Imperial Spy (38 page)

‘Good. That’s better. Now, I think we’re ready to begin,’ Malo stated with a positive edge to his voice. ‘Ambassador Femke, you have been brought before the Royal
Court of Thrandor to answer the accusations that you did murder first, Baron Anton, and second, Count Dreban. How do you plead?’

There was a pause. Reynik concentrated hard on the expression upon Shalidar’s face as he waited to hear her response.

‘Not guilty on both counts, your Majesty,’ Femke said loudly and clearly.

A look of anger and disappointment flashed across Shalidar’s face. Despite sitting some distance away, Reynik saw the emotions quite clearly. Once the initial wave of anger had passed,
though, the assassin raised his eyebrows slightly in a fashion that spoke of resignation and curiosity. Then the moment passed. Shalidar returned to concentrating on what was happening in the
centre of the Courtroom.

‘Very well. The Court shall take note Ambassador Femke denies the charges levelled against her. Lord Brenden, you may begin your opening statement for the prosecution.’

The King settled back in his throne and tried to clear his mind of all prejudice. Regardless of what he had agreed with Femke about today’s trial, he was determined to listen to the
presentation of evidence, for the young woman’s life would be lived or lost through his interpretation of the information he was about to hear. If ever he needed clear powers of reasoning, it
was now. There were a lot of unanswered questions that continued to nag him. When Femke had volunteered to be tried for the murders, she had insisted all his questions would be answered today. He
hoped she was right.

Lord Brenden got to his feet and approached the dais. He bowed first to Malo, then to Surabar, before unrolling a sheaf of parchments and turning to read it to the Court.

Brenden had been well chosen. He had a clear, penetrating voice filled with colour and passion. He made the words on the parchment, which detailed the events of several weeks before, when Baron
Anton and Count Dreban had both lost their lives, come alive with his wide variety of pitch and intonation. Lord Brenden was a born storyteller. He had that rare talent which allowed him to
transport the listeners’ minds to wherever and whenever he wished to take them with his oration. So skilled was he in the art that even Reynik found he was picturing Femke creeping through
the corridors of the Royal Palace to kill the Baron.

Everyone was swept into the vision of her struggling with Anton and plunging her knife deep into his heart, whilst the Baron, with his dying breath, tore her brooch unnoticed from her dress.
Then came an account of her spectacular escape from the Palace, displaying skills no true Ambassador would possess as she traversed narrow ledges, made a death-defying leap into a tree and scaled
the sheer Palace wall. Lord Brenden paused for a moment and swept his gaze around the Courtroom, as if to confirm his hypnotic story had gained a full hold.

‘Then,’ he said, pausing again to heighten the drama, ‘then, the Ambassador used her assassin’s skills to elude a huge force of Royal Guards sent to comb the city for
her. Initially, it was thought she was simply hiding. She was not. Instead, she used her murderous talents to cause more mayhem. Ambassador Femke killed Count Dreban at his home that very
afternoon, showing such contempt for our investigative skills that she committed the crime with an identical knife to the one with which she killed Baron Anton. The knife was not recovered from the
scene, but medical witnesses will swear the mortal wounds dealt to both Anton and Dreban were made with weapons of
precisely
the same shape and size.’

Reynik almost had to pinch his arm at the end of Lord Brenden’s opening speech to ensure he was not having a bad dream.

Then it was the turn of Commander Sateris to give the opening statement for the defence. The contrast between the two advocates was stark. Where Brenden was melodious and hypnotic, Sateris was
clear, crisp and to the point. He was the epitome of military precision with his short, sharp statements and his concise, calculated response to the prosecution’s dramatic accusations. He
spoke with authority, but without passion. He pointed out that the vast majority of what the Court had heard from the prosecutor was conjecture and reconstruction based on a thin line of material
evidence, which would not hold up to intense scrutiny. He promised to raise questions in the minds of those who believed in the fairytale approach of the prosecution and to prove there was, in
fact, little doubt Ambassador Femke was an innocent victim of someone determined to frame her.

Once the opening speeches were complete, the serious business of presenting evidence and calling witnesses began. Lord Brenden began for the prosecution by questioning Femke in broad terms about
the circumstances surrounding each of the murders.

‘Lady Femke, can you tell the Court where you were on the night that Baron Anton was murdered?’

