Imperial Assassin (15 page)

When they recovered the second knife it was buried just as deeply as the first, directly into the mannequin’s heart area. It too was covered with the deadly poison. Femke took great care
to avoid any possibility of cutting herself as she drew the blade. Although she did have the antidote for quiltiss in her room, it smelled foul and was not guaranteed to work on every person. Some
people reacted as badly to the antidote as they did to the poison. Femke had no desire to see if she was one of them.

The third knife had struck the target dummy lower and more centrally than the first two, hitting the region that would have equated to a person’s solar plexus.

‘Not his best throw,’ Surabar noted thoughtfully. ‘A shame, given that this was his target.’

‘Actually, your Majesty, I would say that this was his safest throw. He took no chances with missing. The blade struck the target square and hard in the centre of the body. It was close
enough to the target’s heart that the poison would have done its work within a minute. I’d rate that a good throw under the circumstances. No, my only gripe is with his choice of knives
for each target. He made life difficult for himself. A really good assassin would never do that. I’ll debrief him on it later.’

The Emperor looked at her quizzically. ‘What do you mean, Femke? All the knives are the same. I see no differences in them at all.’

‘It’s not the knives that are different, your Majesty. Can you remember where he drew each blade from?’

The Emperor thought for a moment, his eyes instinctively rising as he accessed the memory. ‘I didn’t see where he drew the first one from. He already had it in his hand when he came
into view. The second came from a sleeve, the third from a back holster and the last from his boot.’

‘Absolutely correct, your Majesty, which means that he must have drawn his first blade from his underarm holster – the easiest to access in a hurry. Had he taken the knife, say, from
his boot when he entered the room, then he would have been faster at drawing his second blade. In a dire situation, that could well mean the difference between life and death.’

‘I see. I hadn’t thought of it like that,’ he replied thoughtfully.

‘There were a few other minor points, but on the whole I think he performed well. I’ll be honest – I don’t think he’s ready to infiltrate the Guild, but I’m
satisfied that I’ve given him the best preparation he could have in such a short time.’

‘Good. I agree that the situation is not ideal, but the Guild has killed another two Commanders this week. If the assassins continue to kill my Commanders at this rate, it’s rapidly
going to become difficult to find good men willing to take command. Assuming the guards do not catch him during his exit from the Palace, bring Reynik to my study this afternoon after you have
debriefed. If anything has gone awry during his escape, I will doubtless hear from the Palace guards shortly.’

‘Very good, your Majesty.’

Femke gave a brief, formal bow, holstered the three poisoned blades into empty leather sheaths she had brought with her, and then wrapped them in cloth before tucking the bundle under her arm
and exiting the library. On quiet reflection as she walked along the corridors and out of the Palace, Femke found she had mixed emotions over Reynik passing his test.

Over recent years it had appeared that whenever she had formed a strong emotional bond to someone, whether it be romantic or platonic, the person had suffered dire consequences. First, after
training her as a spy, her mentor and surrogate father figure, Lord Ferdand, had disappeared without a trace. Then, more recently, Lord Danar had died in her arms after following her to Thrandor
and helping rescue her from the Royal Dungeons. It was as if she were not destined to enjoy close relationships.

Now, despite her better judgement, she found she was developing an attachment to this young Legionnaire who was so willing to tread dangerous paths in the service of the Empire. It was hard not
to like him. He was so enthusiastic about everything. Femke knew he had to be feeling the pressure of all the information he had been force-fed, yet he had not once complained about the pace of his
tuition, or the difficulty of the tasks she had set him. He did not appear to take exception to being made to look foolish. Indeed, he seemed to let everything wash over him in a way that gave him
stature beyond his tender years.

