Imperial Spy (31 page)

Oh you poor young fool! Ennas thought sadly. Please, no. Do your job. Guard the door. Don’t try to be a hero.

The metallic ring of a sword being drawn from its scabbard was followed by the rattling sound of a key turning in the lock. Ennas tensed. He knew what he had to do. He had to escape. Surprise
would be crucial, but the guard was alert as he entered the cell, which would make it difficult to achieve.

Unfortunately for the guard, the occupant of the bed he was approaching was neither ill, nor a female ambassador. The prisoner was an experienced spy in prime physical condition and not afraid
to kill.

‘Ambassador?’ the guard said hesitantly as he approached the bed. He held his sword ready, but not aggressively forward.

Ennas let the guard get as close as he dared. He reasoned that the guard’s eyes would not be adjusted to the dark and would not realise his mistake until it was too late. Ennas was
correct. The guard moved within range and Ennas’s hand shot out with the speed of a striking snake, grabbing the wrist of the guard’s sword arm.

‘You’re not—’

The guard did not get to finish his exclamation, for the straightened fingers of Ennas’s other hand struck him hard in the throat. With an almost casual shift of position, Ennas flipped
the guard head over heels to land half on the bunk. Without pause he cut the young man’s throat with his own sword before the guard had a chance to realise what was happening. Ennas instantly
wished he could have just knocked the man unconscious, but he knew how difficult that was to do with any certainty. Some men snuffed out like a light with a decent knock to the head, whilst others
just refused to go under no matter how many times you hit them. It was a terrible waste of life, but he could not afford to risk a fight.

Ennas looked sadly down into the young man’s panic-filled eyes and a deep feeling of guilt overtook him. He watched as the terror gradually gave way to resignation and then finally to
peace.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said softly, as life left the guard’s eyes. ‘So, so sorry.’ Had it really been necessary to kill him? Should he have at least tried to
knock the young guard out and leave him locked in the cell? With hindsight, Ennas could not help feeling that killing the young guard would stain his soul for ever.

Aside from the moral issues, cutting the guard’s throat had made an awful mess and left Ennas with a tough choice. The guard was slim. He could get into the guard’s uniform, he
decided, but it would be a tight squeeze. Also, it was covered in blood, which reduced its effectiveness as a disguise. If he used the uniform, then he could not walk out of the Palace without
inventing a good cover story. A visible wound of his own would explain the blood, but that would make leaving the Palace more difficult to explain. The other guards would want to direct him to the
Palace infirmary. He knew he had to solve the dilemma quickly. Ennas had not planned to escape. His intention had been to stay in the cell undetected for as long as possible. By escaping he would
set the Royal Guards looking for Femke again. Worse, she would now be accused of a third murder.

Murder. The word reverberated in his mind. I am a murderer. It was not a thought Ennas had ever dreamed would enter his thinking. It was distracting and he could not afford to lose focus. He had
to put it aside and concentrate. There would be time for remorse later.

What are my alternatives? he thought, bringing his attention back to the immediate problem. There should be time to think things through. The guards had changed over a few minutes before, so it
was likely to be hours before the next person came down to the dungeon. There was always a small chance of a visit from one of the guard captains. There had been a few such visits before and Ennas
did not want to take chances. If he were caught before he left the dungeon area, the Thrandorians would show him no mercy. The Royal Guards were no fools. If he were caught here, they would not
take long to work out what had happened. On the other hand, if he could get out of the dungeon and into the Palace before being caught, the picture would be more confused.

I could make a run for it dressed like this – not a good option. I could try to steal more clothes from somewhere within the Palace and then get out – possible. I could try to hide
somewhere in the Palace for a while and wait for more alternatives to become viable – dangerous. The sooner I get out on the streets, the sooner I can disappear into obscurity.

Ennas did not like it, but he stripped the guard of his uniform and squeezed into it. The hose didn’t fit too badly, but the tunic was far too small across the shoulders. It felt tight and
stretched. Fortunately the belts had plenty of adjustment in them, which allowed him to make them look reasonable. The boots were much too tight, but Ennas gritted his teeth and forced his feet
into them. Running would be difficult, but with luck he should not have to do more than walk out of the Palace.

