Imperial Spy (25 page)

The messenger looked uncomfortable and shifted his shoulders slightly in an unconscious gesture before he replied.

‘Well, your Imperial Majesty, King Malo wanted to inform you that Ambassador Femke has been found and detained. Further evidence of her guilt in the deaths of Baron Anton and Count Dreban
has also surfaced. There are character witnesses present who have named her an assassin, which has placed grave doubts over future international relations between Thrandor and Shandar. Ambassador
Femke has requested an advocate from the Empire to represent her interests at the trial, which is to be held in the Royal Court at Mantor. The King asks that you reply with all haste. He is keen to
commence the trial and see justice done.’

Surabar was genuinely shocked by the news. From all that he knew of Femke, she was quick-witted, clever and excellent at blending in so well with her surroundings that he would have wagered half
the treasury on her not being caught by the Thrandorians. The situation in Mantor was dire indeed.

‘A representative? Did the King specify what sort of representative?’ he asked.

‘No, your Majesty. King Malo said that Ambassador Femke had requested a representative to be present at the trial to view the evidence and make a defence. The King did not specify any
particular rank or profession.’

Emperor Surabar got slowly to his feet, his right hand rubbing thoughtfully at his chin. For a moment he looked lost in thought, then he looked straight at the messenger with a piercing
gaze.

‘Very well,’ he said firmly. ‘Ambassador Femke shall have her representative. I had not planned to make a visit to Thrandor yet, but the outcome of this trial is of such
importance to the future of our two countries that I believe it would be best if I come in person to see her interests are properly represented.’

The messenger gulped and much of the colour drained from his face.

‘I trust you will not come alone, your Majesty,’ he croaked, his voice cracking as he voiced his immediate concern.

‘No, that would not be wise,’ Surabar replied thoughtfully. ‘But equally I should not arrive at the head of a small army. I don’t want to cause alarm. Would a troop of
about twenty to thirty guards cause any problems, do you think?’

‘I think twenty to thirty would be fine, your Majesty. I cannot imagine such a small contingent causing major consternation. I will bear the news of your impending visit as quickly as I
can to the King.’

‘Thank you, I would appreciate that. Do take time to rest and enjoy some refreshments before you get underway. I’ll not be able to set out any earlier than tomorrow. It will take a
short time for me to get my affairs here in order, and my party will travel slower than a message rider. Go and get some sleep. You have earned it.’

The messenger bowed deeply and turned to leave the room. The servant, who had remained standing inside the door during the brief exchange, opened it again to allow the messenger to go. He too
bowed and prepared to leave, but Surabar called to him before he left. ‘Once you’ve seen King Malo’s messenger to his quarters, could you send for Lord Kempten please? I need to
talk to him urgently.’

The servant bowed again and closed the door behind him as he left. Surabar looked distantly at the door and wondered if he were doing the right thing. He had hardly had a chance to establish
himself as Emperor. There had been visible opposition to his rule in the attack on the day of the coronation. There was still no firm evidence as to which of the Nobles were responsible for that,
but he had a good idea who the key players were. Should he dash off on an errand to Mantor? He could easily send someone else. Femke was ostensibly an ambassador. Ambassadors were as expendable as
soldiers or spies. True, it was not good to lose ambassadors – particularly under circumstances such as those presently being faced – but it was not for the Emperor to take a close
personal interest in such things.

‘It’s a good job that I see being Emperor as a temporary inconvenience,’ Surabar said aloud to himself. ‘Let’s see what old Kempten is made of, shall we? Who knows
– maybe he’ll prove to make a good successor to the Mantle. At least by leaving him in charge I won’t have to worry about one of the old-school Lords trying to seize
control.’

There were never any guarantees in high-level politics and power mongering. Surabar knew that as well as anyone, but the General felt he could do far worse than leave Kempten as Regent in his
absence. Time alone would tell.

‘The Royal Treasury! Are you completely out of your mind?’ Danar exploded.

‘Shhh! Do you want everyone to know? Keep your hair on – I know what I’m doing,’ Femke replied, her voice calm and placating.

Danar lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, but it kept cracking into normal speech. ‘Aren’t two murder charges enough to be going on with? Now you want to add grand theft and
conspiracy to murder to the list. What in Shand’s name do you want to hire an assassin for? Surely there’s been enough killing here, and if you intend to have Shalidar killed, then you
are wasting your time and money. Assassins will not take out contracts on one another. Surely you know that?’

Femke raised an eyebrow at Danar and gave him a look that spoke volumes. ‘Hold your judgement for a moment,
Lord
Danar, and give me a chance to explain fully. All will become clear.
We’re not going to empty the Royal Treasury, just borrow a bit of it. A couple of thousand gold Thrandorian crowns should prove enough of a temptation for Shalidar to take on a contract.
Professional assassins like Shalidar have their own code of honour, known as the Assassins’ Creed, which they swear to uphold when they accept membership into their secret Guild. Once
he’s taken the down payment, then he’ll be bound by the Creed to make the kill or die trying. The sting is that we’ll be ready for his attempt, and we’ll ensure it’s
public enough for Shalidar to be exposed. If he does manage the hit without being seen, I’ve got a back-up plan that will trap him anyway. Then, with the cooperation of the King and the Royal
Guards, it should be possible to recover the gold from the down payment and it will be much easier to prove that Shalidar killed Anton and Dreban.’

Reynik and Danar sat silently for a moment, both looking thoughtful. Neither of them were particularly happy.

‘It could work,’ Reynik said slowly, as he thought through the line of Femke’s logic. ‘It’s awfully risky though, particularly for whomever is going to be
Shalidar’s target. I take it you have someone in mind?’

