Lord Protector (26 page)

"Tell him to find a deep well, and jump in it."

The man bowed. "As you wish, Sire."

Kerrion glared at the mercenary's back as he left, signalling to his officers to have the Contaran followed. The King turned to Lord Batian, who leant closer.

"Have my guards doubled tonight," Kerrion said, "and every night thereafter. I want two dogmen standing over my bed."

"You believe this?"

"I am unsure, but I will take no chances. If Blade is alive, and Dravis is able to force him to come after me... He is the only one who could kill me, even here, surrounded by soldiers. Do not doubt it. He has done it before."

Batian nodded and straightened as two soldiers brought the Contaran huntsman forward. Kerrion had lost interest in the leather-clad man, his mind filled with anxiety and hope. In all likelihood, Jovan's information was bogus, perhaps intended to make Kerrion's life unpleasant, but a slight doubt remained, enough to make the Cotti King uneasy. The soldiers forced the huntsman to his knees, and at Kerrion's gesture he rose, scowling.

"Who is this?"

The guardsman on the left said, "We found him in the forest, Sire. He was hunting wood cats."

"And what is so strange about that?"

"He claims that he works for Prince Dravis."

Kerrion studied the huntsman with renewed interest. "I see. Why did he tell you this, soldier? I see no torture marks upon him."

"We didn't have to torture him, Majesty. He claims that Prince Dravis forced him to hunt wood cats, and he has no love for your brother."

"Has Dravis cut out his tongue, too?"

"No, Sire."

Kerrion frowned at the huntsman. "Why does Dravis want you to hunt wood cats? Does he wish to enter the fur trade?"

The man shook his head. "I don't know... Majesty. He has forced seven huntsmen to work for him, and told them all to catch wood cats. Not kill, mind you, just catch, which is a far more difficult thing to do, since wood cats are -"

"Yes, I see. How did he force you to do this?"

"He threatened my family."

"Have you caught any wood cats?"

The man shook his head. "There aren't many around these parts. They're more common in Jashimari. In Contara -"

"Have any of the other huntsmen caught any?"

"I don't know, but -"

"Thank you." Kerrion gestured, and the guardsmen took the hunter's arms and led him away. "Give him a silver for his trouble."

"What about my family?" the hunter demanded.

"These men will go with you to protect them. You will stay at home, too."

"But I have to provide food. I must hunt!"

"They will see to it that you and your family are fed."

"Thank you, Majesty, you are a good and kind king."

Dismissing the rest of the petitioners, Kerrion rose and went into the sitting room, Batian and Prethos following. A servant poured wine for them, and Kerrion sank into a chair, scowling at the fire. Batian sat opposite, looking pensive.

"What do you make of that, Batty?" Kerrion enquired.

"It makes little sense."

Kerrion tapped his fingers on his goblet, pondering. "What if Blade is not dead, and Jovan's deduction is correct?"

"Then you are in grave danger, Sire."

"Perhaps." Kerrion looked up. "Prethos, go and find me an advisor who has studied the Queen's Blade."

The Prince pulled a face and put down his cup. Kerrion gazed into the fire, lost in thought. The possibility that Blade might be alive filled him with a strange mixture of relief and dread. Part of him hoped it was true, but a niggling anxiety ate at his nerves. If Blade was alive, and Dravis had found a way to coerce him, was he now in danger? What could possibly force the Jashimari assassin to work for a Cotti prince?

Prethos returned with a stooped, bald advisor with a wizened face and an ingratiating manner, whom Kerrion did not recognise. The Prince indicated the bowing man with a languid wave of his hand.

"Advisor Maresh claims to have studied the Queen's Blade."

Kerrion gestured for the man to sit, which he did hesitantly, as if the chair had pins in it.

"Maresh."

"Sire." Maresh rose and bowed again.

"Sit down. The Queen's Blade is cat kin, and Bereft, correct?"

"Yes, Sire."

"What sort of cat?"

Maresh fiddled with the edge of his sleeve. "Wood cat, Sire."

"Thank you. You may leave."

Maresh rose and backed away, bowing repeatedly until he reached the door and vanished through it.

Kerrion sipped his wine and gazed into the fire again. "It makes no sense. Why does Dravis want a wood cat? Even if it is the same kind as Blade's former familiar, he cannot use it to force Blade to do anything."

