Sacrifice: The Queen's Blade (22 page)

The cat snarled again, and her black lips drew back to reveal long white fangs as she glared at the High Priestess, then she turned and licked the Queen's cheek with a rasping tongue. Minna clung to her, fighting to control her grief as her tears overflowed onto the cat's sleek coat. No one moved while the two communed as only a person and his or her familiar could, sharing their feelings and thoughts.

The sand cat spat again, her snarl rising to a banshee wail that filled the room with its eerie threat. Chiana had never heard the cat do anything but purr, and stood stunned beside the High Priestess, who was the object of Shista's ire. The sand cat raised a paw and lashed out, her unsheathed claws clicking against the floor. The High Priestess' sallow skin paled, and she stepped back. Minna hung onto the feline, whispering to her in a choked, soothing voice. Shista wailed again, her cry rising to a scream that pierced the ears, filled with rage and sorrow.

The Queen straightened and gripped Shista's scruff, dragging her towards a door at the back of the room. The sand cat struggled, sliding on the marble floor, her eyes fixed on the High Priestess as she continued to spit and snarl. Shista's ears were flattened and her jewel-like eyes blazed with pure hatred, reminding Chiana of Blade's cold gaze. Minna struggled to drag the cat, who outweighed her vastly, but slowly succeeded in pulling her to the door.

Shista wailed, lashing out with razor-tipped paws in the High Priestess' direction. No one dared to help the Queen, she alone could handle the enraged cat with impunity. At last she reached the door and opened it, pushed the cat into the other room and closed the door again. Shista's rage continued to fill the air as her banshee screams came through the door.

The Queen returned to the dais, brushing back her wild hair, her pale face drawn and her eyes haunted. Chiana knew that no matter what regrets Minna had about dying, Shista's raw grief must be pure anguish for her to bear. The powerful bond between them meant that they shared each other's emotions, and the stronger those were the more painful they were to endure. Minna's eyes reflected Shista's pain, and even a trace of her rage, burning like sapphires lighted from within. She took the cup from the pale old woman and set it upon the plinth. The High Priestess swallowed hard and cleared her throat, raising her voice to be heard above the sand cat's screams.

"Who will stay with you, My Queen?"

"The Lord Protector of Jashimari, Lord Conash."

The High Priestess inclined her head. "Is he summoned?"

"He will be here shortly."

The old woman made the sign of the blessing again. "Go with God, My Queen, certain in the knowledge that he will welcome you into the Everlasting. Find ye peace there, you who have been a traveller in this life. Let Tinsharon embrace you in his infinite forgiveness, now, at this, the time of your death. I absolve you of all wrongdoing, in the name of God." The High Priestess traced the sign of the blessing on the Queen's forehead. "Go in peace, Queen Minna-Satu."

Minna bowed her head, and the High Priestess left, followed by her maidens. The guards closed the door behind them, and Chiana found herself alone with the Queen. Minna stared at the doors with dull eyes, and Shista's wails stopped, plunging the room into silence that only the distant horns, muted by the thick walls, broke. The Queen went to the other door and opened it, allowing Shista back in. The cat prowled around the room, growling and sniffing. Chiana watched her.

"How did Shista know that the cup is poison?"

"She read the priestess' mind, of course, and saw my death there." Minna sighed, looking despondent. "I did warn her not to think of it, but she could not help it, I suppose. My mother's familiar was confined to a glass box when she took the Cup, and he died a few time-glasses after her, for he had already lived too long. Shista is young; she will live many more years alone."

"She will return to the desert, perhaps find a mate and have cubs."

"Yes. At least she may have a better life when I am gone."

Chiana knew that Minna needed the small comfort of that lie. "Where is Blade?"

Minna frowned. "On his way I hope." The Queen lifted the golden cup and gazed at its contents.

Chiana glimpsed the clear, fizzing liquid it held, mist rising from it, and gasped in surprise. "The sacred water?"

"Yes. Strange, is it not? But perhaps fitting that it should be the path to the Everlasting."

"Is it time?"

Minna put the cup down as if it had become red hot. "No, not yet."

