Master of the Dance (24 page)

Kerra looked up to find him watching her, his gaze a little sharper. He pulled free the hand she was rubbing and flexed it, so she picked up the other one and rubbed it. Blade winced, glancing around. The wound in his shoulder oozed fresh blood, and violent shivers racked him. Kerra fetched the bag she had left in the passage and pulled out a jacket and a flask of strong liquor called dre'nthen, offering it to him. He tried to take it, but it slipped from his fingers, so she held it to his lips. After he had taken a few gulps, she put it aside and helped him into the jacket, lacing it up. When she finished, she found him watching her again.

"Well, what now?" he enquired.

She shook her head. "I did not know you would be so weak. I thought you would be able to leave the palace and hide in the city."

"We have only a few minutes before those guards discover that I am gone, and my hands are useless. You will have to find me a hiding place in the palace."

"That is the first place they will look."

"It is a big palace. Give me some more dre'nthen."

Kerra held the flask for him again, and he took several deep swallows. Putting it away, she dug out the daggers and pushed them into the sheaths on his belt and boots.

Blade rubbed his hands, flexed them and grimaced as the blood returned. Kerra wondered how much pain he was really in, for she was certain that he did not reveal much of it. He must be aching, particularly his arms and chest. He relaxed, rested his head on the wall behind him and closed his eyes. She knew the dre'nthen would be smouldering in his stomach, and hoped it imparted a little strength.

Chapter Sixteen

After a few minutes, Blade struggled to his feet with a little help from the wall. Kerra picked up the bag and followed as he limped along the passage, directing him when he came to a bend. Since his senses were more acute, she let him go first, and he paused several times to listen. They had reached the passage behind the executioner's door by the time faint shouts came from the courtyard, and Blade glanced back before moving on. Kerra chafed at the slow pace he set, longing to tug him along, but knew that he was going as fast as he could.

They reached the storeroom through which she had detoured just as guards came running along the corridor, and slipped inside. Blade leant against the baskets of vegetables, looking exhausted. She gave him more dre'nthen, and this time he was able to hold the flask. When he had rested for a few minutes, he went to the door and checked the passage, then slipped out and crept along it. Kerra followed, her heart pounding at the sound of distant shouts and running feet. Two guards appeared at the end of the passage, and she froze. Blade grabbed her and stepped back into a doorway, clamping a hand over her mouth. She stood in his embrace as the soldiers ran past, then he released her and pushed her out, leading her on down the passage.

They paused to rest again in a dark passage, listening to the growing ruckus of the search. Blade seemed to be growing stronger all the time, but was nowhere near fully recovered. After a few minutes, he led the way down the passage again, moving faster. They entered a well-lighted corridor and walked along it, heading for another dark side passage.

A door beside them opened and a soldier stepped out, gaping at them. Blade yanked a dagger from his belt, but it slipped from his fingers, and he cursed. Stepping towards the guard, he kicked him in the gut, sending him staggering back with a grunt. The guard hit the wall and slid down it, dazed by the impact. Blade kicked him in the jaw, consigning him to oblivion.

As he turned away, another soldier charged from the doorway, a dagger in one fist. The assassin leapt aside, narrowly avoiding being impaled, and kicked the weapon from the man's fist. The soldier lunged at him, arms spread. Blade tried to leap out of reach, but his ankle betrayed him and he staggered into the wall. The soldier caught him by the shoulder and spun him around, locked his arm around Blade's throat and cut off his air. The assassin tried to throw the soldier over his shoulder, but his legs buckled and he fell to his knees.

Kerra's heart hammered as if it would burst, but terror kept her frozen. She expected Blade to win free and defeat his opponent, but it soon became obvious that he could not. The brawny soldier's powerful arm held the assassin helpless, crushing his throat. Since his hands were too weak to use his daggers, all he could do was struggle against his stronger opponent. Kerra's hand dropped to the hilt of the dagger in her belt as the realisation that she would have to do something chilled her gut.

