Flight of the Nighthawks (32 page)

The struggle in the sewers and the warehouse district of the city had diverted Lord Bey's attention, as well as that of the local constabulary and agents working for other factions in the government, from the simple truth; that the real struggle was taking place in the palace.

“Something is going to happen tonight, and while it may look like a simple faction struggle between your supporters and Sezioti's, that is merely a mask. There are forces that wish to see the Empire plunged into chaos, even bloody civil war, Highness, and you must believe me when I tell you that I am here to stop it if I can.” Kaspar looked the Prince directly in the eyes and added, “I will stake whatever honor I have left, and my life upon it.”

“What would you have me do?”

Kaspar glanced around. “Gather as many men upon the Imperial platform as you can, but this is the difficult part; they must not be wearing the garb of the Inner Legion. The last time there was a confrontation between the Legion and the Household Guard, treason was the cause, and it must not look as though you're making a grab for power—that would play right into the hands of those behind this madness.

“They must be stationed where they can intervene and keep order. Something is going to happen, and I am not sure what it is, but when it does occur, it will be unexpected. Drunken men may think to pull blades first and consider the consequences later. The Imperial Guard will rush to defend your father if they think he is at risk, and it would only take one miscue for people to start dying.

“You must choose men you can trust, and if something goes amiss, they must prevent people from fighting. You'll need a hundred or more who can put themselves between those likely to want to kill each other. Can this be done?”

Prince Dangai said, “You're certain there will be an attempt on my brother and me?”

“Perhaps more than that.” Kaspar said, “I see both your wives and children in attendance, as well as many royal cousins and other blood kin. It's possible that if our enemies gain the upper hand tonight, the entire Gallery of Lords and Masters could be depleted.”

“You paint a grim picture.” Dangai motioned for one of his aides to come to his side. He gave him quick instructions and then said to Kaspar, “Since my great-grandmother's time the Legion has not set foot within the halls of the palace, due to the conflict that eventually put my grandfather on the throne. You realize that if you're wrong and I can't explain all of this to my grandfather's satisfaction, I may be joining you and the crocodiles by this time tomorrow?”

“I wouldn't worry about satisfying your father,” said Kaspar. “More than anyone here, he will understand what is at stake.”

“I shall speak to my brother,” said the Prince.

“Do so, and have his most trusted allies stay close at hand. I fear chaos is about to erupt, and if so, we must throw sand on the fire before it turns into a conflagration.”

Dangai left Kaspar and Amafi came to his side. “Were you believed, Magnificence?”

“I was. Either that, or in less than a minute a troop of guards will arrest us and drag us down to the dungeons.”

“Let us then pray for belief,” said the aging assassin. “My joints are too old to endure the cold and damp.”

Kaspar said nothing as his eyes scanned the room for the first sign of trouble.

 

By sunset, the festivities were fully under way with the parade below and the music and dancing in the streets beyond.

High on the Imperial plaza, the nobles and influential commoners enjoyed the Emperor's largesse. As darkness approached, two events were being anticipated, Emperor Diigai's arrival and the annual fireworks display.

Kaspar kept Amafi and Pasko moving through the crowd, returning frequently with information. As he had promised, Prince Dangai was also moving his own men throughout the area, positioning them so they could neutralize any outbreak of fighting; and as Kaspar had requested, they were all wearing festival garb.

Half an hour before the Emperor's anticipated arrival, Turgan Bey sought Kaspar out. The large man gripped the former duke by the elbow and steered him to a relatively quiet corner of the upper plaza. “I spoke to Prince Dangai, and he claims you're the one responsible for my guest list becoming shambolic.”

Kaspar said, “Are all your agents here?”

“Yes,” said the Master of the Imperial Keep, “but I have no idea what we are looking for.”

Kaspar said, “It will most likely happen when the Emperor is seated. Prince Dangai's men will attempt to keep order, but it's the Household Guard that I'm worried about. If they see a threat to the Emperor, they'll kill anyone who gets near him.”

