Imperial Spy (34 page)

‘Kill me? What do you mean? Femke likes me. I’m sure she does. Why would she want me killed?’ Danar spluttered, determined to string Shalidar along.

‘If you expect me to believe you’re not in on this,
Ambassador
Danar,’ he said, sneering the title as if it were the lowest form of filth, ‘then you must take me
for Shandar’s greatest fool. I’m no fool, Danar. Your acting is not gaining you anything. Femke either thinks she’s good enough to catch me, or she wants you out of the way for
some reason. The sad thing for you is that either way, you get to die. You see, Femke will never be good enough to catch me, and if she wants you dead, then she has the good grace to pay
well.’

‘I . . . I . . .’

‘I can see I’m going to get little of use out of you, am I? Aside, that is, from one and a half thousand gold sovereigns I’ve already been paid. Rest assured I’ll put
your bounty money to good use, Danar. Your head isn’t worth such a price. You’re pathetic. Surely you realise that Femke is a spy through and through. I’ve watched you, Danar.
I’ve seen the look in your eyes. You must know she doesn’t share your love and never will. Femke has used you from the moment you arrived in Mantor. She has used you like she uses
everyone – as a means to an end, a pawn in her grand game of cat and mouse. Well, Danar, you and Femke alike are the mice here, and I’m the cat. And I’m afraid the predator must
kill its prey.’

‘Wait! No! I’ll tell you everything,’ Danar offered frantically. ‘You don’t have to kill me, Shalidar.’

‘Ah, then you know my name at least. Good! Now, what is the little minx up to this time?’

Danar took a deep breath and tried desperately to think of a plausible story. The blade pressing uncomfortably against his throat tightened a fraction. Any thoughts he had of lying left him then
and he lost his cool altogether. In a panicked babble, Danar blurted out the basic plan. It was irrelevant now, he thought. The primary plan had not worked. The idea had hinged on Femke preventing
Shalidar from getting to Danar on his first attempt. The assassin had outwitted them.

Shalidar listened silently until Danar had finished outlining how they had planned to get the King to order such heavy security around Danar over the next couple of days that it would be
impossible for Shalidar to get close to him without exposing his identity. The guards would then be ordered to stop Shalidar and search him for weapons at every opportunity. When the Emperor
arrived, Femke was going to use her influence with him to have Shalidar exposed as an assassin. Femke would then be reinstated to her position as Ambassador, and her reputation restored.

‘Having Femke as a respectable Ambassador would fit nicely into your plans as well,’ Shalidar noted casually. ‘Having a relationship with an Ambassador would bring less
disgrace to the family name, wouldn’t it? Whereas I’m sure the more traditional members of your family would not look on your dallying with a spy so favourably. It would all have been
so neat. Unfortunately, however, I’ve never seen the value in lovers, or in love itself for that matter. I’m not the romantic type.’

Shalidar paused and Danar squeezed his eyes shut, expecting to feel the knife slice across his throat at any second. The assassin had what he wanted. Danar could not think of any way out of this
situation. Death seemed inevitable.

He could have volunteered Femke’s back-up plan, but telling the assassin about this would achieve little. Exposing the rest would buy him a few seconds, but Shalidar already appeared
content with the information he’d been given. Danar knew more. Lots more. But holding back that knowledge gave him a small source of inner triumph.

He tried not to think about what it would feel like for the blade to cut though his windpipe, but his mind was filled with pictures of a slow, gory death. Then, to his complete astonishment,
Shalidar gave him a glimmer of hope.

‘Femke has been a complete nuisance ever since I first met her. Tell her if she wishes to live to see another year, she must give herself up to the King and take responsibility for the
murders of Baron Anton and Count Dreban. If she does this, I’ll not interfere with the decision of the Royal Court, nor bother her if she escapes jail again. However, she must further promise
not to meddle in any of my affairs again. If I discover she has done so, then I’ll hunt her to the ends of the earth to see her dead. Is that clear?’

‘Absolutely, Shalidar, I’ll take your message to her immediately.’

‘Yes, you will, because if you don’t go straight away, then you’ll die before you have another chance,’ the assassin rasped, and then he jabbed something sharp into the
back of Danar’s leg. Danar flinched and felt the knife blade at his throat cut the skin slightly. A trickle of blood ran slowly down his neck and Danar wondered what on earth the assassin was
doing.

Shalidar pushed Danar towards the door, but did not open it straight away. A pulsing sensation began in Danar’s leg where he had been jabbed and suddenly a sick feeling rose from within
the pit of his stomach.

‘If you want to live, then you’d better get to Femke quickly. Tell her that I’ve blessed you with a wound filled with nepthis. It’s a rare poison, but I know Femke has
used it before. If you’re lucky she’ll give you the antidote. Don’t waste time, Danar. Nepthis does not take long to do its work. Good luck and don’t forget my
message.’

With that, Shalidar opened the door, removed the knife from Danar’s throat, and shoved him hard in the middle of the back, propelling him out into the corridor. The door slammed shut
behind him. The snick of a key turning in a lock sounded before he could regain his balance.

Whirling in outraged fury, the young Lord turned back to the door and banged on it hard with a clenched fist. It was a futile gesture for he was still unarmed, but Danar felt better for his
small act of defiance.

The young Lord had no knowledge of the action of poisons, so he made no effort to curb his boiling anger as set off towards the guest suite at a run. All he knew was the faster he reached Femke,
the faster she would be able to give him the antidote. His logic was flawed, for by staying angry and running rather than maintaining his cool and walking gently, Danar began pumping the deadly
toxin rapidly around his body.

