The Queen's Blade Prequel II - God Touched (30 page)

Attempting to
gain entry through the front gate, however, was foolish. He would
not get past the guards. If he reached the palace, he stood a
better chance of being taken seriously, but that also had its
pitfalls. His mind made up, he glanced around to ensure that no one
was watching him, then jumped up and grabbed a branch, swinging
himself up the puffwood tree. He was fresh from a hot bath and had
donned clean clothes, just in case he did, by some miracle, gain an
audience. It was more likely a junior advisor would see him, if
anyone did.

Atop the wall,
he paused to survey the vast expanse of manicured gardens on the
other side, marvelling at their beauty and size, large enough to
contain two small forests. Fish ponds and fountains nestled amongst
the greenery; stone benches offered places to rest for those who
wandered the paved pathways. Nobles strolled in the distance, and,
closer at hand, a pair of dog soldiers patrolled. Entering the
gardens would have been much easier at night, but then he would
have no chance of seeing the Queen and a better chance of being
killed.

Dusk crept
across the land, sending questing fingers of shadow to stripe the
velvet lawns, where hosts of flowering shrubs, plants and creepers
put out sweet-scented blooms. The gathering gloom helped to hide
him as he climbed down the fire tree and dropped to the ground,
glancing around. The dog soldiers walked away, engrossed in a
conversation, and they were downwind. He spent a few minutes
finding somewhere to secret most of his daggers, stowing four in a
tree hollow. That left only the two in his wrist sheaths. He did
not want to appear too well-armed when the soldiers searched him,
but he wanted to be fully armed on his way home afterwards.

Blade trotted
towards the palace, using any available cover and sprinting across
open areas. Arriving at the wall, he made his way along it to a
side gate, possibly used by servants or soldiers, where two guards
leant on their spears. He paused, loath to go against his training
and instincts and reveal himself, but he had no choice. If he went
any further without declaring himself, he would be seen as a
threat. Straightening his jacket and brushing a bit of tree bark
from his sleeve, he stepped away from the wall and strolled towards
the guards.

They looked up
at his approach, at first with mild curiosity, then growing
suspicion when they failed to recognise him. They straightened and
scowled, and one man stepped forward and lowered his spear. Blade
stopped and spread his hands.

“
Greetings.”

“
Who in Damnation are you?” the guard demanded.

“
A petitioner. I request an audience with Queen
Minna-Satu.”

“
Oh you do, do you?” The guard glanced at his cohort, who
chuckled.

“
He's a got a pair of brass ones.”

Blade smiled.
“I'm sure this seems outlandish, but it's important that I see the
Queen. I'm here to offer my help, and she'll be glad of it.”

“
Will she now?” The belligerent guard sniggered. “She has
enough consorts, methinks.”

“
That's not why I'm here.”

“
She won't see you.”

“
Oh, I think she will.”

“
Why?”

Blade
shrugged. “She needs my help.”

“
With what?”

“
I can't say.”

“
How did you get in here? The gate guards sure didn't let you
in.”

“
No, they didn't. How I got in is why she needs my help. Let me
see an advisor, at least.”

The
belligerent guard raised his spear and stepped closer. “Oh, someone
will see you, but it won't be the Queen or one of her advisors.
It'll be our captain, who'll doubtless have you arrested and handed
over to the Watch.”

“
That would be a grave mistake.”

“
Would it now? Well, that's up to him, isn't it?”

The other
guard opened the gate behind him and vanished through it, leaving
his bellicose comrade to watch Blade. Several minutes later, four
stern-faced soldiers appeared through a larger gate further down
the wall. The sentry who accompanied them indicated Blade, and the
men surrounded him. Two gripped his arms and steered him back
towards big gate. Inside, they marched him along several echoing
corridors and into a fair-sized office with banner-hung grey walls
and a spear rack in one corner.

