the Leathermines

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Word went quickly through the Royal Estate if anything happened.  When there were people there.

The Countess Alison Scarlotti had died among those in the Royal dining tent.  None around her tried to touch her or help her before she started to convulse from the poison.  The knowledge that those around the King and his new Favorites could be harmed spread and most of those who had been hanging around the neck of the Royal presence were gone by the dawn of the next day.

Word would have been whispered and shouted that Princess Laun Dresden had run away.  If the gossiping nobles were still in residence and had not taken many of the servants with them.

The body of the assassin had been taken and buried, the head wrapped in linen and put into a large pot with honey for the transport back to the other continent.  The others in his team were easily routed, told of the demise of their team mate, and all chose to die at the hand of the Guards than to die at the hand of the Princess.

Word would have been intimated that the Royal Council was behind the assassination attempts, if any but the Guards and the Peaches knew of the treachery.  The council members and the people they had with them were sequestered in the stifling building the Guards used to keep prisoners.  They were outraged, but knew that they had been rightly caught and faced the wrath of their King.

Ifahyd knew all this and was glad that those who would spread the word had decided to save themselves and leave.

It had been early when word had come that Laun was gone.  Ifahyd had been surrounded by many of the people Laun had brought with her, his new Love the main one.  Edgar had roused at the door opening, had swore, quietly and then loudly at the news of Laun being gone.  Silar and Verat had woken to the swearing, moving from the Royal bed and dressing themselves quickly.  Girl had helped them get all their things together and had stayed, knelt at the foot of the bed, her eyes wet as she looked at her metal wrist braces.

Ifahyd was not alone, but he felt it deeply when Edgar left.  He was new in the King’s life, but had become a part of his heart quickly once Ifahyd had seen Edgar for the gentle, strong, patient presence he was.  Ifahyd looked at the Peach left in the room with him and new that she paled to Edgar, but that Laun would not have the mangled woman with her if she was not an excellent person.  And assassin.

“Girl, why don’t you go to find your Mistress?”

She smiled a little and looked up into the King’s face.  There was no fear under the tears as she said, “I wish to be called Baza, Majesty.”

He looked at her and wondered.  “Falcon?  That is a strong name.  For a slave.”

Her head came up and he regretted calling her a slave.  “Majesty, I was enslaved.  My Mistress took me and stripped me of what I was, what Blue had made me.  She showed me paths.  I chose to stay as a slave because I felt I did not deserve any better.”  She rolled to her knees and put her hands on her thighs, the ring clanking against her wrist brace.  “Mistress gave me chances and choices.  She saw that I was ready to be out of my collar and let me choose to stay with her or go.  I stayed.”

Ifahyd leaned on his knees and looked into her face.  She was from Rosemond nobility stock.  He switched to the Noble language and said, “You could have gone back to your family, Baza.”

She smiled and blushed, liking how her name sounded on someone’s tongue.  She responded in the noble language with, “They threw me out years ago, Majesty.  Cousin.”

He looked deeper into her.  Her blonde hair that was slightly darker at the roots.  The fair skin with light scars and pock-marks.  The intense blue eyes-  “You are Ithian’s child.”

She looked away and then back to Ifahyd.  She had a tremble in her chin and a softness in her voice as she said, “That is the past.  She is dead, as I was told by my own Father when he gave me to Blue.  I am now Baza, of Mistress Peach’s household.”

He saw him in her.  The nose, the eyes, even the way she lifted her eyebrow, even though she did not say the wicked thing that was on her mind.  He switched into vulgare Rosamondi and said, “You do your Mistress proud.”  He reached out and caressed her cheek.  “You also make me ashamed.”

She scrunched up her face for a moment until she said, also in the lower class language, “Why would I make you ashamed?  Majesty...?”

“Because I loved your Father and I should have seen what he had done.”  He sat back and then let himself lay back on the low bed.  “I should have seen so many things, Baza.”  He put his hand over his face and let the tears come that had been straining to get out.

It took a moment, but Baza was on the bed next to Ifahyd.  She lay next to him and he rolled into her, taking her in his arms and holding her to him.  He cried into her hair, felt her start to sob, too.

The Peach in the courtyard saw, had heard, and had not understood the language, but had understood the need for companionship.  He turned away from the open door into the Kings rooms and scanned along the empty rooms, and the roof that opened into the courtyard.  The attempts the night before had put most of the Peaches on edge, the news of their Mistress disappearing from the yurlodge with Peaches around her, disturbing.

There was a small slide of pebbles he could hear.  He turned towards the sound, knives drawn.  No one was in the courtyard.  He looked up and saw a shadow that had not been there just a moment before.  He whistled, a reflective whistle off the walls and then answer from Girl inside.  Not from above.

In daylight.  They were trying a direct attack in daylight.  Three against two.  The Peach ran to the open door and closed it, knowing that it would not take the others long to break through, once they were off the roof and to the sandy courtyard below.

Girl was there, face wet, but knife and weighted rope ready, the end tied to the ring in her vanbrace.  The King was not staying behind them.  He had a sword and a ceremonial shield on his arm, ready to join the fight.  It was not the best of units, but two had trained together, one had been fucked by the other two.  They knew some of what the others could do and that would have to be enough.

The clear glass shattered into the room from the glass door and one of the windows.  It was three against three, the ones inside trying to be ready for those coming in by taking the offensive.  The weight hit one of the veiled men in an eye, the rope being pulled back out of the way as Ifahyd struck out with their longest blade, cutting the next man trying to get past the suddenly blinded assassin.

It was better odds than the Peaches were hoping for.  Ifahyd had been trained with weapons as a pastime when he was younger.  The metal of the small, round shield may not have done much more than slow down the attacker’s weapons, but with the two Peaches in front of him, Ifahyd was able to keep the assassins at bay as the other two aimed well to take two of the three down.

Royal Guards came in, their own blades drawn at the noise.  The last assassin tried to get back through the broken window, but did not count on the rope in Baza’s hand to wrap around his ankle, making him trip and land on some of the sharp glass.

Ifahyd had been shaking when the whistle had come to Baza.  He was still shaking, but from the adrenaline and effort, not from the emotions.  The Guards and a servant came in to clean the bodies away, leaving smears of blood on the glass and carpet.  The King sat on the end of his bed and looked at the destroyed shield.  He had been sitting back, letting people defend him.  Had been hiding behind tradition and protocol.  His hand was shaking as he unstrapped the shield and kept looking at it.

“Majesty, may we escort you someplace else?”

Ifahyd looked at Baza and shook his head.  “No.  I need to take you somewhere.”

Chapter 24 Laun has an escort to the inner workings of the Palace