Imperial Traitor (26 page)

‘I moved the wall so that it was between the assassin and us. It was a simple illusion, but effective. He was expecting a small cell. He saw what he expected to see.’

‘You know I’m surprised that the Emperor does not employ magicians within his spy network. With such skills the work of a spy would be easy. Do you not find such power
seductive?’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, you could have anything you wanted,’ Reynik replied. ‘If you wanted to steal something, you could simply use your powers to open the locks, walk in and take
it.’

Calvyn looked thoughtful for a moment.

‘Yes, I suppose I could, if I wanted to. There’s a sort of unwritten code of conduct amongst the magicians that I’ve associated with. For the most part they seem to have very
high moral standards. Stealing, or using our powers for vast material gain, would be to corrupt the gift we’ve been given. There are those who would use their powers in this way, but
mercifully they’re very few.’

‘I suppose Lord Vallaine was a good example of one,’ Reynik suggested. ‘He used his powers to take the Emperor’s place.’

‘He did?’ Calvyn asked, though there was little surprise in his tone. ‘I hadn’t heard that. Of course, Vallaine wasn’t a magician. He was a sorceror – there
is a big difference, though it would be difficult for someone untrained in the arcane arts to distinguish. My experience of sorcerors has not been good. Lord Vallaine was possibly the most twisted
and corrupt person I’ve ever known.’

‘It’s said he wore the Mantle for several months before Femke discovered his secret and exposed him,’ Reynik explained.

‘Vallaine always was hungry for power,’ Calvyn noted. ‘What happened to him?’

‘Femke poisoned him. She felt it was the only safe way to remove him from the throne.’

Calvyn’s face betrayed his surprise as he considered Femke’s methods. ‘Hmm! I’ll bear that in mind if I ever think to cross her. I knew she had a sharp mind, but
she’s clearly more dangerous than I thought.’

A short while later they woke Femke. Utilising Calvyn’s powers of illusion once more, they took on the guise of Legionnaires, said goodbye to Lutalo, and set out across the city. Reynik
found it hard to contain his emotions as they left.

‘Please be careful, father. I don’t want to lose you again,’ he said, more tears threatening as he drew Lutalo into another close embrace.

‘You too, son. Keep in touch. If I can be of help, you know you only have to ask.’

Once out from under the watching eyes of the Guild, moving through Shandrim became easy. Femke took the lead, weaving them through the backstreets to one of her less-used safe houses. She had
not visited it in over a year, but her agents had seen to its upkeep. There was only one narrow bed, which the two men instantly declined. Femke accepted gracefully. After her recent treatment by
the Guild, she was happy to capitalise on their gentlemanly gesture.

The following day Femke was eager to put the location of the Guild beyond all doubt. After a good sleep, she felt fully recovered from her injury. On speaking with Calvyn she was delighted to
find he was also able to speed up the healing of the ribs that had troubled her ever since Shalidar had broken them in Mantor some months before. By the time they arrived at the meeting place,
Femke felt better than she had in a very long time.

‘How much do you two know of accounts?’ she asked as they ate a hasty breakfast.

‘Don’t look at me,’ Calvyn replied. ‘I know nothing. I grew up on a small farm-holding where most transactions were bartered. After that I was in Baron Keevan’s
army. I had no reason to learn.’

‘My father had me learn the basics,’ Reynik admitted. ‘He said it may come in useful some day. I hated every second of it.’

‘Well, Shand bless Lutalo! I’ll be sure to kiss him next time I see him. Before we meet with Kempten I’d like to pay a visit to the Palace to check out a few things. Calvyn,
would you mind giving us an illusory makeover? I don’t want either of us recognised.’

‘Not at all, Femke. What sort of disguise did you have in mind?’

‘Could you give us both the appearance of officious auditors? I’d like to give the Head Steward at the Imperial Palace a hard time today and I think an inspection of the Imperial
Household accounts, together with a stock check of the cellars in the Palace should give us enough evidence to confirm our suspicions about the location of the Guild headquarters.’

‘Are you sure this is necessary, Femke?’ Reynik asked. ‘Surely the reaction of my visit to the library has all but confirmed it already.’

