Imperial Traitor (10 page)

‘Who sent you?’ he asked, his voice cracking on the last syllable. ‘If it’s Tullis, then he’s got it all wrong. It wasn’t me who leaked information of his
affair to his wife.’

Femke stepped forwards, forcing him back into the hallway with the point of her blade. Without taking her eyes off him, she closed the door behind her.

‘Where can we sit in comfort, Toomas? I don’t want any interruptions for a while. Is there anyone else in the house?’

‘No,’ he said nervously. ‘There’s no one else. I live alone – always have.’

‘Very well. Where you do you suggest we go to be comfortable? I’ll not trouble you for food or drink. A chair and a quick chat will be fine.’

‘Over there – the door to the left of the hat stand – it’s the living room. We can sit in comfort in there.’ Toomas was shaking by now and Femke could see it.

‘Good,’ she said. ‘Now, turn around and lead the way. Don’t try anything silly. All I want to do is talk. If, however, you get ideas that involve pain on my part, then I
will stick you like a pig. Remember Commander Chorain?’

The tattle tout’s eyes went wide. ‘Was he the commander who died in the street not far from the arena last year?’

‘Indeed. I didn’t want to kill him, but I was under orders. Don’t make me do something I will regret later.’

‘I thought he died of heart failure.’

‘He did,’ Femke confirmed, her voice cold and heartless. ‘Heart failure induced by a particularly rare and nasty poison being introduced into his bloodstream. This blade is
tipped with the same poison, so I wouldn’t recommend any sudden moves.’

The blade was not poisoned, but Toomas was sure to be more cautious if he thought it was. First impressions were that he was not taking any chances. He turned very carefully and led the way into
the living room.

Despite the tattle tout’s assertion that there was no one else in the house, she entered the room with a certain amount of caution. She pushed the door until the handle met the wall before
crossing the threshold. As she moved through the doorway, she scanned the room. There was nowhere for anyone to hide. The chairs and the chaise longue all had long wooden legs, denying cover for a
man to hide behind, or underneath. The curtains did not reach the floor and there were no obvious places large enough to conceal a person. It was possible Toomas had the room this way for the exact
purpose of preventing people from hiding here.

The room was furnished with items of quality. Toomas was clearly doing well from his trade. There were rugs of the finest wool on the floor and the walls were adorned with paintings and hangings
created by artists and weavers of the highest calibre. The curtains looked to be made from velvet, which had never been cheap. Femke was quietly impressed. She had used Toomas on several occasions
both for buying and selling information, but it was clear that he had managed to build an extensive customer base in what could clearly be a lucrative trade.

He indicated to a seat for Femke, but she declined, making him sit there instead. Then she pulled a second chair across until it was facing him. A faint smell of incense lingered in the air.
Femke breathed it in, enjoying the hints of wood and lavender, but the scent looked to be doing little to calm the tattle tout’s nerves. He was pale and sweating as she sat down.

‘What is it you want to know?’ he asked. ‘I’m not a violent man. I never have been. I wouldn’t deliberately hurt anyone . . .’

‘Save it, Toomas! You would sell your grandmother if you thought she would bring a good price. I know your reputation as a tattle tout. I also happen to know that you managed to place one
of your people inside Lord Kempten’s household. She has passed you information that could make you a lot of money if sold to the right people. I’m not here to take away your profit
– merely to delay it a little. This will work to your advantage in the long run. Trust me in this.’

The tattle tout’s eyes narrowed when she mentioned ‘a lot of money’. His mind was clearly working fast to see how he could twist this situation to his advantage.

‘Lord Kempten did not die in the assassination attempt, so what? Unless . . . unless he was to be Surabar’s successor! Oh, ho, ho! That’s it, isn’t it? Kempten’s
assassination was a scam to get him out of harm’s way in case the Guild decided to take him out. Does that mean that Lord Lacedian’s assassination was also a farce?’

‘I’m not here to give you additional information, Toomas,’ Femke said firmly. ‘I’m here to suppress information that should not be released until the time is right.
If you’re good, then I will allow you to sell the information in due course, but only when
I’m
ready for it to be sold. If word that Lord Kempten is alive becomes known before
I’m ready, then I’ll hold you responsible regardless of where the information comes from. Do you understand me?’

Toomas showed no sign of having heard a word that she had said. His eyes looked distant as his mind processed this new piece of information and fitted it together with other snippets he had
gathered. Suddenly his eyes went wide.

‘You worked for Surabar,’ he said, his tone suggesting his certainty. ‘Surabar organised for Kempten to disappear, which means he most likely organised the death of Lacedian.
Surabar detested assassinations. It’s why he declared the Guild of Assassins
anaethus drax.
Why then would he go against his most basic of principles?’

Femke did not answer. Toomas’s finger tapped against his forehead for a moment like a woodpecker tapping at a tree.

‘Unless . . . yes! The only reason he would do that would be to get someone into the Guild. That’s what was going on! The Guild must have discovered the infiltrator and gone after
him. Running battles on the streets, assassins fighting assassins, it all makes sense now. But who killed the Emperor? The Guild would not have done that. It doesn’t fit with the rest of the
pattern.’

Toomas was very good at piecing things together, Femke conceded silently. Possibly too good for his own well-being. She had kept her features unmoving as he speculated on the Emperor’s
activities, but she knew all too well that Toomas would be a master of reading emotions and responses. Ferdand had taught her to conceal her emotions, but it would not surprise her to find that
Toomas could read her reactions in spite of that training.

