance, Queen Minna-Satu's army slumbered against the backdrop of the grasslands, a sprawling cluster of dull green tents flying the blue and gold banners of the Jashimari. One carried the Queen's emblem, a rampant golden cat on a blue background; the others bore the emblems of the various lords whose troops fought for the Queen.
Herds of sheep, goats, cattle and horses grazed around it, dozing in the dawn glow. Blade wondered why the soldiers still used tents after so many centuries of war, but the ruins that dotted the fields gave him his answer. Every so often, the Cotti broke through the fortified pass and came boiling onto these lush meadows, at which time, all structures were demolished and burnt. Some permanent buildings were in evidence, but little more than sheds. One sprouted the long poles that held dream silk in the wind, and Blade scowled at it. He hated the hissing silk more than most, and it seemed to be everywhere. The clergy took their power even to the soldiers of the Queen's army.
Blade led Kerrion to the clump of stunted bloodwood trees where he had hidden the horses. His haste did not diminish, even now, and he tied the packs to the animals and boosted the Prince into the saddle of one before mounting the other. Turning away from the mountains, he urged his horse into a canter, leading the Prince's mount.
Within a few time-glasses, he was certain, the Cotti would mount a fierce attack on the pass, and he wanted to be far away when they did. To his credit, the Prince did not complain about the stiff pace Blade set all day, for although he slowed the horses to a walk several times, he did not stop until sunset. The beasts were war steeds, tall and strong, bred for their stamina and spirit. He had been surprised to be given such highly trained animals, having expected dull-eyed work horses. Their ease of handling pleased him, for the assassin was no horseman, and had little liking for the animals.
By the time Blade stopped, Kerrion sagged, his face pale and drawn, the pain of his wound and bonds clearly debilitating him. Blade tethered the horses in a wood beside a stream, letting them cool before he watered them. He pulled the Prince down and dumped him on the ground, then went to the stream to wash off the dye and paint. Kerrion stared at him when he returned, apparently surprised by the transformation. Blade pulled a length of chain from a pack and tied it around the Prince's waist, leaving the ends free. He undid the thong that bound Kerrion's hands and started to fasten the chains to his wrists.
The Prince's lunge surprised the assassin and sent him sprawling onto his back. Kerrion straddled him, forced him back when he struggled to rise and blocked the blows Blade aimed at his head. Before the assassin could change tactics, the Prince grabbed Blade's wrists and flung his weight against them, pinning them to the ground. Blade's whipcord strength was no match for the Prince's husky build and weight, since he was half a head taller and proportionally larger. Blade relaxed and scowled up at his former captive.
"Well, that was easy," Kerrion sneered, looking triumphant. "Not much of a fighter, are you?"
"I am not a brutish warrior, no."
"You are not even a real man! No man has cheeks as smooth as a girl's. You were better suited to your previous costume."
Blade frowned, but reined his temper with an effort. "You obviously have not noticed that you have created a situation from which you now have no way out, a particularly foolish move, I would say."
The Prince considered the situation. So long as he held the assassin's wrists, Blade was helpless, but, as he had pointed out, Kerrion could do nothing further without releasing him. For a brief period of stalemate they glared at each other, then Kerrion did the only thing he could, and released one of Blade's wrists to smash his fist into the assassin's chin, knocking his head sideways. Blade's vision darkened, and he went limp, his eyes closed. The Prince smiled and released his other wrist to sit back.
In a flash, the assassin jerked his arms up, the edges of his stiff hands striking the Prince on either side of his neck. Kerrion’s eyes rolled up as he keeled over, unconscious. Blade pushed him away and sat up, brushing leaves from his hair. Swiftly he fastened the chains around Kerrion's wrists, making any further attempts at escape impossible. Allowing himself the satisfaction of kicking the Prince in the gut, Blade set about lighting a fire and setting up camp.
By the time Kerrion woke, Blade had watered the horses and unsaddled them, heated water for tea and set a pot of stew on the fire to cook. The Prince groaned and clutched his gut, then tried to rub his neck. Finding his hands bound, he sat up and scowled at his captor.
Blade eyed him from across the fire. "Try anything like that again, and you will have more than a sore gut and neck to worry about. The Queen wants you alive, but she did not specify in what condition."
Kerrion coughed and bent awkwardly to rub his throat. "Could I have some water?"
"Certainly." Blade tossed him a water skin.
"You fight unfairly."
"Life is unfair, and that is the school that taught me. I do what is necessary to survive."
"What does your queen want with me?"
"She does not confide in me. I am not her advisor."
Kerrion looked bitter. "I expect she wants to execute me publicly, thereby raising the morale of her soldiers and people, strengthening them in the war. The death of my father will also aid her cause, for it puts my younger brother, who is inexperienced in the art of war, on the throne."