Sabre frowned at the man who lay at his feet, his ribs aching from several blows he had allowed the warrior to land. Garvon’s man was well trained and quick, but nowhere near as fast as a cyber, who could, with the benefit of predictive target programming, dodge laser beams. He had, in his estimation, done a fair impression of a normal, but skilled fighter, and defeated his opponent without seriously injuring him. The intensive training Sabre had undergone made his defensive reactions instinctive, and suppressing them had taken a great deal of concentration.
Victor’s mien was calculating. “Very good. I don’t believe you used magic. Do you, Garvon?”
The master-at-arms shook his head. “No, Majesty. He is a skilled fighter, better than Trin.”
The Prince beamed at Sabre. “Tomorrow you will start showing me what else you can do. I want to learn all your skills, especially those kicks and jumps. Unfortunately, I cannot participate until my arm has healed, but in the meantime I can watch, and you can explain the theory to me.”
Sabre shrugged, thoroughly fed up with the whole business. Hopefully tomorrow he would not be here, if Tassin knew of another country or city they could flee to now. As Victor signalled to a soldier to replace the cuffs, Sabre resorted to politeness.
“May I ask a favour, Highness?”
“Certainly.”
“I’d like to see Queen Tassin, to assure myself that she’s well and to reassure her that I’m also well.”
Victor’s smile vanished as he appeared to consider this. “I suppose that would be all right, as long as you say nothing to alarm her.”
“I won’t. She’ll be comforted to know I’m here, and well.”
The Prince nodded, and Sabre followed him into the palace, two soldiers walking behind him with studied alertness. Their boots tapped on the polished floors of several deserted corridors, whose splendour was becoming tarnished by the first signs of neglect and decay. Whatever wealth had founded this city had long since vanished, leaving behind the remnants of a more prosperous era sinking into ruin. At the end of a short corridor that led off one of the echoing halls, Victor stopped at a carved door and knocked. A maid opened it, and answered his muttered query in a hushed voice, her expression sombre.
He turned to Sabre. “It seems your queen is now aware of her situation, so I stress that you will say nothing to encourage her or make her hope for release.”
“You mean she knows she’s a prisoner now.”
“If you wish to call it that.” He shrugged. “I prefer to think that she is under our protection until her betrothed arrives. This foolish business must end.”
Victor led him into a room furnished with satin-covered chairs, carved tables and tapestries depicting hunting scenes. Vases of spring flowers added their perfume to the air, and paintings of verdant landscapes graced the walls. Long, green silk curtains framed arched windows that overlooked an exotic garden. Oil lamps hung on the walls, adding to the sunset’s glow.
The maid vanished through a door at the far end of the room, and moments later Tassin entered, dressed in a strapless, dark blue satin gown trimmed with white lace, whose full skirts swept the floor. It also looked in danger of falling down at any moment, in Sabre’s opinion. At the sight of him, she smiled and hurried closer.
“Sabre!”
Victor bowed. “Queen Tassin. I brought your man to see that you are well, and for you to see that he is also well. I hope this pleases you?”
She stopped and bestowed a regal smile upon him. “That is most kind of you, Victor.”
The Prince stood aside, and Sabre bowed, aware that Victor watched him. “My Queen, it eases my heart greatly to see you well and happy.”
Tassin’s smile became strained. “I am well. I trust you are also being treated with the respect you deserve?” She glanced at Victor.
“Indeed I am, Your Majesty. Prince Victor’s dungeons are fine and spacious, fit for a king.”
Victor shot him an angry look, but Tassin nodded with apparent unconcern. “As long as you are treated well.”
“I hope to see you soon, My Queen, very soon.” Sabre hoped she would understand. The Prince signalled to the soldiers, who gripped his arms and tugged him out of the door.