Imperial Traitor (5 page)

Once the servants had left, Femke began to talk. Reynik listened and tucked into the food. There was a plate of sliced bread, butter, cheese, sliced meat, and a pot of steaming hot dahl from
which he poured himself a generous mug. The hot stimulant drink helped prolong his ability to focus. With Femke cast in the role of narrator, Reynik poured her a cup of dahl and sliced her some
bread and cheese. She nodded her thanks and continued her report, taking occasional sips of the dahl and nibbles at the food during natural breaks in the flow.

Lady Kempten was quick to point out to Reynik that this food was just a snack to keep the hunger pangs at bay. They would dine more formally an hour after sunset.

The story took a considerable time to tell. When she reached its conclusion, both Lord and Lady Kempten had wide eyes. In contrast, Reynik was fighting hard to keep his eyes open. The
comfortable seat, the warmth from the fireplace and the food in his stomach were making it increasingly difficult to stay awake. The stimulant proper-ties of the hot dahl had helped initially, but
he was fighting a losing battle.

‘Shand, no! Surabar dead! This is disastrous!’ Kempten said, his shock and instant grief draining the colour from his face. ‘He will be sadly missed, Femke. The man was a
genius at organisation. Given time he could have been the best Emperor Shandar has ever seen.’

Lady Kempten’s face was also pale and grave as she took in the news. ‘How sure are you of your deductions, Femke? Are you certain it’s the old spymaster, Lord Ferdand, who is
leading the Guild? He’s been missing and assumed dead for some years, hasn’t he? I always took him for a loyal subject of the Emperor. Did you see him clearly?’ she asked.

‘Positive, my Lady – one hundred percent. I’d know my old mentor anywhere. It was strange to see him after so long. I feel I should be happy that he’s alive. Instead all
I feel is anger. He has betrayed the principles he claimed were precious to him. I admit the location of the Guild’s headquarters is supposition, but it’s based on a lot of strong
circumstantial evidence. If I were a gambler, I would bet heavily on my theory. As for the Emperor’s death, well all we can tell you is that the Imperial Bell was tolling for a long time. I
think we have to accept the fact that Emperor Surabar has breathed his last.’ Femke turned her head towards Lord Kempten and looked at him until he met her gaze. ‘This does, of course,
make you the rightful Emperor Designate.’

‘Emperor Designate . . . hmm, yes,’ Kempten muttered thoughtfully, returning her strong stare for a moment before looking away.

‘Isn’t there something of a problem there?’ Lady Kempten said pointedly. ‘As far as everyone at Court is concerned, my husband is dead and buried. Why should they now
announce him the rightful Emperor Designate?’

Femke grinned, mischief lighting up her eyes. ‘As your husband will be quick to affirm, Emperor Surabar was a clever man, my Lady. The senior Lords are certain to take control of the
Palace now. When they find Surabar’s Last Will and Testament in his study they will be glad to find your husband declared as his rightful heir. It would be logical for them to think Surabar
did not get around to changing it after Lord Kempten’s death. They will read out his will in the Imperial Court, as is the requirement. No doubt they will openly display great sorrow that
Lord Kempten is not able to take up the Mantle. Inside, however, they will rejoice, for this will open the way for one of their own to assume the Mantle in his stead. It should be noted that even
if they crown one of their own as Emperor, under Shandese law your husband would still be entitled to take up the Mantle at any time.’

‘It was a part of the plan that Surabar disclosed to me before he arranged my “death”, darling. I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would be appropriate to mention
it.’ Lord Kempten looked sheepish.

Lady Kempten raised one eyebrow quizzically and the set of her jaw made her look uncharacteristically dangerous as she turned to her husband. ‘Well, dear, why would you? Becoming the next
Emperor of Shandar is hardly something that will affect our family, now, is it? Not appropriate to mention it!’

‘Would you like us to leave?’ Femke offered. She turned to find Reynik’s head had slumped forward on his chest. He was fast asleep.

‘No, dear, you’re fine where you are,’ Lady Kempten said firmly. ‘Besides, your friend there looks very comfortable. I’d hate to disturb him. A little embarrassment
might do my husband the world of good. I love him dearly, but he’s so single-minded. He can be very thoughtless at times. I’m first to applaud his dedication to the Empire and to his
job, but you would think he might mention something like being officially next in line for the Mantle.’

