Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [191]
Amrita gave a low cry of dismay, and I tightened my arms around her and her son, fearing for all of us.
But Bao was already in motion, flinging himself backward onto the floor and rolling in a somersault. Instead of coming up into a fighting stance, he stayed in a low crouch, his staff sweeping along the floor to strike hard at the assassin’s ankles while another flurry of blades flew harmlessly over his head to clatter against the wall.
The blow didn’t knock the fellow off his feet, but it staggered him; and in a heartbeat, Bao was up. The fellow caught himself before Bao could strike, a lone throwing knife held up in warning.
“Heh.” Bao’s grin widened. “Last one, huh?”
“Maybe.” The assassin’s hand went to his belt again, scattering a handful of bright, sharp objects on the floor.
Bao glanced down and swore, then glanced up in time to jerk out of the way of the last blade as it flew through the air. For a moment, the men regarded each other. I didn’t know what history lay between them, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. “You’re done,” Bao said simply, shifting his staff into an offensive pose.
Without a word, the assassin turned and dashed for the balcony.
And the purpose of the objects he’d thrown came clear as Bao went after him. They were shaped like a child’s jack-toys, only larger, with long, wickedly sharp tines, forcing Bao to kick them out of the way or suffer a punctured foot. They didn’t delay him long, but it was enough time for the fellow to gain the balcony and vault over it. In the garden far below, monkeys shrieked and chattered. Bao peered over the railing.
“Is it safe?” I asked him, my voice shaking a little.
“Yes.” Bao sounded subdued. I released the twilight, the daylit world returning in a rush. “Best your highnesses do not look, though. It isn’t pleasant.”
“Is he dead?” Ravindra asked fiercely.
“Oh, yes.” Bao nodded. “This time, I am very certain, young highness.”
“Oh, gods!” My lady Amrita’s lovely voice was hoarse from her near-garroting, and there were tears in it. “We were supposed to be safe here! How did he find this room?” Tears spilled from her eyes, streaking her face. “I cannot believe any of my people would betray us willingly!”
“Mama-ji, don’t cry!” Ravindra whispered, stroking her arm.
“I don’t think they did, highness.” Bao’s tone was as gentle as I’d ever heard it. “Not willingly, anyway.”
She met his sympathetic gaze. “That’s worse, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “That one’s name was Zoka. If he has another, I never heard it. He was a bad man, highness, one of the worst. He liked to hurt people. I am afraid he may have hurt one of yours.”
“Ah, no!” The sorrow in Amrita’s voice made my heart ache.
To everyone’s sorrow, Bao was right.
Hasan Dar’s guards found Zoka’s victim in a linen storeroom in the servants’ quarters. She was one of the Rani’s trusted attendants, a sweet girl named Sameera who took pride in her hair-dressing skills and often sang as she worked. She couldn’t have been much more than sixteen years old.
She was dead, garroted, the flesh of her slender throat swollen around the ligature mark.
And young Sameera had been tortured before she died. On her left hand, only her thumb and forefinger remained. The other three were bloody stumps with ragged bits of bone protruding from the fresh wounds. Three delicate severed fingers lay scattered on the floor of the storeroom.
Although Hasan Dar begged Amrita not to look, she insisted on it. She looked for a long, long time.
“Poor child,” she murmured, stooping to touch the girl’s maimed hand. “You tried to protect me, didn’t you? You held out as long as you could.” Raising the girl’s hand to her lips, she kissed it. “Surely, you will be reborn a warrior, my little brave heart.”
I wiped tears from my eyes.
Everyone was silent.
In the silence, the Rani Amrita stood. Twice in recent days, she had been frightened, badly frightened. Twice, she had nearly been killed.
Now she was angry.
I would not have thought my