Sacrifice: The Queen's Blade (2 page)

No word had reached them of Blade, and this was the cause of Minna's agitation. Her pregnancy made it worse with violent mood swings and fits of weeping. The young consort, a handsome man of cats who said little and adored the Queen, tried to calm her when he could, but she would listen to no one and often sent him away. He was the only one, as yet, who knew that he was not the father of her child, and spent his nights on a cot at the foot of her bed.

"My Queen, you must rest," Chiana pleaded. "You will wear yourself out. You need to be strong for your child."

Minna glared at her. "I tire of your advice, Chiana, perhaps I should appoint a new chief advisor."

"They will tell you the same thing. The healers are concerned for your health, so is Antare."

"Antare!" Minna snorted. "Spare me his cow-eyed looks and constant fawning. What does he know?"

"He knows, as I do, that you are pale and drawn, you have grown thinner and eat next to nothing. He also tells me that you sleep badly, you toss and mutter constantly."

"Is nothing sacred around here anymore? I shall send him back to the war, where he can do some good."

Chiana sighed, making a helpless gesture. "You know that he is a good man, concerned for your welfare, as we all are. Why are you being so difficult?"

"Difficult?" Minna cried. "Do not treat me like some recalcitrant child, Chiana, I am your Queen! You know very well why I am upset, I have good reason to be!"

"But wearing yourself out does not help."

Minna sank down amongst her cushions, frowning. "Why have I heard nothing from Jadaya? What has happened there? Is Kerrion King, or Lerton? It has been too long. The Warrior Moon is almost full, and still there is no word of Blade. I need him here, I need his advice."

"And his strength," Chiana murmured.

"Yes, that too."

"You knew that he might not survive."

"Yet I expected him to." Minna shook her head, looking despondent. "Perhaps it was foolish of me, but he has cheated death so many times. I thought that he could do it again."

"Maybe he will, but you must not worry about him, My Queen."

"How can you say that? I know you worry about him too. I had to send him to Jadaya, do you not see? The future of Jashimari depended on it. I had no choice. I just wish I knew what has befallen him. What if he is lying in a ditch somewhere, wounded and dying of neglect when he could have the very best healers attending him? Perhaps I should send someone to search for him?"

"But where would they look, My Queen?" Chiana asked, although her eyes brightened with hope. "We have no idea where he might be."

"He has either perished in Jadaya, or he is somewhere between here and there."

"That is a lot of country to search."

"Yes." Minna slumped. "But I fear that without him, my plans will fail." Her hand crept to her belly. "Without him, my child will die and Jashimari will be conquered. All will be lost."

Chiana knelt beside her. "Surely not? Do not think such things. How can one man be so important?"

"I do not know," Minna-Satu murmured, "but I think that he is."

Jayon was sitting beside the assassin when he stopped breathing. The cessation of the rattling gasps did not register right away, then he turned to stare at the peaceful features of the strange man. A curious sense of loss filled him. The mystery had eluded him, the secrets had died with the man on the bed, gone forever when he wanted so much to know them.

"No, you can't die," he muttered, shaking his head. "Not after all my care, and saving you from the desert. You can't do this to me! I want to know who you are, where you come from, what you were doing in the desert, and who shot you. Damn it, you can't just die now, after all I've done for you!"

Rising, he stood over the bed, his hands clenched at his sides. He glared at the assassin, incensed that he had given up when he should have fought on.

"You can't just give up! Fight, damn you!"

Jayon bent and thumped the assassin's chest, as if trying to rouse him from the dead. Again and again he hammered the dead man, driven by an insane urge to beat him into fighting for the life that had already left him.

"Fight, damn you! Fight!"

A passing healer stared at Jayon in horror, then hurried over to grip his arms and pull him away. "He's dead! Leave him be!"

"No!" Jayon wrenched free and fell to his knees beside the bed, bring his fists down in the hardest blow of all. "
Fight!
"

The assassin coughed and drew in a shallow breath. Jayon and the healer stared at him in amazement. He opened his eyes and grimaced, his expression dazed. His eyes flicked to Jayon and the healer, and he groped for the dagger that had been strapped to his wrist. His face twisted and his brow furrowed as a coughing fit gripped him, and in between coughs he wheezed, struggling for air.

