Imperial Spy (23 page)

But what was he doing here? Lord Danar was a playboy – a young man out of control amongst the lovelier Ladies in the Shandese Court. Could he truly be serious about a relationship with
her? Particularly now that Danar had to be aware that she was not Lady Alyssa, but a spy for the Emperor? Femke was almost too frightened by the prospect to want to follow that line of thought. The
best thing to do, she concluded, was to be cold and uncaring towards him. If Femke could convince him to lose interest quickly, then she would be able to continue her life as if nothing had
happened. There was no future in a relationship between a Lord and a spy. Someone would get hurt. And Femke knew that in all likelihood, that someone would be her.

They all changed quickly, hanging their robes randomly on unused hooks and throwing on the garments in the lockers with all haste. Danar left the keys in the locks of the empty lockers and
proceeded to take the lead out of the door through which they had entered. Femke and Reynik said nothing. She wondered for a moment whether Reynik knew why Danar was really here. Did the young
soldier know what he was dealing with? Did he even realise yet that Femke was a spy? It might be better not to involve him more than was necessary, she thought.

Danar had assumed the leadership role as if it were his rightful place. He would not keep the lead for long, Femke vowed silently. There would be an enlightening of the young Lord’s mind
in the near future that would place his position in the larger scheme of things clearly in perspective – and it would be Femke who would do the enlightening.

Once they were back out on the streets, Femke moved alongside Danar and started to try to find out what sort of hand they held for the renewal of the game. Danar smiled warmly at her, but if he
expected to get an equally warm response, he was disappointed.

‘Where are we staying?’ Femke asked, keeping any intimacy from her voice and not allowing the mixed emotions that surged inside her to show in any way.

‘We have rooms booked at the Old Wagoneer,’ Danar replied, his enthusiasm not dampened by her flat question. ‘It’s not exactly salubrious, but Ennas convinced me that we
didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves by staying somewhere too plush. The problem is that people remember those with money, particularly if they’re willing to spend it.’

‘I understand the reasons, Lord Danar. Do you think I know nothing? The Old Wagoneer will be fine to begin with, but we will need to move shortly – preferably today.’

‘Why would we want to do that?’ Danar asked curiously. ‘Ennas was all for staying at this inn. Reynik agreed too, didn’t you, Reynik?’

‘True – I did,’ Reynik acknowledged, rubbing his hands together nervously. ‘However, Femke is right, we need to move from there quickly. As soon as the Royal Guards
realise they’re no longer holding the Ambassador of Shandar but an apparent dimwit who they’ll think was paid to take her place, they will start to follow our tracks. The guards are not
stupid. I know several of them. It won’t take them long to work out we were not real priests, which will bring them to the temple. From there to the Old Wagoneer should take a little longer,
but I suspect someone will point them in the right direction quickly enough.’

‘So should we leave for Shandar straight away then?’ the young Lord asked, sounding less certain. ‘Surely it’s too dangerous for you to remain here now?’

‘I’m afraid things have gone too far for me to run away,’ Femke replied grimly. ‘Unless I can prove to the King that Emperor Surabar did not send me here as an assassin,
it’s possible another war will start. Neither country wants that. Also, I’m not going back to Shandar until I know Ennas is out of that dungeon safely and Shalidar has been exposed. It
would be a good idea for us to get out of the city for a while though. Too many people have seen me in different guises. I’m going to need a radical new one, for which we will need certain
materials. They can be obtained easily enough.’

Lord Danar did not look happy, but Reynik nodded thoughtfully. ‘I’ll get what you need,’ he offered. ‘I’ve walked the markets and know where to find most things.
Give me a list. I can judge your size well enough. Do you have a plan in mind?’

Femke grinned. ‘Oh, yes!’ she replied with a wicked little laugh. ‘I have a plan, and it’s a real dancer!’

‘You know, Lady Ambassador, when I was given this assignment, I thought it would be boring. If I’d known it would be this much fun, I’d have been a lot more
enthusiastic,’ Reynik said, his face beaming.

Lord Danar looked from one smiling face to the other and he began to feel a strange apprehension. This whole trip to Thrandor had been an adventure. Posing as a priest with the risks involved in
penetrating to the heart of the Royal Palace and rescuing Femke had reminded him of his pranks back in Shandrim. He suddenly realised that he had been viewing this whole mission like one of the
stories his father had told him as a boy. He had seen himself as the dashing hero setting out to rescue his imprisoned princess and then sweeping her off her feet to live happily ever after.

The realities of the situation were beginning to sink in. Femke, although as attractive as any woman in the Shandese Court, was no swooning young Lady to be swept off her feet. Instead she was a
tough spy with an indomitable will and a determination to see her mission through to the end.

Lord Danar still found himself attracted to Femke, but now that the rose-tinted glasses had come off, he began to wonder what he had got himself into.

King Malo sat in his study and drummed his fingers on the large oval table. The funerals for Baron Anton and Count Dreban had been very different affairs, but a common atrocity
linked them such that the ageing monarch could not get the occasions out of his mind. Murder: simply thinking about the word brought a chill of cold anger and outrage to his heart. Both men were
killed by knife wound – one struck in the heart and one in the throat. The medics’ report suggested a knife of exactly the same dimensions as the one found protruding from Anton’s
chest had killed the Count. The same knife had been identified by one of the Ambassador’s servants as belonging to her.

All the evidence clearly indicated that Ambassador Femke had committed the two crimes. No ambassador that Malo had ever met had possessed the skills required to escape from the Palace in the
spectacular fashion Femke had demonstrated. The merchant, Shalidar, had corroborated this evidence by confirming that the woman was an assassin. So why was something niggling in the King’s
mind that refuted all the evidence?

