impression that he was not partial to this variety of tea, or perhaps tea in general.
The Queen considered him through the steam that rose from her cup. 'You have done well. I am extremely pleased.'
The assassin inclined his head.
'Was the task a challenge, or not?'
He shrugged. 'It was not beyond my abilities.'
'King Shandor is dead?'
'As you wished.'
She nodded, taking a sticky cake. 'Good. You are unharmed?'
'Not a scratch.'
'And the Prince?'
He smiled wryly. 'A few bruises and cuts, nothing serious.'
'I cannot imagine how you succeeded when all my men failed. They were the best I had, seasoned warriors who had distinguished themselves in battle many times to earn a place in the palace guard. Yet you…' She shook her head. 'But no, I will not berate you, for you have done me a great service and I am most grateful.'
'Killing King Shandor gave me a great deal of satisfaction. I am well compensated already.'
'And yet, you did not need my sanction to assassinate the King. Had you truly wished it, you could have done so at any time, for you did not need my help either.'
Blade's lips curved in a gentle smile. 'The Guild of Assassins forbids me to kill without a client, otherwise we would be nothing more than common murderers.'
She nodded, nibbling the cake. 'I see. A sensible rule, for you are right, that is the only difference between assassins and murderers. Your profession places the blame on your client, not you. So, how many did I murder, other than the King?'
'Only two soldiers.'
She eyed him. 'I enquired about you, as you advised. Your reputation is certainly unequalled, it would appear. Four hundred is an impressive tally.'
'It is a gross exaggeration. I do not keep count, but I have not killed that many men.' He sipped his tea, keeping his gaze lowered.
'You have my sympathy for the loss of your family, Conash.'
He glanced at her in surprise. 'It seems your enquiries were quite thorough.'
'They usually are. I found the details interesting, but full of mystery. Is it true that you were once beaten and left for dead in the streets?'
He frowned at his tea. 'Yes.'
'And will you tell me how you survived?'
He raised his eyes in a bold glance that warned her of his dislike of the topic. 'A whore from a nearby brothel took me in and nursed me back to health.'
The Queen smiled. 'A kind lady.'
'Yes.' Blade looked away, his face expressionless.
Minna knew that his rescue had little to do with kindness, and wondered if the unfortunate woman had ever discovered the futility of her hopes. Aware of his discomfiture, she changed the subject.
'Your reward shall be as I stated. Your elevation of rank will take place at a ceremony tomorrow in the audience chamber. It must, of necessity, take place before the entire court. The witnesses make it official.'
'Then I would rather forgo the title. The lands and riches will be sufficient reward.'
The Queen shook her head, smiling at his reaction, which she had predicted. Blade, like all assassins, had learnt to shun publicity, and being the centre of attention in the royal court did not appeal to him. 'I am afraid you must take the title. I insist.'
He shot her an accusing look. 'Would you turn my reward into an ordeal?'
'Come now, you are to retire soon. You need not hide from the public any longer. If you are afraid of retribution, your new rank will protect you, and having the Queen's favour will ensure your safety.'
'I have your favour?'
'But of course.' She laughed. 'As well as my ear and high regard.'
'Then will you tell me what you intend for the Prince?'
'Alas, I cannot just yet. But he is not destined for the gallows.'
Blade snorted, scowling. 'A pity. I would volunteer to kill him for nothing.'
'You have grown to dislike him?'
'No. He is a far better man than his father was, but he is Cotti.'
Minna-Satu regarded him sadly. 'You have more to hate them for than the deaths of your family, do you not?'
'Yes.' Blade put down his empty cup and rose to his feet, startling her.
She jumped up, annoyed. 'Your manners have not improved. It is customary to wait for my permission to leave before doing so.'
The assassin cast her a hard glance. 'I will try to remember. For the moment, I am tired and hungry.'
She sighed, waving a languid hand. 'Very well, you may go.'
He dropped to one knee and bowed his head. 'My Queen.'
Minna watched him walk to the doors and open them, revealing Chiana standing outside. As he passed her, she glanced at Minna, and at the Queen's nod, turned to show him to his quarters.
The rooms Chiana led Blade to did not resemble the one in which he had stayed for the first tenday. Whereas that had been a servant's room, these boasted all the comforts the palace could provide, including a trained manservant. Hangings woven by master craftsmen graced the walls, some of which were panelled with polished bloodwood whose fine-grained veneer glowed deep crimson in the lamplight, seamed and knotted with black. Embroidered black velvet curtains framed lead-paned windows that gave a view of the palace's side garden, where a grove of smoke trees' gauzy foliage blended with the mist.
The sitting area boasted numerous cushions and poufs scattered on woollen rugs, and a fire crackled in a polished jade hearth. Paintings of hounds and horses, probably the familiars of long dead nobles, relieved the plethora of tapestries depicting hunting scenes. A vast four-poster bed dominated the bed chamber, hung with silk and velvet and covered with a snow cat fur spread. An ironwood wardrobe stood against one wall, its doors chiselled with crude designs.
To achieve even such slight patterns in ironwood was a great feat, since the wood was legendary for its hardness. Only young ironwood trees could be felled without blunting numberless axes and exhausting armies of men. Once the tree had been chopped down, it had to be sawn into planks and carved before the wood dried, or else there was no hope of doing so. Legend had it that there was a time, in an Age of Trees, when swords were made from it.
A curtained washing alcove housed a brass tub and an ironwood table with a basin and pitcher of water upon it, as well as a selection of soft towels, scented soaps and sponges.
Chiana left him to return to the Queen, and the servant came forward to offer his services. Blade ordered a meal and a bath, and found the former already awaiting him in an adjoining dining room furnished with a jade- topped smokewood table. The service and accommodations made him wonder to what rank he was being elevated, and he wished that he had asked the Queen. Tomorrow he would find out.
Kerrion glanced around at his room, which was almost devoid of furnishings. Two cream-coloured linen cushions were piled together in the centre of the sitting area, next to a low puffwood table topped with glass. A narrow bed stood in the far corner, a plain chest of drawers beside it. Within curtained alcove was a brass tub, a rough towel and a table with a basin and pitcher of water on it. A solitary, rather threadbare tapestry covered one wall, and another had two lead-paned windows in it, a puffwood tree blocking the view.
The room was either that of a servant that had been refurnished for him, or a junior advisor's humble quarters. The implication was obvious. He was, at best, an unwelcome guest, at worst, little more than a prisoner.
Two guards stood at the door, and a sullen manservant obeyed him with grudging tardiness. Once bathed, he dressed in the clothes provided, which, though quite fine, did not come up to his standards. A soft linen shirt of pale fawn hung below his hips in the fashion of the Jashimari. Well-fitting velvet leggings tucked into calf-high boots of
