"I am trying to understand you is all."
"So that you may find my weakness?" Blade gave a snort of laughter. "I have none." He started towards the curtains through which he had appeared.
Kerrion jumped up. "Where are you going?"
"I have to sleep."
"Stay here if you wish."
Blade paused, raising a mocking brow. "And awake in chains? I think not."
"What good would that do me? I need your testimony."
"True. But if you expect me to trust a Cotti, you are sadly mistaken." Blade vanished through the curtains.
"I will see you tomorrow then, at dawn!" Kerrion called after him.
The Prince sank back in his chair and poured a fresh goblet of wine. He pondered the sudden and unexpected turn of events as he sipped it. The impossible presence of the Jashimari assassin in his city, in his palace, and even, unnervingly, in his room, still stunned him a little. Blade's stealth was extraordinary, and he wondered how the assassin had avoided the many guards around and in the palace.
Kerrion's mother, coming from the harem, was able to use secret passages to gain admittance, but Blade had come from outside. He had eluded scores of guards to enter the Prince's room. His respect for the assassin grew as he considered this remarkable feat, long thought to be impossible. Blade's presence and mission brought fresh hope to brighten the Prince's gloomy thoughts, pushing aside the despair that had been taking hold of him.
The amazing news of the child Minna carried also brought a surge of wonder and fresh tenderness for the Jashimari Queen. The night of passion he had spent with the red-haired maiden, though wine fogged and strangely muddled, had stayed with him ever since. His lack of self-control had baffled him, and he had woken alone and guilt ridden the next day. Now many pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and he experienced a wry admiration for her high-handed manipulation of events.
It seemed that Minna-Satu liked to have her own way, and usually did. Even he could not gainsay her, and he wondered if Blade was the only one who could. He did not doubt for a moment that the assassin was immune to the Queen's blandishments, but did her will solely because he wished to do it. That she had succeeded in gaining his co-operation in this venture was admirable, but the price was Lerton's life, for which he doubted that she would otherwise have asked. Gravely he raised his glass towards the northern wall, smiling.
"My thanks, Minna."
Setting aside the cup, he pulled out a sheet of parchment and dipped his quill into the ink well, pausing to ponder the words he must set down to ensure Blade's safety. The task galled him. He would rather see the assassin lynched for killing his father, but his word had been given and Blade's threat was not an empty one, he knew. After a moment of contemplation, he began to write.
Chapter Eighteen
Blade rose at dawn and brushed the straw from his clothes, then stretched and yawned. The night spent in the palace stables had been peaceful, and the deep bed of straw had provided a pleasant resting place. Digging out the bag he had secreted there the night before, he consumed a frugal breakfast of biscuits and water before dampening a cloth and beginning the long transformation he hated so much. This time, however, he donned the female clothes over his own, and applied the skin dye only to those parts of him that were exposed.
After he had applied the kohl to his eyes and berry juice to his lips, he forced the earrings through the long-unused holes in his earlobes with a grimace. He studied the disguise in his mirror, brushed the blond wig and tucked away errant strands of jet hair, then donned jingling bangles and a cheap necklace. Satisfied, he reburied his bag and rose to brush straw from his skirts, checking the daggers strapped to his wrists inside his sleeves. Covering his hair with a rippling length of blue silk, he wandered from the barn with a woman's graceful, swaying gait.
Several of the guards he passed on his way to Kerrion's rooms winked and leered, and one tried to pinch his bottom. Along the way he pilfered a bottle of wine, then walked to Kerrion's door and knocked. The guards who stood outside it grinned at him, and Blade smiled and lowered his eyes. A gruff command to enter made a guard open the door, and Blade strolled into the Crown Prince's boudoir. Kerrion sat on the rumpled bed with his hair still tangled from sleep, and looked up from lacing his boots. He scowled when Blade thumped the wine bottle down on the table.
"What is this? I did not order wine. Get out."
Blade spoke in his own voice. "So it is true that Cotti men treat their women like slaves. No wonder you do it to Jashimari children too."
Kerrion grimaced. "Blade. The guards let you in?"
"Naturally. All they saw was a serving maid with a bottle of wine."
The prince straightened and studied the assassin. "No wonder you fool everyone. I did not have the opportunity to appreciate the perfection of your disguise on the night you abducted me."
"I did not come here for you to admire me. Let's get on with this."
Kerrion picked up an embroidered white tunic and shrugged it on. "I was starting to wonder if you had lost your nerve."
Blade glared at him. "You should learn to curb your tongue, antagonising me is not a good idea."
Kerrion completed his ablutions before summoning his familiar from her perch, and the guards snapped to attention as the prince marched past with the eagle perched on his shoulder, Blade following. The assassin found the walk through the palace educational, noting the corridors and rooms they passed through with keen interest. Its echoing emptiness struck him as amusing, but the decor's sheer opulence more than compensated for the lack of furnishings.
The desert mines were rich in many things besides metal, and, in some rooms, rows of quartz pillars glimmered in the warm light, streaked with shades of pink or blue. Quartz statues glowed with translucent beauty, and, in one vast room, a circular skylight let in shafts of pale pink radiance. The Prince seemed oblivious, marching past the breath-taking scenery without a glance at it.
Arriving at a pair of massive brass-studded doors, Kerrion turned to Blade. "Wait here until you are called. I have to convince them to grant you a pardon first."
Blade nodded. "Lerton will help."
"What do you mean?"
"You will see."
Kerrion gazed at the assassin in puzzlement, then turned and headed for the doors, which the guards opened for him. As they closed behind him, Blade moved closer to the wall and stood with his head bowed, pulling the blue silk over his face to foil curious stares.
Kerrion entered the immense audience room where the trial was being held, aware that dozens of hostile eyes followed his progress. Lerton, who sat with his brothers, smirked and waved. The judges stood in a row behind a long, polished palmwood table, watching him with hard, glittering eyes that belied their reverent bows.
The lords who filled the rest of the hall kept their expressions neutral, awaiting the outcome before they committed themselves to either side. Familiars sat beside them or perched on their shoulders, those that were not twined around their necks or resident in the palace stables. The group of officers from King Shandor's camp, which Lerton had called as witnesses, whispered amongst themselves, their eyes darting. Three male sand cats lolled at their feet, one snoring.
Kerrion stopped before the most senior of the seven judges and addressed him. "My Lord, before we continue with this farcical trial, I have one more witness to call."
The judge frowned, clearly displeased by the delay. "The time for witnesses is over, Prince Kerrion."
"I am aware of that, but this person can clear me of these ridiculous charges."
The judge raised his brows and glanced at his comrades, who nodded or shrugged as they seated themselves. "Very well."