Chapter Thirty

 

Blade stared at his fallen enemy as his fury ebbed, then his hand sank to his side. He turned, his legs almost buckling as a wave of weakness sapped him. Limping over to Chiana, he lowered himself to his knees beside her, his eyes on the spreading stain on her nightdress and the dagger hilt that protruded from its centre. His breath came in rapid wheezing gasps, and sweat ran down his face.

The pounding on the doors continued, accompanied by creaking and cracking as the wood weakened under the assault. He toyed with the idea of opening the doors, but he did not have the strength. Instead, he took hold of the dagger in Chiana's back and pulled it out, releasing more blood. Flinging the weapon aside, he turned her over and cradled her head in his lap as he brushed the tangled hair from her face. Blade recalled the time when she had held him thus, as he lay dying after blocking the dagger intended for the infant Queen.

With a splintering crash, the doors in the sitting room burst open to admit a flood of spear-toting guards and shouting officers bearing torches. They rushed towards him, some drawing their swords, others lowering their spears when they spied the black-clad man holding the Regent. Blade looked up, and a red-haired, sharp-featured man at the group's forefront raised his torch to illuminate the scene.

"Hold!" he cried, halting the advancing soldiers, who glanced at him in surprise, then back at Blade, some of them with dawning recognition. Redgard's eyes flicked to Chiana, and he turned his head to bellow at those behind him, "Summon the healer!"

The guard captain stepped forward and lowered himself to one knee, meeting Blade's eyes. "How badly is she hurt?"

Blade shrugged, wincing. "Badly enough."

Redgard barked orders at his men, who ran to light lamps and examine the Contara assassins' corpses. In a few minutes, the bed chamber was brightly lighted, and muttering men stood over the bodies. Redgard handed his torch to a soldier and studied Blade, his eyes lingering on the arm that hung at the assassin's side and the blood that oozed from the other to drip onto Chiana's nightgown.

"We must stop that bleeding, My Lord."

Blade glanced down. "I am afraid I do not really have the strength, Captain."

"I am not surprised."

Redgard signalled to his men, and one stepped closer to kneel beside Blade and draw a knife from his belt. Blade watched him cut the thongs that bound his jacket, his mind blank with exhaustion and pain. The soldier eased the garment off Blade's shoulders, and he pulled his good arm free, leaving the soldier to extricate his flaccid limb. While the assassin sat in an exhausted daze, the soldier unbuckled the loaded wrist sheath on Blade's injured forearm and set it aside. The second soldier brought cloths and bound Blade's arm, staunching the bleeding. Redgard's expression made Blade glance down at his chest, where a pattern of bloody cuts shredded his leather vest.

"We should put her on the bed."

Blade looked up at the captain's words and nodded. At Redgard's instructions, two soldiers eased Chiana from his lap and carried her to the bed. Blade continued to sit, finding that he was too tired to rise and vaguely embarrassed about it.

 

Redgard studied the man before him, amazement and deep respect swelling his heart until he could not speak. Blade's face was chalk-white, splattered with drops of blood and beaded with sweat. Lines of pain bracketed his mouth and furrowed his brow. All his life, Redgard had scorned assassins as sneaky killers who slew their victims while they lay helpless in their beds, a fact that caused warriors to revile them. This man had earned his esteem, however, and his heart. Redgard glanced at the Contara assassins' corpses, marvelling at the skill and courage it must have taken to defeat them. Blood spotted the floor in numerous spray patterns, some smeared by footprints. Becoming aware that Blade had closed his eyes, and looked ready to pass out from exhaustion, Redgard leant forward and touched his shoulder.

"Let me help you up, My Lord."

"No. Not yet. Bring me some wine."

"Of course." Redgard turned his head. "Fetch some wine!"

