Master of the Dance (14 page)

The healer bowed and turned to his patient, looking bewildered and shocked. He ordered the girls to lift the assassin's legs and place cushions under them, then tied a tourniquet around Blade's thigh to stop the bleeding. After cleaning the wound, he threaded a needle and sewed it together with practised skill, frowning with concentration.

Kerrion paced around the room while the healer stitched and the maidens washed. Minna watched them from the foot of the bed. When the maidens had finished their task, the assassin's pallor shocked her. His skin almost matched the sheets on which he lay. Ossar stitched for time-glasses, closing the deep wounds first, then the ones in Blade's chest and shoulders. Lastly he sewed the thin cut that ran along Blade's cheekbone, and Minna wondered if it would leave a scar. Kerrion gave up pacing and sat in a chair, Minna settled on the end of the bed.

Ossar straightened, rubbing his back with a groan before he bent again to smear ointment on the wounds. He enlisted the maidens' help with the bandaging, and by the time they had finished the assassin was almost completely swaddled in clean white linen. Ossar mixed a powder with water in a spouted pot and trickled the liquid into Blade's mouth. He spluttered, but swallowed. When the healer had emptied the pot's contents down Blade's throat, he placed his fingers against the assassin's neck for a time, then bent and pressed his ear to Blade's chest.

He straightened, looking tired and aggrieved. "I can do no more for him, Sire."

Kerrion stood up and nodded. "You will stay with him, and tend to his every need. Two maidens will serve you, and I will send in some guards as well."

"Guards?" Ossar's bushy brows rose.

"How do you think he was wounded? Someone tried to kill him, and it is not going to happen again."

The healer glanced at Blade. "But he is just an assassin, Sire."

"He is the Lord Protector of Jashimari."

"Yes, Sire."

Minna rose and walked to the head of the bed to gaze down at Blade's peaceful face. "Will he live?"

Ossar hesitated. "I have done my best."

"Yes, but will he live?"

"I do not know."

Chapter Nine

Blade remained unconscious for four days, the healer and a quartet of beefy guards watching over him day and night. Ossar continued to force copious amounts of water down the assassin's throat, and changed the dressings every day. Minna and Kerra spent most of their time sitting with him, embroidering or reading as they listened to the reassuring sound of him breathing. Blade developed a raging fever, soaking the sheets with sweat, but he did not toss and tear open his wounds. Kerrion visited each day to listen to Ossar's opinion of Blade's progress, which remained pessimistic.

On the fifth day, Blade woke while Ossar was pouring water down the assassin's throat. He jerked his head aside, making Ossar jump and spill water on the pillow. The assassin opened his eyes and raised his head, tensing, then flopped back with a groan. Kerra threw down her embroidery and rushed to his side, Minna followed at a statelier pace. Ossar clutched the water pot, staring at Blade as if he could not believe his eyes. Kerra stopped beside the bed and gazed at the assassin with a joyful expression.

"You are all right!"

He cleared his throat and grimaced. "I would not say that."

Minna reached his side and smiled down at him. "It gladdens my heart to see you awake, My Lord."

"I do not share your joy. I would rather be asleep, except that some fool was trying to drown me." His eyes sought the hapless healer, who looked shocked.

"I was -"

"Ossar was only giving you water, My Lord," Minna explained. "It is he who has nursed you back to health so diligently."

Blade snorted and winced, his eyes scanning the room and coming to rest on his feet. "Why are my feet in the air?"

"You lost a great deal of blood. Ossar ordered your feet raised to help you heal."

"How did I get here?"

Minna settled on the edge of the bed. "Kerrion found you."

Blade tried to lift an arm, groaned, and relaxed. "Tell that damned fool to give me a pain draught."

Minna nodded at the healer, who moved away to mix the potion. She looked at Blade again. His pallor had not improved much, and his sunken eyes gave him a frail, feverish look.

"What happened to you, My Lord?"

He closed his eyes. "The assassin Dravis hired to kill me decided to prove that he was better than me."

"And he was not."

"No."

