The Queen's Blade Prequel II - God Touched (16 page)

He glared at
the wall, and she turned away to unpack her shopping, cradling
Endel with one arm.

“
I'm starting to get to know you, aren't I?” she asked. “You
act all tough and dangerous, but you're not that bad,
really.”

“
Tell that to those nine dead men. And the many others I've
slain.”

“
Oh, I know you're a killer, but I'm not afraid of
you.”

“
Then you're not very bright.”

“
I see you're back to your old ways. I preferred you last
night.”

“
A momentary aberration, I assure you,” he muttered.

“
And you think I'm going to look after you if you're rude to
me? I think not. Either find some civility or go home.”

“
You won't throw me out.”

“
Why not?”

He sighed.
“Because you spent the last of your money on that expensive food
you bought for me, so you need my support again. What's more, now
that I've killed all but two of those cutthroats, you don't have
eleven more goldens to look forward to.”

She paused,
frowning. “I still have two coming to me.”

“
No. I've decided to leave them.”

“
We had a deal!”

“
It's off.”

“
You can't do that! I need that money, Blade, and I almost got
beaten to death to earn it.”

“
I don't care.”

Lilu put the
baby in his cot and marched over to the bed, gripped the assassin’s
shoulder and rolled him onto his back. “You can't do that to me,
you...” She trailed off, staring at him.

Blade smiled.
“And you believed me.”

The singular
sweetness of his expression held Lilu spellbound.

His smile
faded. “Gods, Lilu, you look like a mule just kicked you in the
head.”

“
That's how I feel.”

He looked
away, clearly embarrassed. “I'll still give you the money, don't
worry.”

She sank down
on the edge of the bed and tried to take his hand, but he pulled it
away.

“
Don't fuss over me. Go and finish your chore.”

“
How do you feel?”

“
It hurts; what else?”

“
I got you some good wine.”

“
Ten bottles, I hope.”

She shook her
head, smiling. “I didn't have enough money for that.”

He groped
under the blanket and pulled out a money pouch, holding it out.
“Here. I prefer red.”

“
I know.” She hefted the bag, which was heavy enough to hold
ten goldens, then rose to make lunch.

Blade sat at
the back of the Black Swan, a cup of rich red wine in one hand, and
watched the patrons come and go, drink and talk. His new haunt was
not only a rundown taproom deep in the slums, it doubled as a cheap
whorehouse. The two assassins who shared it with him clearly
disliked their new surrounds, but had no choice if they wished to
benefit from his presence. He had not bothered to learn their
names, even though they had been around for the six years since he
had won the belt. They were second-rate killers, he was sure, who
would have no work if not for their location so close to the Dance
Master. They took advantage of the crumbs from his table, offering
their services to those foolish enough to seek out the Master of
the Dance when they could not afford him.

The reason for
his odd choice of haunt sat across the room, flirting with a portly
merchant who clearly did not appreciate her blandishments. No
whorehouse keeper would take Lilu on until Blade had found this
seedy establishment and gained her a job with his promise to the
owner to make it his haunt. He had not told Lilu, and had no
intention of doing so. As far as she knew, it was a coincidence.
His patronage brought more drinkers to the taproom, and, as a
consequence, more work for the slatternly whores who traded there.
There were a number of beefy men he suspected were there to see if
his presence brought any trouble-makers, so they could watch, or
perhaps join in the fight. A few pimply youths hung around,
possibly to earn reputations for drinking with the Dance Master,
and some sly looking men, probably spies for various lords, nursed
cups of ale in dark corners. Then, of course, there were his
customers, when they appeared.

After his
encounter with the cutthroat band, he had had his jacket collar
reinforced with thin vertical metal strips and added a sheath of
fine chain mail to protect his torso. The scar on his throat had
faded to a narrow white line, as had the one on the back of his
wrist and the stab wound scars on his chest and flank. He watched a
courting couple in a dim corner, entertained by their antics. A
ringing slap made him glance around. Lilu jumped up and left a
burly merchant clutching his stinging cheek. Evidently he had
rebuffed her, and Blade sighed, struggling to hide his smile as the
merchant lowered his hand to reveal a red mark. Lilu could slap
pretty hard, it seemed, and if she was not slapping someone for
commenting on her ugliness, she was doing it to avenge the rebuffs
she constantly received.

Blade watched
her flounce towards him, his amusement fading. She plopped down on
the bench opposite, scowling.

“
Go away,” he said.

“
No. He said I look like a pig's arse.”

Blade's lips
twitched, much as he tried to stifle it, and Lilu leant closer.

“
Go on, laugh, I dare you.”

“
What, will you slap my face too?”

“
If you sit still, I might.”

He chuckled.
“So why come over here? You know you won't get any sympathy from
me.”

“
I want him to see who he's dealing with.”

“
Ah. So he'll use your services out of fear for his
life?”

“
No, so he'll think twice about insulting me again.”

Blade shook
his head. “Then you should make friends with a thug. Everyone knows
assassins don't kill without a client, and only fight in
self-defence. See? He's not impressed.” He gestured at the
merchant, who sipped his wine, unconcerned.

Lilu glared at
the man. “Well he ought to be. You could scare him, Blade.”

“
Why would I want to do that?”

“
Because you're my friend!”

“
I told you, I'm not a good friend to have.”

“
But you are my friend, aren't you?” She leant closer and tried
to touch his hand.

He snatched it
away, scowling. “Don't claim familiarity here, or you'll be sadly
disappointed.”

Sorrow filled
her eyes, and she looked down. “At least I know it's not because
I'm ugly, in your case.”