A soldier brought a bottle and a cup, which Redgard filled and held out, waiting for Blade to notice it. The assassin took it with a trembling hand and gulped it down. Redgard refilled it, then looked around as the tramp of boots heralded the arrival of Verdan, supported by the two soldiers who had been sent to fetch him. He swore when he spotted Blade and tried to break free, but the soldiers hustled him over to the bed. Two of his assistants followed, carrying his bags, and, as he bent to examine Chiana, he sent one over to tend to Blade. The young healer knelt beside the assassin, his eyes widening as he took in the extent of Blade's wounds, then he glanced at Redgard.

"We need to put him on the bed."

Redgard nodded, but Blade turned his head to glare at the man. "You may address me directly. I am not deaf."

"Yes, My Lord." The healer reached out to help him, but Blade jerked his arm away.

"For the moment, you may leave me alone."

"But My Lord, your wounds need treatment."

"I am aware of that. Right now, I need more wine." Blade held out his empty cup, and Redgard refilled it.

The healer's gaze flicked to the blood that trickled down the assassin's chest and soaked the bandage on his arm. "I must stop the bleeding, My Lord."

Blade lifted the cup and gulped the wine. He did not bother to glance up at the sound of more people approaching from the sitting room, although Redgard's expression told him that the newcomers were high ranking. Still, he was surprised when a silk skirt and jewelled slippers stopped before him, and Redgard scrambled out of the way. Blade looked up at Queen Kerra-Manu, and a wry smile twisted his lips.

"So, at last you find me in a suitably humble position, Kerra."

She sank to her knees, casting a worried glance at the bed, but gazed at him with even deeper concern. "This is not a time for your jests, My Lord. You are badly hurt."

"Actually, I am quite well aware of that."

Kerra shot the young healer an accusing glance. "Why do you not tend him?"

"He refuses to move, My Queen."

"Did it occur to you that he may not be able to?"

Blade snorted and drained his wine cup again, holding it out to Redgard for a refill. "I shall move when I am good and ready."

"Hopefully before you bleed to death."

"Indeed."

"Blade -"

"Kerra, I am not in a mood to be trifled with."

Her eyes darted to the body of one of the assassins. "I would say that you are lucky to be alive."

"Luck had very little to do with it. But I did have a splitting headache at the time, which put me in an exceedingly bad mood. And I still have both the headache, and the foul temper." Blade slugged back the wine and held out the cup again.

Kerra frowned at the healer. "Tend him where he sits."

"Leave me be," Blade growled.

She jumped up. "All right, I have had enough of this foolishness. Take him to the bed and tend to his wounds, now!"

Blade shot a wintry glance at the two soldiers who stepped forward to obey. "Touch me, and you die."

They hesitated, glancing at Redgard, who appeared to be in a quandary, and looked at the Queen. Kerra snorted and stepped closer to bend and grip Blade's arm above his injury. "I would like to see you kill me, Blade."

"Would you?" he snarled, jerking his arm from her grip, but she merely sighed and renewed her hold.

Redgard took the empty cup from Blade and joined her attempt to haul him to his feet. The assassin was forced onto his knees, but refused to rise, since he knew full well that he could not. Instead, he gripped the front of Kerra's gown and yanked her closer, glaring into her eyes.

"You need to be a little more attentive to the wishes of your people, girl. When I say leave me be, I mean it. When I want your help, I shall bloody well ask for it."

She met his eyes with a steady gaze. "When have you ever asked for help?"

"Never."

"Yet many have saved your life, whether you asked for help or not. Jayon, to name just one. And you need it now, or you will bleed to death on the floor. An ignominious end for such a legendry man, do you not think?"

"You are as quick-tongued as your mother. It is a pity you are not as wise."

"We are not going to hurt you, unless you fight us."

He grimaced, his hold on her gown loosening. "It will hurt no matter what I do."

"Unless you get drunk first."

"Exactly."

"But you will be dead before then, and I will not allow it."

Blade closed his eyes and shook his head, then winced and released her gown to clutch his brow, grimacing.

Kerra glanced up at the soldiers who stood close by, frowning. "You two, help Lord Conash to the bed, and be careful."

Redgard took a firmer grip on Blade's arm. "Allow me, My Queen."

