Imperial Traitor (34 page)

‘Serrius, have your men set up a defensive position here and wait. I won’t be long, but I need to pay a quick visit to the Guildmaster’s quarters before we go any
further.’

‘Do you want to take some of the men with you?’ Serrius responded in a forced whisper.

‘That won’t be necessary. I’m confident I can handle one old man. Besides, I have a score to settle with the leader of the Guild. Only move if you’re forced to. I should
be no more than a couple of minutes.’

Serrius nodded. His eyes were bright with anticipation of the coming conflict. Now that they were underground his earlier reticence had disappeared and he looked more alive than Femke had seen
him since he was at the height of his gladiatorial career. He did not waste any time. Even as Femke drew one of her knives and ran lightly down the corridor to the Guildmaster’s door, he was
already directing the men into a defensive formation with silent gestures.

She paused at the door, a knife in one hand, her other hand on the handle and her right ear pressed against the wood, listening intently for any sounds inside. She could hear no movement or
noise of any kind emanating from within, so she threw the door open and performed a diving roll into the room to minimise her vulnerability to an instant attack.

As she rolled to her feet, she spotted the Guildmaster sitting in an armchair on the far side of the room. He was wearing his black cloak, but the hood was back and his face exposed. He did not
flinch at her sudden entrance. Indeed, he was completely motionless. Was he pretending to be asleep? Was this one of his ploys to lull her into a false sense of security? He had fooled her several
times before, so she was exceptionally wary as she stalked across the room towards him.

Had his hands not been in plain sight on the arms of the chair, Femke would not have approached him so directly, but she trusted her own reflexes to be faster than her old mentor’s. As it
was, she was careful not to tread on the oval-shaped rug in the centre of the room for fear of what might be hidden underneath. Instead she stepped around the outside of it, testing each footstep
before putting her full weight down. After his refusal to give in to the other Guild members who wanted her killed, she did not think he would look to kill her now, but she was not about to take
unnecessary risks.

‘Lord Ferdand?’ she said softly. No response. ‘Lord Ferdand?’ she said again, a little louder this time. Still no response. She moved closer. His eyelids were fluttering
and his lips trembling. This had all the makings of a trap. Femke stopped and looked around the room again. There was nothing obvious that could pose a threat, but the hairs on the back of her neck
were prickling. Something did not feel right here.

Keeping her knife back where Ferdand would not be able to snatch it from her easily, she stretched forwards slowly with her fingertips and touched the back of his left hand. With startling
abruptness his eyes opened wide and he took a sharp, deep intake of breath, as if in extreme fright. Femke gasped and stumbled backwards with shock at the ghastly, unfocused stare of her former
mentor.

‘Femke?’ he mumbled. ‘Femke? Is that you?’

‘Yes, it’s Femke,’ she replied. ‘What’s wrong with you, Ferdand? What are you doing?’

‘Poisoned . . . Brother Fox.’

‘One of your own assassins poisoned you!’ Her mind leaped on the irony of it, and revelled in the thought that his treachery had led ultimately to his downfall. Justice had sought
him out after all, she thought with grim satisfaction. For all his manipulating and devious schemes, he had been laid low by one of his own – a poetic end for a traitor. However, as fast as
the triumphant thoughts entered her mind, accompanying feelings of guilt and compassion welled within her. ‘What sort of poison? Do you have the antidote?’ she asked tentatively,
irritated that she cared.

‘Seritriss . . . taken antidote . . . too late . . . too old.’

Femke could see he was right. The poison had gained too great a hold on his system. There were some antidotes that could be as fatal to the elderly as the poisons they had been devised to
combat. Seritriss was a particularly nasty poison that affected the nervous system. The antidote, whilst effective at blocking the nerve agent, had side effects that would strain the systems of a
young person’s body. Ferdand had long since left youth and strength behind. It was obvious to her that he was dying. Even had she wanted to help, there was nothing she could do.

With a quick look around to ensure that she was still alone with Ferdand, she sheathed her knife and dropped to one knee in front of his chair. Looking into his tortured eyes, the final edges of
her anger and resentment melted away. It was hard to see any person suffering in this way, but particularly someone whom she had once thought of as a father figure.

‘Is there anything I can do?’ she asked.

‘Listen . . .’ he croaked. ‘Mission . . . for the Emperor . . . old Emperor . . . before Surabar . . . infiltrate the Guild . . .’

‘Infiltrate the Guild? What are you talking about? Reynik infiltrated the Guild.’

‘Me.’ He tapped his chest feebly. ‘Trapped by icon . . . forced . . . stay undercover . . . lived double life.’ He coughed, a wheezing cough, too weak to clear his
throat. ‘Over at last,’ he sighed.

Femke’s heart pounded in her chest. Could it be true? Had Ferdand really infiltrated the Guild on a mission only to find himself trapped by the same sort of bond that now threatened
Reynik? It was possible. She had always known Ferdand to be an exceptional spy. Had he preceded Reynik in infiltrating the Guild? If so, why was he now their leader?

‘So the Guild trapped you with the icon. How did you remain under cover so long without being discovered?’

‘Long-term mission . . . discovered that without refreshing bond . . . I would die . . . icon would kill me.’

‘So you stayed undercover. But why didn’t you tell me? How long have you been a member of the Guild?’

The revelation brought unbidden tears to her eyes. Part of her did not want to believe him. Inside, she repeated over and over again that he had betrayed her. He was a traitor to the Empire. The
problem was that she could hear the truth in his voice. In her heart she knew it was just the sort of impossible mission at which he would have succeeded where everyone else had failed. He had
always been the perfect spy. To penetrate the Guild and maintain his cover to the point of becoming Guildmaster was just like him.

‘I might have been able to help,’ she added lamely.

