Master of the Dance (39 page)

"Good. I was getting a headache."

Lance tried to smile, but managed only a lopsided leer. "You never could stomach suffering. That's why you disliked Bolt so much. He enjoyed it."

"Endor deserved it."

"Now it's... my turn to die."

"Yes." Remembering the comfort Sir Raylin had gained from the few words he had spoken over him, he asked, "Do you want the last rites?"

Eshra turned. "You're a priest?"

Blade glanced up at her. "So, there is something you do not know about me. Yes, I am a Knight of the Veil."

Eshra's eyes drifted to Lance and flinched away. "How can you kill your friend?"

"He is not my friend, and he wants to die. Who would want to live like this?"

She shuddered, shooting the young assassin a pitying glance. "I'm going back to the harem. I have no wish to see this."

"As you wish."

She started to turn away, then paused, gazing at him. "I'm glad Endor is dead. Thank you, Blade."

"His death was my payment for hiding Queen Kerra-Manu, and to avenge his abuse of my wife."

Eshra forced a wan smile. "It's good to know a man who loves his wife enough to avenge her suffering."

"I'm fulfilling a vow that I made to her, nothing more."

"And torturing him? Was that for your benefit?"

"No, that was for Lance."

"You claim that he's not your friend, so why did you avenge his suffering?"

"His torture, like that of my wife, was designed to humiliate me."

A rusty, rattling chuckle came from Lance. "You'll get no admission of caring for anyone... from Blade, dear lady. He'll deny it with his dying breath."

"Since it's the truth, yes," Blade retorted.

"Did Endor kill the Regent's familiar?"

"Yes."

The young assassin hung his head. "I'm sorry I failed."

"Most assassins fail a few times in their careers. You just chose a really bad time to do it."

"You've never failed."

"I've been fortunate."

"Fortune had nothing to do with it." Lance gazed at the Prince's mutilated body. "Most thought it would be impossible... to assassinate him. Yet you've tortured him in his dungeons... and will, in all likelihood, escape too. You even managed ... to bring a spectator."

"You could have achieved the same, if you had scaled the wall. Just as I would have failed had I attacked him in the tavern."

"But you were not a fool, like me."

Blade sighed. "An error of judgement, due to inexperience. I erred when I told Chiana to send you. The mistake was mine. I underestimated Endor."

"Or overestimated me."

Blade glanced at Eshra. "There's little time. Every moment I stay here increases the chance of discovery. If you don't want to witness his death, then leave."

Ashra nodded and went to the door, pulled it open and paused again to gaze back at him. "I hope you escape, Blade. I wish you luck, and farewell."

Without waiting for a reply, she slipped out and closed the door. Lance rested his head on the wall and closed his eyes with a shuddering sigh. Blade turned to him.

"Where's Jinare?"

Lance coughed. "I don't know... exactly. Hiding somewhere, I suppose."

"Far away?"

"Far enough, I think."

"Be sure. I don't want him alerting the soldiers to my presence."

"He won't. My pain has made him... seek a quiet, dark place to share it with me. My end will be a relief."

Blade knelt beside Lance, frowning as he recalled the words of the death rites. "At this, the time of your departure from this world, I call upon Tinsharon to look down upon you -"

Lance opened his eyes. "You never gave me a kind word... in all our years together. Do you like me?"

"I was your mentor, not your friend or your father."

"My father was a bastard who murdered my mother... and was hanged for it. Why did you choose me?"

"You were full of anger."

"But do you... like me?"

Blade considered the question, taking into account the circumstances under which it was being asked. To give a dying man a moment's comfort was within his means, and he saw no reason to deny it. "Yes."

Lance managed another ghastly smile. "I... love you, Blade. You're my idol, and my hero. Even before... I found out who you really were."

"Go in peace, Redane, may Tinsharon welcome you into the Everlasting, where you will find joy forever."

"Do you truly feel nothing? Not even for my death?"

"Death will end your suffering, as it will for me one day. I look forward to it, so I feel no grief for you. It's a journey we must all make. There's no sense in fearing it."

