mounts of elite Cotti cavalry, officers and the King's personal guard. Since most of those men were horse kin, the majority of the beasts were familiars, and immune to the blandishments of strangers.
The intelligent glint in their eyes made familiars easy to spot, and he noted those that were not. He did not have to wait long before a young officer entered the stables armed with a bunch of cariroots for his steed. Blade eyed him, weighing his suitability. He was a man of otters, which made him vulnerable, since his mount would not object to his injury and his familiar was not with him. The young man wore the insignia of a cavalry officer, but without it, he might have been a guard sergeant.
Blade waited while the officer fed his mount the cariroots, positioning himself out of sight on the route to the door. As the officer walked past, his task complete, Blade stepped out behind him and gripped the man's neck, his hands finding the nerve bundles that would render the officer unconscious. He dragged his victim to the straw pile and stripped him of his uniform, then bound and gagged him before burying him in the straw. That done, he hid the pilfered uniform and settled down to get some more sleep.
The assassin woke again in the pre-dawn chill. Rising, he lighted the lamp that hung in the stables before donning the officer's uniform with shivering haste. He anointed his face and hands with the pale brown skin dye, inspecting the result in the mirror. The dye also lightened his brows, making them brown instead of black. To add to the disguise, he glued on a blond moustache he had brought with him for just such an occasion. The plumed helmet, with its chain mail neck guard, hid his hair. Removing the cavalry insignia from the uniform, he buried his clothes and supplies, then blew out the lamp, dusting himself off as he strolled from the barn.
The palace slumbered in semi-darkness, the few torches that still burnt sputtering as they ran out of oil. Sentries dozed at their posts, some making sleepy salutes as he passed. Most were dog soldiers, and their familiars slumbered beside them or glanced up incuriously. Blade had scorned the officer's heavy boots and retained his soft ones, which made little sound. Lerton's rooms were not far from Kerrion's, as the spy had described, and two alert guards stood outside the doors. They snapped to attention when he approached, and he stopped before them.
'Have you checked on your fellows inside?' Blade demanded in perfectly accented Cotti.
'A couple of time-glasses ago, sir,' one sentry replied.
'They could be asleep by now, dolt! Is this how you protect your prince? They should be checked every time- glass.'
'I'll check on them now, sir,' the man offered, turning to open the door. The war dog beside him sat up and whined, sniffing Blade.
'No.' Blade raised a hand. 'I'll do it myself. There will be hell to pay if they're slacking, and I don't want you covering for them.'
The sentry snapped to attention again. 'Yes, sir.'
Blade pushed open the door and entered a dark room, closing it behind him. Two guards turned at his entrance, relaxing when they saw his uniform. He beckoned them over, then placed his hands together and gripped the hilts of the daggers strapped to his wrists. The young soldiers stopped before him and stood to attention. There was no sign of their familiars, as he had expected. The Prince did not want dogs in his bedroom, due to their smell and fleas. Blade had counted on that, for two dogs would certainly have complicated matters quite considerably. He hoped that the beasts were safely caged in the barracks, where they could not raise the alarm when their friends died, as familiars were wont to do.
Blade remarked, 'I'm glad to see you're awake and alert, men, good work.'
They smiled, and one said, 'Thank you, sir.'
'You're welcome.' Blade jerked his hands apart, raising them in a flash to slit the soldiers' throats. They coughed, pawing at their necks as they collapsed. The faint clatter of their falling bodies was unavoidable, and Blade hid his hands behind his back as the occupant of the vast, silk-strewn bed sat up, peering into the gloom.
'Who is there?' Lerton demanded.
Blade stepped forward, deepening his voice to a gruff baritone, lest the Prince recognise the peculiar timbre of his speech. 'Don't be alarmed, My Prince, you're in no danger.'
Lerton glared at him, the moonlight that streamed in through the window revealing features puffy with fatigue. 'What woke me? Who are you, and what are you doing here? Where are my guards?'
