Lord Protector (21 page)

Outside, the clean crisp air refreshed him, and he barely noticed the two horses that whinnied for their dead friends. Three dogs slunk away down the street, pausing to howl their grief at the uncaring moon. A smaller dog lay dead, his lifespan already exceeded and therefore sharing his friend's fate, as would other, smaller familiars hidden in the shadows. As Blade strode down the street, a black form detached itself from the shadows to follow him, and he picked up the tired cub to spare him the journey back to the cabin.

Chapter Fifteen

Blade sipped his cup of bitter ale as he slouched in the darkest corner of the taproom, listening to the low hum of conversation. Lamps added their warm glow to the hearth's firelight, and a cold wind rattled the storm shutters. Old men played board games on the far side of the room, their counters clacking on the wood. Two young farmers were engaged in a jovial game of throw-points, and a few of their friends laid wagers on the outcome. Wives and sweethearts mingled with the crowd, the occasional high trill of laughter breaking the deep buzz of male voices. Serving wenches sidestepped pinches and tickles from patrons as they delivered their burdens of wine and ale. The scene was that of an average night in the village taproom.

Winter had passed slowly in this quiet town. Storms had swept through, leaving their cargo of snow on the streets and roofs, and Blade's earnings had paid for his keep. Rivan and his sister had achieved almost adult stature, and had caught their first prey a few tendays ago. Rivan now stood knee high to the assassin, far smaller than the huge sand cats that reached to mid-thigh, but considerably larger than the domestic cats and far more formidable than a dog of the same size.

Spotted snow cats were slightly larger, mostly due to their huskier build and powerful limbs. Wood cats had a sleek build and narrow, elongated heads with slanted eyes and broad pointed ears. They were known for their speed and skill at tree-climbing, and preyed mostly on small mammals and birds, although they had been known to pull down young deer. While appearing black, a wood cat's coat showed faint dapples when examined closely in a strong light, and they were mostly nocturnal. In a few more tendays the she-cat would be independent, and Blade would be able to return to Jondar as soon as the snows had melted.

The tall serving wench swished over to him and smiled as he glanced up at her, the heavy scent of her musky perfume tickling his nose. She had flirted with him all winter, the only one not discouraged by his obvious disinterest. With a disappointed glance at his half-full mug, she cocked her head and pouted.

"You still not ready for another one?"

"Evidently not."

She winked. "Bit slow tonight, are you?"

"No more than usual."

As had happened many times before, his terse replies foiled her attempt to strike up a conversation, and a slight frown puckered her brow as giggles came from the girls who watched from the counter. Evidently her persistence was becoming something of a joke amongst her friends. She set down her tray and leant closer, clearly determined to win his interest by fair means or foul. Blade did not glance at the handsome cleavage she displayed, keeping his eyes fixed on hers and allowing them to cool to icy frigidity. The girl lowered her gaze to his mouth, unable to meet his eyes, but her frown vanished and an alluring smile curled her full lips.

"Would you like to come to my room later?"

Blade smiled at the girl's bold invitation, amused that her desperation had forced her to forgo the usual display of coyness. "No."

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, widening with shock. "Why not?"

"That's my business."

"You..." The girl's frown returned, and she muttered, "The least you owe me for such a cruel refusal is an answer."

"I don't owe you anything at all." A vague sense of disquiet stole over Blade, but the girl leant closer still, distracting him.

"You find me repulsive?"

"No."

"You don't like women?"

Blade frowned, trying to concentrate on the uneasiness that grew in him. "I like them well enough."

The girl looked peeved. "Then why do you refuse?"

"Because I choose to."

Her eyes narrowed. "A man doesn't refuse an offer like mine."

"Well, I just did."

"It's not normal!"

"I don't care." Blade's frown deepened as the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

"Emella!" the innkeeper boomed from behind the counter. "Leave him alone."

Emella shot the proprietor a withering glance before turning her attention back to the assassin. "Do you like boys then? Is that it?"

Blade glared at her. "No."

"That's it! It must be!"

"Emella!" the innkeeper shouted, coming towards them. The brewing conflict had distracted many of the patrons from their conversations. Blade tried to concentrate on the uneasiness that was now almost full-blown alarm, but the serving girl's accusations became louder.