Lance gazed into Blade's eyes. "I think... you're already dead. You breathe, but you're dead."

Blade inclined his head, a slight, bitter smile twisting his lips. "I died a long time ago."

"I'm ready." Lance closed his eyes. "End my pain."

Blade placed his hands on his former apprentice's throat, finding the correct places on either side of it, and applied the required pressure. Lance slumped, the lines of suffering on his face vanishing as the pain ebbed from his broken body. Blade drew the dagger he had used to slay Endor and slipped it between Lance's ribs. As the young assassin ceased to breathe, Blade stood up and wiped the weapon clean, then slid it back into its scabbard and turned away. Without sparing Endor's sprawled corpse so much as a passing glance, he strode to the door and let himself out, then retraced his steps through the castle.

Blade walked through silent, empty halls, alert for the unexpected. Dawn approached, and the guards would soon be changed, at which time his night's work would be discovered. He had to be out of the castle by then, or risk capture. Without the distractions that had enabled him to get in, escaping the castle would be far more difficult. Since he had achieved his aim, however, the discovery of his presence would only mean that he would have to move quickly to avoid capture, something at which he excelled.

Chapter Twenty Six

As Blade ascended the short flight of stairs that led to the parapet, he remembered the two guards he had not seen on his way in, and slowed. At the doorway, he stopped and removed the boot blades, stowing them in his pack, then reached out into the chill night with his senses, straining to detect a sound or scent that would indicate the presence of his foes. A faint smell of tobacco smoke assured him that there were guards on the parapet, and from the direction of the wind, he knew where they were. Edging to the corner, he peered around it to assure himself that they were both there, glimpsing the two huddled over a board game, their cloaks pulled tight around them to ward off the chill.

They sat on the far side of the parapet, where it overlooked the inner courtyards, away from the dizzying drop of the great wall and the cold wind that blew up it. This suited Blade, who moved around the square structure that housed the stairwell and went to the other edge of the parapet, out of sight of the guards. After glancing down to assure himself that no extra men were stationed at the bottom, he slipped over the edge and lowered himself down the wall.

Although descending the wall was easier than ascending it, he was shaking and sweating by the time he arrived at the bottom, for the night's activities had depleted his stores of energy. He rested for several minutes atop the wall that ran up to the cliff's base, watching the sentries who guarded the next gateway. These two were easily avoided by taking the areal route along the huts' roofs to the next portal, but that presented a problem. The gate led into a short passageway, and there was no way to go around it other than scaling the wall above it and making his way around the tower, but that would take far too long.

The dog soldiers who stood at either end of the passage were no longer distracted by the bitch, and looked alert, their familiars dozing at their feet. He crossed the huts, then paused atop the wall, as close as he could venture without the dogs scenting him. Stealth was out of the question, for he had to pass between the guards to get through the passage, and the wind was blowing in the wrong direction. The dogs would scent him and alert their bondsmen and the next set of sentries. Essentially he was trapped, and would have to fight his way out, no easy task with so many dogs involved.

While most wild familiars were inclined to go a little mad when their kinsman died, and attack anything available, dogs would not fight once their friend was dead. This was a peculiarity for which he was grateful at this moment, and because of it, the men would be his primary targets. He sat down and fished the boot-blades out of his pack, strapping them on as he balanced on the wall. Tying the bag to his back once more, he lowered himself over the edge. He could not find purchase while he wore the boot-blades, so he was forced to drop, and landed with a clack of steel on stone, cushioning the impact with bent legs.

The dogs sat up with deep growls, peering into the darkness where he stood. Blade walked towards them, his feet clicking. The guards drew their swords with a hiss of steel. The dogs rose to their feet, their hackles rising when they spotted the assassin emerging from the shadows. The guards called a challenge, which Blade ignored as he sauntered closer, his hands on the hilts of the daggers in his belt. The dogs charged, snarling, and Blade ran to meet them, drawing his daggers. As they leapt, he spun aside. One hound buffeted him, its teeth snapping together a hair's breadth from his arm.

