Master of the Dance (38 page)

They arrived at a door that she indicated led to the torture chamber where Lance languished, and Blade picked the old lock. Carrying the Prince inside, Blade dumped him and closed the door, then turned to study the room, rubbing his back. Various torture instruments filled it, some of which he could not identify, but he recognised a rack, an iron maiden and a few other common implements.

Chains hung on the walls, and a pair held a man he did not recognise. Blade walked closer to peer into the unfortunate's blood-scabbed face, and recoiled from Lance's mutilated features. His nose had been severed, and his face was partially flayed. Blade released the young assassin, noticing that many of Lance's fingers had been amputated and his wrists were broken. A filthy loincloth covered his hips, areas of his chest had been flayed, and his back was covered with half healed burns.

As Blade lowered him to the floor, he raised his head and opened pale blue eyes. Blade propped him against the wall and went in search of water, finding only a rusty bowl with a little dirty liquid in it. He turned to Eshra.

"Go and find some water, or wine."

Eshra nodded, casting Lance a look of intense pity. Blade squatted and studied his former apprentice, his gaze coming to rest on Lance's bright, feverish eyes. The young assassin tried to speak, but his dry throat would make no sound.

Blade sighed. "This is a cruel punishment for your first failure. I should not have asked that you be sent."

Lance tried to shake his head, but his neck muscles merely jerked.

Blade rose and turned away, impatient for Eshra's return. The sight of his former pupil in this sorry state was unpleasant. He went to check on Endor, who remained unconscious. When Eshra returned with a wine skin from the guard post down the corridor, he indicated that she should give some to Lance. He made gurgling, retching sounds as he sucked down the wine, trembling with the effort. Eshra held the skin until he turned his head away, then retreated. Blade took her place, squatting in front of Lance.

The young assassin coughed. "Blade. Release me."

"Soon. You've endured this long. I'm sure you'll want to stay for your reward."

"Reward?"

"Endor."

Lance's eyes brightened. "You've killed him."

"Not yet."

"Beware..."

"Don't be concerned. It seems I was not as good a teacher as I thought. Perhaps only good at teaching dancing."

Lance tried to shake his head again. "Not your fault."

Blade jumped up paced about. "It was a bad plan, Lance. Dog soldiers! Didn't I teach you how dangerous they are?"

Lance managed to nod. "Not your fault."

"Then what? Was it because you wanted glory?"

"There was no other way."

"There was. Here it is. I have the Prince."

Lance's smile pulled his mutilated face into a ghastly grimace. "You... are the Queen's Blade."

Blade snorted. "I taught you all my skills."

"Not... your courage."

"Courage had nothing to do with it."

"You scaled the wall."

"So?"

Lance sighed, then coughed. "That... took bravery."

"No, just a lack of self-preservation. Better to fall to my death than end up like this."

"I... didn't have the courage."

"You wanted to live too much." Blade shook his head. "I taught you the folly of that."

Lance nodded jerkily. "Now I want to die."

"You will."

Chapter Twenty Five

Blade walked over to the Prince and kicked him, using the side of his foot to avoid stabbing him with the three-inch blade that protruded from his toe. Endor woke with a snort and struggled, mumbling into the gag.

Blade jerked the rag from his mouth, and the Prince bellowed, "Guards!"

The assassin smiled. "Shout all you want, no one will hear you."

Endor looked around with wild eyes, rage and fear twisting his features. "You will not get away with this! They will come looking for me!"

"Not for a while yet."

Endor's eyes found Eshra, and he snarled, "Traitorous bitch! You will end up like him if you do not help me." He jerked his head at Lance.

Blade shook his head. "She wants you dead, like many others, including me, so do not waste your breath."

"You bastard! I should have killed you in Jondar, when you were at my mercy."

"Yes, you should," Blade agreed. "You have made several mistakes, like abusing my wife and killing her familiar. I gathered that you wanted my company, and here I am. You do not seem so pleased to see me."

"Why have you brought me here? Why did you not just kill me?"

"Because you deserve to suffer, Cotti. Ronan suffered for killing my sister, but I did not have the pleasure of watching it."