As soon as he was fully dressed in the uniform, with the sword safely sheathed in the scabbard at his side, Ennas moved the young guard onto the narrow bed and covered him with the blanket so
that he appeared to be sleeping. Then he exited the cell and locked the door behind him. As an afterthought, he posted the keys through the little window into the cell. With any luck, whoever came
down here next would think it was the guard who was missing rather than the prisoner. Time would then be wasted looking for the wrong person. If he did suspect something was wrong, not having the
keys to check inside the cell would build in a further short delay.

It occurred to Ennas that he had no idea what time of day or night it was. It made no difference. He had to escape now, while he had the chance.

Creeping up to the door at the top of the stairs, Ennas peeped out into the corridor. All was silent. Judging by the lack of movement and the number of torches alight, it was late night, he
thought, pleased with his luck so far. Not all the torches were lit, making the corridor a dim, flickering place of constantly moving shadows. Exactly the sort of place for a spy to feel at home,
he thought wryly. Stealthy as a stalking cat, he padded out into the corridor and began to look for a way out of the Palace.

Ennas realised that wandering aimlessly was incredibly risky, but when he had been led to the Royal Dungeon disguised as a priest of Ishell, he had entered the Palace through the main gates and
had been brought via a tortuous route. He could not remember the way, nor would he try to backtrack it, as he had no intention of trying to leave the Palace through the main gate. There had to be a
less obvious way out: a servants’ entrance, or a suitable point to scale the outer wall. The first trick was to get out of the main building.

At the end of the corridor Ennas turned right, as there were fewer torches lit that way. All was deserted and Ennas had no problems moving stealthily along the passageway, despite the boots
crushing every portion of his feet. There were no obvious exits. When he reached the far end of the passageway, the T-junction offered him the choice of well-lit passages in both directions.

‘Damn!’ he muttered. ‘Oh well, I suppose it was asking a bit much to be able to walk unseen to the nearest exit and disappear. Here goes nothing.’

Ennas turned left this time in an effort to try to work away from the area of the Palace around the Royal Dungeon. The further he got from it, the less likely it was that people would associate
him with it if he were to be rumbled as an intruder. He knew the guards would be wary of anything strange in the aftermath of the Treasury raid. He just hoped he was not inadvertently walking
towards the Treasury.

This corridor quickly proved to be one of the major arteries of movement within the Palace. Before Ennas had taken twenty paces he could see several passageways ahead on either side. Adrenalin
pumped around his body as he saw two people in Royal house staff livery cross the corridor some distance ahead of him. His relief when they failed to look in his direction was overwhelming, but
short-lived.

‘Hey, you! What are you doing here at this time of night?’

Ennas jumped involuntarily and his heart started pounding loudly in his chest. He stopped walking the moment the challenge rang out from behind him and silently cursed that automatic reaction.
By stopping, Ennas had left no room for ignoring the call and continuing casually on his way. The choice was now to run, or turn and face the questioner. Neither choice offered an easy way out.

He elected to turn and face his questioner. There were two guards moving down the corridor towards him and both of them were armed. Ennas cursed silently. He would have considered disabling one,
but he did not want to fight two. The uniform he was wearing was too restrictive. He would have to bluff, he decided.

‘I’m on my way to the infirmary to get fixed up,’ Ennas said, deliberately mumbling his words as if he were having problems forming sounds properly.

‘The infirmary? That’s nowhere near here and you’re heading in the wrong direction. I don’t recognise you. Who are you?’

‘Jared. Private Jared of the Royal Guard. Who’re you?’ Ennas replied, deliberately focusing and unfocusing his eyes on the approaching soldiers, whilst swaying slightly on his
feet.

‘Hey, Pakka, that’s blood on his tunic. Tarmin’s teeth, there’s loads of it and he doesn’t look stable. Do you think he’s hurt badly?’

The guards stopped a good distance from Ennas and looked at him with open suspicion.