A middle-aged
man looked up from the papers on his desk. His gold-trimmed, dark
green uniform had a broad, peacock-blue stripe running down the
right hand side of it. His sharp green eyes were set in a narrow,
clever face topped with a shock of short red hair. A man of foxes,
the assassin guessed. The officer's gaze flicked to the foremost of
Blade's guards.

“
Who is this?”

“
An intruder, Captain. We found him outside the Gardeners'
Gate.”

“
In the gardens?” The captain's brows rose. “How did he get
in?”

“
We don't know, sir.”

The captain
stood up and approached Blade. “How did you get into the palace
gardens?”

“
Over the wall.”

“
I see. And why are you here?”

“
Your men brought me here,” Blade replied.

“
Why were you in the gardens?”

“
Ah, well, I've come to request an audience with the
Queen.”

The captain's
lips twitched. “Have you now? What for?”

“
That's between the Queen and me.”

“
Oh, so it's a private audience you want?”

“
It is.”

“
And what makes you think the Queen will grant you one, when
the queens so rarely do, for commoners?”

Blade tried to
free his arms, but the men tightened their grip. “I have something
she needs.”

“
And what might that be?”

“
I’ll only tell her that.”

“
So she does not know she needs it, then?”

“
Not yet.”

The captain
raised his brows. “But she will, when you tell her, I assume.”

“
I hope so.”

“
She won't grant an audience to a commoner without an excellent
reason, and thus far you have not given me one.”

Blade cocked
his head. “And how often do commoners request an audience?”

“
Hardly ever, because they know they won't get one.”

“
Yet some have.”

“
Only if they had an excellent reason.”

The assassin
smiled. “But I do. Shouldn't the Queen at least be asked if she
wants to grant me an audience? Doesn't she have the right to
choose?”

“
Of course she does, but why would she want to?”

“
It's important. The fate of her kingdom depends upon
it.”

The captain
frowned. “How can you affect the fate of the kingdom?”

“
That, I'll only tell the Queen.”

“
But you think you can.”

“
I know it.”

“
Do you have a name?”

“
I do, but not one I'll tell you.”

The captain
snorted and returned to his chair, considering the assassin with
hard eyes. He looked amused, but also intrigued, and his gaze held
a hint of suspicion. After several minutes of contemplation, he
addressed the guards.

“
Take him to the audience chamber and inform the chief advisor
of his request.”

The soldiers
marched Blade out of the captain’s office and back down the
corridor, then along a sumptuous passage that led into a vast,
gold-plated room. Several torches made the walls glimmer and, at
the far end, three shallow steps led up to a marble dais upon which
a golden bench stood. Behind it, a massive, bright blue silk banner
hung against the wall, a golden cat with emerald eyes embroidered
upon it. Deep blue velvet curtains framed the dais, beyond which,
two doors led off either side of it. Occasional silver designs that
looked like leaves and flowers embellished the golden walls, and in
other places lines of cursive writing were engraved on them. High
above him, the arched ceiling appeared to be inlaid with alabaster,
forming scenes of earthly and celestial battles.

The guards
halted in the centre of the black marble floor, released his arms
and grounded their spears, becoming motionless. Blade brushed his
sleeves and clasped his hands behind his back, studying the
opulence. Several minutes passed before quick, light footsteps came
from behind him, and he sensed a new presence enter the room. As
the footsteps drew near, he turned to face a young woman with
bright chestnut hair and soft, dark grey eyes. Her youth and beauty
surprised Blade, who had expected an elderly man. The sight of him
seemed to startle her, and he wondered why. After a moment of
hesitation, she glanced at the nearest guard.

“
Who is this and why is he here?”

“
He wants an audience with the Queen, Chief Advisor. He won't
give his name.”

“
Does Captain Redgard think he deserves an
audience?”

The soldier
shrugged. “He sent him here and informed you, so I reckon he
does.”

“
On what grounds, since he does not know his name or, I assume,
what he wants?”

“
I don't know, Chief Advisor.”

Blade wondered
how long she would act as if he was not there.

