Master of the Dance (28 page)

Lance pretended to try to get away, knowing that the Prince would not let him. Endor grabbed his robe and yanked him back, spinning him around. This was the moment for which the assassin had waited. He pulled on the end of the staff, which parted several inches down to reveal ten finger's span of gleaming steel. Lance lunged at the Prince, the dagger aimed for his throat. As he did, a war dog leapt at him, its jaws closing on his calf. The blade skimmed past Endor's neck, opening a gash but missing the jugular by a hair's breadth.

The Prince recoiled with a shriek, clutching his throat as blood oozed from it and splattered his pale blue tunic. Lance tried to jerk his leg from the dog's jaws, but the hound hung on, worrying his calf and sending shafts of pain up it. Another dog rushed into the fray, leaping for his arm, but missed when he jerked it away. Soldiers charged towards him, drawing their swords, and he knew that his chance was slipping away.

Lance stabbed the dog that worried his calf, but as it fell the other took its place, and he knew that if all he did was try to free him, he would achieve nothing else. His chance of escape was almost gone, but killing Endor was still possible if he acted quickly. Although the dagger, with its clumsy wooden handle, was not designed for throwing, he flipped it in the air, caught it by the blade and flung it at Endor. The Prince stared at Lance in astonishment and horror, and the unbalanced dagger struck him in the cheek and bounced off the bone, leaving an ugly gash.

Lance could still have dropped to all fours and crawled out between the brawler's legs, but for the hound that worried his leg. Bending, he punched the animal, and it fell with a yelp, releasing him. He dived into the melee, avoiding the Cotti soldiers who bore down on him with murder in their eyes. Squirming past two sets of wrestling men, he left his pursuers struggling to fight their way through. Intent only on escape, he headed for the door, pushing past the brawlers. A man swung a punch at his head, and he ducked, letting it skim over his hair, then punched the man in the solar plexus. His assailant doubled up with a cough, his legs buckling.

Lance elbowed his way past, leapt aside to avoid a chair that was flung at his chest and collided with another combatant. The Contara swung a fist as Lance ducked, and the patron hit the soldier who had been about to grab the assassin from behind. Lance dived under a table and crawled out the other side, but several Cotti soldiers converged on him, one blocking his route to the door. Veering, he headed for the nearest window. Before he could throw himself through it, something hit his shoulder from behind, spinning him around. He crashed into the wall, and turned to find two dogs leaping at him, teeth bared.

Lance kicked one in the jaw, sending it rolling with a yelp, but the other hit him in the chest and sank its teeth into his arm. He brought his fist down on its head, then the soldiers were upon him, kicking, punching and beating him with their sword hilts. A blow to his temple made stars flash in his eyes, and the Cotti pinned his arms. He kicked a soldier in the groin before his legs were gripped, then his struggles became futile, and he relaxed.

The soldiers hauled him to his feet and ripped off the cloth that covered his eyes. Endor headed towards him, holding his cheek. Blood seeped between his fingers and ran down his chest from the neck wound, and he held Lance's dagger in his other hand. The squad that had been summoned from outside had stopped the brawl, and now held the patrons at bay. The Cotti lords brushed at their clothes and fingered their bruises as they eyed the captive assassin. Endor stopped in front of him and raked him with hard eyes, his brows drawn together in a thunderous scowl.

"So, you are the Jashimari assassin." He glanced at his senior officer. "How in Damnation did he get in here with a weapon?"

The officer held up the other part of Lance's staff. "A clever trick, My Prince. It was concealed in this staff, and he was disguised as a blind man."

"Clever indeed." Endor glared at Lance. "But not clever enough." He wiped the blood from his cheek. "You will pay the price for trying to kill me, assassin, which is death. Once I have had a little fun with you, of course. The other one fared even worse than you. He never even shot his bolt."

Lance met the Prince's eyes with a blank, cold stare. Endor glanced around the taproom, then turned and headed for the door. The soldiers twisted Lance's arms behind his back and marched him after the Prince.

Blade glanced up as Minna-Satu entered his rooms, concealing his annoyance by looking away.