‘That’s not our problem. I don’t recognise him,’ Pakka replied, his voice flat and uncaring. ‘He’s walking where he shouldn’t be on his own. The
Captain’s orders are clear. We’re to restrain anyone who’s acting strangely. Let’s take him to the Captain and let him decide if the medics are needed.’

‘Why don’t we swing past delta post? It’s on the way. We can send one of them to fetch a medic while we take Jared to the Captain. It looks like he’s lost a lot of blood
already. It wouldn’t look good if he died without us having made an effort to help him.’

‘That makes sense. If we must then.’

Ennas’s tactic had failed. The guards stepped towards him. He needed to act fast if he was to avoid going back in a cell. Ennas did not want to hurt anyone else, but he could not see
another way. The element of surprise would give him a momentary advantage. It was a small edge, but it would have to be enough. Despite his restrictive clothing, he decided his best remaining
chance was to tackle the two guards head on. Stumbling along the corridor towards them, Ennas continued his injured soldier act. The tight boots made it easy to simulate.

The guards were wary as Ennas approached them, but not wary enough. They allowed him to get far too close before ordering him to stop. When Pakka finally did tell Ennas to stop, it was within a
couple of paces of striking distance.

Ennas stumbled the last few steps forward with his expression blank and his eyes completely out of focus, as if he were about to collapse at any second. Then, at the last instant, he sprang into
action. In one slick movement, Ennas drove a fearsome punch into one man’s solar plexus, and spun a high kick that caught the other man across the face. Both men went down. The first was
wheezing and unable to speak as he crumpled, and the second went spinning to the floor in spectacular fashion. The spy could have followed either strike up with a killing blow, but he did not
relish adding more lives to his conscience this evening. Instead, he turned and ran.

Now the race was on. The men behind him would raise pursuit within a couple of minutes. Ennas had to get out of the Palace quickly. He ran around a corner that took him out of the direct line of
sight of the two soldiers, and then started trying every door along the corridor to find an open one. Several were locked, but eventually Ennas found one that opened and he slipped inside, closing
the door softly behind him.

The room he entered was dark and for a moment Ennas could see nothing. As his eyes gradually began to adjust to the light, he picked out the lines of curtains on the far wall. There was not
enough light to see what sort of room he was in, but he could see the line of the curtains and for the moment that was enough. Behind the curtains would be windows, and a window was as good as a
door.

Outside the door Ennas could hear multiple pairs of booted feet running down the corridor. They were approaching fast, spurring Ennas into setting out across the inky darkness of the room
without allowing his eyes to adjust properly. The pale light from the cracks in the imperfectly drawn curtains was not enough for Ennas to see a clear path to the window. He had hardly moved before
he barked his shins on something hard. The collision did not make much noise and he bit his tongue against crying out from the pain of the impact.

Ennas heard the booted feet reach the door. He held his breath, preparing to leap towards the window. He resolved that the instant they burst into the room, he would throw his body through the
curtains. With luck he would smash through the glass cleanly. He did not want to think about hitting the frame. However, the stomping feet did not pause. They passed by and the sound of them faded
as quickly as it had built.

When he felt around, Ennas realised the object he had walked into was a low-level table. He had entered a drawing room. He needed to be careful not to bump into chairs or smaller tables
supporting ornamental pots. Palace drawing rooms were always filled with such things. The immediate danger of pursuit had passed, but Ennas was determined not to draw attention to his presence by
inadvertently knocking something over. Silence was his friend. If maintaining that friendship cost time, it was a small price to pay.

Feeling his way, he moved painstakingly over to the curtains. There were no further collisions. On drawing the curtains, he sighted his goal. The outer Palace wall was about fifty yards
away.

‘Jackpot!’ he breathed.

He sprung the latches on either side of the window and gently eased it open, praying hard that the hinges had been well oiled. The window opened noiselessly. Within a few seconds, he had climbed
up onto the windowsill, out through the window, and eased himself down to the ground. Once there, he turned and made sure the curtains were fully closed. It was not easy from outside, but he
managed to arrange them to his satisfaction. When he had finished, he pushed the window to as well. He could not secure the window because the latches were on the inside, but there did not appear
to be any wind to speak of, so he felt it unlikely that the window would move much. He had concealed his exit point as best he could.