“
No, it's not, it’s because you’re irritating, now go
away.”

Lilu jumped up
and headed for the merchant again, to Blade's annoyance. She was
looking for trouble, he suspected, in the hope that he would come
to her aid. As he was about to quit the taproom and foil her plan,
a young woman entered, captivating his attention. Deep auburn hair
framed her flawless, fine-featured face, and jewels flashed at her
throat and wrists. Her dark rose satin gown fell in graceful folds
from a tiny waist that a gold-embroidered bodice hugged. She
glanced around with melting brown eyes, looking nervous, and
pressed a silk handkerchief to her nose. Her gaze came to rest on
Blade, and, to his surprise, she headed for his table, sliding onto
the bench opposite. Several male patrons, who had been eyeing her
with interest, looked away with grimaces. She leant across the
table.

“
Are you the Master of the Dance?”

He inclined
his head.

“
I wish to hire you.” She pulled out a purse and dumped it on
the table with a thud.

Blade raised
his brows. “It's traditional to tell me who you want dead and ask
for my agreement before you pay me.”

“
Why would you refuse? It is your trade. And I shall pay any
fee you demand.”

“
That's not the point.” He sipped his wine. “Who do you want
dead?”

“
My husband.”

“
And who might he be?”

“
A pig.”

He almost
smiled, but quelled it. “I asked who he is, not what.”

“
Viscount Treblane.”

Blade glanced
at Lilu as her voice rose in outrage, followed by another
resounding slap. “The trouble is, now that you've marched up to me
and dumped coin on the table, everyone in here knows you're trying
to hire me. So, when your husband is assassinated, the Watch will
have no trouble learning who his true killer is.”

She glanced
around, frowning. “These are all cutthroats and criminals. The
Watch will not believe them.”

“
Actually, many of these men are merchants and labourers, the
sons of such men, and a few spies.”

“
Whose spies?”

He shrugged.
“How should I know? Probably wealthy nobles, wishing to know who's
hiring me. They know that if anyone wishes them dead, I'll be the
one they hire.”

She had the
grace to look a little abashed. “What should I do then? This is the
place where you are hired, is it not?”

“
Yes, but usually nobles don't do it themselves. They send a
trusted servant with a message, or, if they do come themselves,
they do so in disguise.”

“
I do not think any of these men will know who I
am.”

“
They have only to describe you.”

She fiddled
with the pouch. “So what should I do?”

Blade glanced
at Lilu again when she shrieked, his brows knitting. The
broken-nosed harlot had attacked the merchant, and rained slaps on
his balding head. The man rose with an angry shout, his bench
scraping on the floor, and grabbed Lilu's hair. Blade picked up the
pouch and tossed it into the young noblewoman's lap.

“
Leave.”

Viscountess
Treblane gaped up at him as he rose and headed for the back of the
taproom. Brushing aside the tatty curtain that partitioned the
rooms where the whores lived and plied their trade, he went to
Lilu's and flopped down on the bed. The noblewoman's perfectly
enunciated speech interested him, and he pondered it. That was how
nobles spoke, he surmised, and he recalled Talon trying to teach it
to him. He had not been interested in it at the time, but now he
realised that being able to speak like a noble might be a useful
tool for his trade.

Soon the
furore in the common room died down, and moments later Lilu came
in, looking flushed and dishevelled, a red mark on her cheek. She
sat on the bed and rubbed it, scowling at him.

“
You could have helped me.”

“
No, I couldn't.”

“
Why not?”

He sighed,
lacing his fingers behind his head. “Because if those thugs thought
I had some attachment to you, they'd try to use you to get to me.
You'd probably be killed.”

“
Oh. But why would they want to get to you?”

“
I'm the Master of the Dance. Many would like to be able to
force my hand, either to kill or not to kill, as the case may
be.”

“
Oh.” She looked down at her hands, biting her lip. “So you'll
never help me?”

“
Not in public, no.”

“
You'd just stand by and watch them beat me to
death?”

He smiled.
“No.”

“
Then what would you do?”

“
I'd think of something, but don't try to make me help you. I
won't, unless they're trying to kill you. Even then, I'd be tempted
not to if you started the fight.”

“
I see.” She sighed. “I suppose that's
understandable.”

“
By not helping you, I'm saving your life.”

“
But you spend a lot of time with me – not that I'm
complaining, far from it,” she hurried on. “But won't that make
them think you like me?”

“
You're a whore. At most, they'll wonder why I use such an ugly
one.”

“
Right.” She tidied her hair. “Who was that woman?”

“
None of your business.”

“
She was very beautiful.” Lilu turned to him and placed a hand
on his chest. “If I looked like that, would you want to lie with
me?”

“
I expect half the city would.”

“
I'm asking you.”

He glanced
down at her hand. “No.”

“
Why not?”

“
You're a whore.”

“
If I wasn't a whore.”

He shrugged.
“Probably.”

“
So you would want to lie with her, if she wished
it?”

“
I expect so.”

“
Will you?”

“
I doubt it.”

“
Why not?” she asked.

“
Because she won't wish it. She's a noblewoman.”

“
Noblewomen have lust too.”

“
Not for common assassins.”

Lilu giggled.
“You're such a virgin. Of course she'll lust for you.”

“
I am not a damned virgin.”

“
Yes you are.” She leant closer. “Shall I prove it?”

“
No. Lay a finger on me and you're likely to lose
it.”

“
There, you see? That proves it.”

He frowned.
“How so?”

“
Because you don't want me to touch you, and I didn't even say
I was going to, nor did I try. You assumed that I was going
to.”