"My Queen, I have listened to all the arguments on the subject of my leaving that I am going to. The laws are passed and my wounds are healed. There is no more need for me to stay here."

"I need you, My Lord."

"For what?"

"Dravis is still at large, and I am still in danger."

He glanced at her, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "Come now, do you think your husband so incapable of protecting you? What would you have me do, sleep at the end of your bed?"

"No, but why do you wish to rush back to Jashimari? Are you concerned for Chiana?"

"No. I wish to claim my reward from Shamsara, or discover his trickery, as the case may be."

She walked closer to where he sat on the window seat, a book on his lap. "If you suspected him of trickery, why did you accept his patronage?"

He shrugged. "There is always a chance that he will honour his debt."

"I see. But still, there is no hurry, surely? At least stay for my coronation."

Blade put aside the book with a sigh. Minna's upcoming coronation was a hated event amongst the Cotti, and Kerrion had been inundated with petitions calling for its cancelation. The princes were unable to stop it now that the new laws had severely curtailed their powers, but they had whipped up the lords into a frenzy of protestation, and they vented their displeasure to the King at every audience.

This was the reason for its speedy implementation, for then the new laws would force lords and princes alike to accord Minna-Satu the same respect as the King or face imprisonment. The prospect of seeing the Cotti nobility forced to bend their knee to the former Jashimari Queen held a modicum of attraction, but not enough.

He sighed. "What would be the point? I cannot attend."

"You could disguise yourself -"

"No." He held up a hand. "No more disguises, My Queen. Not as your handmaiden, nor as a Cotti. Spare me that, at least. If I cannot go as myself, I shall not go at all."

"As a priest?"

"No."

"I wish you could be there, Blade. I wish you could dance for me as you did at my wedding. That would make my happiness complete."

He shook his head. "You do not need me, Minna. My work here is done. You will become the first Cotti Queen. Kerra is here to see you crowned, and your sons."

"But you made it possible. You should witness it too."

"I dislike pomp and ceremony. I have no wish to witness it."

She paused, thinking. "What about Dravis? I want him dead."

"I cannot kill a man I cannot find. Let the courts deal with him. They will catch him sooner or later."

"Until he is recaptured, he is a danger to me, and you could find him if you looked, My Lord. Is your thirst for the blood of Cotti princes quenched?"

Blade rose and walked across the room to pour himself a cup of wine, offering one to Minna, which she declined. His conversations with her always made him thirsty, he found. "No, it never will be. If we were in Jashimari I could find him, but in this city, I doubt it. In fact, he is probably not in the city, but fled to one of his cronies' estates. Besides, it is not an assassin's job to hunt down his target; it is the employer's to provide the victim's location. Since you cannot, I must decline."

"Very well. Then I want you to return with Kerra, and guard her on the journey."

"I am not a bodyguard, but if you insist, then she too will miss your coronation."

"Blade! You know perfectly well that I meant after the coronation, with her escort."

"If she has an escort, why does she need me?"

Minna snorted, frowning. "They are Cotti!"

"And you will soon be the Cotti Queen."

"At times you can be most frustrating, My Lord Conash."

He shrugged and sipped his wine. "As many people have discovered. My mind is made up. I will set out for Jashimari tomorrow, and be glad to quit this horrible country."

She sighed and sank down on a chair. "I shall miss you terribly. Is there no way to change your mind?"

"I fear not, My Queen."

"Chances are, I shall never see you again."

He nodded. "That is true."

"Do you regret that?"

"I shall be glad to return to Jashimari, which I miss, and to my retirement."

"That does not answer my question."

"I cannot stay here. Eventually I will be discovered, and I have no wish to return to the executioner's courtyard."

"No." She looked down at her hands, which were clasped in her lap. "I have no wish for that, either. Of course you must go. I just thought, a few more days..." She looked up. "I would like to see you dance once more."

He shook his head. "It is not meant to be entertainment."

"Will you refuse me even this one small wish?"

The assassin sighed, smiling. "No, My Queen."

"The Dance of Death?"

"That is forbidden. And extremely taxing. I fear that I grow too old for it now."