"That's it! You like men!"

The innkeeper grabbed her arm and yanked her away. "Stop it! My God, what are you thinking?"

Blade stood, his eyes pinning the innkeeper. "Keep her away from me."

The proprietor dragged the serving wench away, silenced her protestations with a slap and muttered at her stupidity. The alarm thrumming through Blade had his full attention, even as other patrons looked uneasy. The warning came from Rivan, who lay outside on the roof beside the warm chimney. When Blade closed his eyes, he glimpsed dark forms on the street through the cat's eyes.

As he opened them, the taproom doors burst open and dozens of armoured men charged in, brandishing swords. The patrons jumped up and surged back in panic, and Blade turned and ran. At first he headed for the stairs, but the retreating crowd blocked this escape route, and he veered, heading for the nearest window. Hurdling a table, he flung himself through it, raising his arms to protect his face.

The storm shutters broke as he hit them, bruised his forearms and caused him to tumble into the snow in an ungainly sprawl, glass raining down around him. Mounted men crowded the street, and he lay on his back amid a veritably forest of equine legs. Rolling to his feet, he glanced around for a way out, finding that the only unguarded route was back to the inn.

Before the soldiers could react, he leapt onto the ledge of the window through which he had just exited and reached up to find purchase on the wall above. The soldiers shouted and urged their horses closer, reaching him before he could find a handhold on the wall. A man grabbed his ankle and yanked just as Blade kicked him, knocking him from his horse.

More men converged, and, as the assassin found purchase and pulled himself upwards, several soldiers took hold of his legs. Blade kicked a man in the face, and he reeled away, clutching it. The others growled and renewed their efforts to drag Blade down. His handhold broke, and he fell amongst them, struggling to free himself from their grasp. A flash of steel caught his eye, and he twisted aside as a soldier stabbed at him with a sword, narrowly avoiding it.

With a savage wail, a black shadow leapt from the roof and landed on a soldier's back. Some of the horses shied at the sudden appearance of a wood cat in their midst, and the soldier cried out in pain and fear. Rivan leapt at another soldier, raked man and mount with his claws and made the horse plunge away in terror. Blade fought to free his arms, unable to reach his weapons while the soldiers hung onto him.

Rivan ran towards him again, attacked one of the men and forced him to release Blade in order to draw his sword. Four men still held the assassin, twisting his arms behind his back. Rivan's danger thrummed through Blade's blood like fire, and his stomach clenched with anguish as he strived to free himself so he could protect the cat. Any hope of escape was gone, and he realised that the cat's presence only put him in danger. Rivan could not free him from so many men.

"Go!" Blade shouted, reinforcing it with a mental command that made the cat flatten his ears.

Rivan hesitated, glancing at Blade with luminous golden eyes that glowed with rage and fear. The assassin jerked his head, commanding the cat again, and Rivan leapt past the soldiers as they lunged at him and clawed his way up the inn's wall. The soldiers lost interest in the cat and closed in on Blade, muttering curses and clearly intent on avenging their wounds.

A curt command stopped them, and they parted to allow a mounted officer through their ranks. Evidently the ruckus around Blade had drawn the officer, for the rest of the villagers were being herded from their houses and the inn. The officer studied him, meeting his eyes without flinching, although a muscle jumped in his jaw. A hooked nose dominated his broad, handsome face, and black hair framed it.

The man wore a haphazard collection of dirty livery and battered armour, and looked more like a brigand than a soldier. More alarming, however, was that he spoke with a Contaran accent, and was, in all likelihood, a mercenary. Many Contara soldiers had deserted after the Cotti invasion, and more formed rebel bands in the northern mountains. The officer raked the assassin with a hard glance, then jerked his chin at the soldiers.

"Search him and bind him."

The men confiscated the two daggers Blade carried, tied his hands behind his back and dragged him to his feet, shoving him towards the throng that stood before the inn. Everyone in the village had been rounded up, including the women and children. Blade eyed the mercenaries, wondering what they were going to do and why they were here. The officer guided his horse closer and studied the crowd.

"We seek a man!" he shouted. "He's a stranger to you. He's an assassin, known as the Queen's Blade. Bring him forth, and no harm will come to you! Try to hide him, and we'll raze this village to the ground."