Femke suddenly chuckled aloud. ‘Who am I to think of him as being of tender years?’ she thought, realising the irony of her situation. ‘I can’t be any more than two years
his senior, yet here I am on my high horse acting as if I know everything about everything. It’s time to take a step back and get real, Femke, my girl. It’s his life. He has as much
right to take risks with his life as you have with yours. Don’t get sentimental. Just because you’re teaching him does not make you responsible for what happens to him. Face it –
his chances of surviving the next week are not good. If the Guild doesn’t kill him for stepping on their turf, they’ll kill him when he blows his cover as an infiltrator. Stay
detached.’

The problem was, no matter how much she told herself not to get involved, she knew in her heart that it was too late. She had already formed a bond with him that was too strong to snap with
impunity. He was a likeable young man: strong, attractive, with enough natural charisma that his boyish looks and lack of years did not detract from his overall appeal as a potential partner. This,
of course, was impossible for many reasons. Not least of these was the fact that his life expectancy could be measured in days rather than years. Femke was not ready to let the hurt be any deeper
than necessary when Reynik was killed.

‘Cold, calm and detached,’ she thought. ‘It’s the only way to be. You’re his tutor, Femke, not his lover. Keep things in perspective.’

Later that afternoon, waiting to enter the Emperor’s study with Reynik at her side, Femke felt pleased with her self-control. The iron curtain was firmly drawn around her heart and she
felt that no matter what mad plan Reynik agreed to, she would accept her role was played out. She had taught him as much as she was able in the short time given. Where her skills fell short of
being the best, she had found the top tutors in Shandrim to fill the gaps. It was done. She felt convinced that she could move on and leave Reynik to his fate with no regrets. No doubt the Emperor
would have another task for her, so she would be too busy to worry about Reynik.

‘Who will it be, do you think?’ Reynik asked her in a whisper as they waited to be called in. ‘Do you know who he wants me to kill?’

Femke had a mental list of potential favourites that were high profile enough to draw the attention of the Guild. It was good that she did not have a chance to share her thoughts, for she would
have been proved wildly wrong.

‘Kempten!’ she exploded, when the Emperor announced his intention. ‘But . . . but . . . he’s more loyal than anyone else you have!’

‘Trust me, Femke. I know it seems like madness, but I know exactly what I’m doing. Lord Kempten must die. If we don’t kill him, then the Guild will. They are hitting the Legion
commanders in order to hurt me. It will only be a matter of time before they target Kempten. I’m not going to allow that to happen.’

‘Dead is dead, your Majesty! I appreciate that it’s not my place to question your motives, but Kempten is a good man. He did a great job as Regent while you were away. Shand, he even
had some of his peers hung on your account. How will killing him further your cause?’

‘Dead is only dead if you stop breathing, Femke. I have no intention of losing Lord Kempten as an ally. That is why he must be taken out of harm’s way. Let me explain . .
.’

The plan was simple. Walk to Lord Kempten’s office door. Throw the knife. Leave without getting stopped. As Femke had taught him, the last element was the most crucial.
It was all well and good to eliminate your target, but if you got caught, then it would be a life for a life. Reynik had no desire to die just yet. His eighteenth birthday was only a week away.
Life had only just begun.

He tried not to let emotion get in the way of what he knew he had to do. The thought that within the next few days his status would change to a level with Shalidar brought a sick feeling to his
stomach. Even the thought that he would be required to kill in cold blood brought the bitter taste of bile to the back of his mouth. It would be necessary, though. He knew that. The cause was a
just one. He kept telling himself over and over that unless he acted, more and more innocent people would die. The sacrifice would be worth the end result.

At least Lord Kempten was easy to reach. His office was in the City Court building, which was not a restricted area. On completion of his short spell as Regent, the Emperor had tasked Lord
Kempten with collating certain information and dealing with some of Shandrim’s less critical domestic issues. The old Lord had elected to do this by making himself accessible to those with
the information, which worked strongly in Reynik’s favour. The City Court was not far from the Palace, but security at the Court was not as tight. He could just walk in. It was highly
unlikely he would be challenged. Getting out afterwards would not be so straightforward. This would be doubly true as his brief was to make sure someone witnessed his kill. The Guild of Assassins
would need something to go on if they were to make contact with him, so he needed to be seen. Seen but not caught – a tricky balance to strike.

