William King: The Queen's assassin

Rik strode for a corner, and stood waiting, his face a bland mask of composure. As he did so a tall old Terrarch nobleman, a beautiful Terrarch woman and a group of their followers swept over to him.

"I understand that you are the young soldier we have to thank for saving the Queen's life," said the noble. His manners were very smooth, his small smile measured and polished like the gems on the pillows in a jeweller’s window. Rik wondered who he was and what his position was at court, and whether this was some test set by Kathea to see what he would say after their interview.

"I merely performed my duty," said Rik. "And the Queen did far more to help herself than I did to help her. Her grace under pressure was exemplary."

The beautiful lady's smile widened, she looked him up and down in a measuring fashion that was frankly sexual. He met her gaze blandly.

"Perhaps you would care to tell us about it," she said. Rik suddenly felt as if he did when sneaking into a well-guarded manor with dogs and sentries and all manner of sorcerous alarms. Putting a foot wrong here could be fatal.

"This is not the time or the place, I fear. I feel I should ask Her Serenity's permission before discussing such matters. The tale, after all, is hers to tell."

"Discreet as well as heroic. That is a useful quality in a young man," said the Lady. Her eyes made it clear that discretion could cover a lot of matters. The old nobleman smiled.

"My wife is correct," he said. "I hope we encounter each other again soon. I am Lord Sardontine."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." They bowed and curtseyed to each other. As they did so, Lady Asea emerged from the audience chamber.

"If you will excuse me," said Rik bowing again. "I must attend my patron."

"Of course," said Lord Sardontine. "One forgets how lovely Lady Asea is. It has been over a century since last I talked with her. Please give her my greetings."

With another bow, Rik disengaged himself. A moment later he found himself sweeping along beside Asea as a liveried servant showed them out.

"I see you encountered Lord Sardontine," she murmured.

"He sends you his greetings."

"I accept them with pleasure." A look and a sweep of a fan told him that this was not the place to discuss such people. It was not something he needed telling. He felt a surge of gratitude as they mounted the coach and left the Palace behind. As they swept out into Parliament Square he felt like he had just had a narrow escape from a nest of snakes.

“What happened back there?” Rik asked. “Did you discuss anything interesting with the Queen?”

“I did. I have been granted apartments in the Palace. You will join me.”

“We are leaving our tents? That will be nice.”

“It’s a sign of royal favour and I think she finds your presence reassuring. I am not surprised after you adventures together in the Serpent Tower.”

Rik kept quiet. That was one reason why Kathea might want him near but he could think of others. In the Palace he would be in easy reach if she decided to get rid of him.

Sardec sat at the table and scribbled another figure on the parchment before him. It was hard writing with his left hand. His script lacked the flowing grace with which he had once formed his letters with his right hand, but he was determined to master writing once more. It was a necessary skill for an officer in the Queen's Army.

The lists in front of him made for depressing reading. A lot of new soldiers had been transferred in, and all of them needed a place to stay and food and pay. His company had lost fewer men than he had feared in the siege of Halim, particularly compared to the disastrous excursion into Deep Achenar, but nonetheless fatalities had occurred. A lot of the deaths had been among the newer men, but some of those who had followed him into the buried city of the Spider God were gone as well. It was a soldier's lot to die for the Queen when duty called for it, but Sardec was surprised how much it pained him to see the names on the parchment. Those men had been in his care and every death felt like a failure.

They were only humans, he told himself. They would have died in a few years anyway. Somehow that made it worse. Perhaps they would get their reward in the lesser heaven but Sardec was finding it harder and harder to believe. There had been no concept of a lesser heaven until the Terrarchs had encountered humanity. Only then had the Prophets started talking about one. It seemed more of a political necessity than a religious truth. He was spending too much time around Lady Asea. Some of her ancient cynicism was rubbing off on him.

He scratched his forehead with the back of the hook, and let out a long sigh. At least the company had been assigned a decent place to dwell, an old fortified mansion on the edge of the poorer quarter near the market square. It had taken some string-pulling to get such a pleasant, defensible place in the overcrowded city but he had managed it. His stock was high with headquarters after the battle of the Abelen Ford, and his credit was good too with those he had needed to bribe.

He had seen that his soldiers were well-billeted and their dependents seemed to have found places nearby. The merchants who followed the army had already found them, and despite Sardec's warning the troops were already selling their loot for pennies on the crown, and using the proceeds to buy booze and food at inflated prices.

He could understand that — when you might be dead by the end of summer what was the purpose of saving? You might as well have a good time now. Sardec was not like that though — the treasures he had found were catalogued and crated, ready to be shipped back to the family estate. His father had been right; war could be profitable if you knew what you were about.

He looked over at Rena, and was surprised at how beautiful he found her. She sat on the bed they shared in the rooms he had taken, running the silver brush he had gifted her with through her thick glossy black hair.

Who had that brush once belonged to, Sardec wondered? Some Terrarch noblewoman? Some rich merchant's wife? It did not matter now. It was hers and her obvious delight in its possession had been recompense enough to Sardec for the small increment of gain it had cost him to give it to her.

She saw he was looking at her and gave him a bright smile. It made his heart leap. There were times when Sardec wished he was able to tell her how much her beauty affected him, but somehow he could never quite break through the reserve he felt he should maintain around a human. He told himself he was being ridiculous. The woman had felt his weight upon her in the heat of passion. To think of maintaining reserve after that was merely foolish, and yet… And yet, he never quite could bring himself to talk about it to her.

She came over and stroked his cheek. There was a tenderness in the gesture that touched him, even as he felt he should repel it. After all, no human was supposed to do such a thing without permission. He forced himself to let out a long breath, to relax.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

Now was the moment, he thought. Tell her that she is lovely, and she gladdens your heart in a way nothing ever has before and most likely nothing ever will again. "Nothing," he said.

"Are you thinking of the dead," she said, looking at the list. He knew she could not read, but he had told her what the paperwork was for.

"I was," he said.

"It was not your fault. They were soldiers. It was a battle." He wished he had not shared his doubts with her, but he had been a little drunk, and a little depressed, and he could not talk about his fears and inadequacies with his fellow officers. They were Terrarchs and they were already too inclined to mock him for being a cripple, for having a human lover, for any number of things. He did not want to give them any more ammunition for their contempt.