Minna was so lost in her thoughts that she did not hear the doors open, or the soft tread of his feet. Shista's deep purr alerted her to his presence, and she turned.
Blade fell to one knee and bowed his head. "My Queen."
"Arise."
The assassin stood, his cold eyes meeting hers in a brief glance before he lowered them to the hem of her azure satin skirts. Shista rubbed herself against his leather-clad legs. His black garb hugged him, a high collar, strengthened with thin strips of metal, covering his throat and the tattoo at the base of it. On another man, the outfit might have looked like the product of vanity, to show off a splendid physique, but she knew that this was impossible in his case. The clothes were functional, designed to give an opponent no hold during a fight, when loose attire would prove a great liability.
The high collar shielded his throat from knives and garrottes, and the leather provided some protection for the rest of him, reinforced around his torso with a layer of fine chain mail. The tunic hung below his hips, slit at the sides and trimmed with silver thread. The colour allowed him to blend into the shadows, and gave him an air of subdued menace that his quiet, watchful manner heightened. Two daggers rode in his belt, and she glimpsed the gleam of a hilt up one of his sleeves. The weapons neither surprised nor alarmed her, for she sensed no animosity from him, only a cold disinterest that irritated her somewhat. Minna sank down on the cushions, and he sat before her.
"I have considered your offer, and have decided to accept it," she said. "You will go to King Shandor's camp and kill him; you will bring me his son."
Blade inclined his head.
"Do you wish men to aid you?"
"No. I work alone. Two horses, supplies and a little money is all I require."
"Tell me how you will do it."
"No."
She stared at him, shocked by his refusal. A faint smile curled his lips, and hot words died on her tongue. "You are as insolent as ever, Blade. I shall have to teach you some manners when you return."
"If it pleases you."
"You do not need them though, do you? All you have to do is smile."
He sighed and stroked the sand cat. "Sometimes."
"When will you leave?"
"As soon as you allow me to."
She frowned at him, piqued by his terse replies. "How can one man walk into a mighty army such as Shandor's and live to tell the tale?"
His smile became wry, touched with bitterness. "I have been there before."
"Of course." She gazed at the garden. The sight of him brought the unfamiliar gush of interest that she strived to quell. "You have an excellent reason for wanting his death; no one can deny you that. This accursed war has caused too much suffering already, and I shall end it forever."
"Not by holding the Prince to ransom. He has fifteen brothers."
"I know. That is not my intention, but I want him unharmed. Do you understand?"
He nodded. "My trade does not make me a compulsive killer, only an efficient one. Do you wish the King to suffer?"
The Queen shivered at the impassive tone with which he made the offer. Death was a mere commodity to him, a service rendered to any who could afford it, without a trace of remorse on his part. "That is not necessary. Do you offer this to all your clients?"
"Yes. It can be fast or slow, their choice."
"Do many choose a slow death for their enemies?"
He shrugged, expressionless. "Sometimes."
"Do you enjoy killing?"
"No."
Minna smiled at his assertion. "I am glad. I would not wish to bestow the reward of lands and nobility upon a man who enjoyed killing, for nobles are able to abuse their position."
"Rest assured, I am employed in this trade only to earn a living, and once I no longer need to, I shall retire."
"Why did you choose this occupation?"
He clearly did not like to be questioned, but her rank drew answers from him that he would have denied a lesser person, terse though they were. "It was thrust upon me. It is the only trade I am good at."
"And how many men have you killed?"
His glanced rebuked her. "I do not keep count."
To vindicate her rather morbid curiosity, Minna said, "I simply wish to appraise how good you are. I would not want to send an over eager fool to his death."
Blade's smile returned, genuine amusement tinged with sadness. "I am no over eager fool. I do have a certain reputation that has not reached your ears, and I am the Master of the Dance. Ask about me, if you will."
"I shall." Minna rose to her feet, and the assassin stood, looking uncertain when she approached him. She stopped before him, and, after a moment of confusion, he realised what he had to do and sank down on one knee, bowing his head.
"I give you my blessing and wish you good luck, Blade."
"Thank you."
"You may go."
"My Queen." He rose and left without a backward glance.
The doors were thrust open again, and Chiana entered. She looked cross, and patted her hair self-consciously as she rose from her prostration. Minna stared out of the windows until the chief advisor coughed to get her attention, whereupon the Queen shook herself from her thoughts and turned.
"See to it that the assassin has all the supplies he needs for his journey. Provide whatever he requests, and give him two of the finest horses in the stables."
Chiana bowed and withdrew, returning after a few minutes to report that it was done.
"Good." Minna sighed and sank back onto her cushions. "Let us hope and pray that he succeeds. He is our last hope."
"He is a very strange man,"
"I know." The Queen cocked her head. "What do you see strange about him?"
Chiana shrugged. "Well, as a part of the comforts you ordered for him, I sent a woman to his room the first night."
"You did?" Minna laughed, confusing her advisor. Sobering, she asked, "What happened?"
"He sent her away. Thinking that he was tired, I sent her again the next night. He sent her away again, and this time with instructions not to return." Minna chuckled, and Chiana looked perplexed. "You know the reason for this?"
"Yes, I do." The Queen smiled. "Are you so unobservant, Chiana?"
"Evidently I am, My Queen, for I do not understand his behaviour, or the reason for your mirth."
"He must have been most amused by your thoughtfulness, and perhaps flattered that you did not see what he is. Perhaps many do not recognise him, for he is not typical of his kind."
"What kind is that?"
Minna sighed, her regret for Blade's misfortune colouring her tone with sadness. "He is a eunuch."
The chief advisor recoiled as if slapped, and a deep sorrow invaded her expression. "Are you certain? How do you know?"
"He has no beard, and his voice is a little high, do you not agree?"
"Well, now that you mention it…" Chiana frowned. "But I thought -"
"That they are always fat and lazy? Usually they are, but Blade has a vigorous occupation, and one that interests him, I would venture to say."
Chiana looked aggrieved. "Who would do such a thing, and how? He does not seem the kind of man easily overcome by his enemies."
"Oh, no, this happened a long time ago, when he was little more than a child, I would hazard to guess. As to who would do it, I can only think of one people capable of such things."
"The Cotti."
"Indeed," the Queen agreed, "and his current quest will go a long way to fulfilling his lust for vengeance."
"What a waste, for such a handsome man to be…"