Lord Kempten’s office was in the heart of the building, which meant a long escape route. This was good in that he would most certainly be seen by someone, but bad because it heightened his
chances of being intercepted. Dressed in nondescript clothing, Reynik scouted the building thoroughly that afternoon. Several routes to the main exit were possible. There was also a secondary exit
that opened onto one of the back streets. This was attractive, but almost too obvious. Windows offered further exit points, but, as Reynik intended to make the hit during daytime hours, leaving
through a window would also stand out as unusual.

Walking around the Court building several times without raising any suspicion was easy. Like many others, he carried several rolled parchments under his arm and walked quickly. By looking busy,
striding purposefully and avoiding eye contact with anyone he met, he blended in perfectly with the bureaucratic characters who infested the corridors. No one gave him a second glance.

Later, he met with Femke to discuss his options. He swiftly drew the layout of the building on a slate, marking doors, windows and corridors with confident strokes. Femke watched intently. She
already knew the Civil Court building intimately, as she had worked undercover there on several occasions. His diagram was good, including more information than Femke expected of a relative
novice.

Quizzing him in depth about his reconnaissance revealed that Reynik had a good eye and an excellent memory for detail. He had noted key paintings and wall hangings, which would make good markers
in the event of his becoming disoriented. Colours of carpeting, specific ornamental decoration, even anomalies in the mounting of wall-mounted torch brackets had all been noted.

‘That’s good, Reynik, very good. Your best route of escape is this way. Not because it’s the quickest, but it offers you the most options if one way appears blocked. See
here,’ she said, pointing at his diagram. ‘If you find the way blocked, you can not only double back, but you are left with a variety of possible alternate exit routes. You could go
this way, this way, or as a last resort go out through the window at the end of the corridor here.’

Reynik followed her finger and frowned.

‘You wouldn’t consider going back the way I’m going in?’ he asked.

‘No. It would be better not to. You want people to see you, but don’t give them a chance to see you more than once – at least, not with the same appearance. A second look at
you will allow them to fill in too many details. When seeing someone passing by, the average person will only get a very vague impression of what the passer-by looks like. If they see that person a
second time, they will begin to take in detail. The more times they see that person, the more details they will mentally note. Don’t give anyone more of a look at you than you have to. By
doing it my way, you will minimise the chances of anyone being able to give a detailed description.’

‘That makes sense. Did you manage to get any other useful information this afternoon?’

Femke grinned. ‘Naturally. Information is my business.’

‘Come on then. Impress me,’ Reynik offered, sitting back and crossing his legs casually, as if getting comfortable to listen to a story.

‘Kempten is a man of routine and habit. He schedules all his meetings in the morning and early afternoon. His last appointment is at the first afternoon call. He never agrees to any
meetings after this, as he spends the rest of his day studying and writing his reports to the Emperor. At the second afternoon call he takes his lunch break. He puts his quill down the moment the
call sounds, no matter what he’s doing, and heads out of his office. He takes his lunch in one of three places: The Phoenix, Korrin’s or The Old Dog. Do you want to know what he has for
lunch?’

‘I don’t think that will be necessary,’ Reynik smiled. ‘It appears the ideal time for the hit is moments before the second afternoon call.’

‘My thoughts exactly.’

‘He’ll be at his desk, almost certainly alone. The building will be quieter than at most other times of the day, because the majority of people will take their lunch slightly earlier
than Kempten. It’s almost too good to be true. In fact, I think with a little more deception, we might be able to make this hit work for us even more. Are you able to make an appointment in
the Court with one of the other Nobles?’

Femke nodded. ‘I could, but please remember that I can’t compromise myself for you, Reynik. If you get caught, you’re on your own. You understand, don’t you? The Emperor
doesn’t have many who are loyal to him outside of the Legions. He’ll need all the help he can get over the coming months.’