Invisible Assassin (4 page)

The King inclined his head. "Of course."

Blade turned to the Queen. "How must he die, quick or slow?"

"Quickly, of course. I have no wish for him to suffer."

The assassin nodded. "I have no need of a disguise this time. When the princes become more fearful it may be necessary, but not now." He glanced at Kerrion, noting the King's pained expression with some pleasure, then turned to the Queen once more. "If there is nothing else..."

"No." She made a gesture of dismissal. "You may go, My Lord."

After the assassin left, Minna rose and went to the King, taking his hands. He bowed his head.

"I have just condemned my brother."

"With good reason. His life or mine, the choice is yours."

He raised a hand to cup her face. "I will always choose you. I wish Ronan had heeded me, but then I did not really expect him to."

"Perhaps you will not have to do this again."

"I hope not. Targan did not bully me as much as the others. He is four years younger than me, and was not one of my father's favourites."

"But he plots against you now."

"Yes." Kerrion sighed. "At least it will be a painless end."

Blade glanced up at the rough wall beneath the Prince's balcony. The moon rose above the walled garden that surrounded the palace, and the night air had grown chilly. The stones offered plenty of purchase, and, having eluded all of the guard patrols to arrive here, it was the final barrier to be overcome. He was not as ready as he would have liked. The cuts on his chest still itched and his thigh ached at times, but the wall was not so daunting and the job unlikely to be strenuous if he was careful.

Gripping the first handhold, he started to climb, aware that a patrol would be passing this way soon. He was halfway to the balcony when the soldiers passed beneath him, and froze until they had wandered from sight. On the balcony he paused to catch his breath, then slid the thin metal instrument that had been made to his orders into the crack between the doors, lifting the latch inside.

Slipping into the shadows, he paused to look around. Prince Targan sprawled across a huge bed, and two concubines slept on the floor at its foot. There was no sign of the Prince's familiar, and Blade crept towards his victim, glad that Cotti men where too selfish to share their beds with their women. Prince Targan snored in the deep, unaware slumber of one who has no fears.

Blade paused to study his victim's youthful face. A soft, curly blond beard struggled to grow amid the fading blotches of acne. The Prince already displayed the ravages of excess in the puffiness around his eyes and the broken blood vessels in his skin from an over-fondness for wine and ale. The fetor of stale wine on Targan's breath made Blade's nose wrinkle, and he leant down to snuff out the young, debauched life.

Targan woke with a gasp as the cold steel slid into his heart, eyes and mouth opening, but no sound came from his quivering lips. Blade jerked the dagger out and waited until the Prince's eyes glazed. Returning to the balcony, he closed the doors behind him, locking them. He waited a few minutes for a patrol to pass, then took a slim rope from his pouch and jammed the knot at its end into the balcony railing. Back on the pathway below, he flipped the rope to jerk the knot free and gathered it up, returning to his room.

Kerrion learnt of his brother's demise shortly after he had settled behind the desk in his study the next morning. A senior advisor delivered the news with suitable gravity, his eyes downcast. The King rose and walked to the window to stare out across the city for several minutes. The advisor waited until Kerrion faced him once more, frowning.

"How was it done?"

"It was the work of an assassin, Sire. Prince Targan was slain in his bed without outcry, for his concubines did not awaken. His body was only discovered this morning."

Kerrion returned to sit behind his desk. "The murderer must be found and executed. Who was plotting against my brother?"

"No one that we know of, Sire."

"No one? Are your spies so incompetent? Obviously someone was, and I want him found. Whoever he is, he is rich and powerful enough to hire a foreign assassin, for no Cotti would do such a thing."

The advisor raised his eyes to meet the King's gaze, disbelief evident in their expression. "What of the assassin?"

"He is just a tool. The man who hired him is the murderer. If you find him too, so much the better, but it is his employer I want."

The advisor bowed. "Yes, Sire."

"See to the funeral arrangements. Bring me any news the moment you have it."

"Sire, the way Prince Targan died..."

"Yes?" Kerrion affected impatience.

"It is the same way your father met his end."