Bey nodded his head. “I'm concerned, too. We have a lot of new faces in the guard this month.”

“New faces?” asked Kaspar. “I thought it took years to join the guard.”

“It does, but a score of men were ready to retire and their replacements were already in the lesser ranks. The Emperor held a ceremony two nights ago, rewarding those stepping down with land and gold and elevating those who had served elsewhere in the palace to his personal bodyguard.”

“Is this unusual?”

“Yes. The Emperor usually waits until a month after Banapis to retire the older men.”

“Do you know these new men?”

“Yes,” said Turgan Bey. “Each one has served in the palace for years.”

Kaspar lowered his voice. “The Nighthawks are patient.”

Bey said, “Kaspar, these men have been handpicked by the Emperor, after having served for at least five years, most longer. Each was recommended by his commander and all are veterans. Their loyalty cannot be questioned.”

“That's what I fear,” said Kaspar.

“I must go,” said Turgan. “I have a moment, only. What do you mean?”

“I have no time to explain. Have your men stay close to the two princes. And no matter what happens, have them protect all the members of the Imperial family.”

“Very well,” said Bey. “But whatever happens”—he looked around the festivities—“or doesn't happen tonight, you and I are going to have a long conversation tomorrow.”

“If we're alive tomorrow, I'll welcome it.”

Amafi returned and said, “The Emperor comes, Magnificence.”

“I never thought I'd hear myself saying this,” said Kaspar. “But I wish Talwin Hawkins were here.”

“His sword would be most welcome if it comes to a fight,” said Pasko, joining them.

Kaspar inclined his head toward a nearby knot of revelers laughing and drinking, several wives and consorts stood talking to noble
men, while children played underfoot. “If there's a fight up here,” said Kaspar, “a lot of innocent blood will be spilled. We must make sure that there isn't one.” Kaspar looked around and said, “Have either of you seen Nakor or Caleb?”

Both men said they had not. Kaspar said, “Now we wait. The procession will be starting in a few minutes.”

The three agents of the Conclave of Shadows stood as close to the entrance as they could get, given their lack of rank, and made ready.

 

Caleb moved with purpose, but slowly, along a darkening street, the three boys behind him in single file. With nearly everyone else in the city crowded along the great Imperial Boulevard, this broad street along the eastern side of the palace was effectively deserted. The massive building that was the palace turned the late afternoon street into a dark canyon, as the sun sank below the western horizon. This street was used primarily for carts and wagons carrying goods to the palace, while across the way the verge was lined with a clutter of tiny apartments, rising four and five stories high. The only signs of human activity were the locked gates found every hundred yards, barring the way into the lower levels of the palace and guarded by members of the Household Guard.

The four of them stayed close to the buildings on the opposite wall, moving quickly enough to avoid close scrutiny but slowly enough to avoid raising suspicion. As they passed each gate, Caleb and the boys were subjected to a quick glance by the guards on the other side of the gate, but otherwise ignored. As long as they were not attempting to enter the palace, they were not troubled.

They reached a long stretch of deserted houses, all appearing well kept but very small and close together. Caleb whispered, “This entire block is housing for servants who do not live within the walls of the great palace. Every house should be deserted, for every servant should be working in the palace late tonight.” He glanced around and suddenly movement in a window above caught his eye, then was gone. He moved back against the wall, holding up his hand for silence.

Caleb knew that only Truebloods were permitted in the great palace after sundown—the only exception to this rule was foreign nobility who were housed in a special quarter. That practice had been less rigorously enforced since Diigai had come to the throne, with several key offices now held by non-Truebloods who resided in the Imperial home. Caleb knew that on any other night but Banapis and a few other significant holidays, the apartments behind him would be full of inhabitants going about their business.

Caleb let out a long breath. “I've got a bad feeling.”

Tad said, “What?”

“Who's the sneakiest?” he asked.

“Zane,” said Tad.

“Tad,” said Zane at the same moment.