"It was a real Dance of Death, was it not?"

His eyes opened again, gazing at the canopy. "Yes."

"He was a fool to challenge the Queen's Blade."

Blade's mouth twitched into a slight smile. "As he discovered."

The healer approached with a cup, and Minna moved out of his way.

That afternoon, Marek visited Kerrion in his study, armed with a piece of parchment. The King looked up at his brother's entrance, his eyes hardening. The princes rarely visited their brother, and he disliked their presence. Marek stopped before Kerrion's desk and performed a brief bow, which was sufficient not to be insulting, but far from reverent. Kerrion put aside the papers he had been reading and sat back, eyeing his brother. Marek held out the paper.

"A message from Dravis. He claims that your assassin is either dead or gravely injured, and that you can no longer force us to obey you."

Kerrion took the letter and scanned it. "He is either lying, or has been misinformed. The assassin is unharmed."

"I think you are lying."

"And you are collaborating with a murderer who escaped from prison."

"I am not collaborating. I simply received a message from him."

"Why would he send you one if you are not his cohort?"

Marek scowled. "I did not ask for his help. What he chooses to do is his own business."

"But you would rather believe him than me."

"It throws doubt on the issue."

Kerrion nodded. "As he intended. I am sure he would like to see you defy me and die at the hands of my benefactor's assassin. It would remove one more potential rival for the throne. That, I am convinced, is his ultimate goal."

Marek looked shocked. "But he is last in line."

"Precisely."

"I cannot believe that he would kill all of us."

"If you fall for his lies, he will not have to."

The Prince looked thoughtful. "It is a possibility, I suppose, but not one that I would like to believe. I think he is simply trying to help us thwart your plans to elevate your Jashimari hussy and give women the same rights as men."

"I plan to do much more than that. I am writing up new laws that will considerably diminish the power of princes. When they are passed, you will not be able to give orders to my men or kidnap my wife. It is ridiculous that the King's power can be so undermined by his brothers. I can do almost nothing, as long as you all vote against me, and that is going to change."

Marek scowled. "You would make yourself a tyrant?"

"No, only a king who has the power to change laws and protect his family. My son will have no need of these laws, since he only has one brother, and he is full-blooded. The rivalries and jealousies that have turned us into enemies will die with us."

Marek glared at him. "Having only two sons is foolish. Should they die, you would have no heirs, and the throne would pass to Jovan."

"But a king with fifteen half-brothers plotting against him will never be able to achieve anything."

"I believe your threat is now a bluff. Your assassin is of no use to you, and we will not allow you to pass these laws."

"Indeed?" The King tilted his head, gazing up at his brother. "Would you like my benefactor to prove his or her assassin's continued good health to you? Your realisation would be brief, of course, a few moments before you died, but your brothers would be convinced, I am sure. A noble sacrifice on your part."

Marek's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps if you showed him to us, we would be convinced."

"So you could arrange his death, as Dravis tried to?" Kerrion shook his head. "I am not a fool. It would prove nothing in any case. I could present any Jashimari man to you as the assassin. You would not know the difference."

"If he is still alive, why have you not sent him after Dravis?"

"I do not tell him who to kill, but I imagine it is because Dravis is in hiding."

Marek stepped forward and picked up the letter. "Very well, I will take your word, for the moment."

"A wise decision."

The Prince walked to the door, where he paused. "But I shall have my spies confirm your story, nonetheless."

"And if I catch any of them, I will have them executed."

Marek shrugged and pulled open the door. "Feel free."

For several days, Blade spent most of his time asleep. He woke to eat, then demanded the pain draught and went back to sleep. Minna and Kerra remained at his bedside during the day, but Kerra was forced to sleep in her rooms with guards at her door and woman a sitting beside her bed. The palace's intrigues continued to foment, but of Dravis there was no sign. Kerrion imprisoned two suspected spies, and the princes voted in the King's favour when he put his new laws before the court.