Batian shrugged. "Perhaps it is a ruse, to frighten you. What better way to drive you from Contara than to threaten you with this assassin, and pretend to have the means to make him assassinate you? Perhaps he intended the huntsman to tell you what he did, and that is why he threatened him instead of paying him."

"No, it still makes no sense. Dravis longs for my death. He knows that I know Blade is Bereft, and cannot be forced to assassinate me. Why would he stage such an elaborate, yet pointless hoax?"

"Unless, since he does not have the means to kill you, he does want you out of Contara. Is that not the next best thing?"

"I suppose so. But why would he imagine I would believe this foolishness? He even enlisted Jovan's aid. I do not believe Blade is still alive. Dravis would have been too eager to kill him. I think you are right. It is a ruse." Kerrion sipped his wine. "Still, I want those dogmen in my room."

"Of course."

Chapter Eighteen

Blade looked up as the door of his cell creaked open and Dravis strutted in, looking as smug as a peardog in an orchard of overripe potpears. The assassin lounged on the narrow cot, amusing himself by throwing pebbles into the latrine bucket on the far side of the room. The pastime had used up most of the available stones in the crumbling room, and he was not prepared to fish them out of the pisspot. He had been incarcerated in the dungeon for four tendays, and the guards had lugged out many pails full of pebbles since he had found his new hobby. He supposed, if he was here long enough, he would eventually pick his way through the wall at the back of the cell in his search for fresh ammunition.

The manacles on his wrists were almost as annoying as the leg chain that tethered him to the wall, allowing him to reach the cot, the pisspot and the table where he ate his meals. What surprised him, perhaps more than that he was still alive, was that Dravis had not tortured him since his capture. The bruises of that beating had faded, and all he suffered from now was terminal boredom. Dravis looked ready to pop with satisfaction, and Blade eyed him for a moment before hurling another stone. It landed in the empty bucket with a gratifying clatter, making Dravis start. The Prince frowned at Blade, who smirked and tossed another stone with unerring accuracy.

"Stop that," Dravis snapped.

"Make me."

"I will have your hands shackled behind your back."

"Not for long."

Dravis shook his head, clearly unwilling to enter into another argument with the assassin, which he was definitely tired of losing. "I have come to tell you that you will assassinate Kerrion."

"Oh, I will, will I?"

"Yes, you will."

Blade shook his head. "Much as I would like to stick a dagger in that Cotti bastard's heart, I will not do it for you."

"You have no choice now."

"So, you have found an army to march me there and force my hand?" Blade threw another pebble, and the clang reverberated around the room.

"No. I have something better." Dravis turned and beckoned to someone outside the doorway.

Two soldiers shuffled in, carrying a cage between them. Inside it, a wood cat snarled and clawed at the bars. Blade glanced at it and chuckled, tossing another stone.

"How droll, Dravis. You expect me to care if you slay a wood cat? You do know that I am Bereft, do you not?"

"You once were, but my men say that a wood cat followed you from the village, and one has been seen prowling around here at night."

Blade shrugged. "So? A curious cat. Did you think I had regained my familiar? Am I a magician now, to conjure him out of the air?"

"Perhaps you were never Bereft, but hid him all these years. Perhaps he shunned you, and you have regained his trust."

"Both those ideas are impossible. You really are a dolt."

Dravis stepped closer, then thought better of it and retreated beyond the reach of Blade's leg chain once more. "So this is not the right cat, hmmm? Let us be sure." He turned to the soldiers. "Kill it."

One of the men drew his sword and stabbed it through the bars of the cage, gored the cat's flank and made it scream and writhe. Blade's nape hairs prickled, and sweat popped out on his upper lip, but he kept his eyes on the pisspot and threw another stone. It took the soldier four stabs to kill the cat, then the men shuffled out with the cage. Dravis frowned, wincing as yet another stone hit the bucket with a resounding clang.

"I will catch him, you know. I have many hunters setting snares for him. When I do, you will kill Kerrion, or your familiar dies."

"I do not have a familiar, you imbecile. Kill all the wood cats you want."

"I shall also make you pay for your insults, assassin. You would be well advised to - Ah!" Dravis clutched his cheek as a pebble bounced off it.

"Bugger off." Blade threw another stone, hitting the Prince on the nose, and Dravis stumbled back, raising his hands to shield his face.