Swallowing bile, she walked up behind the soldier, drawing her weapon. For an instant she stood irresolute, the dagger poised over the man's broad back, then she recalled Blade's lessons and aimed it at his ribs just beneath his armpit. Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes and plunged it in. The blade grated on bone and sank into flesh with a peculiar, nauseating sensation, and she yanked it out again. She opened her eyes as the soldier grunted and released the assassin, swinging around.

Confronted by a vast, muscular chest and brawny arms reaching for her, she shrieked and stabbed him again. Her vision dimmed, becoming tunnel-like as she thrust the dagger into the soldier's chest again and again. All she could see was the front of his tunic and the spreading red stain on it. Hysteria bubbled up in her, making her breath catch as his hands gripped her shoulders, and she plunged the dagger into him repeatedly, wishing that he would fall.

The soldier's hands slid off her shoulders, and he sank to his knees, his eyes wide as his life ebbed away. He toppled over, and she crouched beside him, continuing to stab him. Blood smeared her hand and gushed over his tunic to pool on the ground. Sobbing with horror, she carried on stabbing him until at last he slumped and lay still. She became aware of Blade trying to tug her away, but his hand had no strength, and he cursed.

"Come on, he is dead."

Rising to her feet, she followed him, her mind blank. They traversed several long stretches of well-lighted corridor and negotiated a few crossroads and corners, then slipped into a dark passage and stopped to rest again.

Blade leant against the wall, studying Kerra, who seemed unnaturally calm. The dagger dangled from her hand, blood drying on her fingers. After a few minutes he moved on, leading her to the wing of the palace where his rooms were, and fewer guards hurried about. It was not the best idea to return to his rooms, but he needed to rest, and hoped that the guards had already searched them.

There were so many soldiers searching for him outside that perhaps this was not such a bad place. They might not think he would return here. Entering his quarters, he locked the door and went over to sit on the bed, rubbing his throat. Kerra sheathed the dagger and lighted a lamp with the tinderbox beside the bed. In its light, she stared at her bloody hands, then wiped them on the canopy. The assassin jerked his head at the pitcher of water and bowl on the table.

"Wash it off."

Kerra scrubbed her hands with soap until they turned pink, then red. Blade rose and stopped her, handed her a towel and pulled off her veil to gaze into her face.

"It is gone."

Leading her to the bed, he made her sit on it and piled up the cushions, then lay back on them and eyed her. "How do you feel?"

She licked her lips. "Numb."

"Have some dre'nthen."

The strong liquor burnt Kerra's throat, warmed her stomach and thawed the knot there. She took several deep swallows, even though the liquor made her gasp, then Blade took the flask away. After a few minutes, the numbness receded and a terrible regret gripped her, mixed with shame and sorrow. She had killed a man, snuffed out his life and inflicted terrible pain in the process. Tears stung her eyes, then overflowed to run down her cheeks.

"Unpleasant, is it not?" Blade murmured.

She nodded. "Horrible."

"You did well."

"I killed a man."

"Yes. It is no good regretting it. It is done. Forget it."

"I cannot."

He sighed. "All assassins go through this when we make our first kill, although the degree of emotional trauma varies. A first kill is always messy and unpleasant. Naturally it is worse for you, because you are a just a girl."

"Why should being a girl have anything to do with it?"

"You are gentler, and you do not have a killer instinct."

"What was your first kill like?"

He shrugged. "Messy. It took me almost as long as it just took you, to kill him."

"Were you upset?"

"Only that it had been so messy."

She sniffed, wiping her nose. "But you just said..."

"I said the degree of emotional trauma varies. In my case, there was none. I started killing at an early age, to stay alive. When it is a case of survival, regret is minimal. There was more triumph, that I had succeeded, and would live another day. I was so close to death myself that it held no horror for me."

Kerra stared at her hands. "That is something I never thought I would have to do."

"When you came to rescue me, did you not think that you may have to kill a guard or two?"

"No. I did not plan to."

"You should have. What you did was incredibly stupid, you know."

"I had to free you." She wiped her nose again, frowning at him. "You could show a little gratitude."