‘Well, yes, actually I do,’ Femke said, reddening slightly with embarrassment. ‘Before you two came along, I was going to set myself up as the target. There are obvious
problems with that, but now we have a new Ambassador from Shandar.’

Reynik and Femke both turned their eyes towards Lord Danar.

‘Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?’ he asked with a small groan.

‘You said you came here to help me,’ Femke suggested, with a lopsided little smile.

‘I didn’t exactly anticipate setting myself up as a target to be peppered full of arrows for your amusement, Femke,’ Danar hissed angrily.

‘Well, if we plan this properly, it shouldn’t come to that.’

Femke added silently to herself that she would not let it, because she was already developing feelings for him that she didn’t want to admit. What she was doing was abhorrent. She was
using him. Using him in the worst possible way, because she knew he would do just about anything to win her heart at the moment. It was the worst form of abuse, but she could see no other option.
She justified it by telling herself it was for the good of the Empire. ‘Let’s get the first phase of the plan over with and then we can discuss it again,’ she said firmly,
clamping down hard on her thoughts. ‘Our first hurdle is to rob the Royal Treasury.’

‘Surabar is not likely to approve of that—’ Danar started, his voice still angry.

‘Danar! Stop it! I suggest you listen carefully. There is risk involved in everything we do from here on, so let’s try not to make silly mistakes. Hear out my full plan. Then, if you
have any better ideas, I will listen to them. If you don’t want to help, go home. I’ll find another way around the problem. I think it fair to say we all need to keep open minds
throughout the next few days. Remember that Shalidar is no fool. Despite thinking I’m safely tucked away in the Royal Prison, he’s unlikely to drop his guard. We need to outwit,
out-plan and out-think him at every turn, or this is not going to work. We must succeed totally. If we fail . . . well, let’s not fail. I don’t want to live with that sort failure on my
conscience.’

‘Have you heard the news?’ Reynik asked excitedly.

‘Yes, it’s all over the city. Surabar is coming here. I hear he’s expected in about four or five days from now,’ Femke replied. ‘It doesn’t give us much
time.’

‘No, but it makes my job easy tonight,’ Reynik bubbled enthusiastically. ‘It’s the perfect trigger for a demonstration in front of the Palace. I should be able to pull
most of the Royal Guard to the front gate for you and keep them there for some time. I’ve already found a suitably enraged local who’ll make a great front man. It won’t take much
to wind him up. Then I’ll slide into the background and watch the fireworks. Once I’m sure the distraction will give you enough time to get in and out, I’ll come to the
servants’ exit and wait nearby in case you need any last minute help.’

‘That sounds great.’

‘How did you get on with the other things we needed?’

‘No problems,’ Femke answered with a pleased smile at her success. ‘Danar and I will be kitted out by mid-afternoon. The uniforms are all but ready and the armourer has
promised I can pick up the weapons after lunch. We’ll be ready to go any time after then, so don’t worry if your diversion blows up a little early. We should be flexible enough by then
to be able to initiate the plan at any time.’

‘What about the more exotic requirements?’ Reynik asked, curious to see how far Femke’s success stretched.

‘Also sorted,’ Femke replied with a grin. ‘The alchemist knew exactly what I wanted and supplied everything without question, despite the quantities I required. It’s nice
to find there’s one trade left that doesn’t ask awkward questions at strange requests.’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t report it to someone though,’ Reynik said seriously.

‘It doesn’t matter if he does. It’s unlikely that Shalidar will be monitoring alchemists – why would he want to? If the King is informed, well, it’ll make little
difference to the plan, so let’s not worry about what we can’t fix.’

‘Where’s Lord Danar? I haven’t seen him this morning.’

‘I sent him out for food again,’ Femke replied with a grin. ‘He’s happy to be useful and he does have a knack of finding tasty snacks.’

‘I thought the stomach was the way to a
man’s
heart,’ Reynik jibed.

‘As I am a man at the moment, he could be on the right track,’ Femke replied pompously, in an exaggeratedly deep voice. She failed to keep a straight face for more than a few seconds
and laughter followed.

Later that afternoon, Femke gave silent thanks for the talkative young guard who had inadvertently given her so much information during her time in the Royal Prison. It had not proved difficult
to intercept a requisition order from the Royal Quartermaster and alter it slightly to include two extra uniforms. Knowing the routine was half the battle of getting hold of materials by deception.
After her long chats with the guard, Femke felt she understood the Thrandorian military system well. A simple note at the bottom of the requisition order had arranged for the two uniforms to be
collected direct from the tailor’s. It would be some days before the Quartermaster noted the extra cost on the order, if he ever did.

Danar collected the two uniforms. Each came packed inside a medium-sized rucksack. The tailor’s shop was the collection point, but the boots, belts and various other accoutrements had all
been gathered and included inside the rucksacks. The only parts of the uniform not included were the weapons. These had to be picked up separately from a smithy. Femke went to collect these.

The smith gave Femke a penetrating look when she told him why she was there. ‘So you’re to become a Royal Guard, are you?’ he asked, taking in the slim, boyish figure dressed
in tunic and hose.

‘Yes, sir,’ Femke replied, nodding enthusiastically.

‘I’ll be honest – I’m surprised that you passed the strength test with arms like those. You’ve no muscle on your bones at all, lad.’

‘I’m stronger than I look, sir,’ Femke said with a perfectly straight face, taking in the smith’s tree-trunk-like arms and legs with apparent unconcern.

‘I suppose you must be. I understand you’re collecting for two?’

‘That’s right, sir.’

‘Well, good luck with the training, son. If you’ve any sense you’ll eat more and exercise some meat onto those arms of yours. You’ll never be taken seriously in a fight
with biceps like those.’

Femke thanked the smith for his advice and promised him she would try. Then, with the swords and knives tucked under her arms, she left the smithy and walked quickly back to the arranged meeting
place.