"You will pay for that too!" Dravis howled from the passage as the cell door slammed behind him.

"Next time I will use the stones in the pisspot, you Cotti whoreson!"

"Your familiar will suffer now, you bastard, be sure of that!"

Blade listened to the tramp of feet move away. His nostrils flared with rage as he breathed deeply. Jumping up, he paced to the end of the chain and back to the bed, the remaining stones gripped so tightly that they dug into his palms. He would indeed be at the Prince's mercy if Dravis captured Rivan. He could not allow his familiar to die again. The wood cat remained in the forest, well hidden, but would not leave the area. It was only a matter of time before he was caught, unless Kerrion captured Dravis first.

The Cotti Prince had spent a fair amount of time trying to taunt the assassin, first with the news that he had informed Chiana of Blade's death, then with the prospect of a painful, Cotti-style execution. Now he had decided to use Blade to slay Kerrion. The assassin found, somewhat to his surprise, that he was averse to the idea. The Cotti King was not a bad man, and his death would lead to a string of disastrous events. Queen Minna-Satu and her sons would die. Jovan would become King, and, at Dravis' urging, invade Jashimari and slay Kerra and Chiana. One thing was certain, however, Dravis would kill Rivan, whether or not Blade did as he bid.

Blade paced to the end of the chain again, then back to the bed. The cell had a narrow barred window near the roof, which allowed in a little light during the day. He had already gone over his prison with a fine-toothed comb, and could find no possible escape route. Without his picks, he could not remove the shackles, and even if he could, there was no way out. He stalked over to the pisspot and kicked it across the room with a tremendous clang that almost deafened him. The racket goaded his rage, and he followed and kicked it again, then attacked the bed and ripped it apart. The mildewed sheets parted with satisfying rending noises, reminding him of Chiana's destructive spree after Inka's death.

The bare cell had little ammunition to satisfy his anger, and after shredding the mattress and filling the room with rank straw, he kicked the wall until his toes ached. Sinking down with his back to it, he covered his face and strived to calm himself. There was no way out of his predicament, unless someone rescued him, and if Chiana thought he was dead there was no hope of that. Blade pulled on the chains until the steel cuffs cut into his wrists, gritted his teeth and cursed.

Shamsara had promised him that he would not lose Rivan again, and that could only mean Blade would kill Kerrion to save him. Dravis would not keep his word, however. That idea was ridiculous. The Prince would delight in torturing and killing Rivan as soon as Kerrion was dead. Once Blade was in the death sleep, Dravis would kill him too. It was hopeless. There was no way out. Blade jerked his head back against the wall, the pain bringing a modicum of calm, for some reason. He did not care if they all died, he told himself, but he did care about Rivan.

No sooner had he found something to love, he reflected bitterly, than it was used against him. He jerked his head back against the wall again, glaring at the pisspot. How had Chiana reacted to the news of his death? Had she tried to take her life again? Had someone prevented her, or was she dead too? When Dravis had taunted him about it, Blade had told the Prince that his wife would rejoice at his demise and dance on his grave. He almost wished that was true.

Chiana would suffer because she loved him, just as he had suffered for loving his family and his familiar. Everyone who loved suffered, in his experience. His attempt to make her hate him by calling her love a lie had failed, and he almost regretted doing it now. It would have been worth it, had it worked. Blade threw a stone at the overturned bucket, hitting it with a clatter. Only a fool would fall in love with an assassin.

Over the next two days, Dravis' men killed three wood cats in front of the assassin. Before the Prince entered the cell, his men dragged Blade off the bed and confiscated any stones he had hidden about his person. The soldiers paid for their temerity at every encounter, coming away bruised and, on one occasion, bitten. Blade mocked Dravis' cat-killing spree, which made the Prince even angrier. Fortunately for him, he did not make the mistake of straying within the assassin's reach.

The distance between them weakened Blade's link with Rivan, and he constantly urged the cat to stay away. The young feline did not understand it, nor did he know about traps. Blade lay on the bed's hard boards, since the guards had not replaced the mattress, and pondered the problem. On the third day, he sat up with a jerk, cursing his former stupidity. He only hoped he was not too late. Rising, he paced the cell, dragging the heavy chain. Now all that remained was to wait for Dravis' huntsmen to catch another wood cat. The performance would be humiliating, and test his skill at lying to its utmost.