"I am grateful, but you took a great risk."

"It was worth it." She rubbed a tear from her cheek. "Why do you keep saying it was stupid? Did not you want to be rescued?"

He smiled. "Of course, just not by you."

"Why, because I am a woman? Is it a blow to your male pride?"

"No. And you are a girl. You could have been hurt, even killed."

"You sound as if you care."

He looked away, frowning. "You are the Jashimari Queen. Did you think of what would happen if you died?"

"I did not plan on dying."

"No one ever does." He rubbed his hands, and Kerra took one, studying it. The swelling had gone, and she ran her fingers over the smooth skin, marvelling at its slender beauty, so unlike the blunt, hairy hands of other men. Tiny white scars marred his pale skin, a legacy of learning to use a dagger, she suspected. He allowed her to hold it, perhaps to distract her from her morbid thoughts.

"Why are you so weak?"

He snorted. "You try hanging by your arms for that many time-glasses. It paralyses the chest after a while, and you struggle to breathe. That is how you die if you are crucified, of suffocation. This way does not kill you, it is just damned painful."

"And your hands?"

He glanced at the one she held. "The circulation was cut off for a long time. They are weak and stiff."

"Will they get better?"

"I hope so."

She slid closer to him, and he watched her. "You have not asked me why I saved you."

"Because you need me for your mother's plans."

"No. She does, of course, and she helped to plan this, but that is not why I did it." Tears stung her eyes again. "I killed a man for you."

Blade pushed himself up against the pillows, moving away from her, but she slid her arms around him and rested her head on his good shoulder, her tears overflowing. For so long, she had yearned to be this close to him. His presence comforted and thrilled her, making her shiver.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"If you want to sleep, return to your rooms."

"I do not want to sleep. Do you want to know why I saved you?"

"No."

Kerra held him tighter. The image of the dying soldier filled her mind, and she shuddered. She needed the comfort of Blade's closeness as she had never needed anything before, and she wondered at the strength of the emotional storm that swept through her. Over the last few moons, the power of his attraction had grown until it was undeniable, and the longing to be in his arms overwhelmed her. He seemed to sense her distress, and patted her back in an awkward, conciliatory gesture. She slipped her arms around his neck and hugged him, burying her face in the side of his neck as she trembled with anguish and the longing for him to hold her.

"I saved you because... I love you," she whispered.

He cursed and tried to sit up, but she clung to him, holding him down.

"No, do not go."

"Damn it, Kerra, do not be an idiot."

"I killed a man tonight. It was horrible." She gulped, swallowing a sob. "Why can you not comfort me? That is all I want."

"It is improper."

"Why? Because you are married? Because you are much older than me?" She hesitated. "Because you are a eunuch?"

"Because you are drunk."

She drew a shuddering breath. "I just need you to comfort me. Is that so much to ask? I save your life. Is that not worth something?"

"I did not ask you to," he growled. "Why do people keep doing this, then hold it over my head for the rest of my life?"

"I know you care for me too. That is why you told me to leave you in the courtyard. You would rather have died than put me in danger."

Blade stared at her, perplexed. Many women had sought the comfort, or thrill, of his arms in the past, but none had aroused as much as a spark of pity in him, except Chiana. This was a situation he had not anticipated, for although he had noticed Kerra's growing interest, he had not expected this. Certainly what had happened earlier had upset her, but a sixteen-year-old maiden should have been far too shy to make such bold demands. Then again, he reflected, she was used to having her way, and clearly expected to do so now. He was not in the business, however, of offering comfort to distraught girls, and her embrace discomfited him immensely.

"And just what, exactly, do you think you are going to get from me?" he enquired.

"A moment's comfort, that is all."

"Really? Well, I think you have already had several minutes of it, so that is enough." Blade gripped her wrists and pushed her away, sat up and swung his legs off the bed. "Now that you have got that off your chest, you can go back to your rooms before you are missed. I will find somewhere else to hide before the search reaches here." He quit the bed and walked away.