Femke raised her knife threateningly. ‘Toomas, I repeat, you are not to sell news of Lord Kempten until I say you can. Are you listening to me? If you do not answer, I’ll kill you
now and have done with it.’

That got his attention.

‘Yes, yes, I understand,’ he assured her quickly. ‘Please don’t do anything rash. I don’t like restrictions, but I’m no fool. I’ll hold on to the
information for now. Five Lords were angling for the Mantle before the Emperor’s death. I’ve no doubt more will enter the running before the end. A delay will enable me to determine who
is likely to pay the most.’

‘Good. I’m glad we understand each other. I shall get in touch again in due course. Make sure my next visit is not an unpleasant one, Toomas. Keep your word and you will live to
enjoy your fortune. Get greedy and you will not see another season.’

Rising to her feet, she kept her knife in front of her as she moved carefully around Toomas towards the door. He leaned forwards to get up as well.

‘No. Stay where you are. I’ll see myself out. When you hear the front door close, you may move. Goodbye, Toomas. Until we meet again.’

He did not answer. His eyes were already distant as he set to sifting through the information he had gleaned to see if anything else would fall into place. Femke was tempted to open and close
the front door so silently that he would not hear her leave. However, she was not looking to antagonise him – just to control him. She slipped out of the lounge and across the hall to the
front door. When she opened the door, her horse looked up and gave a resigned snort. Femke smiled. She closed the door firmly behind her and walked across to the animal, patting its neck and
untying the reins from the fence post.

‘It’s OK, girl. We’re not going far.’

The horse snorted again and nodded her head. Femke swung up into the saddle and turned her mount back up the street along which they had approached. She had an inn in mind for the night. It was
not particularly salubrious, but it was not one of her usual haunts. The last thing she wanted to do was to be second-guessed by Ferdand. She knew she would have to be very careful if she were to
avoid tangling with the Guild again over the next couple of days.

Several turnings later, the slightest of noises behind her raised the hairs on the back of Femke’s neck. Trying to appear casual, she looked around. She could see nothing. The long shadows
of evening were deepening. Whatever had made the noise was well hidden, but it served to warn her of the possibility she might have picked up a follower.

Reynik looked around the vast hall of the city library and his heart sank. There was an army of books, thousands upon thousands of them, marching in rows along the bookshelves.
Within each of those volumes were hundreds of pages, and on each page were hundreds of words. Large high windows admitted shafts of light: great diagonal vessels filled with a swirling miasma of
dust. Despite its size, the hall felt musty and close. The smell of leather and beeswax hung in the air as thickly as the dust. Reynik pinched his nose, twitching and rubbing it to try to relieve
the itching sensation that had begun the moment he had stepped through the door.

When he and Femke had decided this was the most likely avenue for finding proof of the location of the assassins’ lair, he had pictured skimming through a few books and the answers leaping
out at him. The reality of the magnitude of his task was overwhelming. One look at the huge walls of books made scouting around the Imperial Palace and counting vents, as Femke had first thought,
seem a lot more appealing.

Proving that the Guild of Assassins’ headquarters was below the Imperial Palace was never likely to be an easy task. Femke’s initial idea of seeing how many vents actually emerged
within the Palace and comparing the number with those found outside was sound in principle, but getting access to every underground room and cellar in the Palace would be all but impossible. What
he needed was written evidence – if there were any.

What were the chances that the Guild allowed anything to be written down? Little to none, most likely, he thought with a silent sigh of resignation. The search here could prove futile, but he
felt he had more chance of finding something here than he did of penetrating the Palace at the moment. The Palace guard had at least doubled over the last few days. No doubt the Lords looking to
gain the Mantle would verge on paranoid over the coming weeks – with good reason.

The library appeared empty. Reynik began walking from one bookcase to the next, scanning the spines for anything that might lead him to the section he required. The only sound was the distant
noise of people outside the building and that of his footsteps, which seemed almost to echo around the great space. The near silence added to the feeling of reverential awe that the room inspired.
Reynik began to place his feet with more care, hardly daring to breathe for fear of polluting the stillness.

‘Can I help you?’ The voice was female and soft.

Reynik turned in surprise. Despite the silence, he had not sensed her moving up behind him. Femke would not have been impressed to see him caught off guard so easily. The young woman he faced
was taller than average, and slim, with willowy limbs and a friendly smile that looked almost apologetic.

‘Are you the librarian? It’s just that I thought . . .’

‘That the librarian would be a man?’ she asked, her expression hardening to a reproving stare. ‘You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. Now, what can I do
for you? Are you looking for something specific?’

‘Yes, I suppose I am,’ Reynik replied, giving her his most winning smile in an effort to make up for his unfortunate opening comment. ‘I’m something of an architect. I
design buildings for the nobility: mansions, large houses, you know the sort of thing. I was wondering, do you have anything by the architects or builders of the Imperial Palace. The buildings that
make up the complex are fascinating, and I would love to get some sort of insight into what the designers were thinking when they built certain elements of it.’

His obvious enthusiasm for his subject made a positive impression. The librarian’s face softened again as she replied.

‘The Imperial Palace? Yes, well we don’t have floorplans, or the like, of course. Such information is not open to the general public. However, we’re bound to have something
that will interest you. Come with me. I think I know where we should begin looking, but it would be as well to check in the index first. That is what it’s for, after all. All the books and
documents here have been stored in order of the date of printing and cross-referenced by subject matter. I don’t know how much we will have in the way of material, but if you give me a
moment, then we should be able to find something for you to read.’