Imperial Traitor (17 page)

‘Well, well! That’s a bundle of news if ever I heard one,’ Jabal muttered, as Kempten finished his tale. ‘It’s been many years since I read about the silver icons
of the Guild of Assassins. I never thought to see one, never mind get involved in a plan to destroy them. And you wear one of these icons, Reynik? May I see it, please?’

‘Of course, sir. Here . . .’

Reynik drew out the wolf spider from under his tunic, the silver glittering ominously on his chest as the master magician got out of his chair and approached him for a closer look. Jabal lifted
it off Reynik’s chest by one of the spider’s legs and held it up, twisting and turning it in order to see it from all angles.

‘Wonderful workmanship! Calvyn, take a look at this for a moment. You might recognise the handiwork.’

‘I doubt it, master. I don’t know very much about silverwork. Unless . . .’

Jabal looked at him and smiled. ‘Yes. This was made by the same person who made the amulet that gave us all that trouble last year.’

Calvyn’s eyes opened wide as he took a closer look at the silver spider pendant.

‘Darkweaver!’ he exclaimed softly. ‘So is this made of blood silver as well?’

‘No,’ his master responded, shaking his head. ‘He didn’t discover the secret of blood silver until a little later in his career. If it had been made of blood silver, I
would not have been handling it.’

‘Blood silver, Jabal? You’re talking in riddles. Why do you magicians always feel the need to be so mysterious?’ asked Kempten, his tone curious.

Jabal gave a wry smile as he responded, but did not qualify the question with a direct response. ‘Calvyn and I crossed paths with someone who carried a very special piece of this
magician’s work last year. Derrigan Darkweaver made these icons for the Guild in the early days after he gained his robes. He was looking to make a name for himself, so he took on several
commissions of this sort. Silver was a substance he knew well. If the history books are correct, his father was a silversmith. He would no doubt have learned many secrets of the smithy trade at his
father’s knee.’

‘So that’s why he worked with silver!’ Calvyn exclaimed. ‘I thought it was just because silver was a substance that was receptive to magic.’

‘I think the fact that silver and magic were a compatible mix was a happy coincidence for Derrigan. Most of his more impressive magic was wrought by combining his skills in both
fields,’ Jabal explained.

Lady Kempten coughed pointedly. ‘This is an interesting history lesson, gentlemen, but does knowing who made the icons help us in our bid to destroy them?’

‘A most pertinent question, my Lady,’ Jabal responded, giving a slight bow in her direction. ‘As a magician it does at least give me some idea of what to expect. Darkweaver
produced a surprisingly large number of powerful works of magic during his relatively short time as a magician. There is a reference in the Academy library about this particular group of icons.
With your permission, Reynik, I’d like to try something that will tell me more.’

Reynik was intrigued. ‘Go ahead,’ he offered, secretly hoping he was about to see something magical happen.

Jabal reached inside his jacket and drew out a curiously-shaped piece of reddish-orange stone. It was rather like an oversized needle in shape, though shorter and much fatter. The elongated
smooth shaft was about the thickness of a man’s little finger. The pointed end was blunt and rounded whilst the other end sported a squat eye-shape. The magician held the eye over the spider
icon and began to mutter something in a strange language. All eyes in the room focused on the two objects.

Whatever Reynik expected to happen, he had not thought it would involve pain. All of a sudden he felt an excruciating cramp in his chest and the room began to twist and distort before his eyes.
He wanted to cry out, but he could not breathe. His body seemed to convulse, bend and stretch in ways that defied logic. Jabal was the only constant. His image did not distort one iota. He was
solid, calm and unmoving in the midst of a maelstrom of surreal chaos. Then, as suddenly as the sensations began, normality was resumed. Reynik slumped back into his chair, his head spinning and
his body totally drained of energy.

‘What the hell did you do?’ he gasped, clutching at his chest and attempting to rub away the phantom residue of the pain he had experienced.

‘Hmm, that might be a little difficult to explain, Reynik. Sorry for any discomfort. The spider has more power than I anticipated. Calvyn, did you see the lines of force?’ the
magician asked as he placed the strange stone device back inside his cloak.

‘Yes, Master. To break such a bond would surely cost Reynik his life.’

