only made it worse. As the time dragged on, he checked his attire again and ensured that no blood soiled his hands. If there was one thing that he had learnt from his life as an assassin, it was to master the art of limitless patience.
Chapter Four
By the time the Prince left the fire, the King's body was cold. As Kerrion entered the next tent, Blade scanned the area within the dying fire's light. Two soldiers lay sprawled nearby, apparently asleep, one guard leant on his spear, yawning. Blade pulled up the cloak's hood and crept from the tent while the guard's back was turned, crossed the sand to the Prince's tent and pushed aside the flap. As he slipped inside, Kerrion looked up from his task of undressing and glared at the intruder.
'What, has my father failed to satisfy you, whore?'
Blade smiled, walking closer with a slow seductive gait. 'The King snores. May I not stay with you?'
'No, get out.' He turned away.
The assassin was a mere two strides from his quarry, and inched closer so the Prince would barely notice that the gap between them grew less. Blade lifted slender, be-ringed hands in a graceful female gesture. 'May I help you to disrobe, mighty Prince?'
Kerrion swung towards him, startled by his sudden proximity. Blade released a dagger, its cold hilt filling his palm. Before the Prince could protest, he slid the weapon under the thongs that bound Kerrion's tunic, parting them, and the tip of the blade came to rest at the Prince's throat.
'One sound, and you die.'
Kerrion froze as a drop of blood oozed from the tip of the weapon, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Blade nodded. 'Good. Now, put your right arm around my shoulders.'
The Prince obeyed, moving stiffly as the dagger pricked him.
'That's it,' Blade murmured. 'You and I are going for a walk, and if you make a sound, or disobey me, you will die instantly, understand?'
Kerrion nodded.
Blade scanned the tent, his eyes coming to rest on a big golden bird asleep on a perch in the corner. A desert eagle, female, judging by the black stripes on her tail feathers. He turned to the Prince.
'If your familiar attacks, you will both die.'
'She is asleep,' Kerrion croaked.
'Be silent! You live or die at my whim, remember that.'
Blade gazed coldly into the Prince's terrified eyes as he searched Kerrion's clothes for weapons. Finding none, he allowed himself a slight smile. He slid his left arm around the Prince's waist, then transferred the dagger to it in a brief embrace that brought his face inches from Kerrion's. Once again, he found the place between the fourth and fifth ribs under the Prince's armpit and pressed the point of the dagger to it until Kerrion flinched.
Blade murmured, 'If I push this blade in, you will die so quickly that you will have no time to shout or struggle. You will drop dead in your tracks, and no one will save you. I am an assassin, Prince Kerrion, and skilled at my trade. Obey me, and you will live. Try to get free or call your men, and you will die. Is that clear?'
Prince Kerrion nodded, frowning. The shock of his predicament was wearing off, which was bad, and Blade hoped that he did not find his courage too soon.
'You will not get away with this,' Kerrion muttered.
'Be silent!' Blade jabbed the dagger deeper, making the Prince wince again. 'You speak when I tell you to, not before. Now, we are going to walk out of this camp, and it is up to you to make sure we are not stopped. Your life is in your hands. If a guard becomes suspicious, you will die before I do. So the choice is yours. My Queen wants you alive, but if she cannot have you, you must die.'
Kerrion nodded again, impotent anger in his eyes. He clearly knew that Blade could kill him with a jerk of his wrist. The assassin smiled and turned his captive towards the tent flap, using the dagger as a goad. Its painful jabs forced the Prince to walk with him, clasped together like lovers strolling in the moonlight. To add to the illusion, the assassin kept the pace unhurried, and they wandered through the sleeping camp. By the time they reached the outskirts, Blade's wrist was stiff from holding the dagger poised, and the Prince sagged from the pain.
Here sentries patrolled, scanning the desert for any sign of the enemy. One stepped out from behind a tent ahead, and Blade leant closer to whisper, 'Your life is in your hands.'
The soldier started in surprise at the sight of the Prince strolling in the arms of a whore, and peered at them as if to make sure his eyes did not deceive him. 'Your Highness?'
'Yes?' Kerrion raised his chin and glared at the man.
The soldier saluted. 'Is everything all right, My Lord?'
'Quite all right, soldier.'
They walked past, but the sentry followed. 'You should stay in the camp, Highness, it's not safe -'
'I shall do as I please,' Kerrion asserted.
'But My Prince…'
Blade stopped the Prince and turned to smile at the soldier. 'Would you spoil our fun, sir?'
The sentry shot him a confused glance, then addressed the Prince. 'You must take a guard, My Lord.'
Blade laid a hand on Kerrion's chest, making him shudder. 'I have persuaded his Highness to experience the joys of making love in the sand, under the silvery moon. We would enjoy it more, I think, without any prying eyes.'
The soldier scowled, his concern for his Prince clearly warring with the seductive innocence of Blade's smile. 'The safety of the Prince is more important -'
'Soldier,' Kerrion interrupted, 'I wish to be left alone. The desert is empty for miles, and I shall be no more than a few hundred paces away. You are not to follow us, understand?'
The sentry saluted and stepped back. Blade silently congratulated Prince Kerrion, and twisted the dagger a little to remind him of who was in charge. The Prince nodded to the guard, and they walked on, leaving the man gazing after them.
Blade walked parallel to the mountains, leading the Prince into the gentle swells of the dunes, a moon- silvered sea of sharp-edged, undulating shadows. The sentry stood at the edge of the camp and watched them with a deep frown of uncertainty and concern. Blade wondered if he would have the initiative to call an officer, and glanced back several times to ensure that the soldier was not following, but he stayed where he was, gazing after them. When a dune hid them from the watchful sentry, Blade turned towards the mountains.
'You will not get away with this,' the Prince snarled.
'Be quiet.'
'The men know I do not lie with whores.'
Blade jabbed the dagger a little deeper into the wound, making Kerrion grunt.
The Prince said, 'Within a time-glass, they will come to search for me.'
'They will not find you.' Blade stopped and released his captive, turning to face him. He pulled two leather thongs from his bodice and used one to tie Kerrion's hands behind his back, the other as a leash around the Prince's neck. Tugging him forward, Blade set off at a trot, holding the skirt up to free his legs. Kerrion cursed vilely as he was dragged along, the thong digging into his neck. The deep sand dragged at Blade's feet, invaded the flimsy woman's sandals and made the straps cut into his ankles. The Prince stumbled after him, his bound arms and the constant tugging of the leash throwing him off balance.
Much as he enjoyed Kerrion's discomfort, Blade was glad to reach the stony ground at the foothills of the looming grey Endine Mountains. After a pause to find his bearings, he dragged the Prince up the sloping rocks to the cave. Inside, he pushed Kerrion ahead, sending him reeling into the darkness, where he flopped down. The Prince was right that Cotti soldiers would soon give chase, and since there was no way to hide their tracks, Blade knew he must take the Prince over the mountains with all haste. The Cotti would lose the trail in the stony foothills, so it was unlikely that they would find the cave. Nevertheless, the assassin wanted to be far away before they reached the mountains. Blade groped for the packs and struck flint to light a torch, then removed the sandals and stripped off the woman's clothes and baubles. His careful disguise, which had taken him time-glasses to don, was almost
