"And what of the cripples, men without arms or legs or sight?"
"They too are compensated," Kerrion said. "No Cotti war veteran starves or is without a home. Those who have profited from the war pay huge taxes to support the less fortunate. Farmers grow rich feeding the army, the economy booms."
"Yes, so it is here, too. Yet the war is evil, and I would end it."
Kerrion shrugged. "Then surrender. You will receive good treatment, your people will not be enslaved, and your wish will be granted."
"Never." The Queen's eyes glinted. "How dare you make such a presumption, when it is you who are my prisoner?"
"Imprisoning me does you no good. It will only enrage my people and goad them to greater ferocity. If you execute me, my brother Lerton will inherit, and he is much like my father."
Minna-Satu appeared to rein her temper, and sat back with a sigh, glancing at the dozing sand cat. "So you have said. Let us not discuss it further today. Tell me of your family, I believe it is large."
Kerrion obliged, her tactics confusing him a little. For the remainder of the afternoon and over dinner, they discussed the details of their lives and relatives, steering away from the controversial subject of war. Kerrion found the Queen to be pleasant and talkative, unlike the taciturn Blade, though she smiled rarely, and her eyes held a distant sadness that made him long to know the reason for it. Her beauty seemed too fragile to endure her high office with all its burdens, and there was no triumph for him in denying her the peace she craved. He found it unfair to have to deal with such a lovely woman, against whom any victory would inevitably be tinged with regret.
That night he lay awake, thinking about her and wondering at the mysterious plans she claimed to have. By the time he fell asleep, he was no wiser for his time-glasses of pondering. Whatever Queen Minna-Satu had in mind, he was unable to fathom it.
Chapter Eight
The door opening softly woke Blade the next morning, and he became instantly alert, in the usual manner of assassins. He relaxed when the manservant appeared, carrying a pile of bright, luxurious clothes. The man smiled and hung the garments on a smokewood rack to display them, brushing and straightening them with obvious pride. Blade sat up and eyed the deep crimson silk shirt and tailored tunic of brushed black velvet with silver patterns embroidered on the shoulders and sleeves. Next to these, the man hung a pair of black velvet trousers edged with silver, and a matching silver-studded belt. A short cloak completed the outfit, and the servant smiled at the assassin as he straightened from placing a pair of narrow, polished black boots on the floor under the rack.
Blade ran a hand through his rumpled hair and sighed. "Does the Queen expect me to wear that foppish outfit?"
"Yes, sir."
The assassin slid from the bed, clad only in a pair of baggy grey flannel shorts that almost reached his knees. The servant's lips twitched as he suppressed a smile, and Blade went to splash his face in the bowl of water provided.
"Well I will not," the assassin declared. "Definitely not that garish shirt, and that tunic. Bring me something less gaudy."
"The Queen insists, sir. You must wear it for the ceremony today. A great feast has been ordered, with entertainment and dancing."
"And am I to be the freak on show? Take those things away and bring me my clothes."
"I cannot, sir. The Queen would be angry."
"I do not care. I will not wear that outfit."
"Very good, sir, I shall inform the Queen." The man bowed and headed for the door.
"Wait! Why should the Queen concern herself with such trivial matters? Bring me my clothes!"
The servant turned in the doorway. "I am sorry, sir, but these are her orders. Today she concerns herself greatly with your ceremony."
Blade gave an angry snort and opened his mouth to berate the man further, but found himself alone. A search of the wardrobe found it empty, and he cursed the servant as he sat on the bed and frowned at the clothes. Evidently the man had absconded with Blade's apparel while he had bathed the previous evening.
The door opened, and he turned to vent his displeasure upon the returning servant, then grabbed the sheet to wrap around himself as Minna-Satu sailed in, followed by Chiana and several handmaidens. Blade stared at her before lowering his eyes to the hem of her gown.
"My Queen, this is unseemly."
"Indeed?" Her brows rose, and he was surprised that she did not comment on his failure to bend a knee. "This is my palace, and I go where I will in it. Come, I have seen naked men before. I may be a maiden, but I am not an innocent."
"But -"
"I am informed that you refuse to wear the clothes provided, which I selected myself for your ceremony."
Blade glanced at the outfit. "I… they are too bright. I am unused to such ornamental garments."
"Then it is time you changed your ways. You are to retire, you need not skulk in the shadows now."
"I have never -"
"I wish us to be friends, Blade. I hope to count you as one of my closest and most trusted advisors and confidants after your elevation."
"I had not planned -"
"I do not bestow these rewards lightly, or upon the undeserving."
"I -"
"Furthermore, I do expect to be at least patronised in this matter, for I shall not present a man to my court who is not decently attired."
The assassin raised his eyes to her face, knowing that if he opened his mouth she would interrupt him again. The challenge in her eyes was clear. She would brook no opposition, and a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. For the first time, she impressed him. Her regal bearing and demand of obedience, so at odds with her slender form, brought a twinge of respect.
He nodded. "Very well, but not the shirt."
Minna gestured to one of the girls. "Fetch another, a paler colour."
"Grey," Blade stipulated, and the Queen nodded. The maiden hastened out, and another two came forward. They sat beside him and started to brush his hair, freeing it from its leather thong. Minna settled on a pouf, smiling.
Blade glanced at her. "Surely you do not mean to supervise?"
"I do. I must speak to you now, since yesterday you were too tired and rude."
"What about?"
"The ceremony. It is short, but complex, and I must warn you, given your nervous nature, not to be alarmed by the weapons that will be used in it."
"Are they to be thrown at my head?"
She laughed. "No, certainly not, but they will be in close contact with your person, and I would not want you to think yourself in danger."
"And who will be wielding these weapons?"
"I shall."
"I see." He winced as one of the girls tugged at a knot in his hair.
"Have a care, Terril," the Queen remonstrated.
"I am sorry, My Queen," the girl replied, "it is like combing a horse's tail."Blade cast her a sideways glance, and the maiden dimpled, adding, "Though finer hair I have seldom seen, and certainly not on a man."
Minna giggled as the other maiden produced a razor, and Blade leant away from her, eyeing it sceptically. The girl ignored him as she trimmed the ragged edges of his hair at shoulder length.
"You have nothing to fear from my maidens," Minna said. "They will not harm you."
"She could cut my throat with one slip."
"She will not slip, I assure you. Now, as to the ceremony. It will take place at noon, in the audience room, before my assembled court. When the usher gives the signal, you will enter through the side door and approach the throne. There I will make the award, and afterwards, you shall sit beside me at the banquet."
He looked aggrieved. "Must there be all this pomp and ceremony?"