"Nonsense. Part of it, then."

Blade studied his wine cup, pondering her request. It was a minor one, which he had granted her in the past. She had regularly watched him practice in the garden, this was simply to be a more complex performance for her benefit alone, and he could hardly refuse his queen. He inclined his head. "Very well. Return here tonight."

She smiled and rose, smoothing her maroon satin skirt. "Until tonight then, My Lord."

He bowed as she swept past. "My Queen."

Chapter Nineteen

Minna-Satu entered Blade's quarters late that night, well after dinner, when most people were abed. The assassin sat on the window seat, a cup of wine nearby, gazing out at the moonlit city. Four torches illuminated the room, and moonlight streamed in through the windows. He rose at her entrance and bowed, gesturing to a pile of cushions. As she moved to them and sank down, she noted that he wore a tight leather vest instead of his jacket, and blades were strapped to his boots.

Blade offered her a cup of wine, which she accepted with a smile, her eyes drawn to the glittering boot-blades as he walked across the room. She was unable to quell a slight shiver at the thought of how deadly he was while wearing them, and she was glad that she would never be his target. His deadliness was part of his attraction, making his presence exciting and strangely comforting, knowing that he would be willing to use his legendary skills in her defence, as he had done in the past. He handed her a cup of wine, then walked to the centre of the room, where he turned.

"As you suggested, I have invented a new dance, My Queen. I have called it the Dance of Vengeance."

"How fitting, My Lord."

"I thought so."

Blade drew two daggers from his belt and paused as if to gather his thoughts, then swung away. Raising his arms, he took two steps and spun, his feet clattering on the floor in a fast tattoo. The daggers flashed in the torchlight, as did the boot-blades as his feet blurred with the speed of their motion. Minna stared at him, once more entranced by his grace, speed, agility and vigour. The precision of his steps, the perfect balance of his leaps and the way he seemed to hang in the air, defying gravity, proved that he remained a Master of the Dance, even though he had given up that title when he had retired. No one, she mused, would ever surpass Blade's ability to dance.

Blade performed the full range of his skills, from the high, stiff-legged leap, clashing his feet before him in a shower of sparks, to the complicated series of steps and sideways leg flicks that looked so difficult, yet so graceful. He lashed out at invisible enemies with the daggers, and she could imagine his fictitious foes slain by their flashing strokes. His dance proved to be far more complex and difficult than the extracts from the Dance of Death he had performed for her in the past.

This, she reflected, was due to his unrivalled skill, which undoubtedly far surpassed the man who had invented the Dance of Death centuries ago. It amazed her that he could perform such complicated moves, while armed with razor-sharp daggers, and not cut himself at least once. The boot-blades flashed hair's breadths from his legs as he leapt and spun, and sliced the air with deadly strokes when he leapt to the extraordinary height that only he could achieve, she was certain.

The dance was far too short. She could have watched him for time-glasses, but after a final high, leg-crossing leap, he fell into a crouch before her and raised his head to meet her gaze. Sweat sheened his skin, and his breath came in rapid gasps, but vitality radiated from him. Turning his head, he raised an arm and flicked a dagger into the shadows, where it struck something with a woody thud. Minna gasped and turned as he jumped up and gazed into the gloom.

"You can come out now, Kerrion."

The Cotti King stepped out of the darkness, looking a little sheepish. "A fine performance, My Lord."

Blade inclined his head. "And a foolhardy act on your part, hiding in the shadows. Did you really think I would not notice you?"

"I hoped."

"My Queen's idea, I suppose?"

"Indeed. But at my request. I too wanted to see you dance again, and to bid you farewell. I suppose you will leave the palace at dawn, and had I not come here, without a word of goodbye."

"Correct. I am not one for farewells."

Kerrion walked over to his wife and sat beside her. "But I am. I wished to remind you of my undying gratitude for your aid in rescuing Minna-Satu. Also, for making it possible to implement my laws and make her my queen."

"As was abundantly evident from your heroic endeavours to free me from the executioner's courtyard." The assassin turned away and went back to the window seat, where he picked up his wine cup.