so soft and tender; her fingers had stroked his hair and her sweet voice had told him of her love for him, her special son. Her screams had rent the air on the day shaven soldiers had come with long spears. The air had been filled with the smell of blood and smoke and the screams had pierced his heart…
'Blade.'
The assassin looked up at the hated Prince, ruler of the Cotti, who had murdered his family. The urge to kill Kerrion almost overwhelmed him, and his hand clenched on the dagger. He forced himself to relax and resume chopping the salted meat.
'Be quiet.'
Kerrion obeyed, for Blade's deep frown and the vigour with which he cut the meat warned the Prince that something was amiss with the assassin. Sitting back with a sigh, Kerrion rubbed his chafed wrists and tried to ease the tight chains onto an area of less painful skin. The short length that joined his wrists to his waist allowed him to eat awkwardly and cling to the saddle when riding, but did not allow him reach the knot in the thong about his neck. When Blade secured him at night, he merely tied the thong to a tree, and, unless the Prince chewed through the tough leather, he could not get free. They ate in silence, then Blade bound Kerrion to a tree and went to sleep.
The next day, they rode on as before, the Prince blind and silent within the hood. At supper that night, Kerrion once again tried to strike up a conversation.
'Have you considered my offer?'
'No.'
The Prince nodded, unsurprised, but dug at his food in frustration. 'I suppose there is nothing I can say to change your mind?'
'You would be wasting your breath.'
'Your hatred runs deep.'
'More than you could ever imagine.' Blade frowned. 'And before you ask, it is none of your business.'
'Maybe not. I suppose your father was killed in the war?'
Blade banged his empty bowl down. 'You are as bad as a damned woman with your prying questions. What difference does it make to you? Yes, the damned Cotti killed my father. He was just a goatherd, and they did not only kill him, they massacred my entire family.'
A pang of sympathy shot through Kerrion, but he hid it. 'And how many more Cotti must you kill to even the score? How long will you lust for vengeance?'
'I evened the score a long time ago, but maybe if I kill you, I will feel better about it.'
Kerrion set aside his bowl and held up his chained wrists. 'Take these off, and we will see if you can.'
Blade shook his head and leant against a tree. 'I am not a fighter. You cannot provoke me with a challenge. I would have killed you long ago in your tent, if not for the wishes of my Queen. Your father died too easily. He did not deserve such a clean death. Any man who orders the butchery of women and children, and who enslaves children, deserves to feel some of their pain before he dies.'
'Slavery?' Kerrion snorted. 'My people do not practice slavery. That is another Jashimari lie.'
'Have you spent your whole life with your head buried in the sand of your infernal desert? This is not something I heard in a taproom, bantered by a drunken soldier. I saw them with my own eyes, I was…' Blade looked away, scowling.
'You were what?' Kerrion demanded. 'How could you have been in a Cotti camp and have lived to tell the tale?'
'I was in one just a few days ago, and I am still here.'
'Disguised as a Cotti whore. Do you frequent Cotti camps in that guise often? Perhaps you earn more in that fashion than you do as an assassin. You did not lack for offers that night, I will wager.'
Blade growled, 'Be quiet.'
'No, I will not be ordered around by a damned Jashimari half man assassin. There are no Jashimari child slaves in Cotti camps. Did you see any when you came to kill my father?'
'No.' Oddly, Blade calmed instead of growing angrier. 'But I was not looking for them. There might have been some hidden in the tents.'
'I would know if there were,' Kerrion avowed. 'No Cotti would stoop so low. What do you think we are, damned savages?'
'Yes, your soldiers are, even if you high and mighty royals think you are so good.'
'These so-called slaves you claim to have seen are doubtless the offspring of whores.'
'These were Jashimari children, not Cotti brats.'
Kerrion snorted, annoyed by Blade's assertions. 'So say you, but if they were dirty enough, you would not be able to tell the difference.'
'They were Jashimari.'
The Prince shook his head. 'You are either lying, or your eyes have deceived you. Perhaps it was the cracked spyglass you used, and your over-active imagination. You Jashimari would love to believe us capable of such atrocities, but, in truth, the Cotti are more civilised than you.'
Blade studied Kerrion over the fire, doubtless noting the open honesty of Kerrion's expression and the utter conviction with which he spoke. He lowered his eyes to the flames. 'You really are ignorant, not so?'
Kerrion swelled with indignation. 'I speak the truth!'
'As you know it.'
'Yes, as I know it! And as a prince of the Cotti people, I have spent more time than you in our camps. If there were Jashimari slaves, I would have seen them.'
'Unless your father did not wish you to,' Blade pointed out.
'Why would he not? He would never condone such a thing.'
'But he did.'
Kerrion leant forward. 'Your lies do not convince me, assassin. Give me one good reason why I should believe you.'
Blade frowned at the fire, and Kerrion waited. When the assassin looked up, he met the Prince's gaze with hate-filled eyes. 'I do not particularly care whether or not you believe me. What happened to me is no great secret, nor am I ashamed of it. It is the Cotti who should be ashamed of what they did to innocent children, so I will tell you how I know that there are Jashimari child slaves in the Cotti army camps. Fifteen years ago, I was one of them.'
Kerrion's mouth dropped open, and he stared at Blade, stunned. The assassin jumped up and walked away, stopping at the edge of the firelight to stand with his back to the Prince. Kerrion gazed into the flames for some time, grappling with the enormity of the crime his people had committed, if what Blade had said was true. Not for a moment did Kerrion doubt the veracity of Blade's words, however. They were spoken with too much conviction and suppressed emotion to be lies. The Cotti were people of learning and refinement, and atrocities against the innocent would outrage them. A war was one thing, perhaps barbarous, yet acceptable to most, but the enslavement of children, even of an enemy, was abhorrent. He looked at Blade's rigid back, his shoulders squared by pride, and understood the rage in his eyes.
Climbing to his feet, he went over to stand next to the assassin. 'If I had known about it, I would have put a stop to it.'
The assassin shrugged. 'But you did not.'
'How did you escape?'
Blade stared into the darkness, his face shadowed. 'When I was sixteen, I stole some women's clothes and walked into the desert.'
'And how long were you there for?'
'Four years.'
'How many of you were there?'
Blade glanced at him. 'A few dozen, maybe more.'
'All boys?'
'No, there were girls. Three of them were my sisters. They were only six, eight and fourteen years old when we were captured.' He paused. 'They died before I escaped.'
'This was something the soldiers did on their own. My father would never have allowed it.'
'Your father was there.' Blade faced him. 'He condoned it.'