‘Yes,’ Femke replied softly. ‘I was here in the Palace. Asleep in my bed.’

‘Here in the Palace, asleep in your bed,’ Brenden repeated at a much louder volume, ensuring those at the back of the hall could hear. ‘And where were you when Count Dreban was
murdered?’

‘I was locked in his cellar.’

‘Locked in Baron Dreban’s cellar?’

‘Yes.’

‘Very well, what about two days ago, at the time of Lord Danar’s death? Where were you then?’ Lord Brenden asked, his voice giving the impression he already knew the
answer.

‘I was here in the Palace, disguised as a servant,’ Femke admitted, bringing a gasp from some around the Courtroom. Not many knew Femke had broken free from the Royal Dungeon, much
less that she had been found again here in the Palace.

‘So you were here in the Palace on the night of Baron Anton’s death with no alibi. You maintain you were locked in Count Dreban’s cellar at the time of his death, presumably
alone, and therefore again with no alibi. Also, you happened to be in the Palace at the time of Lord Danar’s death. Would I be too far from the mark if I were to assume that once again you
have no alibi?’

Femke did not answer aloud. Instead she simply shook her head slightly.

‘That is an unfortunate coincidence, Lady Femke. You happen to be in the vicinity of three murders with no alibi for any of them. Don’t you think this a little unlikely?’

Femke shrugged and did her best to look disinterested.

‘It appears not. Well, Lady Femke, I wonder if you can identify this knife for me?’

Lord Brenden reached down into a cloth bag at his feet and pulled out one of her set of knives: blades which she knew had been used for two of the murders.

‘Yes, my Lord, it is mine.’

‘Let the Court record Lady Femke identified the weapon used to murder Baron Anton as her own,’ Brenden stated loudly, his voice almost purring at having gained the admission. It was
a damning fact. ‘Does it surprise you, Lady Femke, that a blade of identical dimensions to this one was used to kill Count Dreban?’

‘Not at all, Lord Brenden. I saw the blade. It was also one of mine.’

‘You saw the blade? It was yours?’ This time, Brenden’s voice was verging on incredulous as the admission came out. He had clearly not expected her to confess to this. A
pleased smile flashed across his face for a moment as he realised she had strengthened his case further.

‘Yes, my Lord,’ Femke confirmed. ‘The weapon was not found because I saw it, and removed it. I realised how damning it would be for someone to find a second one of my knives
buried in a dead Nobleman. It made good sense for me to take it.’

Lord Brenden took a breath and paused for a moment to allow what Femke had said to sink in.

‘If you removed it to hide the evidence, then why admit to it now? Nobody could have categorically proved Dreban’s wound had come specifically from one of your knives.’

Femke looked Lord Brenden straight in the eye as she answered that question.

‘I admit it because the fact will make little difference to the outcome of this trial, my Lord. I’ve been framed with these murders. I am aware of the weight of evidence against me.
It is huge. Indeed, the evidence is so great that I must be the most incompetent killer in history to have left such a mass of clues behind me. It is clear to me that if I cannot prove someone set
me up, then I am as good as dead. You see, Lord Brenden, I am not a bumbling idiot of a criminal. I did not come to Thrandor to kill, and I have not done so. However, someone wishes you and the
rest of those present today to believe this is the case, so go ahead and present the rest of the evidence. I’m sure it will be damning in the extreme.’

Commander Sateris smiled wryly at Femke’s answer. She knew the line his defence would take and had set up the criteria for his reply to the prosecution with perfect timing. There were few
in the Court now who would see her as anything but a sharp-witted young woman, given the eloquence of her answer.

Lord Brenden continued his presentation of evidence, offering up the brooch found in Baron Anton’s hand. Again, Femke clearly identified it as hers. He then brought witnesses who had been
involved in chasing her when she had fled the Palace. His final witness was one that Femke did not expect.

‘Prosecution calls Kalheen, servant of Ambassador Femke,’ Brenden announced.

Judging by his expression, Kalheen had not expected the call either. He rose and was escorted forward to take position in front of the throne.

‘Kalheen, did you see the Ambassador on the morning after the death of Baron Anton?’

‘Yes, my Lord.’

‘And was the Ambassador different in any way when you saw her?’

‘Well, no my Lord, but . . .’

‘But? But what, Kalheen?’ Brenden asked pointedly.