‘Now, Izzie, dear—’

‘Don’t even think about “Izzie, dearing” me! I’m not going to interfere with your plans. You know me better than that. But I am disappointed that you didn’t
see fit to tell me something so important to our future.
Our
future: that’s you, me, and our children, dear. You do remember us, don’t you? Were you planning to write us a
letter about it?’

‘Please, Izzie, don’t be like that. You know I don’t conceal things from you unless I have to. To be honest, I didn’t expect to ever find myself in this position. Emperor
Surabar named me as his heir as a stopgap measure. He was watching the nobility for suitable candidates to replace him. He didn’t want the Mantle. He intended to renounce it as soon as he
found a Lord whom he felt would make a sound replacement. The man was a very talented leader and not one to be easily fooled. He knew what he was looking for, but that bunch of self-centred idiots
at Court were so set on deposing him, they blinded themselves to his abilities and intentions.’

Femke coughed pointedly at this, and both the Lord and Lady turned to look at her.

‘Begging your pardons, my Lord, my Lady, but I think you should know that Emperor Surabar found the person to whom he intended to transfer power.’

‘Really? Who?’ they asked in unison.

‘You, my Lord. Emperor Surabar told me last week that his admiration for you had grown considerably since your short period of Regency. The only reason he had not already abdicated in your
favour was his mission to destroy the Guild of Assassins. He knew that having stirred the hornets’ nest, he needed to follow his plan through to its conclusion. He had no intention of leaving
you with a huge unholy mess to sort out when you came to power. It was a matter of personal pride for him to leave you with a state of stability in Shandrim from which you could build. When he
began the conflict with the Guild, I don’t think he realised how difficult a campaign it would prove to be, but he was doing everything in his power to resolve the situation quickly. He
intended to give you some warning, my Lord. However, it seems he has not been given the chance.’

‘He chose me? But he knew . . . I mean you must have told him about . . . I don’t understand.’

Lady Kempten laughed. ‘Secrets within secrets! What a life you spies and politicians have! Well, my dear, I will forgive you your oversight this time. Don’t let it happen again. If I
am to be an Empress, then I should be kept far better informed.’

Femke smiled and nodded her head. Lady Kempten had become a lot more assertive since her husband’s fake assassination.

‘What are your thoughts on the Guild, my Lord? Assuming you take power, do you intend to adopt Emperor Surabar’s goal of destroying it, or are you going to let them resume business
as usual?’

Lord Kempten clasped his hands together in front of his body and leaned forward. Then he stood up and began pacing around the room. Femke and Lady Kempten followed him with their eyes. ‘I
don’t know,’ he said after a short pause. ‘I’ve not got used to the idea that I might be the next Emperor yet.
If
I were to take the Mantle, then deciding my
policies would not be something I would leap into without a good deal of consideration. If the Guild has assassinated the Emperor, as looks likely, then the Assassins’ Creed is no longer
operating. In that case I’ll have little choice but to continue working towards their destruction. If they did not kill him – if he died through a misfortune, or because of something
unrelated to the Guild – then, well . . . I’ll have to think long and hard about it. In that circumstance I would be protected by the creed, but Izzie and the children would not. The
Legions were Surabar’s family. That’s where the Guild struck to hurt him. I’m not willing to place my family in that sort of danger.’

Lord Kempten’s final statement hung in the air. An awkward silence followed. It was the slightest of sounds that drew Femke’s attention, but she knew instantly what it was. Waving to
the Kemptens to attract their attention, she indicated that someone was listening at the door and for them to keep talking. She got to her feet, placed a hand over Reynik’s mouth and shook
him awake with the other. He awoke with a start. His eyes met hers. It took no more than a second for understanding to spark in his gaze. Trouble!

Femke removed her hand from his mouth, and with simple hand gestures she outlined her plan. The Kemptens stumbled over their words as they initiated a nonsensical argument over how their
children would react to being moved into the Imperial Palace, but they kept talking whilst Femke and Reynik moved silently to the door. Lady Kempten’s expression was one of astonishment and
horror as a concealed blade appeared in the spy’s hand. Reynik grabbed the door handle and wrenched the door open, allowing Femke to leap through.