Jayon stood up. The miracle of the assassin's return to life stunned him. The man fought to breathe and cough, the struggle painful to witness. His face grew red from the strain, his eyes bulged and veins stood out on his brow. Cords of muscle bulged on his chest, and sweat streamed from him as he hacked and gasped. The healer hastened away and came back with a bunch of leaves, which he crushed under the assassin's nose.

Their sharp odour seemed to give him a little relief, and his cough became more powerful. Gradually the rattle lessened, and he relaxed as his breathing grew easier. The healer lifted the assassin's shoulder to inspect the dressing, frowning when he found it stained with fresh blood. He left to fetch a clean one, and Jayon sank onto the chair beside the bed. The assassin closed his eyes, looking exhausted. The flush drained from his skin, leaving it ashen. His return to life and consciousness amazed Jayon, who studied him.

The assassin opened his eyes again, still looking dazed, then his gaze flicked to Jayon and sharpened. He frowned, his arctic stare making the young patrol leader shiver.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Patrol Leader Jayon. I found you in the desert, shot with a crossbow bolt, seven days ago."

"Seven days? I've been here for seven days? Where in Damnation am I, anyway?"

Jayon nodded. "This is the healers' house in Derrilan Pass."

The assassin tried to sit up and grimaced, his limbs shaking. Jayon pushed him back. "Lie still, you're too sick to get up."

"I must." He subsided, apparently realising that he did not have the strength, anyway. "I must speak to the Queen."

Jayon gave an incredulous laugh. "The Queen? You're deluded. It must be the fever." He placed a hand on the assassin's brow, but he knocked it aside.

"Quit mothering me, boy, I'm not an infant."

Jayon frowned. Now that the assassin was awake, he looked ten years older, and the tattoo that had seemed so incongruous for one so youthful and innocent now appeared quite fitting.

"Who are you?" he asked.

The assassin stared at the ceiling, and Jayon began to think he would not answer, then he muttered, "I have many names, which one do you want?"

"All of them."

Blade pushed himself up on the pillows and studied the young man who sat beside him. Jayon looked to be about twenty years old, a handsome youth with merry blue eyes and thick brown hair, a fringe of which flopped into his eyes.

"So, you want to know who it is that owes you his life. Is that what prompted you to save a dying wretch in the desert?"

"No. I know you're an assassin. Not many will help your kind."

"That's true. Most would have ridden on and left me to die, some would have spat on me before they did." He gazed into the distance. "I'm known as Blade."

Jayon's jaw dropped. "The Queen's Blade?"

Blade frowned. "Does everyone damned well know now?"

"Many have heard of your deeds, even here on the border, yes. You killed King Shandor!"

"Why don't you shout it a little louder? I don't think the Cotti heard you."

"There are no Cotti here."

"There are spies everywhere, boy."

Jayon looked stunned. "But then... you're a lord, aren't you?"

"Supposedly."

"But what happened to you? Who shot you?"

"That's a long story."

"I have time."

The assassin sighed. "Bring me some water."

Jayon jumped up and dashed off, just as the healer returned with a fresh dressing. He helped Blade to sit up and removed the old bandage, a painful process that made the assassin's eyes water.

"You had better be nice to that boy," the healer admonished. "I don't care who you are or how many you've killed, he saved your life. He's sat by your bedside every day and mopped your brow, fed you, changed your dressing. Why he bothered with an assassin, I don't know. Not many would. You owe him."

Blade groaned. "Not again."

The healer wiped the wound, making Blade grimace and hiss. "Like I said, he deserves your gratitude."

"I'm sure he'll be well rewarded."

The healer strapped the new dressing in place. "He not only saved you in the desert, he also brought you back to life. Not half a time-glass ago, you were dead."

"No wonder I feel so bloody awful."

The healer finished the dressing and straightened. "Just remember what I said."

Blade coughed again, unable to stem the urge, and the healer shook his head.

"Try not to cough, or the wound in your lung won't heal."