"What are you suggesting?"

"It may be the same assassin, Sire. The one who came to offer testimony on your behalf. The Jashimari, Blade, who also slew Prince Lerton."

Kerrion tried to appear thoughtful. "We do not know he killed Lerton. There is no proof. An interesting idea, but I doubt it is the same man. There may be many who kill in this manner. It proves nothing. But whoever he is, I want his employer most of all."

The advisor bowed again, and the King dismissed him with a wave. Kerrion sat and stared into space. He had expected the suspicion. No one had greater reason to assassinate his brothers than he, but the advisor's guesswork was excellent. Blade's presence in the palace was a well-kept secret. No one knew of his existence except a handful of trustworthy men. Still, he would have to ensure that the assassin was not discovered. He had little faith in Blade's ability to withstand torture.

The King looked up as his study door burst open to admit a pale, scowling Ronan. The Prince marched up to the desk and leant upon it, thrusting his face close to Kerrion's.

"You murdering bastard."

Kerrion leant back and regarded his half-brother. "Have you forgotten to whom you are speaking? It is customary to bow to the King before you address him."

"I know you had Targan killed, do not bother denying it."

Kerrion noted the sword that hung at his brother's hip with a casual glance. "I warned you to leave Minna-Satu alone, but you did not change your plans, did you? If you wish to make accusations, you had better be able to prove them."

"I will as soon as I find out where you are hiding that damned Jashimari assassin."

Kerrion's eyes narrowed. "Indeed? And when you do not find this mythical assassin, remember that unfounded accusations against the King may be construed as treason."

"Your threats do not frighten me," Ronan snarled. "Assassinating a prince is also treason, even if it is the King who does it. Your slut is going to die. This changes nothing."

Kerrion rose to face his brother, matching him in height. "So, you admit to plotting the Queen's death."

"Queen!" Ronan snorted. "She is a Jashimari whore you brought to warm your bed. Killing her is no crime. But to kill your own brother, a mere boy! Why threaten me and kill Targan?"

"Do not claim you loved Targan. We both know that to be a lie."

"He was my brother."

"And mine."

"Which only makes this worse," Ronan growled. "What you have done, far from foiling my plans, has only made me more determined to see them through."

Kerrion scowled. "What are you talking about?"

"Killing Targan will not save the slut. There is nothing you can do to save her. She is probably dead already. Even as we speak -"

"You bastard!" The King lunged at his brother, reaching for Ronan's throat. The Prince jumped back and drew his sword.

"Killing a prince is treason," he taunted.

"I will tear you apart if she has been harmed, you whoreson!"

Kerrion rounded the desk and sprinted for the door, brushing Ronan aside. The Prince grabbed his brother's arm and yanked him to a halt. Kerrion swung and punched him, sending him staggering. Ronan kept his hold and raised his sword. Kerrion smacked it from Ronan's fist and punched him again, making him double over with a harsh grunt. He released the King, who raced for the door. Ronan flung himself at Kerrion and grabbed him around the waist, bringing him down with a grunt.

Kerrion knew that calling the guards was useless, even if Ronan had not already sent them away, which was likely, they would not intervene in a royal fight. At times the Cotti succession was decided in this manner, and if Ronan succeeded in beating him, he could claim the throne through dint of brawn. Such challenges were rare, and usually only occurred when an ageing King was challenged by his eldest son, the defeated monarch being banished from the city. In the Cotti succession, the eldest son also had to be the strongest warrior in order to keep his crown. As he struggled with his brother, Kerrion realised that more than Minna's life was at stake here, yet he could think of nothing but her danger and his need to reach and protect her.

Minna looked up as the doors were thrust open and four men entered unannounced. The one who led them bore a striking resemblance to Kerrion, though his eyes were dark brown and his hair almost white.

He pointed at her kneeling handmaidens. "Get out!"

As they scurried to obey, Minna shouted, "Call the King!"

The leader of the imposters faced her with a grim smile. "He is otherwise engaged, I am afraid."

"Who are you, and what do you want?"