Ferdand shook his head. He swallowed hard several times and forced more words up. ‘Many years . . . no time left . . . go . . . finish mission . . . done well . . . proud of
you.’

‘Oh, Ferdand! Why did it have to be this way? I misjudged you so many times. I still don’t know what to think. I don’t think I’ve ever really known you, but I so wanted
to. I loved you as a father. You know that, don’t you?’

The corners of the Guildmaster’s lips twitched upwards slightly and he gave the faintest of nods. Femke got up, leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.

Jerking and twitching against the combined effects of the poison and antidote in his system, Ferdand raised his right hand to the button at the front of his cloak.

‘You want to open it?’

Again, he gave the slightest of nods. Femke reached to the button and undid it. She pulled the two corners of the cloak back and over his shoulders. Underneath, the old Lord was wearing one of
the wide cravats that she remembered him wearing often when they had lived together at his residence. With extreme effort and violently trembling fingers, he raised the top layer of the cravat.
Femke’s breath caught in her throat. There was a silver clasp underneath: a clasp in the shape of a panther reaching down from a branch. It was his icon. It had to be.

‘Take it,’ he gasped.

‘But . . .’

‘Take it!’ he growled, his body rigid with the effort of enunciating the order. He relaxed again, looking totally spent. Almost as an afterthought he whispered,
‘Please.’

Femke was torn. She had entered Ferdand’s sanctuary with her heart hardened and fully prepared to kill him if she was given the chance. Now he was begging her to take his life and she felt
that if she did so, her heart would break. Staring deep into his eyes, she reached out with her right hand and gently unclipped the silver panther. Ferdand nodded and sighed, closing his eyes.

With eye contact broken, Femke looked down at the tie clip. It was a beautifully-crafted piece of silverwork. A closer inspection revealed the same clever touch and styling as the wolf spider
pendant that Reynik wore. She wrapped her fingers over the icon, squeezing it in the palm of her hand until the sharper edges began to generate spikes of pain. Leaning forward, she gave him another
kiss on the forehead.

‘Goodbye, my Lord. I’m sorry I doubted you,’ she whispered softly. Then she stood up straight, turned and walked towards the door with as much resolution as she could muster.
The icon began to tingle in her hand before she had gone more than a handful of paces and she heard the gasp behind her. She desperately wanted to turn and run back, but she pursed her lips and
kept walking. Suddenly there was nothing in her hand and she knew that any thoughts of turning back were irrelevant. Without another backward glance, she slipped out of the door and back into the
corridor.

As she closed the door silently behind her, she drew a blade again. A deep
BONG
suddenly reverberated through the corridor and her eyes met those of Serrius, whose alert expression
turned questioning at the sound. It was as if someone had struck an enormous gong somewhere in the complex, though if it had been a gong that had created the sound, it would have to be a bigger
instrument by far than any she had ever seen. She had heard the noise once before, when Reynik and Calvyn had come to her rescue. It was a detail she had forgotten to ask Reynik about in the
aftermath of their escape.

The noise had to be an alarm of some sort. ‘The assassins are being called to arms,’ she thought. ‘If the assassins join forces, we could quickly become outnumbered.’

Femke raced to rejoin the others. This time she took point, with Serrius and Derryn directly behind her. Together they raced up the nearby spiral staircase, taking two steps at a time. As they
reached the top of the dark spiral steps she slowed, paused, and peered cautiously around the large central chamber. The Guildmaster’s raised podium was nearby and she could see the alcoves
in all directions were empty. Torches were burning at regular intervals around the main walls, but there was no sign of life. All was silent.

It had only been a matter of seconds since the alarm had rung, but Femke was surprised not to find assassins appearing from every alcove. If the signal had been a call to arms, then they would
have reacted more quickly than this. It must have meant something else. Then it dawned on her – the gong noise had sounded very shortly after the moment of Ferdand’s death. If the noise
were related to that, then there was no reason for the assassins to come running, but it was likely they would eventually come out of curiosity or duty.

One thing was certain – the female assassin known as Brother Fox would be in no hurry. She would know exactly what had caused the alarm. Femke remembered that the woman had been one of
those calling for her death when she had been held prisoner here. It was easy to remember her voice with its rich and sultry tones. ‘Let’s see how sultry Brother Fox sounds with a knife
in her chest,’ she thought.

Femke leaped up the last few steps and marshalled the rest of the group. As Derryn emerged, she pulled him to one side.

‘You stay with Serrius,’ she whispered to the knife-thrower. She kept her voice soft enough to ensure no one else would hear her orders. ‘Try not to let him get carried away.
Make sure you get Lady Kempten out safely. Don’t get sidetracked.’

Derryn nodded.

With a rapid sequence of hand signals, she paired off four of the other gladiators and directed them into the alcoves of the bear and the griffin respectively. According to Reynik’s
information, the secret cavern containing the master stone of the icons was accessed through the wall between these two alcoves. Clearing these two entry points to the central cavern would
therefore be the first step to preventing Jabal and his guards from being surprised at short range.

Nadrek and Bartok she assigned to protect Jabal. The master magician looked very pale, as if he were on the verge of vomiting. Serrius gave Jabal a look bordering on contempt as he led Derryn
off towards the alcove with the sea snake symbol on the gate. Femke suffered a flash of annoyance, but it quickly became apparent that Jabal was oblivious to the gladiator’s slight.

Jabal looked sick, but his focus was already on the wall where they knew the secret opening to the chamber of the bonding stone to be. Magic was his business. She knew better than to interfere.
The gladiators were also about their work. With a final ‘thumbs up’ signal to Nadrek and Bartok, she quickly scanned the chamber until she found the particular symbol she was looking
for. The fox’s head had a sinister grin. She ignored its malevolent stare and ran lightly across the chamber to the fox alcove.