Chiana jumped as the guards thrust open the doors, and one announced, "Lord Conash."

Blade strode in, looking composed but grim. Minna's brows rose at his attire, and Chiana stared at him in surprise. He wore his leather garb with its silver mail, and he bristled with daggers. She counted seven, although he probably had more. He stopped before the Queen and bowed.

"My Queen."

"My Lord, who do you plan to kill?"

He shrugged. "Maybe no one."

"I hope not." She glanced down at his feet, and Chiana followed her gaze, receiving another surprise. Three inches of steel protruded from the toes of his boots, attached to metal pieces strapped to the soles. "Then why all the daggers, and these?" Minna asked.

"Just in case."

"In case of what?"

He frowned, shifting under her gaze as if reluctant to give his reasons. "I had thought that you would not wish to be disturbed."

"There are guards outside."

"You have ordered your men not to fight."

The Queen looked pensive. "I have ordered them to allow no one in but Kerrion, should he choose to come. If the Cotti are so uncouth as to fight their way in here, I shall be oblivious by the time they reach this room."

"But should they do so, they will face me."

"You just want to kill more Cotti, Blade, is that not the truth?"

He smiled. "It is."

"Then you do not plan to take the Cup when I do."

"No. I will wait for Kerrion."

"Ah. I see." Minna sighed, shaking her head. "You wish to have one last triumph, to see his face when you deny him your life."

"Exactly."

"Very well then, but do not harm him."

"No, My Queen."

Minna contemplated his blade-tipped feet again. "You are a fighter, are you not? When you denied it, you lied to me, is that not the truth?"

Blade inclined his head, his smile fading. "I have the skills of my training, My Queen, but I do not claim to be a mighty warrior. Put a sword in my hand and I am at a loss for what to do with it. Assassins are not trained for combat, but only to defend themselves, for they have many enemies."

"Then why did you not kill the men who abducted you after you assassinated Mordon?"

"They took me by surprise, and they were not trying to kill me, but I did my best to escape. I am not invincible, especially when set upon by four large thugs in a dark alley. This time I am prepared, and some Cotti will die before I take the Cup."

"What if they take you prisoner?"

He shook his head, smiling. "I will not allow that."

"And when you were beaten almost to death, My Lord, why did you not defend yourself then?"

"I was struck from behind at the outset, and there were many of them. I was dazed and confused, set upon by twelve men, all armed with cudgels." He looked away. "I was also drunk at the time... as I was the last time too."

Minna smiled at his embarrassed admission. "I see. And these blades on your feet are to cut men's throats?"

"Yes."

Chiana was struck by a sudden realisation. "The Dance of Death. It is not merely for show, is it?"

"No." He hesitated, then glanced at the Queen. "The Dance originates from an assassin who was attacked by a number of thugs, centuries ago. So outnumbered was he that he was forced to use all the weapons that he had, including his feet. He survived and started the Dance of Death, placing blades on his feet to make it more deadly. Originally the Dance was a duel to the death between two assassins, but so many were killed that it was forbidden, and it became merely a test of skill and strength."

"I have heard that this Dance of yours is a wonder to behold, My Lord. Would you show me a few steps?"

Blade looked uncomfortable. "I am not a performer, My Queen."

"I did not suggest that you were. In these, my last time-glasses of life, may I not have the privilege of seeing your secret dance? As my last request?"

He shook his head with a rueful smile, sighing. "How can I refuse, when you ask like that?" He pulled the four daggers from his belt and placed them on the plinth. "Lest I stab myself."

The Queen watched with great interest as he walked a few paces away and took up a stance. He tapped one foot slowly, pondering the blade that tipped it, then shot a wry glance at her. "I have never done this with blades on. I hope I do not do myself injury."

Minna smiled. "As do I, Lord Conash. But if you plan to use them against the Cotti, perhaps it is well that you practice first."

"It is not quite the same thing. I have practised fighting with boot-blades, naturally."