‘I agree. The only way to deal safely with the magic in this icon is to destroy the master power source. Logic dictates that the bonding stone provides the main power for the network of
force that links all the icons to their bearers. Break the bonds between the icons and the mother stone and all the subsidiary links between the icons and the assassins will fail as well.
That’s the theory anyway.’

‘And if you’re wrong?’ Lord Kempten asked.

Jabal frowned. ‘Well,’ he said carefully, ‘I do not normally err when it comes to such things. However, if the bonds were more complex than I believe them to be, then your
objective would still be achieved. The Guild of Assassins would be destroyed. Unfortunately, the likely outcome in that case would be that anyone wearing an icon would die with the destruction of
the stone.’

A cold silence enveloped the room as the magician’s words sunk in. Reynik felt sick. It was hard to know how much of his nausea was a result of the magic Jabal had just performed and how
much due to his ominous words. Nothing had gone right since Reynik had infiltrated the Guild. It was little short of miraculous that he was still alive, given all his encounters with the Guild
assassins. The thought that, even if he were to take no further part in the conflict, by destroying the Guild his life may still be forfeit did not seem fair. Where was the justice in it?

He drew in a deep breath through his nose and exhaled slowly through pursed lips. He knew it was not his decision, but he was determined to have a say.

‘We should do it,’ he stated. Every eye in the room settled on him, but he ignored them all. He stared into space, reflecting on all the grievances he now held with the Guild.
‘We should go ahead and do it,’ he repeated firmly. ‘We have come this far. We cannot back down now.’

‘But the risk—’ Lord Kempten began.

‘Is no more than I have faced already. However, we need to be prepared for the more likely outcome. If the destruction of the stone merely breaks the link between the assassins and their
icons, we will not destroy the Guild – merely break up its primary form of transport around the city and cause them to relocate their headquarters. We’ll need to be prepared to round
them all up and bring them to justice. It won’t be easy.’

‘There’s another element to your situation, Reynik, of which you might not yet be aware,’ Jabal said thoughtfully.

‘More trouble, Jabal? Can it get much worse? What have we missed now?’ Kempten asked, his voice heavy with dread.

To Kempten’s surprise his friend did not reply to him, but instead looked Reynik squarely in the eyes. ‘From what I read of the icons, I understand that Derrigan added a little
safety device to ensure the assassins remained loyal to the Guild. How long have you had your icon, Reynik?’

‘A week . . . ten days . . . I’ve not been counting.’

‘Then I suggest you begin. If you do not return to the bonding stone within a certain time period, the icon will return on its own.’

‘But that would mean . . .’ Reynik did not finish his sentence.

‘Yes, you’ll die anyway,’ Jabal confirmed.

‘Very clever,’ Lord Kempten said, nodding. ‘I can see why the Guild had Derrigan instil the icons with that property. Do you know how long Reynik has, Jabal?’

‘No. The text was not that specific. It could be anything from a matter of weeks to a period measured in years.’

Reynik was astonished by this development. ‘Why didn’t they tell me?’ he asked. ‘Do you think they knew who I was all along?’

‘I doubt it,’ Jabal replied. ‘It’s more likely that they don’t tell new members about this until a probationary period has been completed.’

‘So, the sand is trickling through the hourglass,’ Lord Kempten observed thoughtfully. ‘Does anyone have any suggestions?’

‘Yes,’ Reynik replied immediately. ‘First, let me rescue Femke. I feel sure she’s still alive. With Femke’s resourcefulness, we would stand a much better chance of
completing the rest of our objectives.’

‘We’ve been through this, Reynik,’ Kempten replied, a note of anger in his tone. ‘It’s too dangerous. Femke is lost to us. We must manage without her.’

‘Femke?’ asked Calvyn. ‘That wouldn’t be the same Femke who visited the King’s Court in Mantor a few months ago, would it?’

Reynik looked at him with surprise. ‘Yes. How did you know that?’

‘I was there when she was introduced to the King. She did seem a sharp young woman. An ambassador, I believe.’

Lord Kempten gave an embarrassed cough and Lady Kempten smiled knowingly. Jabal raised an eyebrow at their response.