Blade glanced at Daron, who looked away, but Jayda met Blade's eyes with a hard, challenging stare.

Omall stepped forward. "What do you want with him?"

The officer turned to scowl at him. "That's not your business. We know he's hiding in this village. Send him out, and we'll spare the rest of you."

"We haven't seen the Queen's Blade. He lives in the palace with his wife, the Regent."

"We know he's here. Hide him at your peril!"

Omall shook his head, looking confused. "We're not hiding him. He's not here. Who says he is?"

The officer drew his sword and urged his horse closer to the veteran, placing the tip of the weapon against Omall's chest. "You probably don't know who he is. You're just a bunch of ignorant peasants. Is there an assassin in this village?"

Omall nodded, his eyes seeking Blade, who stepped back and sidled into the crowd. "There is one. His name is Claw. He can't be the Queen's Blade."

"Why not?"

"Because the Queen's Blade is the Lord Protector, and this man is just a common assassin."

"Point him out, now!"

Omall raised his arm to indicate a scrawny individual Blade recognised as a travelling tinker who had come to the village a tenday before. "That's him."

The tinker gaped at Omall, then spluttered, "I'm not an assassin! I'm a tinker! You know me, I mend pots!"

Omall averted his eyes, shaking his head. "That's him."

"Bring him!" the officer shouted.

Four soldiers shoved through the crowd and gripped the tinker's arms, marching him over to the officer, who scrutinised him. The tinker's black hair and grey eyes, together with his narrow, saturnine face and a scrawny build did endow him with a vague resemblance to Blade. If the description the soldiers had been given was a particularly bad one, they may be fooled into thinking the tinker was Blade, but not for long. The assassin edged further into the crowd, looking for possible escape routes. If nothing else, Omall's subterfuge might give him time to slip away.

The tinker shouted protests, and the officer jerked his chin at the soldiers. "Show me his mark."

This was where things would go wrong, Blade knew. He reached the back of the crowd, where several soldiers barred egress, and searched for an unguarded gap. At the front of the crowd, more shouts arose as the tinker's lack of a tattoo was discovered. The officer had dismounted and struck Omall, judging by the crack of fist on flesh.

"Don't lie to me!" the officer bellowed. "Send him out now, or this man dies!"

Someone gripped Blade's arm, and he turned to find Jayda glaring at him. "Will you let them murder Omall?" he demanded.

"If Omall's ready to die to protect me, yes."

"He will, to defend a lord. If you have a spine, you'll give yourself up to save him."

"Then evidently I don't have a spine."

Jayda's frown deepened. "You don't deserve to be saved by him. He's worth ten of you!"

"As he's busy proving, right now."

"Well I won't let him sacrifice himself for a damned assassin. I don't care if you're a bloody lord. He's my friend." Jayda's grip on Blade's arm tightened as he swung away, dragging the assassin. "Here he is!"

Two soldiers jerked Blade's arm from Jayda's grip and hauled him out of the throng to face the irate officer. Omall knelt in the mud, clutching his jaw, and shot Jayda a glare.

The officer loomed over Blade. "Are you the Queen's Blade?"

"No. My name is Claw."

The man tugged open Blade's collar, and his frown deepened. "You're an assassin."

"Yes, but not the one you seek."

"I have it on good authority that the Queen's Blade lives in this village, and as yet, I've only found one assassin. You."

"Then you should keep looking," Blade recommended. "But your authority is wrong. The Queen's Blade is a high lord. What would he be doing living in a dirty village like this?"

"I don't know, but you fit the description, and you're an assassin." The officer remounted his horse. "Bring him!"

The soldiers led Blade to a horse and boosted him into the saddle before tying his hands to the pommel. The rest mounted, and the ragged company rode out of the village. The villagers watched them leave with a mixture of relief and anger, some shouting insults at the soldiers' backs in a show of cowardly bravado. Blade glared ahead, his stomach knotted. Whoever had sent these men to capture him was, in all likelihood, after his blood, and he wondered which of his many enemies had engineered his capture. Dravis seemed the most likely candidate, and he wondered what had become of the Cotti prince.