Something about his short interview with Femke bothered him. There was an air of innocence about the Ambassador that haunted him. He knew he would have to interview her again, but he had been
putting it off for days. The messengers he had sent to the Shandese Emperor should both have long since arrived in Shandar. Another Shandese delegation would doubtless arrive shortly. The question
in the King’s mind was when to interview the Ambassador again. Should he wait for the Shandese representative to be present, or should he question her now? It was a difficult decision.

The King had interviewed each of the other members of the Ambassador’s party with varying degrees of success. The two soldiers had said little. They had kept to the military code of
‘the less said, the less trouble it will cause’. It did not help the King.

What little the two men had said was illuminating. They had both told how the Ambassador had asked them to gather information on recent events, but that they had not had a chance to report their
findings. Why would an assassin be interested in such information? That was more general information gathering, which was in line with an Ambassador’s role or at least an espionage operation
– not that of an assassin. The King did get a strong feeling that if the Ambassador was the murderer, the two soldiers had no prior knowledge of any assassination plot.

The two servants had been more difficult to read. One had been so unforthcoming that the interview had proved a waste of time. Whether this was through shyness, secretiveness, or whether it was
reluctance to say anything that would incriminate the Ambassador, was hard to determine. The other servant, however, could not have been more different. Trying to halt the flow of words that poured
from him was akin to attempting to stop the tide from coming in with your bare hands. Unfortunately, the information he did provide was completely useless, for he was fiercely loyal to the
Ambassador and would not say the slightest word against her.

Malo was glad he had conceded to Femke’s request for representation from Shandar. It had given him time to think through the whole bizarre series of events several times and there were a
lot of minor things that did not make sense. It had also given him time to calm down enough to be more objective about the charges Femke faced. This would be good when the trial came to court. He
now felt sure he could give the Ambassador a fair hearing, which he would not have been able to do had he held the trial immediately.

There was also something strange about the merchant’s information. Shalidar had appeared to take pleasure in condemning the Shandese Ambassador, and his story of having thwarted a previous
plot of hers did not ring true. If his story about her wanting revenge were true, then it did offer a valid motive. But the King was sure there was more to all this than met the eye.

‘Oh, Anton!’ he sighed out loud. ‘Why did it have to be you? It’s times like these that I need your calm head and clear judgement. What should I do, old
friend?’

Silence fell again in the room as the King’s voice died away. Malo knew there would be no answers from the stillness unless they came from his own heart. He would wait. The Ambassador was
not going anywhere. He could afford to await the Emperor’s response to Malo’s messengers before he brought the matter to the Court, he decided. Surely Surabar would not delay in
responding to such urgent messages.

Malo decided to give the Emperor three more days. If nobody arrived in Mantor within that time, then the Court would convene regardless and the trial would begin.

‘Three more days,’ he vowed. ‘Three more days, then I’ll put this to rest.’

‘Is that everything?’

‘Oh, yes, and a pair of scissors – I’m going to need a hair cut,’ Femke replied, finishing the list. ‘Thanks, Reynik. When you get back we’ll work on the
details of the plan and think about where Danar and I are going to move to tonight. Try not to be too long. You’d better be back up at the Palace before it gets too late, or questions might
be asked.’

Reynik nodded and raised his hand in a quick gesture of farewell before slipping out of the door. Femke gave him a grateful smile before reluctantly turning her attention to Lord Danar, whom she
sensed was looking at her with his puppy-dog eyes. It was a novelty to be pursued romantically, and flattering that it was by a handsome, young Nobleman. However, it was also most inconvenient and
inappropriate given the current situation. She could not consider allowing a relationship to develop, no matter how attractive and dashing he was.

Femke could not deny her attraction to Danar, though she would die rather than let him know how his charm had affected her. She had seen it catch the hearts of many other young Ladies of Court
and had scoffed at their foolishness. If anyone had told her Danar would travel to Thrandor in order to pursue a relationship with a Lady before she had left Shandar, Femke would have laughed it
off as ridiculous. He had plenty of attractive women at his beck and call right there in Shandrim.

He’ll have to wait, she thought ruthlessly. He’s come this far, so he’ll not give up easily. I wonder if my new disguise will put him off?

‘So, Lord Danar, I haven’t had the chance to ask why you came to Mantor with one of the Emperor’s best spies,’ Femke said aloud, determined to clear the air between
them.

‘Please call me Danar. There’s no need for formality.’

‘Very well, Danar. So what did bring you here?’

‘Well, it was a bit strange,’ Danar answered, his lips twisting into his characteristic mischievous smile. ‘I was looking to finish a conversation with an attractive young
woman who I met at the recent coronation ceremony of the new Emperor of Shandar. For some reason the young woman, who is known to the Shandese Court as Lady Alyssa, felt disinclined to meet with me
after the ceremony, and proceeded to leave the city before I had a chance to persuade her to change her mind. I made some enquiries after her that eventually led me to have a conversation with
Emperor Surabar. He kindly furnished me with a competent travelling companion and sent me here to Mantor.’

Femke sighed and looked Danar straight in the eyes. ‘Then you have made a wasted journey, Lor . . . Danar. The woman you seek does not exist. Lady Alyssa is a figment of your . . . no, of
my
imagination, created for a specific purpose. That purpose is not, and never will be, diverted towards a frivolous relationship.’

‘I know,’ Danar replied softly, his face still smiling. ‘I realised Alyssa was not real some time ago, but that doesn’t matter. I’m sure the creator of Alyssa will
be equally, if not more, interesting. My problem is how to learn who that person is and, when I do discover more about her, how she will view my interest?’