No one was there, but out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a shadowy figure slipping away down the stairs. In an instant, she was in pursuit. Reynik was no more than a pace or two behind.
They reached the stairs. The figure was near the bottom.

‘Stop where you are! Move and you’ll die.’ Reynik’s bellowed order was so unexpected it made Femke jump. To her surprise, the figure froze. They reached her in seconds.
It was Danni, the maid. She was already weeping and shaking with terror.

‘Come with me, Danni,’ Femke said, her voice calm and soothing. ‘Don’t do anything foolish. We don’t want to hurt you. We just need to ask you a few
questions.’ The girl did not look like a professional agent, but the spy knew all too well that appearances could be deceptive. ‘Now, let’s go slowly back up the stairs, Danni. I
have a knife here. The blade is poisoned. I’m going to keep it well away from your body to avoid any accidents, but you must do as you’re told. Do you understand?’

Danni nodded. Tears streamed down her face. Her weeping was so intense that she could not control her breathing. She juddered and convulsed with every attempted inhalation. Femke was not sure
whether to feel sorry for the girl, or impressed by her dissembling.

Doors in the hallway twitched as curious servants peeped out to see what was happening. Reynik’s thunderous shout must have been heard through most of the house. Femke led Danni back up
the stairway at knifepoint. Reynik took a good look around the hallway to make sure they had not missed anything obvious. Content that they had captured their quarry, he followed them up.

Before entering the drawing room where the Lord and Lady awaited them, Femke gave Reynik her knife while she searched Danni for weapons. She found nothing. As an extra precaution, she had the
maid remove her shoes before leading her in to see the Kemptens.

‘What’s this about, Femke? What has Danni done?’ Lady Kempten asked, clearly upset to see her maid in such distress.

‘I’m not sure yet, my Lady. I hope we’re about to find out,’ Femke replied, turning her tone cold for the benefit of her prisoner. ‘Danni – if that is your
real name – who are you working for?’

‘L . . . L . . . Lord and Lady Kempten,’ she spluttered.

‘Come along, Danni, you know what I’m talking about. Who
else
are you working for? Who is paying you to spy on the Kempten family? There’s no point denying it. You
were listening at the door. Who is your employer, Danni?’

‘I don’t know what you m . . . mean. I’m just a m . . . m . . . maid.’

‘All right, Danni, have it your way. I’m going to search your room now. Lady Kempten, would you expect your maids to be able to read or write? Also, how much money do you pay your
house staff, please? I shall be interested to see what turns up in Danni’s room.’

Lady Kempten did not get a chance to answer. Danni’s eyes had gone wide at the mention of writing. ‘Toomas,’ she gasped. ‘I work for Toomas.’

‘The tattle tout?’

‘That’s him,’ Danni said, nodding. ‘He pays me for information. When Lord Kempten became Regent, Toomas contacted me and offered me money for any interesting snippets of
information about the family. I didn’t see any great harm in it. When the news came that Lord Kempten was dead, I thought it would stop. I was quite disappointed, because I had managed to
save a goodly sum in a short time.’

‘But it didn’t stop, did it?’ prompted Femke with a sigh.

‘No, Miss. Lady Kempten brought me here with her, and I learned that my Lord was not dead. I realised that Toomas would pay a lot of money for that knowledge. I’m sorry. It was wrong
of me, but my dream has always been to save enough money for a little place of my own. I realised that this could be my chance to realise that dream. For something this big, Toomas would likely
give me enough to complete my deposit. When you arrived earlier I saw another chance to increase my income from Toomas and I took it.’

‘Does this Toomas already know that I’m alive?’ Lord Kempten asked, his voice gruff with anger.

‘Yes, my Lord. I sent word to him some time ago. I’ve not received any payment yet, but I know he will have the information by now. I had hoped to gain information today to use as a
lever to speed up his payment.’

‘Shand alive! If a tattle tout knows I’m alive, then half of Shandrim will know it too!’

Femke shook her head. ‘Not necessarily, my Lord. Toomas is an old hand at the trading of information. The trick with it is to know when the information is at its most valuable. When
it’s announced in the Imperial Court that you are the rightful successor to the Mantle, the information will suddenly gain great value to those who wish power for themselves. If we’re
quick, we might be able to prevent Toomas from damaging our cause.’