Talon glanced around at the assembly with its many young, curious faces, and raised his voice to address them. "For those of you who don't know him, I present to you the assassin Blade, our most renowned and accomplished member, and the Master of the Dance. Over two hundred kills, amongst them great lords, and, of course, King Shandor of the Cotti, his greatest triumph yet. What's most amazing is that he's still alive, and almost thirty years old." He swung back to Blade. "Still no plans to retire?"
The assassin shrugged, meeting Talon's slanted, yellowish eyes, which betrayed his kindred to the wolf. "I'm considering it."
"Perhaps you shouldn't delay it until your edge is lost, and with it, your life."
"Perhaps."
Talon walked around Blade, an old habit that brought back many memories to his former pupil. "But I wonder, should we address you as 'My Lord' now, and bow to you?"
"Do as you see fit."
"I also wonder what you are now. Are you a lord, or an assassin? Have you relinquished your trade? If you have, you know that your mark must be burnt off with a hot iron. If you retire, you'll be expected to teach the young, in which case, you may keep your tattoo."
Blade's back prickled as Talon passed behind him. "I haven't relinquished my trade, nor am I retired as yet."
"Then you're still an assassin, and subject to our rules."
"Yes. Is this the reason I was summoned here?"
"Not exactly." Talon stopped before him. "An assassin died in the palace, not too long ago. He was sent to kill Prince Kerrion, but he failed. Do you deny killing him?"
Blade straightened, stung by the accusation. "You think that I killed Slash? That's absurd. I have never broken the guild's laws. I had nothing to do with his death, I was only told of it afterwards. The soldiers guarding Prince Kerrion killed him."
"I find it hard to believe that an experienced assassin such as Slash was discovered by soldiers."
"He was not. The Prince discovered him, knocked him down and called the guards."
Talon's eyes narrowed. "Discovered by his victim? How?"
"He tripped over a rug. Slash should have retired before now, he was almost nine and twenty, and had lost his edge."
"I see." Talon circled him again. "And you, in turn, were beaten badly by four street thugs, hired by those who paid Slash. Weren't they seeking to remove you as an obstacle in their efforts to kill the Prince, because it was you who foiled Slash's attempt?"
"No, they were avenging the death of Lord Mordon, whom I was paid to kill after Slash's death. He was one of those who hired Slash."
"And this, we must assume, since you are an assassin before your peers, is the truth."
"It is."
Talon stopped before him again. "Yes, I suspect that the commoners would dearly like to turn us against our own. But they've presented us with another dilemma." He turned and beckoned to the audience.
A tall man stood up and walked over, his narrow face marred by a scar that ran from temple to chin, cutting through an eye, which a patch covered. A shiny black scorpion clung to his shoulder, its stinger curled over its back.
Talon placed a hand on the assassin's other shoulder. "This is Scar, aptly named. He's recently been asked to kill a certain Lord Conash, and offered a handsome fee. Since he knows that Lord Conash is also the assassin Blade, he came to me with the problem. As Lord Conash, you're fair game, but as Blade, you're not. He was told that you had relinquished your profession, and no longer enjoyed the protection of being one of us. He was told that you now answer only to the Queen, and have been called the Queen's Blade. Is this true?"
Blade shifted his weight off his injured leg, hiding his discomfort with a frown. "I have been called that, but I don't answer only to her. I'm still an assassin, anyone may hire me."
"That's good." Talon nodded and patted Scar on the shoulder. "So you'll have to do without your fine fee, Scar."
The tall assassin smiled lopsidedly. "A pity." He thrust out a hand. "Good to meet you."
Blade shook the proffered hand, surprised by the vigour with which his was wrung. "Is this the reason for this meeting, Talon?"
Talon nodded. "Amongst other things. There were a number of reasons, most of which we have now dealt with. No assassin may become one man's pet killer, or woman's, and it's this misconception that has put your life in danger. Those who tried to hire Scar may still pay ordinary men to kill you, as they have already."
"Those men weren't sent to kill me. They only wanted me out of the way then, and they wanted information. The Queen foiled their plans by sending Prince Kerrion back to the desert, thereby putting him out of their reach." Blade turned to Scar. "If I knew who hired you…"
The tall assassin's smile twisted his scar, and the cold glint of his eye betrayed his kind. "He went to great lengths to hide beneath a hood, and didn't give his name, but I can tell you that it was Lord Bellcamp."
Talon looked disapproving. "Who's now doubtless a dead man, and his accomplices will know who betrayed them."
Scar shrugged, making his scorpion twitch. "They shouldn't have hired an assassin to kill one of his own."
"I thank you for telling me," Blade said, "and I would say that he and his cohorts will be dead before they can have their revenge."
"That's as well," Talon commented, "for assassins shouldn't reveal their clients to anyone." Again he cast a stern glance at Scar. "If you pay the price, you have only yourself to blame."
As Scar opened his mouth to reply, Blade interjected, "If that's all the business you have with me, I'll take my leave."
Talon stepped closer to peer at him. "Are you unwell?"
Blade toyed with the idea of telling the truth, then rejected it. Even though his rigid stance and pallor should have been obvious, he did not wish to reveal his weakness before his peers. "No, I'm well, but it's late, and I have business to attend to."
"Supper with the Queen, perhaps?"
Blade shook his head, ignoring Talon's sarcasm. "Nothing quite so important, I'm afraid."
"A pity," Talon murmured, glancing around. "Many of these youngsters would like to meet you."
"Another time, perhaps. I bid you goodnight." With a curt nod, Blade turned away.
The information Blade gleaned mollified Queen Minna-Satu's fury at his jaunt somewhat, though his refusal to identify the assassin who had told him sparked her ire afresh. He had regarded her with wintry eyes that challenged her to punish his disobedience, but she had not. Instead she ordered Lord Bellcamp's immediate arrest, only to find that the traitor had already fled, warned by his spies in the palace. Realising the strength of her opposition, she ordered that the assassin's rooms be guarded and started a manhunt for the traitorous lord.
A tenday later, Captain Redgard arrested one of the men who had attacked Blade, but the cutthroat could tell him nothing, having never seen his employer's face. He did, however, reveal the identity of the other three men, who were arrested and put on trial, found guilty and executed all in one day.
Blade healed more quickly than the healers had predicted, regaining his health a mere two tendays after the executions. To his disgust and amusement, the Queen assigned a bodyguard to protect him, and forbade him to leave the palace without his watchdog. Blade found it incongruous that an assassin should have a bodyguard, but Minna was adamant and would brook no argument. The soldier set to guard him was a pleasant, burly man named Lirek, a man of dogs with a brindled warhound familiar called Fang. True to the breed, Fang stood above knee height, with a robust, muscular frame, a whip-thin tail and lupine ears.
The conspirators met once more before Lord Bellcamp fled the city, this time in Mendal's house. Suspicion and recrimination thickened the air, with Lord Bellcamp at the centre of the animosity. Lord Javare's scathing remarks made Bellcamp's hand stray often to the hilt of his sword, and Mendal barely managed to keep the three lords from each other's throats. Lord Durlan mopped nervous sweat from his fat features, his small eyes darting between the other two. Until this incident, he had been the most hated of the three, now Bellcamp had usurped him. When at last Javare had exhausted his supply of vitriol, the meeting became more business-like.