Kalheen looked first at Femke and then up at Emperor Surabar. ‘I’m sorry, your Majesty,’ he said nervously. ‘I can’t lie here.’

‘Lie about what, Kalheen? Has someone asked you to lie?’ Brenden asked, pouncing on the word like a cat on its unsuspecting prey.

There was a hushed expectancy as everyone leaned forward to hear Kalheen’s answer.

‘No, my Lord, no one has asked me to lie about anything. It’s just . . . well . . . Ambassador Femke is not a normal Ambassador, my Lord. I don’t know for certain, but the more
I’ve thought about it since the murders, the more I’ve found myself wondering exactly what she does do. I’ve worked in the Imperial Palace a long time and I’ve noticed her
there before, my Lord, but she is not always dressed as an Ambassador.’

A wave of gasps swept the Courtroom. Reynik looked up at Shalidar. The assassin was making no effort to conceal his smile.

‘What then, in your opinion, is Femke’s other profession, Kalheen? A spy – or an assassin?’

‘Objection, your Majesty,’ Sateris interrupted. ‘Prosecution is leading the witness.’

‘Overruled. I want to hear the answer, Commander,’ King Malo replied firmly.

Kalheen looked at the Emperor apologetically as he answered. ‘Either is possible, my Lord,’ he said.

Lord Brenden dismissed Kalheen, all but preening as he continued. The servant’s information had opened the floodgates. With the line open, Brenden piled suspicion on accusation over the
question of Femke’s character and raised questions about the nature of her true purpose here in Mantor. He posed the rhetorical question ‘Why would an innocent person run?’ which
he then answered by stating his belief that they would not.

There was more and it went on for some time. Reynik was amazed Emperor Surabar was looking so calm. He did not know Femke’s plan and the prosecution had in all but clear statement accused
him of sending Femke to cause this diplomatic mess. Maybe he was going to allow her to take the fall and deny all knowledge of her mission here. If so, then taking the Mantle had changed the
General. The Surabar that Reynik had heard about from his father and uncle would never have sacrificed one of his troops in such a way.

Commander Sateris, when he finally got a chance to speak, did so clearly and succinctly. His first move was to call Phagen as a witness.

‘Phagen, if you had to describe Kalheen as a person, would you say he was an honest person?’ Sateris asked.

‘Yes,’ Phagen replied quietly.

‘Louder, please, so that everyone can hear you.’

‘Yes. Kalheen is honest.’

Reynik gritted his teeth at both the question and the answer. Where is Sateris going with this? he wondered.

‘So, you would not say Kalheen is prone to making things up?’

‘No.’

‘That’s interesting,’ Sateris observed. ‘My information about Kalheen leads me to believe that he likes storytelling nearly as much as Lord Brenden here.’

Sniggers sounded around the galleries. Brenden looked irritated, but said nothing.

‘Kalheen likes to tell stories, but he doesn’t lie,’ Phagen said, reddening with embarrassment.

‘So he never exaggerates? He never stretches the truth to improve his stories?’ Sateris fired the questions like cross-bow bolts.

‘Well, yes, he embellishes his stories, but . . .’

‘I think I get the idea. Thank you, Phagen. You’re dismissed.’

Reynik felt like applauding. By the expression on Emperor Surabar’s face, Reynik guessed he did too.

He had destroyed Kalheen’s credibility as a witness in just a few sentences. Having done so, Sateris did not play on emotion. He used simple logic. He presented Femke as an intelligent and
highly capable young woman who had risen quickly to the position of Ambassador through ability, personality and trustworthiness. He questioned the lack of motive for the killings and pointed out
that many people were present in the Palace during the times of the murder of both Baron Anton and Lord Danar. Lady Femke’s presence did not mean she had wielded the knife to kill Anton, nor
the poison that killed Danar. He stated that because Femke had been placed at the scenes of all the murders actually lent more weight to the conspiracy theory. Finally, he told of the budding
relationship between Femke and Danar and questioned her closely about it.

Femke answered as honestly as she could. Tears flowed freely from her eyes as she spoke of him, though she did not volunteer information about his involvement in breaking her out of prison, nor
of the raiding of the Treasury. There were some around the Courtroom who muttered about staged theatrics, but a few were touched by the apparent honesty of her answers and her outward distress at
the death of her fellow Ambassador.