Blade quelled it, and the healer left to tend his other patients, stepping aside to allow Jayon to trot past carrying a water jug and a plate of steaming stew. Blade drained two cups before his thirst was quenched, then started on the food, while Jayon waited with obvious impatience.

The assassin ate less than half the meal before handing the plate back and regarding the young officer with deep resentment. "So, I'm told that I owe you a debt of gratitude, boy, and I hate owing debts. What do you want from me?"

"Just your story. How you came to be wounded in the desert."

"That's all?"

Jayon nodded.

With a sigh, Blade related the tale in terse sentences, adding no embellishments and leaving out many details, including the name of his employer, although her identity was easy to guess. When he finished, Jayon stared at him in amazement.

"That's truly incredible."

"You must send a message to the Queen. Tell her of my situation, and that Prince Kerrion is safe and Lerton dead."

"Of course. Once the commander knows who you are, you will receive the best treatment." He pulled a face. "The healers gave you up for dead. They said I was wasting my time tending you."

Blade fought the urge to cough. "I wouldn't be here if I hadn't been stupid enough to tell that damned Cotti spy that Lerton was dead. Who knew that he had a crossbow and the courage to use it?"

"It could have been worse. You might have died."

"You're to tell no one what I told you, boy."

"Of course. I'll go and tell the commander that you're awake." Jayon rose, then paused. "By the way, my name's Jayon, not 'boy'."

Blade waved him away. "Leave me be, I need to sleep."

Cold sunlight poured in through the tall windows of the Jashimari palace's sunroom, which gave a view of the snow-covered garden. Minna-Satu reclined on a pile of cushions, reading a book of poems. In summer, this room became too hot for comfort, but in winter it was one of the warmest places in the palace. The book of poems was meant to take Minna's mind off Blade's possible fate, but did little more than distract her for brief interludes. The rest of the time, she stared out at the icy garden, her mind filled with worry.

Minna-Satu looked up in surprise as the doors burst open, and Chiana came in, performing a quick prostration. Shista raised her head and glanced around, then stretched with a sigh and flopped down.

Chiana waved a scrap of paper as she approached the Queen. "He is alive! Blade has been found. He is at the border, safe in a healer's house."

Minna's heart swelled with relief and joy. "Thank Tinsharon! How is he? When is he coming back?"

"It does not say, only that he is injured, but recovering. There is little in the message, it was brought by raven."

"There must be more than that!"

"Not about Blade. The rest of the message is that Lerton is dead and Kerrion safe."

Minna smiled as the burden of her worries eased. "He succeeded. And he survived. The man is a marvel."

"Yes, My Queen."

"I will send a carriage for him at once. He can convalesce here, where he will get the best attention."

"But My Queen, the roads..."

"I will send a company of men to clear the roads for it."

"Travelling may weaken him... and the cold..."

Minna waved Chiana's protests aside with an impatient gesture. "I will send my best healer along too. He could use some exercise."

"It will take more than four tendays to get there, in this weather."

"So much the better, he will be recovered enough to travel by then."

Chiana nodded, smiling. "I too long for his return, My Queen, but I did not know that you were so fond of him."

Minna eyed the advisor, smiling at her gentle teasing. "It is not only that. I am fond of him, I admit, but I shall need him here. By the waning of the Sea Moon I shall have only another moon-phase to go before my daughter is born."

"One phase?" Chiana frowned. "But that cannot be. You only took consort in the Maiden Moon, just after Blade went to his estate."

"Yes." The Queen sighed. "It is time you knew, Chiana, although you are to tell no one else. Antare is not the father of my child."

"Then who...?"

"Prince Kerrion."

Chiana stepped back, her eyes wide. "So that is why..."

"Yes."

"You would put a half Cotti Queen on the Jashimari throne?"

Minna nodded. "It is the only way to bring peace between us. Do not look so outraged, it was you who advised me to seek the help of Shamsara, and it was he who predicted that this was the only way to end the war. So long as Kerrion is the Cotti King, they will not make war on his daughter. That is why Blade had to save him. When those who want the war to continue hear of my plan, they will plot against me, and try to kill the child.