She turned to
him. “What is your name?”

The assassin
shook his head. “I will only tell the Queen that.”

“
Why should she grant an audience to a man who will not even
give his name?”

“
I will, to her.”

“
Why do you want an audience?”

He hesitated,
lowering his gaze to the floor. “It is an important matter, but I
will only discuss it with the Queen.”

“
I am hardly inclined to pass on your request if you will not
even tell me the reason for it.”

Blade looked
up. “Only the Queen may judge whether or not she will grant me an
audience, so my reasons for asking do not concern you.”

She raised her
chin. “I am her chief advisor.”

“
But you are not the Queen. Hence, you have no authority to
deny my request. Only the Queen may do that.”

“
She will not see you without knowing the reason for
it.”

“
You speak for her?”

She hesitated.
“I know how she will react.”

“
Queen Minna-Satu took power only three moons ago; therefore
you have not been her chief advisor for longer than that. That
being the case, how can you know her mind so well?”

“
Why would she grant you an audience without knowing the reason
for it?”

“
That is for her to decide, is it not?” He had slipped into the
noble manner of speech without even thinking about it, he
realised.

The chief
advisor frowned and addressed the guards. “Lock him up.”

They gripped
his arms again and marched him out, leaving her gazing after him in
a puzzled manner. He expected to be thrown into the dungeons, but
instead, the soldiers took him to a room that appeared to be a
chambermaid's lodgings and shoved him inside, locking the door.
Blade paced the cramped room, which boasted only a hard narrow bed
with a table beside it, a chair, a pitcher of water and a basin on
another table in the corner, and barred window with a view of a
puffwood tree. The situation disturbed him, and he wondered what
was in store next.

After pacing
the room for a couple of time-glasses, he settled on the bed and
tried to relax. He thought about what he would say to the Queen if
he was granted an audience. A manservant in a gravy spotted apron
brought him a bowl of stew and a jug of cheap wine, and locked the
door again when he left. Evidently strange commoners were not
allowed to roam the palace, despite its overabundance of guards. A
wise precaution, Blade mused, since some commoners were inclined to
be dangerous, especially those dressed in black.

It struck him
as odd that no one had realised the significance of his sable garb,
which, while not exclusive to assassins, certainly should have
raised some suspicions. He had considered purchasing other clothes
for this venture, but, since he would have to reveal his trade to
the Queen, should he be granted an audience, a disguise would only
arouse more misgivings at that stage. Far better to be himself as
far as possible, while not volunteering the information. He lay
down and stared at the ceiling, wondering what the next day would
bring. He had formulated a reasonably good, though somewhat brief
explanation of what he intended to offer the Queen by the time he
fell asleep.

The rattle of
a key in the lock woke him, and he sat up, swinging his legs off
the bed. Two guards marched in, gripped his arms and hauled him to
his feet. Their newfound roughness surprised him only a little,
although he wondered at the cause of it. One man undid Blade's
jacket and pulled it open while the other watched with a hand on
his sword hilt. The first soldier paused when he spotted the
trademark at the base of the assassin's throat.

His scowl grew
thunderous. “He's a god damned assassin,” he told his cohort, whose
scowl also blackened. “The Queen has agreed to meet a filthy,
murdering night crawler.”

The soldier
punched Blade in the solar plexus, doubling him over with a grunt.
The assassin straightened, amazed to learn that his request had
been granted. The soldier hit him in the face, sending him
staggering into the bed, and pain flamed from his nose and top lip.
As he raised a hand to finger his throbbing nose, the soldier
gripped his jacket and hauled him to his feet again, then punched
him in the jaw. Blade sprawled across the bed a second time,
wondering if the man intended to beat him senseless before dragging
him to the Queen and dumping him at her feet. The soldier loomed
over him, and he quelled his instinctive urge to lash out in
defence. Instead, he allowed the guard to drag him upright once
more, and his inaction seemed to incense the man, who punched him
in the ribs.