Kerra straightened, leaving Redgard to slip his arm around Blade's waist and lift him to his feet with surprising strength, then he bent and swept the assassin up as if he was a child. Blade groaned and turned his head to glare at the hapless captain, his mouth twisted in a bitter line. Redgard ignored it and carried him to the bed, where he laid him beside Chiana. Blade raised a hand to clasp his brow again while the young healer cut away his leather vest. As he finished this task, Verdan came over to examine the assassin, elbowing his assistant aside. He took in Blade's pallor with a sweeping glance, scowling.

"What is wrong with your head?" he demanded.

"One of those bastards belted me outside."

Verdan took a vial from his bag and held it out. "Drink this. It will stop the pain and make you sleep while I tend your wounds." He hesitated. "I am afraid Chiana is badly injured, My Lord. I fear for her."

Blade shot him a glare as he drained the vial. "She will not die."

"The wound is bad, and may have pierced a vital organ."

"It did not."

Verdan bridled, frowning at him. "Are you a healer now, My Lord?"

Blade smiled. "No, Verdan. I am a killer, and if she was my target I would stab her again, closer to her spine, to assure a lingering and painful death. She is not fatally wounded."

"I see." Verdan looked miffed as he put away the empty vial and dug in his bag for more equipment, producing a flask of liquid, which he poured onto a clean rag. "I pray you are right."

"I am. I have no intention of becoming the damned Regent again."

Kerra, who stood at the end of the bed, frowned. "You would have us believe that is the only reason you risked your life to save her?"

"Of course." Blade shot her a bitter smile. "What did you think, that I did it for sentimental reasons, perhaps?"

"She told me... what you said."

The assassin hissed as Verdan removed the bandage from his arm, shooting the healer a glare. "I lied. I thought you had come to know me better than that. Even she knows it was a lie."

"No, she believed you. And I believe she is right."

"Then you are a fool. I do not indulge in such sentimental claptrap. Chiana wanted to believe it, but you should have more sense."

Kerra moved closer. "It is you who are the fool. You claim to care for nothing and no one, yet you were almost killed saving her, and for what? If you will not admit to what you feel, she cannot make you happy."

"I saved her because I do not want to be the bloody Regent, no other reason."

"Liar."

Blade's brows drew together, and he tried to sit up, jerking his arm from Verdan's grip and making the old healer click his tongue in annoyance. "It is the truth!"

Verdan pushed the assassin back, shooting an imploring look at Kerra. "My Queen, this is not the time to pick an argument with Lord Conash."

"You should concoct a medicine that makes men tell the truth, Verdan. I would dearly like to use it on him."

"You would get the same answer," Blade said.

"I think not, My Lord. Why do you deny it so vehemently? It is nothing of which to be ashamed."

Blade's eyes glinted, and he struggled against the old healer, hampered by his useless arm. "I spoke those words and stopped these assassins because I do not plan to spend the next ten years penned up in this den of intrigue and lies. It meant nothing!"

Verdan held Blade down, casting Kerra another imploring look. "Please, My Queen. He is too weak for this sort of thing."

"He is a complete lack wit."

Blade opened his mouth to retort, then his eyes rolled back and he slumped. Kerra gasped and rounded the bed to reach his side, paling with horror and concern.

"What has happened, Verdan? Is he all right?"

Verdan placed his fingers on Blade's throat, sending the Queen a reassuring smile. "He will be, My Queen, never fear. It was just the medicine I gave him taking effect rather abruptly. I do not think you realise just how weak he is, or how much blood he has lost."

"He makes me so angry. Why must he be so stubborn?"

Verdan shrugged, bending to swab the blood from the assassin's arm. "It is his nature. He has become thus in order to protect himself."

"I have heard it said that you think him mad."

"I do. Anyone who has been through as much suffering as he has cannot be sane, and his eccentricities confirm it. It is unlikely that he will ever tell anyone what he truly feels, if, indeed, he feels anything. He could be telling the truth, you know."