‘I take it she’s a little more than just an ambassador,’ the magician observed with a straight face. ‘As she’s clearly not one of the Guild, then I assume she must
be part of the Imperial spy network.’

‘One of their best,’ Kempten confirmed.

‘I sensed something of her nature in the King’s Court. She has a quick mind,’ Calvyn said thoughtfully. ‘As her mind harboured no hint of a threat to the King’s
immediate safety, I didn’t interfere with her visit. The Guild is holding her prisoner, you say? Do you have a plan to get her out?’

‘I have a rough plan,’ Reynik replied. ‘But it would be very risky.’

Calvyn turned to Jabal.

‘Master, I should be able to reduce the risks involved. If I were to accompany Reynik into the Guild headquarters, I could shield us both long enough to see us safely in and out. If Femke
is still alive, there are unlikely to be any in the Guild with the power to stop me from taking her.’

Jabal scratched at his right eyebrow as he considered Calvyn’s proposal. He did not look happy about the idea, but he did not appear to be dismissing it out of hand.

‘I’ll think on it,’ he said eventually. ‘In the meantime, there are other details that will require attention. One in particular bothers me. I find it incomprehensible
that the Guild would build their headquarters under the Imperial Palace without having some sort of conventional way in and out. If there were no conventional exit and I were to destroy the magical
transportation system they use, they would be trapped in the Guild complex. This would be madness on the part of the Guild. I refuse to accept that any sane man would design such a place. There has
to be another entrance, and we need to find it.’

‘I was reading books on the construction of the Palace when the two assassins attacked me in the city library,’ Reynik offered. ‘There are two books there with tags that have
clearly been put in place by the Guild. I suspect there may be information there that might lead us to a secret entrance. If so, it would likely be in the cellars of the Palace. It’s a shame
I can’t ask the librarian. Unfortunately she had to leave Shandrim for her own safety. I’d be a fool to go back to the library now. The Guild will know that I haven’t yet got what
I was looking for. They’ll more than likely have watchers looking for me to return. However, that doesn’t preclude someone else from going.’

‘I can do that,’ Jabal volunteered. ‘I can protect myself against any attack the Guild might try. I like libraries. They’re places of calm and order.’

‘If you’d seen Shandrim Library yesterday, you might have reservations about that statement,’ Reynik laughed. ‘It was anything but calm and orderly. As long as
you’re discreet about your research, I doubt you’ll have problems. I can describe the books and the library tags you’ll be looking for.’

Lord Kempten nodded and his lips tightened into a thin line. ‘It sounds as if we have a plan,’ he observed.

How Ferdand could ever believe Femke would join the Guild of Assassins in order to preserve her life was beyond her. He had listed it as an option, but he was making a big
assumption: that she would consider joining those whom she had cast as her enemy. It had taken every ounce of self-control she possessed not to spit in his face at the mention of such an idea. She
had been most grateful when he had been called away to a meeting shortly after telling her his perceived alternatives. His departure had given her a chance to re-establish a firmer control of her
emotions.

She had searched the room thoroughly for anything that could be of use in an attempt to escape, but whoever had placed her here had done a good job of removing all potential weapons. There was
little of use. The chair she had been tied to was sturdy enough. She could use it as a weapon if pushed, but it would not be manoeuvrable enough to be effective. It would be better used as a shield
than a weapon in its current state. She could break it up and make something sharp from the pieces, but to do so would make noise. She could ill afford to draw attention to herself as potential
trouble.

All major pieces of furniture had been removed. The only decoration she noted was a wooden plaque above the door with an elaborate sea snake carved into the face of it. There was a cloth
mattress, poorly stuffed, on the floor. There was a flagon of water in one corner of the room, but aside from that, there was nothing that could be easily broken or robbed for potential materials.
One thing she had noticed when Ferdand had left was that there was no bolt on the outside of the door. The only bolt was on the inside. It was clear that the Guild did not make a habit of holding
prisoners.

This room was likely the bedroom of one of the assassins’ suites. If the design of the suites were similar, then the door opened into the living area, which was consistent with the brief
glimpse she had gained of the room beyond the door. Her cloak was on the mattress. The clasp had been removed, but the material had been left, presumably as a blanket. She picked it up and wrapped
it around her left arm several times.