‘You’re right, Reynik, but if my suspicions are correct, there will be a physical entrance to the Guild through the Palace cellars somewhere. I’d like to find it before we
begin to devise any further plans. Also, through the Steward’s accounts we can see if the Guild is vulnerable in other ways. Maybe we could starve them out. There are a lot of people in that
underground lair. They must have a regular supply route. It’s most likely running through the Palace. If we could disrupt it sufficiently, the Guild might have no choice but to take direct
action. Whatever they do to re-establish a supply route will make them more visible, and therefore more vulnerable.’

Calvyn shook his head in amazement. ‘No wonder the Emperor sent you to Thrandor, Femke. You’re one devious young lady.’

‘Why, thank you, Calvyn. That’s possibly the nicest thing anyone’s said to me for a very long time.’

‘Haunted? Come now, surely you don’t believe in such children’s tales.’ Femke’s illusory face was disapproving and she kept her tone harsh.

‘It’s true ma’am. Shand’s truth it is. I’ll wait at the door if you don’t mind. There’s been too many tales of that cellar for my likin’. Where
there’s rats, there’s sickness, if you take my meanin’.’

‘What sort of tales are we talking about here? Moaning in the night? Moving shadows?’

‘Oh no, ma’am! Much worse than that. It’s said that spirits often rearrange the boxes deliberately to trip you up. Also, people ’ave been taken from that chamber,
ma’am. You know – taken to the other side.’

‘The other side?’ Femke asked, curious now about the servant girl’s beliefs.

‘The spirit world, ma’am. There’s been several wot’s worked ’ere over the centuries wot’ve disappeared from this cellar never to be seen in the flesh again.
Sometimes, afterwards, their ghosts have been seen ’ere amongst the boxes – searchin’.’

‘Searching? Searching for what?’

‘No one knows, ma’am. Some say they left their souls ’ere and they come back lookin’ for ’em. I’m not so sure about that, ma’am. All I know is
there’ve been far too many sightin’s over the years for my likin’.’

Femke smiled at the serving girl, her prim illusory face patronising as she patted the girl’s shoulder.

‘It’s probably one of those practical jokes that’s been perpetuated for so long that it’s become a part of Palace legend. Don’t worry. You don’t have to come
in if you don’t want to. I just need to run a quick inventory check, same as I did in all the other cellars. Wait here. I’ll not be long.’

The door creaked in protest as she opened it, the juddering noise changing to a high-pitched squeal of metal on metal as it reached fully open. The eerie sound echoed slightly in the dark cellar
and the hairs on the back of Femke’s neck prickled. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she chided herself silently. ‘It’s just a cellar like all the others. The door hinges are
probably left untended deliberately in order to add to the atmosphere of the place . . . or to act as a warning for those inside to make themselves scarce in a hurry.’ It was not so much the
spooky screech that set her nerves jangling, but the thought that a Guild member might be waiting for her inside. What if they had somehow learned of her new disguise?

‘Could do with a bit of oil on the hinges,’ she said with a sneer, doing her best to dispel her fleeting paranoia.

‘Don’t make no difference, ma’am. The hinges are oiled ev’ry week, but they squeak just the same.’

Femke was certain she had found what she was looking for. She remembered this cellar from her previous experience in the Palace. The stonework was identical to that in the Guild headquarters. It
was hard to tell for sure, but it also appeared to be one of the deepest Palace cellars. Moving boxes, ghost legends, and a healthy fear of the place by the Palace staff were all good clues. If
there were a way into the Guild from the Palace, then it was likely to be found here.

She entered, holding her torch aloft. The flickering light played, gleefully revealing large, lurking bales and twisted stacks of boxes, whilst simultaneously making shadows duck and lunge. It
was a big room, half again as big as the other cellars she had visited. Given its size, however, there appeared to be little held in storage here.

‘There’s not much in here, is there?’ she said, peering over a low wall of boxes.

‘We never normally keep much ’ere, ma’am. This bein’ the biggest of the cellars, Steward has us bring the deliveries down ’ere and use the space to sort through the
goods, before takin’ ’em out into the other cellars for storage. The only stuff as gets stored ’ere is overflow from the other cellars really.’