"You will get no satisfaction from it, half man. I will not ask for mercy."

Blade smiled. "Good, because you will not get any."

"What are you going to do?"

"I am not sure. I have not tortured anyone before, but I have a fine example of some good methods from my former apprentice."

Endor glanced at Lance, who watched him with cold eyes. "You would not dare. Torturing me to death will bring repercussions from my brothers. They will avenge me."

"Kerrion has sanctioned your death, and I do not think that the rest will care. Even if they do, there is nothing they can do about it."

"They will send assassins. They will not rest until you are dead!"

"I think you overestimate your popularity. One of them will be sent to govern Contara after your death, a promotion they will be keen to receive, considering how unpleasant Kerrion is making life for them in Jadaya." Blade glanced at Eshra. "Now, it is time to begin your punishment. Would you like to participate, Eshra?"

She shook her head, shrinking back a little, and Endor sneered, "You will get no help from a feeble-minded female, Jashimari pig."

Blade sighed. "Unfortunately, it seems that possessing a compassionate nature is a curse in Cotti society. If you are not a sadistic bastard, you do not match up to the men. But I was moulded by your kind, and I can be just as merciless as you, perhaps more."

"What are you going to do?"

Blade drew a dagger and tested its keenness with his thumb, looking pensive. "Why do people always want to know that? I thought I would start by cutting off your nose. How does that sound?"

"Wait!" Endor squirmed closer to the wall and levered himself up until he was sitting with his back against it. "If you kill me, your wife dies."

Blade paused, eyeing the Prince. "Indeed?"

"Yes. Only I can stop it."

"You have sent an assassin."

"Four of them, the best in the city."

"And you will recall them if I spare you, I suppose?"

Endor nodded. "Yes."

Blade lowered himself to one knee beside the Prince. "Now why do I not believe you? Could it be because you are a lying piece of worthless dung, or because I am not stupid enough to think that your word is worth the air it is spoken with?"

"I swear, I will recall them."

"Are you begging me to spare you?"

Endor looked sick, his ashen skin dewed with nervous sweat. "I am offering you the life of your wife if you release me."

"Ah, so you are begging for your life."

Endor gritted his teeth. "I do not beg. If you want your wife to live, release me now!"

Blade leant forward and rested the dagger against the Prince's cheek, his voice barely more than a whisper. "No."

Endor twisted his head away, panting with dread. "You are making a mistake, fool. Shed one drop of my blood, and she dies!"

Blade slid the dagger down Endor's cheek, slitting it. Blood ran down to drip off his chin. He gasped and ground his teeth, glaring at the assassin. "You have just killed your wife, assassin."

"Since releasing you would not save her, I have changed nothing. I am not a lack wit who falls for false promises."

"You will not get out of this castle alive," Endor snarled.

"I do not particularly care, but I will wager that I do."

"My men will hunt you down and gut you like a pig!"

"Now there is an idea." Blade lowered the dagger to Endor's belly. "Would you like to see what your insides look like?" The assassin spoke in a soft, menacing tone, almost a croon.

Endor glared at him. "You have not the stomach for it. I can see it in your face."

"Then your eyes deceive you. Perhaps I should cut them out?"

"No! Release me, and I will kill you with my bare hands. You have not the courage to fight me, only to torment me while I am bound."

Blade chuckled. "I am not going to chase you around the room when you run like the cowardly snake you are."

"You are the coward."

The assassin's hand flashed out in a lightning-fast flick, and Endor's nose dropped into his lap. His eyes bulged as he stared at it, the blood draining from his cheeks. Eshra made a soft sound and turned away. Blade shot her a cold glance.

"You wanted to watch."

"I wished to see him die, not suffer."

"Then wait outside. I will tell you when to return. This will not take long."

Eshra shook her head, forcing herself to look at the Prince. Endor continued to stare at his severed nose, a look of horror dawning in his eyes. Slowly he raised his gaze to Blade's impassive face, the horror giving way to sheer, unadulterated terror.

"Do not do this," he rasped.

"You did it to Lance." Blade indicated the mutilated assassin with the dagger. "Now it is your turn." He jumped up and walked away a few steps, then swung to face the Prince again.

