The Deathless. Peter Newman

up for in determination. In fact, by the end of their time together, she’d hardly been bored by him at all.

      The panel closed behind her, softly, bringing her back to the present. It was a short walk from here to the main doors of the castle. Unfortunately, they were closed and barred, and from her hiding place, she could see several alert looking guards in place.

      Even from a distance, she could tell they weren’t her people. Chandni made it her business to know every member of staff at the castle. She didn’t tell them of course, saving the knowledge for when it could be employed to maximum advantage.

       These are the assassins. Not just one more as Pari believed, but a group, possibly a whole unit.

      The castle kept only a small team of defenders but they were highly trained, at least she had always considered them so. It troubled her that they had been dealt with so easily.

      There was no way she could leave by the main entrance, but there was more than one path in and out of the castle. Using the statue as cover and keeping out of sight of the gates as best she could, she made her way towards the kitchens.

      She had almost reached the stairwell off the main corridor when she heard a woman’s voice behind her. ‘Hold there!’ It was coming from the other end of the entrance hall. She was not surprised that the speaker was unfamiliar.

      Pretending not to hear, she walked a little faster, giving Satyendra a calming smile, and making sure her body blocked him from sight.

      ‘Hold there, I say!’

      She turned into the stairwell and, as soon as she was out of view, took the steps three at a time, her feet skidding off the end of one, straight onto the other, threatening to fly out in front, as her long hair flew out behind.

      Satyendra’s eyes grew wide and his hold on her tightened, but the baby kept his peace, just as his mother did.

      Like a thing tossed from a storm, she burst into the kitchens, her feet bruised, her nightdress filthy, her knees swollen.

      ‘Ooooh!’ crowed the old cook, who moments ago had been asleep but was now most definitely awake.

      Chandni straightened, and raised an imperious finger, cutting off the questions forming on the cook’s lips. She’d served the Sapphires all her long life and was talented but slow, and liked the sound of her own voice far too much for Chandni’s liking. ‘Open the outer door. Tell no one that I’ve been here. You have not seen me or Satyendra, do you understand?’

      ‘Of course, Honoured Mother. But what—’

      ‘—Immediately, dear Roh.’

      The cook beamed at the use of her name, then went the wrong way, snatching up a bag and stuffing it with food.

      Chandni channelled her mother again as she admonished the cook. ‘Were you not listening? Or is this an act of deliberate insubordination?’

      ‘But you’ll be wanting something for the baby, and a cloak for your shoulders. Wouldn’t do for you to be seen out there in your nightwear, I’d never forgive myself. And what about your poor feet?’

      Behind her, Chandni felt rather than heard someone enter the room. She went to step away but a hand caught her arm.

      She turned to find a woman dressed in House Sapphire uniform – but most definitely not House Sapphire – looking at her. The absolute lack of respect in the assassin’s eyes was chilling. She was about to say something when the assassin pulled out, not a sword, but a long, thin needle coated in something that glistened in the gemlight.

      Chandni made to pull away but the assassin simply stepped with her, keeping close, the needle arcing down towards Satyendra’s neck.

      Instinct took over, and in the next moment she felt something bite into her palm, briefly painful, and then suddenly, worryingly numb.

      The point of the needle protruded from the back of Chandni’s hand, quivering inches away from her baby’s skin. Blood rather than poison coated it now.

      Chandni exchanged a helpless look with Satyendra, whose little eyebrows raised questioningly, as if asking if this was an appropriate time to cry.

      Yes, she thought. This is the perfect time to cry.

      If the Bringers saw Pari, they made no comment as they passed out of the chamber, keeping to their ritual path. She listened intently as their robes whispered their way to the door, paused, then came the measured sweep of the door opening and them passing through, one by one, taking the light with them. The door closed with a heavy thud, plunging them into darkness. She heard Rochant sigh.

      ‘You can come out now.’

      Pari used the pillars to navigate through the darkness, letting each one brush cool against her fingertips. ‘How did you know I was here?’

      His voice was tired but not without warmth. ‘I didn’t, I just hoped.’

      She reached out for him, finding the line of his shoulder in the dark. ‘Ah, there you are.’

      ‘Yes.’

      She wiggled onto the side of the slab, enjoying the feeling of his warmth against her, and leaned down so that her lips hovered just above his. ‘And here I am.’

      ‘Yes.’ He lifted his head so that the word brought their mouths brushing together.

      Pari longed to stay like that but neither her conscience nor her back would allow it. ‘Yes,’ she agreed, breathlessly. ‘But we have to talk, you and yours are under threat.’

      ‘Something’s happened?’

      She told him quickly of the assassins, of the recent deaths in his line and the attempt against baby Satyendra that she’d foiled. He didn’t argue or interrupt until she’d finished.

      ‘Who would do this to me?’

      Pari considered. ‘High Lord Sapphire could have done it, the Bringers implied he was angry with you.’

      ‘You heard them? By the Thrice Blessed Suns, is nothing sacred?’

      ‘No, and you should be grateful. Without me things would be much worse.’

      Rochant found her hand and squeezed it. ‘You’re right about me but wrong about my High Lord. If he had wanted me removed it would be done publicly, as an example to others. He would never stoop to knives in the dark.’

      ‘Perhaps that was true once but I hear rumours that High Lord Sapphire is not the man he was.’

      She felt Rochant turn his head away. ‘I tell you it is not his way.’

      ‘Who then?’

      ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘Even someone as charming as you must have enemies.’

      ‘Whoever it is has planned well. They’ve taken full advantage of the disruption the ceremony causes.’ She could hear the interest in his voice. Despite the threat, he was intrigued by the puzzle. ‘The assassin you confronted, you said he was in Sapphire uniform?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Did it fit?’

      Pari thought for a moment. ‘Yes, like it was made for him, in fact.’

      ‘So that means either he had been working here for some time, or he’d had the uniform made specially.’

      Pari shook her head, then realized Rochant wouldn’t be able to see the gesture. ‘Or he found a guard of similar size and stole his.’

      ‘In any case,’ Rochant continued, ‘this is something that has been planned well in advance.’

      ‘I agree but how does that help us here?’

      ‘Motivation. Someone wants this done but is willing to wait to achieve it.’

      ‘But why? Revenge?