Seven days after the fight, Blade sat up and proceeded to remove his bandages and inspect his wounds. Ossar protested, but the assassin at first ignored, then dismissed him. Minna made no attempt to dissuade him, knowing that when Blade was injured, his mood was always foul, and a confrontation with him was ill advised. He demanded a bath and struggled from the bed to limp over to the tub, where three maidens tended to him. Minna returned to her rooms, where Kerrion joined her later. He was pleased to learn that Blade was awake, but heeded his wife's advice and did not visit him.

Four days later, Ossar removed the stitches and declared that the assassin would make a full recovery. The cut on Blade's cheek had healed well, leaving a pink scar that would fade in time. Two days later, he was well enough to walk in the garden, four bodyguards accompanying him. Kerrion knew that he was extremely vulnerable while he was too weak to fight, and crossbowmen shadowed him on the walls. Blade's mood remained sour, but he could find nothing to pick a fight about, since the maidens who served him did exactly as he ordered.

Olan was relieved of his duty while Blade was ill, for Minna knew that the assassin would vent his spleen on the Cotti servant. The lack of argument only seemed to irritate him further, and he indulged in wine. This concerned Minna, who visited him in his rooms and found him seated by the window, staring out at the city, a cup in his hand. The four bodyguards stood in the corners. He looked around at her entrance, inclining his head.

"My Queen. I would say that once again you defy protocol to visit a man alone in his rooms, except that these days I am never alone."

Minna tugged on the bell-cord to summon a maid and ordered the girl to remove the bottle of wine. Blade watched her with narrowed eyes, his brow furrowed. When the maid left, Minna walked over to sit in the chair opposite him.

He sipped his wine. "Must you deny me my one pleasure?"

"When it is bad for you, yes."

"It dulls the pain."

"Which one? The injuries to your body, or the one in your mind?"

"Ah." He smiled. "And which mental wound are you referring to now?"

"I do not know. Only you do. Perhaps you should tell me."

"Are you so bored that you wish to listen to my woes, Minna? Or is it idle curiosity?"

"It is a concern for your well-being, My Lord."

The assassin snorted and gazed out of the window. "If you are concerned about me, then allow me to return to Jashimari. I hate this land and its people, as you know."

"Soon. When the laws are passed, you will be free to return. But I do not think that is the real reason for you unhappiness. I know you dislike the situation you find yourself in, and your injuries bother you, but there is something else, is there not?"

He inclined his head. "Indeed. The company of these four morons irritates me beyond measure. I must endure them standing over me even when I bathe."

"They are here to ensure your safety, My Lord."

"And how much longer must I suffer them?"

"Two more tendays, and the last of the new laws will be ratified. Then you may return to Jashimari to comfort your wife."

He sipped his wine. "She does not require my comfort."

"You are wrong. She longs for your company."

"I intend to return to my life of anonymity. I wish to escape from politics and the harsh use of monarchs."

"Do I use you so severely, My Lord? You have done much for me, I know. I only wish that there was a way to repay you, but other than more gold, or baubles, I am at a loss."

"Are you?" He turned his head and met her eyes.

"Is there something you want, My Lord? If there is then name it, and if I can, I shall ensure that you have it."

"Oh, I think you can, but the question is, will you?"

She frowned, puzzled. "Of course I will. What is it?"

"Ah, now that I cannot tell you, or else it would be meaningless. It is something you must decide to give, it cannot be solicited. If you cannot fathom it, then you cannot give it."

"You speak in riddles, My Lord. Why the mystery?"

"Because it is something that can only come from your heart, and if it is not there, I do not want it."

"More riddles."

He shrugged and sipped his wine. "Well, a simpler request is for more wine. I am sure you can manage that."

"No. You will make yourself ill, My Lord."

"And useless to you."

"That is not the reason for my concern."

He raised his brows. "Is it not? You would not concern yourself with my well-being if I was of no use to you. Kerrion would not have searched the city if I had merely been a man who was known to you, or him, would he?"

"You are my friend!" Minna's eyes sparkled, and she sat up straighter. "You have saved my life and that of my daughter. I would not forsake you."

"Ah, so is it gratitude that earns your concern, then?"