“I am,” said Jommy in concert with the other two.

The other three looked at him and Jommy said, “Any of you live on the streets for a couple of years?”

Caleb smiled. The street ran northward for as far as the eye could see, but another street intersected from the east. Opposite that intersection another large gate could be seen.

“Can you get over there, close to that wall, and get a look at the gate without being seen from above?” he whispered.

Jommy glanced around. Softly he said, “Shouldn't be too hard, but who am I hiding from? I don't see anyone.”

“Upstairs, second window. Someone watches.”

Jommy looked to where Caleb indicated and waited. After a moment, he said softly, “I see him.”

“Do you think we've been seen?” asked Zane.

“If we had, someone would be down here,” said Caleb. “Whoever he is isn't watching down here, but over there.” To Jommy, he said, “So I need you to skulk around and see what he's watching.”

Jommy glanced around then said, “Too right. I'll be back.” He crept close to the wall until he reached the far corner, where he vanished from sight.

Long minutes passed, then suddenly the boy was back. “Best I can tell,” he whispered, “there's a gate into something that might be a marshaling yard—I don't know, 'cause I've not hung around this
part of the city much. If not that, a place for deliveries to the palace. Anyway, the gate's closed and there's a pair of guards there.”

“Why would they watch that one gate?” asked Caleb quietly.

“Don't know, but there's one odd thing about it.”

“What?” asked Caleb.

“You know how those other gates we passed all had guards, too?”

“Yes,” said Caleb.

“Well, all those guards were inside the gate. These two blokes were outside.”

Caleb said, “That's because those two aren't trying to keep people out; they're there to let people in.”

Zane said, “What do we do now?”

“Some of Chezerul's men are going to be gathering at an inn not far from here, the Four Winds.”

“I know that inn,” said Jommy. “It's only half a dozen streets east of here.”

“We were supposed to meet with them there. I think it might be better to bring them here.” He glanced at the sky. “It'll be dark soon.” Looking at Jommy, he asked, “Anyplace around the corner we can stay out of sight?”

“An inn, a few doors down.”

“Let's take a look.”

Moving purposefully, they started up the street, again attempting to move at a speed not likely to call attention to themselves. A small party of revelers rounded the corner, obviously well on their way to total drunkenness, and shouted greetings to Caleb and the boys. Caleb said something vague in return and they rounded the corner.

They reached the inn, a nondescript door with a sign of a crocodile with an open mouth hanging above it. “I expect this is used by those who work at the palace, for I can't see merchants staying here,” said Caleb as he opened the door.

He stepped into a room that was almost full of men, and in a moment, swords were being drawn. For before him stood more than a dozen men, some wearing the black garb of the Inner Legion, while others wore the uniforms of the Household Guards, the Royal Char
ioteers, or the Imperial Horse. Caleb needed only a second to deduce what was in play. “Nighthawks!” he shouted.

Zane and Tad had their swords out an instant after.

Jommy took one step away from the entrance, turned, and ran.

Caleb backed out and said, “They can only come through one or two at a time.”

Then the first swordsman struck out at him.

 

Positioned high on the steps of the large building opposite the palace, Magnus used his magic to increase his vision so he could see what was taking place on the upper plaza more clearly. He had already spotted Kaspar and saw that he, Amafi, and Pasko were close to the entrance from which the Emperor's entourage was beginning to appear.

The imposing figure of the Master of Ceremonies entered, resplendent in his feather-festooned headdress and leopard wrap. He swung his massive ivory-encrusted staff of office easily, like a walking stick, as a dozen trumpeters and drummers followed behind. When he reached the threshold to the plaza, Household Guards ran to form a corridor to the steps leading to the throne, and the Master began to speak.

 

Across the vast hall, through the open door, the procession moved slowly. Nakor and Bek could hear the Master of Ceremonies' imposing voice cut through the noise of the crowd, but his words were not clear. At the rear of the procession a massive sedan chair was carried by a dozen bearers, and upon it sat a very old man.