"I am your lover's brother, Prince Rigal."

"One of many. What are you doing here?"

The Prince chuckled. "I am here to kill you, of course."

Minna glanced at the sand cat, who lay as usual in a cool spot by the wall. Shista had raised her head, and watched the intruders. Rigal followed her gaze, his smile fading.

"So it is true, you have a sand cat for a familiar. Our women are not allowed such dangerous creatures. Any who bond with the larger beasts have their familiars put to death for their temerity."

"I have heard that the Cotti are stupid oafs as well as savages," Minna said.

"And you have a tongue that needs cutting out, but no matter, a slit throat will silence you just as well."

The Queen rose and backed away, watching the three burly men behind the Prince as they started towards her. All wore chain mail over boiled leather armour, and possessed the blank, brutish faces of common thugs. Shista rose and padded over to the Queen, imposing herself between Minna and her attackers. She glared at the men with eyes that burnt with hatred, and a low growl started deep in her chest. Two of the thugs produced a stout net and spread it between them, advancing on the sand cat.

Rigal watched the brewing confrontation with a faint smile as he continued, "All I wish to know, before you die, is where the assassin is."

Minna glared at him. "You will not learn that from me."

"Indeed? I think I shall." He drew a jewelled dagger from his belt and fingered its edge. "You can make this quick or slow, the choice is yours."

The men approaching Shista feinted with the net, and the sand cat leapt forward, striking out with a razor-clawed paw. A deep-throated growl rumbled from her, and she drew back her lips to reveal a fearsome armoury of gleaming teeth. The thugs jumped back at her abortive charge, then came on again, holding the net before them. Shista backed away, her tail lashing. From Minna's mind she learnt the net's danger, and searched for a way around it.

The men held the net before them, however, ready to jump in any direction. Before Shista could decide on a course of action, the cutthroats rushed at her, hurling the net over her as she charged to meet them. Her claws ripped through several strands, and the momentum of her charge carried her to one man. Spitting and snarling, the cat sank her claws into his leather armour and pulled him into a deadly embrace, her teeth finding his neck. The roughneck's accomplice tried to pull the cat away with the net as her victim screamed, but Shista was too strong. The third man, who had been blocking the door, ran to help. Minna, seeing a slight chance of escape, made a dash for the door.

Prince Rigal leapt at her and grabbed her gown, yanking it. Minna fell with a cry, snatching a dagger from her girdle as she turned upon her attacker with all the fury of her familiar. She stabbed the Prince's arm, making him yelp in surprise and pain. He slapped the weapon from her fist and seized her hair, jerking her head back as he held her down. Minna punched and slapped him until he pinned her wrists and straddled her.

Shista's victim expired, and the other two men fought to keep her entangled in the net as she spat and ripped at it. Her claws inflicted long, bloody wounds on her captors as she thrust her paws through the net to slash at them, and did their best to stay out of her reach. Minna watched with fading hope as the tightening net hampered the sand cat's struggles more and more, her vocal outrage reaching new heights.

Olan stopped in surprise as several handmaidens ran past him down the passage with cries of anguish. He recognised the women who tended the Jashimari woman and sprinted after them, grabbing the slowest and yanking her around. The girl sobbed with fear and distress, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"What is it?" Olan shouted, shaking her. "What's wrong?"

"The Queen!" the trembling girl wailed. "She's been attacked!"

Olan released her, and she fled after her companions. He paused, frowning, then ran down the passage after the women.

Blade looked up in annoyance when the Cotti servant burst in, opening his mouth to berate the man. Olan spoke before he could, his words coming out in a rush.

"Hurry! Your Queen is in danger!"

The assassin, who had recently stepped out of the bath tub, sat on a chair clad only in his trousers and boots. He paused in combing his wet hair to regard the servant dispassionately. "Is she?"

"You have to save her!"

Blade pondered that statement as the servant seethed with impatience. "You want me to rush into some brawl? Where's your King?"

"I don't know, but he either doesn't know about this, or is being prevented from reaching her. The guards won't help her; one of the Princes must be involved."