The assassin wondered if all Cotti princes were so full of questions. It seemed to be a family trait. 'The guards were tired, My Prince, I sent them for replacements before they fell asleep. The closing of the door woke you, I apologise.'
Lerton slumped back, scowling as Blade strolled closer, keeping his hands hidden. 'And who are you?'
'An officer of the Watch, Jickal by name. I will guard you until the new sentries arrive.' Blade reached the side of the bed and stopped.
'Well do not loom over me, go away,' Lerton said peevishly. 'Go stand by the door.'
'Yes, My Prince.' Blade did a fair imitation of a guard's salute and made as if to turn away. Instead he jerked up his hands, and his daggers flew to their target. One embedded itself at the base of Lerton's throat, cutting off any outcry, the other hit the pillow beside the Prince's head. Lerton stared at Blade with bulging eyes as his life oozed out in a crimson river. While he still had an audience, the assassin doffed the plumed helmet and smiled.
'A gift from Queen Minna-Satu. In case you do not recognise me, I am Blade.'
Lerton's mouth moved as he strived to speak. Blade leant over to retrieve the dagger that had missed its mark.
'I must be getting sloppy in my old age,' he mused as the Prince's eyes glazed. When the last flicker of life had dimmed from them, Blade pulled the dagger from Lerton's throat and stepped back, wiped the bloody weapon and slipped them back into his sleeves. He glanced around for the stone snake, which was curled up on a chair nearby. Already it glided towards him, its black tongue tasting the air, its cold eyes fixed on him.
Fortunately it was a slow creature, and he grabbed it and snapped its neck, dropping the coiling body. The mindless writhing of the dying snake filled the room with the soft slithering, adding to the discomfiting sight and stench of the Prince's blood. Eager to quit this chamber of horrors, he left. The sentries snapped to attention again, and Blade paused to inspect them.
'Your friends inside are awake, luckily for them. I don't think they'll be dropping off now, but I'll be back in a time-glass to check on them.'
'Yes, sir.'
Blade nodded and headed back towards the stables. Bleary-eyed guards watched him pass resentfully, his unwanted presence disturbing their napping. Moving with some urgency now, he dug his bag out of the straw and put the cavalry insignia back on the uniform before saddling the young officer's horse. He rode unchallenged from the palace courtyard and out into the city, breathing a sigh of relief when he had passed the final sentries. Only the city guards stood between him and freedom, easy to pass before the alarm was raised.
The Cotti spy waited at the appointed place with horses and supplies, stamping his feet to ward off the chill. At first he did not recognise the assassin, then set about swathing him in the flowing robes of a Jadaya citizen, grumbling at the ungodly time and the cold as well as the ordeal of leaving a warm bed and plump wife to go travelling across the freezing desert.
Blade ignored his complaints and mounted, riding away to speed events, leaving the spy to follow. By the time they reached the city gates, he was heartily sick of the spy's endless carping, and pointed out acidly that he was being richly paid for the work, which silenced Valda for a time. As soon as they were out of the city, Blade urged his horse into a canter, eager to put as much distance between himself and Jadaya as possible.
Shortly after dawn, several soldiers and two senior advisors flung upon the doors of Kerrion's room with a bang. The guards began to search the room, poking their swords into the curtains that hung against the walls and framed the windows. Their dogs sniffed around, tails wagging. Kerrion sat up, glancing about at the activity with an air of confusion. The advisors bowed, perhaps not quite as deeply as they should have, giving Kerrion a twinge of unease. He frowned at them.
'What is going on? What is the meaning of this intrusion? I was asleep!'
The elder advisor looked apologetic. 'We beg your pardon, Sire, but we have terrible news.'
Kerrion glared at the guards. 'Why are they searching my room? What are you looking for?'
'Sire, your brother has been slain.'
Kerrion ran a hand through his tousled hair. 'Which one?'