Verdan studied the deep cut in Blade's forearm, his brow furrowed with concern. "It would be far better if you did as Chiana does and believe what he told her, or let his actions speak for him. After all, who would want to avoid being Regent so badly that he would risk his life for it?"

"But you just said that he could be telling the truth, so which is it?" Kerra demanded.

Verdan smiled, threading a needle to stitch the stab wound in Blade's forearm, which still bled. "Ah, well, that is for you to decide, My Queen. To Blade, love is a weakness that results in suffering when the person for whom he cares dies. So, you could look at it in two ways. Either he truly does not want to be Regent, or he did not want her to die. But you must decide, for he will not tell you."

"That does not answer my question."

"All I am saying is believe what you want to believe, My Queen. That is the easiest option. You have no way of knowing when he is telling the truth, except by logical deduction. But with such a strange man, even logic could be wrong, for who is to say that Blade's mind is logical?"

Kerra snorted, watching Verdan work. "I care very deeply for Chiana, as you know, and I have also come to care for Blade. I would like to see them happy, but as long as he is like this they will not be."

"That is their concern."

"But if he would just let himself... or admit to it..."

"Perhaps he cannot, My Queen. After all he has suffered, it may be beyond him."

Kerra's eyes burnt, and she blinked. "But you would think that, after suffering all his life, he would want to be happy."

Verdan shook his head. "No, My Queen. It is more likely that he is afraid of it."

"How can a person be afraid of happiness?"

Verdan tied the last of the four stitches that it had taken to close the stab wound, and took another length of thread from his assistant to sew the long gash that ran from Blade's elbow almost to his wrist. "I am not sure, but either he is afraid that it will change him, or that it will not last."

Kerra studied Blade's peaceful face. "Or that it would make him vulnerable."

"Indeed."

"He is proud that he cares for no one."

"Yes, and your argument seemed to irritate him a lot."

She smiled. "It could also be that he has a terrible headache."

"True."

"Is there any way to know the truth about him?"

Verdan sighed as he tied a stitch and started on the next one. "Only Shamsara knows the hearts of men."

"Then I shall ask him."

"Queens are forbidden the consultation of seers."

Kerra pouted. "My mother did it."

"And look at the tragedy it brought her."

"It ended the war."

"And her life."

Kerra opened her mouth, then hesitated. "How could such a paltry question bring any dire consequences?"

"All your mother asked was how to end the war. Seers tend to speak in riddles, and you may find that you have to answer one to get your wish."

"A test?"

"Perhaps."

"Then I shall pass it. I am not afraid of tests."

Verdan straightened and eyed her with deep concern, a wealth of wisdom in his gaze. "Why is this so important to you, My Queen? Do you hope to bring Chiana happiness, or to find that his heart is still free?"

She met his eyes. "That is an impertinent question, and does not deserve an answer."

"I see. Either will do, then."

Kerra looked away. "How long will they be unconscious? The kingdom needs a regent."

He shrugged. "Chiana I cannot say, a few days perhaps. Blade can be woken at any time. His sleep is drugged."

"Have him moved to his rooms when you have finished tending to his wounds." She turned to Redgard. "There may be more attempts on their lives. I want four guards standing beside their beds, day and night, six men outside their doors, and at least two of them must be dog soldiers, or men with equally alert familiars. And whatever other precautions you can devise. You will be held responsible if any harm comes to them, and will pay for it with your life, Captain."

Redgard bowed. "Of course, My Queen. I shall guard them myself."

Kerra swung back to Verdan. "What is wrong with his arm? Is it broken?"

Verdan picked up Blade's right arm and flexed it. "No, My Queen, it does not appear so."

"Good." She turned to gaze at one of the corpses. "Who are they, Redgard? Who sent them?"

The captain rubbed his chin. "It is hard to say, My Queen. All assassins dress in a similar manner."

"Then summon someone who knows. Send a message to the Guild."

"At once, My Queen."

With a final glance at Blade, Kerra turned and swept out, leaving everyone bowing in her wake.