Blade increased the tempo of his tapping, speeding it up into a buzz of sound, then leapt high and clicked his heels behind him in mid-air before starting a series of fast steps, the brittle rattle of his feet blending into a simple tune. Leaping again, he flicked his legs up behind him and tapped his feet together at the apex of his jump, then took a few strides and leapt yet again, this time lifting his legs before him to strike his boots together as one leg ascended and the other dropped to the ground. A flash of sparks shot from his boots as the metal pieces clashed, and he seemed to float in the air, as graceful as a leaping deer.

Blade repeated it twice more, his arms outstretched, his actions flowing, certain and precise, his hands tracing throwing motions that would hurl daggers at his foes. Long years of practice lent him an unrivalled ability to time and measure his leaps with a precision that defied the imagination. The flexibility that he displayed at the height of his leaps appeared impossible, yet he achieved with ease that to which other men could not hope to aspire. Each jump was in keeping with the ever-changing tempo of the Dance, which varied from the slow taps when he leapt to the swift buzz of his feet when he kept them on the ground. He ended the Dance with a final leap and stamp, facing the Queen. He panted a little, and smiled when she clapped.

"Amazing, My Lord, truly amazing."

The assassin bowed his head, then walked back to the plinth to retrieve his daggers, slipping them into his belt. As he did so, Chiana became aware of the silence outside. The horns had stopped, and the absence of their mournful threnody left a tense shush behind. The city seemed to crouch like a waiting beast, a fearful, angry monster, trapped but unbeaten, longing to fight but unable to.

Minna-Satu's smile faded, and she turned to Chiana. "It is time. Go to the Princess. See to her."

Chiana bowed, and as she straightened the Queen stepped forward and embraced her. "God be with you."

Chiana blinked, struggling not to cry as she turned to her husband. He stared into space, apparently oblivious to her attention. She went to him and flung her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to kiss him on the lips. Blade jerked in surprise, but she released him before he could react further and headed for the door. There she paused to look back.

"God be with you, My Queen. And you, My Lord."

Chiana quit the room as her eyes overflowed, her last glimpse of Blade forever imprinted in her mind. The doors closed behind her with a final boom, and the sound sent a shiver through her as she strode away.

Minna turned to look at the assassin, trying to read some expression on his face, some glimmer of regret or sadness, but he seemed engrossed in listening to the faint sounds that filtered through the walls. She picked up the goblet and gazed at the seething liquid, its musty odour stinging her nose.

"I could not ask the High Priestess for a second Cup, My Lord. No one but the Jashimari Queen may drink the sacred water." She glanced at him and found him watching her. "But I will keep my promise to you. I shall drink only half the sacred water, and you shall have the other. It will still kill us, but it will take a little longer."

She wandered around the plinth, carrying the cup. "Usually it takes three days for the Queen to die, so I suppose it will take six days instead. Do not worry, though, we will fall asleep in about half a time-glass, and after that we cannot be roused."

"Is there an antidote?"

She shook her head. "Not one of which anyone knows."

Blade seemed to accept this, returning to his aloof state. Minna replaced the cup on the plinth and looked down at the sand cat who stood beside her, gazing up at her with puzzled eyes.

"Come, Shista, it is time to go to your room."

The Queen walked to the door at the back of the chamber and opened it, entering the small bare room beyond. A bowl of water and a haunch of goat's meat lay on the floor, and a bed of cushions was piled in one corner. Minna went over and patted them, made Shista lie down and stroked her for a few minutes, murmuring soft words of regret and comfort. When the cat was relaxed and purring, she left her and returned to the bier room, closing the door.

In front of the plinth, she faced the deadly cup once more. With shaking hands she picked it up and raised it swiftly, but could not sup the water. She gripped the goblet more firmly and tried again, closing her eyes this time to block out the sight of the seething, deadly liquid, but still could not make herself drink it.

Minna stared at the hissing water, praying for the strength to drink it when every particle of her being screamed against it. Perhaps the most difficult task for any sane person was to take poison when they did not wish to die, to perform an irreversible act that would send them into death's dreaded realm. Especially someone who had so much for which to live. Her hands refused to lift the cup to her lips, and she wondered if her mouth would also defy her and refuse to open. She turned to the assassin.