The dogs turned, their claws scrabbling on the stone. Before they could attack him again, he raced towards the guards, who stood with their weapons ready. Four strides from them, he let fly his daggers, impaling one man through the throat, but the other moved at the last moment and received only a glancing blow on the side of his head. Blade yanked a dagger from a wrist sheath and flung it, this time hitting his target in the eye. The man slumped across the body of his fallen comrade, and the dogs ran to their friends, whining and licking their faces. Blade retrieved his daggers and stepped to the side of the doorway, pressing himself against the wall.

The next set of sentries, alerted by the ruckus, came running through the passage, their dogs preceding them. The hounds did not notice the assassin standing close to the wall, and ran to the dead sentries to sniff them. As the first guard emerged through the door, Blade stabbed him in the side of the neck. He dropped his sword and staggered, pawing at the wound, which spouted blood in a miniature fountain. The second man raised his sword and spun to face his foe, slashed at Blade and forced him to jump back. He shouted to his dog and lunged at the assassin, swinging the sword in great sweeps that would have cut Blade in two had they caught him.

Blade retreated, a dagger ready to throw, but his target was moving about too much for him to hit him in the eye or neck, and he wore a breastplate. His legs were unprotected, however, and Blade flung the dagger, hitting him in the thigh. The dog, summoned into the fray by his friend's shout, charged Blade. The assassin kicked it in the chest, sending it flying with a yelp. The soldier collapsed as his familiar died, stabbed through the heart by the three-inch blade on the end of the assassin's boot. Blade ended the sentry's life with a swift slash that opened his jugular, then retrieved his dagger and slipped into the passage that led to the next courtyard.

Now he faced two more gates that two more sets of sentries guarded, all of whom had been alerted to his presence by their dogs' barking. The nearest duo had left their post, and crossed the courtyard towards Blade, their dogs running ahead. The men were too far away to be good targets, and the dogs would reach him before they came close enough. The leading hound leapt for Blade's throat, and he stepped aside, stabbing the animal as it flew past. The dog fell, yelping, and the second hound veered to fly at the assassin with a snarl.

Blade kicked the beast in the throat, and it gave a gargling howl as it died, reminding him of Endor's agonised wails. The men roared with rage and pain, one collapsing as he shared his familiar's death throws. The other clutched his side and doubled over. Reaching him in a few strides, Blade slashed his throat, jumping back to avoid the blood. He raced across the courtyard to the next pair of sentries, who remained at their post, kept their familiars beside them and shouted for reinforcements. The alarm was now well and truly raised, and he had only a few minutes before more men came to join the fray, making escape impossible.

The soldiers had their swords drawn, and, as he reached them, men and dogs charged together. He ducked a slashing sword and punched a dog that leapt at his throat, then grunted as the other hound sank its teeth into his thigh. He stabbed it in the back, and it released him with a yelp. A soldier staggered, yelling. The other man's sword whistled past Blade's cheek as he jerked away, and the dog he had punched returned to fasten its teeth in his calf. Blade cursed and stabbed it. His dagger glanced off the animal's skull and opened a gash, but the beast hung on.

The soldier swung at Blade's chest, his sword glancing off the fine chain mail that sheathed the assassin's torso with bruising force. He staggered sideways, stabbing the Cotti in the arm. The soldier recoiled with a grunt, and Blade drove his dagger into the neck of the snarling dog that worried at his leg. The hound released him with a yowl, and the Cotti roared, lunging at Blade with his sword raised high. The assassin threw himself aside, kicking the soldier in the thigh as he did so. The man went down, his sword clanking on the cobbles. Blade jumped over him and raced through the last gate.

The armoury's smouldering ruin glowed in the predawn darkness, and black smoke fouled the air, hiding his scent from the dogs. Soldiers and dogs ran towards him from every direction, summoned by the fracas with the gate guards, their dogs' keen ears guiding them. Deciding that he would not be able to reach the small gate, which was also guarded, Blade headed for the nearest section of the outer wall. As far as he could remember, this section was just beyond the barracks on the other side. Reaching its base, he realised that he would not be able to scale it with the boot-blades on, and he had no time to remove them.