King Malo strolled through the Palace grounds, his head filled with theories. Anger gripped him whenever he thought of the murder of his dear friend, Anton, but his mind was
consumed now with solving the recent riddles. Never had Malo known such a time of intrigue in the Palace.

As a boy, Malo had loved solving puzzles. His tutors had marvelled at his powers of reasoning and his dedication to following a problem through. It was a skill that had been most useful during
his reign, but the current maze of conundrums appeared impossible to solve.

Thrandor had enjoyed forty years or more of peace with its neighbours. King Malo had faced many diplomatic issues, but none had degenerated to the point of taking up arms until the invasion last
year by the Terachite nomads from the desert lands south of the border. Since then the world had gone mad Malo reflected sadly. Bloodshed had abounded, magicians had appeared to spring from nowhere
to duel in front of his city gates and now, after years of predictable Court life in the Royal Palace, suddenly came a deluge of murder, theft and deception.

Why? he asked himself silently. Why now and why here? What did Ambassador Femke have to gain by killing Anton and Dreban? Did she kill them? What was the link between the two men and the
Ambassador?

Malo had not known Anton and Dreban to have any dealings together. Anton had appeared to dislike the Count intensely, blocking Dreban’s moves to gain power within the Royal Court. Dreban
had enjoyed an unsavoury reputation. Malo was aware of the Count’s manipulative nature, though he had never seen evidence of illegal or treasonous activities. If the Count had been plotting
for power, his secret remained intact.

As far as the King knew, Ambassador Femke and Baron Anton had met only once, when Femke had brought the gifts from Emperor Surabar into the Royal Court. Count Dreban had not been present at the
time. To the King’s knowledge, Femke and Dreban had never met before he had been murdered, though it was possible that they had seen one another during the open Court session Femke had
attended.

Now the Ambassador had escaped the Palace Dungeon, a feat King Malo had thought impossible. Had this Ennas fellow, whom Lord Danar had identified as being from the Shandese Court, had a hand in
the robbery of the Royal Treasury as well as in Femke’s escape? When had he arrived in Mantor? Why had the robbers taken so little? They could easily have carried away more. There were a
myriad of questions Malo would love answers to before the Shandese Emperor arrived, but unless inspiration sparked, or Femke was found, the King knew he was unlikely to discover the truth.

Malo regretted not having visited Femke whilst she was in custody. He had squandered the opportunity to question the Ambassador in depth about the murders, thinking he should wait until the
trial, to avoid biasing the result. Now he was faced with an unholy mess: the Emperor of Shandar would be here in a couple of days; Malo still had no idea what had motivated the killings;
Ambassador Femke was loose in the city again; the guards had killed a Shandese man in the Palace grounds because he had not stopped running when ordered; and to top it all, Malo now had disgruntled
Thrandorian Merchants complaining that his order to cease trading with the Shandese Empire was killing their businesses. Thrandor was beginning to return to normal after the two recent battles.
Malo did not want to provoke further conflict – particularly not with such a powerful neighbour. Life had never been simple, but Malo was beginning to wonder if he were getting too old to
deal with these sorts of situations.

Will the arrival of the Shandese Emperor bring clarification, or more confusion? he wondered dolefully.

The new Ambassador, Lord Danar, was an amiable enough young fellow, but Malo had sensed he had not told the entire truth this morning. The young man had spoken smoothly, admitting to knowing the
dead intruder, which was a confession Malo had not expected. But for all his calm veneer and honest-looking face, the Ambassador had been hiding something. The King was also sure the Shandese
Ambassador’s servant boy had known more than he was admitting. If pushed, the young lad could be a good source of information, Malo mused. The trick would be to separate him from the
Ambassador for long enough to question him more closely. That might not be easy, but it was worth consideration.

Yes, he decided. The servant boy could be the key to unravelling this whole mystery. If I get the guards to intercept him the next time he’s sent out on an errand, I’ll have them
bring him to me. Without the shield of his master’s presence the boy might reveal more.

The King smiled sadly. He would not harm the lad, but he would use intimidation if it became necessary. A servant boy faced with direct questions from a King would find it hard not to give
answers. Malo was not a naturally devious man, but strange situations demanded radical solutions.

Femke reached the West Wing guest rooms. She called to Danar, but there was no answer. She was not surprised. Her first impulse was to retrace her steps in the hope of
intercepting him, but on reflection she decided this would not be wise. Danar could be returning to the suite by a number of different routes. No. Femke had returned to the apartment to meet him,
and here she would stay.

Instinct took Femke’s eyes to the alarms she had set at the windows and she realised instantly that at least one had been tampered with. Femke was immediately on her guard. There was a
chance whoever had disturbed her alarm mechanism was still here.

The hair on the back of the spy’s neck rose as she entered the apartment. She acted casually, but her senses were straining to locate the intruder. All was silent. There were not many
places a person could conceal himself effectively. Her mind raced. If I’d broken in here, where would I hide? she asked herself.

The bedroom, she decided. Anyone entering their sleeping room would naturally be at their least wary. She would most likely find any intruder there.

Rather than reveal information by her movements, Femke decided to leap straight in and brave the bedroom first. As she had already announced her presence by calling out for Danar when she had
first entered the living room, there was nothing to be gained by trying to be stealthy. Instead, arming herself with a handy, metal-based oil lamp, Femke pushed the door fully open on the way in,
to ensure there was nobody standing behind it. The door swung freely open until it met the wall. There was nobody there.

Femke crouched down and checked underneath the large central bed. That was clear as well. It was obvious nobody was hiding behind the curtains and the wardrobe doors were fully shut –
difficult to achieve from the inside – but Femke approached the large upright wooden wardrobe with caution nevertheless.