Moving deeper into the cellar, Femke paused to light two of the wall-mounted torches. The extra light helped dispel the last vestiges of her unease. The hairs on her neck settled back down and
she set about marking up an inventory on her slate. For the most part, she just noted the markings on the boxes, taking them at face value. As she had in previous cellars, however, she chose three
crates at random and opened them to see that the contents matched the notations on the outside. They did.

All the while that she was moving around the cellar scratching notes on her slate, Femke discreetly scanned the walls and floor for any sign of a concealed door. If, as she strongly suspected,
there was one, then it was very well hidden. The cellars were all clean and well organised. It had ever been so. The Head Steward always kept a close eye on matters of storage and the organisation
of his resources.

With one last look around she walked across to the wall-mounted torches and used the metal snuffer to extinguish them. As she put out the second torch she whirled, holding the torch in her right
hand high above her head to maximise the spread of light. Something had moved. She was sure of it.

‘What is it, ma’am? Is everything all right?’

Femke peered around the chamber suspiciously. The unease that she had felt when entering the cellar returned in a rush. Her pulse raced. She doubted the Guild would hold her prisoner again if
they recognised her. Ferdand would have little choice but to order her execution. However, whilst she was content to let the servant girl think the reputation of the cellar had got to her, she did
not want to let her nervous reaction run out of control.

Ten quick steps and she reached the doorway. ‘Everything’s fine,’ she said, injecting confidence into her tone that for the briefest instant she did not feel. Femke swung the
door closed behind her. The squealing groan of protest from the hinges was followed by a solid thud as it met the frame, shutting whatever had moved inside. She turned the key in the lock and
handed the bunch back to the serving girl. ‘All done here. Let’s go back upstairs, shall we? I need to talk to Master Jarran and compare notes.’

‘Very well, ma’am.’ The look that the serving girl gave her as she took the keys spoke volumes. It was obvious what she thought of Femke’s bluster. The cellar had got to
her as it had to countless others. Whether she liked it or not, she had added to the legend.

They climbed the stairs back to the surface levels of the Palace and the serving girl led Femke through to the Head Steward’s office, where she found Reynik. He was perched at the
Steward’s desk with piles of parchments and slates stacked in obscenely tidy fashion on either side of the work surface. He looked up as she entered and gave her a thin-lipped smile before
returning to his scrutiny of the document in front of him.

‘So how did it go, Mistress Adele?’ Reynik asked. ‘Are the cellars in good order?’

‘They seem to be, Master Jarran,’ Femke responded, walking primly around to peer over his shoulder. ‘I shall need some time to total up my slates and compare them with the
inventory, but at first glance the organisation appears to be of a satisfactory standard. The main distribution cellar was a most intriguing place. The staff believe it to be haunted.’

‘Haunted, you say?’ Reynik repeated, not looking up from the parchment. He kept his tone deliberately bland and disinterested, but Femke knew she had his full attention. ‘Hmm,
well I’ve not come across a place as big and old as this yet that didn’t have a ghost or two hiding in the closets.’

‘How about the books? Do the numbers add up?’

‘I found a few minor errors, but from what I’ve seen so far it appears there is little for the new Emperor to be concerned about. I think I’ve done about enough here for one
day. How about you?’

‘Yes,’ Femke agreed. ‘A bite to eat would be welcome. I’m going to take my slates with me so that I can get the numbers straight by tomorrow. The comparison with the
inventory shouldn’t take long after that. How long will you need to finish auditing the figures?’

‘Well, I suppose if I take a bit of work with me this evening, I could finish tomorrow as well,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I had hoped to relax tonight, but it makes little sense
to stay longer than necessary.’

Femke nodded, strolling around the room casually and looking at some of the familiar items of décor while Reynik gathered those papers he wanted to study more closely. She was careful not
to look too intently at anything on the wall opposite the desk, as she knew there would be at least one spy hidden in a secret compartment there. Talking for the benefit of the spy gave them the
opportunity to spread disinformation. It was unclear whom the spy was working for, but it was standard procedure within the Palace for strangers to be watched. No doubt any information gathered by
the Imperial spy network would be reported to the new Emperor when he took up residence.