"How many others have you tortured? How many innocents have you slaughtered? Although my former apprentice was sent to kill you, he did not deserve to be tortured. He was the instrument of another's wrath. Her fury resulted from your treatment of her, so the blame comes full circle and rests upon you. Now I am the instrument of their wrath, and this time it is you who will pay the price."

"I did not do that to him."

"You ordered it." Blade strode over to him, gripped a fold of his cheek and sliced it off.

Endor howled, writhing. Blade swung away again, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat and despising his inability to stomach the sight of blood and suffering. The Prince sobbed and gasped, spit and blood oozing from the hole in his cheek. The assassin knew that he would not be able to stomach much more without being ill.

The Prince struggled to retain his dignity, biting his lips to stop himself from crying out again. Lance watched his former tormentor's suffering without any sign of revulsion or pleasure. Eshra stared at Endor with wide, shocked eyes, clearly overwhelmed by horror. This night would probably haunt her for the rest of her life, and Blade wondered why she insisted on staying to watch. He turned back to his victim, who struggled to control his terror as the assassin approached.

"No! Do not do this!"

Blade paused. "I have no mercy, Cotti. It died with my family, many years ago."

"I will do whatever you want, just stop!"

"All I want is for you to suffer."

"If you can do this, then you are as bad as you accuse me of being. You have slaughtered innocents too. It is your trade!"

The assassin shook his head, shooting a glance at Eshra. "No. I take no pleasure in this. Nor do I feel pity for you. Your screams for mercy will do you no good. If I enjoyed it, I would be as depraved as you."

Endor writhed, straining against his bonds when Blade stepped closer, then he jerked and screamed as the assassin's hand flashed out, and an ear fell to the floor. A pool of wetness spread from Endor's crotch, and Blade recoiled from the stench of urine. Eshra turned away, covering her mouth.

"Enough, Blade."

He swung to face her. "Did he ever show you any pity?"

She shook her head. "But you are not him, as you pointed out. If you do not enjoy it, what is the point?"

"That he should suffer, as his many victims have."

"But you are suffering too."

Blade frowned. "I am meting out justice. I do not have to enjoy it. Lance will decide when it is enough."

Lance raised his eyes. "He made me suffer far more than that."

"Then it is not enough."

Blade walked back to his victim, who wailed and tried to wriggle away. Flipping Endor onto his stomach, Blade took hold of the Prince's bound hands and sliced off two fingers at the knuckles. Endor's screams reverberated around the chamber, and Eshra stuffed her fingers into her ears. Blade went over to her and pulled her hands away.

"Listen to him. This should be music to your ears."

"For God's sake, just kill him!"

"When Lance is satisfied. Apply to him, not me."

Eshra jerked free and plugged her ears again as Endor continued to scream. Blade returned to the Prince and sliced off two more fingers, redoubling Endor's bellows of pain. The assassin swung away once more, gritting his teeth as the Prince's shrieks made his head ache. His dislike for the situation grew by the moment, and he glanced at Lance, wishing that he would put an end to it, but Lance continued to watch Endor with impassive eyes.

Blade's stomach churned, and burning bile rose in his throat. Thrusting aside his squeamishness, he walked back to the Prince and flipped him onto his back, then made incisions in his chest and arms, releasing streams of blood. Endor writhed and flopped, his screams becoming hoarse cries and bubbling groans. Blade sliced off the Prince's other ear. Endor choked and gurgled, his back arching. Still, no pity stirred in Blade's heart. Instead, the ice within him grew thicker and colder, chilling his entrails. Endor shrieked as Blade sliced off his lips, flinging them away in disgust and swallowing more bile. He glanced at Lance again, who nodded, closing his eyes.

"It's... enough."

"How long did you suffer for?"

Lance shook his head. "I know not, but... that's enough."

Eshra turned to look at her husband, biting her lip, and Blade silenced the Prince's wails with a dagger thrust. Endor gasped and stiffened, then went limp, his eyes glazing as Blade wiped his weapon on the Prince's nightshirt. Sheathing the dagger, Blade rubbed his brow, then walked over to Lance and squatted down in front of him.