The sound of approaching hoof beats woke Kerrion, and he jerked upright in alarm. He groaned as stiff muscles protested and looked around for the assassin, finding himself alone. Had Blade abandoned him, trussed and helpless, to the mercy of local marauders? As the horse came into view through the dripping mist, he slumped with relief.
Blade dismounted, cast a glance at his gagged captive, and pulled a pack from his horse. Taking a loaf of bread from it, still warm from the oven, he broke it in two. He yanked the gag from the Prince's mouth and handed him half.
Kerrion took it, rubbing his aching jaw. "Where did you go?"
"For supplies."
The Prince tore at the bread. "You do not need to gag me anymore. I will not try to make you angry again."
The assassin ignored him, glancing around as he ate.
"I do not pity you," Kerrion stated. "I should think it must be impossible to pity a man like you. But what those soldiers and my father did was wrong. If I am returned to the desert, I shall see to it that these abominable practices are stopped." Blade shook his head, and the Prince went on, "I shall appoint overseers and employ spies to ensure this. I know that is the only way."
Blade uncorked a water skin and washed the bread down, then rose to saddle the Prince's horse.
Kerrion scowled at him, frustrated by his silence. "Do you not have anything to say?"
The assassin shrugged. "I doubt you will get the opportunity."
"When I tell your queen, I am sure I shall. War is one thing, but these atrocities must be stopped."
"And you do not think that war itself is an atrocity?"
"We fight for our honour and defend our land."
Blade snorted. "Honour! What would you know about that? And why would the Jashimari try to invade your god-forsaken desert? What do you have that we would want? Your wealth is measured in tonnes of useless sand."
"The Cotti are a rich people. We have beautiful cities and great oases, as well as plenty of gold. Your queens have ever been fond of gold."
"She has so much of the damned stuff that she has built her palace from it. What would she want with more?" Blade tightened the horse's girth with an angry jerk. "No, it was the Cotti who tried to invade Jashimari land, envious of our fertile soil and abundance."
Kerrion glanced around at the chill mist. "No Cotti would wish to live in such a cold, wet place as this."
"No Jashimari would want to be boiled to death in your damned desert, nor stricken with its plagues. So I do not know what we are fighting about, nor do I care."
"No one knows what we are fighting about any more."
"Then I do not know why we bother," Blade retorted. "Nor do I wish to argue about it."
When the Prince had finished his bread, Blade hooded him and boosted him into the saddle.
Chapter Seven
Two days later, they reached the city of Jondar, capital of Jashimari lands. Kerrion's hooded form drew curious stares from the populace as they rode through the crowded streets. Blade opened the neck of his tunic to display the tattoo at the base of his throat, well known as the mark of an assassin, which deflected any curious enquiries. It was rare to see an assassin abroad in public, even more uncommon in daylight and displaying his mark, which, in itself, aroused some unwelcome curiosity, and loitering city guards eyed the passing pair.
At the palace gates, two sentries crossed their spears in front of Blade's horse and forced him to stop, then demanded his business.
"I am the assassin Blade, returning from the front on the Queen's business, with a prisoner," he informed them.
The men studied him, noted the tattoo and stepped aside, grounding their spears. Blade urged his tired mount forward as one of the soldiers signalled to the men who manned the massive gates. The gilded barrier was pulled open, and he rode into the forecourt of the Queen's palace. Grooms ran up to take the horses, and Blade dragged the hooded Prince down. More guards approached, offering to take the prisoner, but Blade declined, leading Kerrion towards the palace, and four guards fell into step with him.
In the audience chamber, he was told to wait, and he removed Kerrion's hood, allowing the Prince his first sight of the gold-sheathed walls of Queen Minna-Satu's palace. Kerrion glanced about without betraying any expression, soon losing interest in his surroundings and turning to the assassin.
"Am I to be taken to the Queen in this state?" He glanced down at his travel-stained clothes.
"There is no need to primp yourself, Prince, I am sure she does not care what you look like."
"I thought perhaps she was unused to dealing with dirty, unshaven men who stink of horse and sweat. Does she keep such company then?"
"Insult the Queen at your peril. I will add a few bloodstains to your attire if you persist."
"You do not present yourself in such a state," the Prince pointed out, his gaze raking Blade's clean leather clothes and glossy hair. The assassin had bathed in a stream the previous evening, disdaining the cold to wash the mud and stink from himself and his clothes.
"No," Blade agreed, "I am not a prisoner."
"If you seek to humiliate me, your effort is wasted, since my filth is through no fault of mine. Your queen is more likely to be offended by such dirt in her presence."
Blade frowned, but before he could reply, Chief Advisor Chiana entered the chamber and approached them, her steps echoing in the pillared room. Kerrion glanced at the assassin, but Blade took no notice of his curious look as Chiana stopped before him.
"Welcome, assassin. The Queen is eager to see you and your… prisoner. You are to come immediately into her presence."
Chiana led the way to the small door through which she had entered, and Blade tugged the Prince after him, the guards following. At the entrance to the Queen's private sitting room, the group paused while the guards secured Kerrion's hands behind his back. Blade smiled at his sullen expression, daring him to protest this further insult, but the Prince ignored his mockery.
Queen Minna-Satu paced her chamber. Chiana's news that the assassin had returned with a prisoner filled her with nervous excitement. She plucked at her long, peacock-blue silk skirt, dissatisfied with it now. Her blouse's silver embroidery glinted under the sheath of fine golden chain mail that covered her from neck to mid-thigh. In the few minutes she had taken to prepare, her maids had dressed her hair and adorned it with golden chains and jewel-tipped pins.
Strings of pearls adorned her neck, and thin golden bangles slithered on her arms. For the umpteenth time she peered into the mirror, examining her flushed face with deep discontent, then swung away to pace about again. Her heart thumped, and she could not say whether it was the prospect of meeting the Cotti Prince or seeing Blade again that made her so anxious.
"Do pay attention, Shista," she berated the sleepy cat. "Get up. Sit beside me and look fearsome."
The sand cat raised her head and cast her friend a disbelieving glance, her ears twitching.
"Come on," Minna insisted, "sit by me."
Had the cat been able to talk, she might have pointed out that it was hard to sit beside someone who was pacing the room. Instead, she flopped back down with a sigh. Minna flung a cushion at her, then turned, patting her hair, as the doors opened. Chiana prostrated herself, and rose at the Queen's gesture.
"They wait outside, My Queen. Shall I show them in?"
"Yes. At once."
The chief advisor reopened the doors and stood aside as Blade entered, towing a dishevelled man by a leather thong. Four soldiers hesitated on the threshold, and Minna waved them away, refusing them entry. Chiana closed the doors and stood with her back to them, watching the men.
The assassin approached to within a few paces, then dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "My Queen."