Imperial Assassin (5 page)

‘Indeed it is. I cracked a couple of ribs once; a glancing blow to my breastplate with an axe – not a pleasant business. At least you’re looking more yourself again now the
bruising around your face has receded. Might I suggest that if you ever decide to take on someone like Shalidar in hand-to-hand combat again, you use your hands to deflect his blows, rather than
your head? It tends to be less painful, you know.’

‘Really, your Majesty? I’ll try to bear that in mind,’ she replied, maintaining a completely straight face.

The Emperor laughed and shook his head. ‘You’re one extraordinary young woman, Femke. I cannot help but be impressed with how you handled the business in Mantor. I find it hard to
imagine anyone else proving their innocence under such circumstances. Somehow, you did. You saved Shandar from the political embarrassment of having to own up to spying on our neighbours. You saved
me from having to order your execution, which was not a task I relished. You broke more Thrandorian laws than I care to imagine. Shand alive, you even robbed the Thrandorian Royal Treasury! Yet the
King of Thrandor likes you. Young lady, you deserve whatever reward I can give, but you know that I can’t do anything publicly for fear of compromising your role as a spy.’

Femke smiled. ‘Give me something to do, your Majesty. That would be the best reward I can imagine right now. I’m bored witless with sitting around and recuperating. I need to be
doing something. Anything! Please, give me another assignment.’

‘You’re not fit—’

‘Your Majesty,’ she interrupted, giving a smile to apologise for her impertinence. ‘I’m not asking for you to give me a
dangerous
mission. I simply want to be
useful again. I think I’ll go insane if I have to endure any more of the medics’ patronising exhortations to rest. I need to get my fitness back. I need to move around and do something.
Surely there’s some little bit of information I can go looking for that will not put me in harm’s way?’

Surabar looked at her with his calculating gaze. Her young face still showed slight signs of the battering it had taken at the hands of Shalidar, but her eyes were bright with intelligence.
Femke knew exactly what she was asking. She knew that there was no such thing as a ‘risk free assignment’. He could set her an administration task, but that would be like asking a
freshly graduated soldier to stand and guard the supplies whilst all his colleagues went off into battle. He would do it, but would resent the duty. That resentment would then fester against the
person who gave the order. The Emperor needed Femke’s help too much to alienate her. No, she would need something to do that would utilise her skills, yet not be likely to result in physical
confrontation. As he thought about it, he realised he had the perfect task.

Shalidar was a picture of calm. He sat in the simple, windowless chamber, painstakingly stroking the whetstone along the blade of his dagger. The steel blade glinted in the dim
light as he turned it from side to side, taking care to apply an even effort to both edges. The slow, rhythmic, grinding ring of stone on metal was almost hypnotic as the assassin waited for the
Guildmaster. It was not a meeting he was looking forward to, but he knew it was necessary if he were to avoid being hunted by killers far more deadly than any the Emperor had in his employ.

The Guildmaster, hidden in the shadows outside the open doorway, observed him silently for a moment. ‘Shand, but you’re a cool one, Shalidar!’ he thought. ‘If you
weren’t so damned talented, I’d have you killed where you sit. It would be a terrible waste, but it would save me a host of trouble.’

He looked at the lean figure sitting in the wooden chair, one leg casually crossed at ninety degrees over the knee of the other, and he felt cold anger build within his gut. After jeopardising
the future of the Guild with his recent antics, Shalidar must know that his life hung by a thread. The Guildmaster held the power to snuff him out like a candle with a given word, yet Shalidar sat,
cool as ice, and apparently unconcerned with the precariousness of his situation. How could anyone be so arrogant and self-assured? For a moment, the Guildmaster considered slipping away and
ordering Shalidar’s termination. ‘No,’ he thought. ‘I’ll give him one chance to explain his actions first.’

It was likely that Shalidar knew the Guildmaster was there. He had not become a deadly killer without having a keen awareness of his surroundings. The Guildmaster had made no noise, yet he knew
that to Shalidar it was almost like a sixth sense, an awareness of being watched that would alert him to his master’s presence.

There was little point in further delay. He stepped forward into the chamber and Shalidar got smoothly to his feet. The assassin was careful not to make any sudden movements that could be
misinterpreted. The dagger and whetstone he placed on the small wooden table beside him as he rose. Once standing, he bowed his head deferentially and waited for the Guildmaster to speak.

‘So, Brother Dragon, you decided to return to us. I admit I’m surprised to see you. I had thought you would be far away by now, and unlikely to make an appearance in Shandrim for
some years. After the trouble you have caused the Guild, you’re fortunate I’ve not already ordered your death. I will allow you this one chance to explain yourself. What did you do in
Thrandor that caused Emperor Surabar to declare us
anaethus drax
?’

‘I, Master? I can’t imagine that any of
my
actions would have caused such a thing. It’s true that some of my recent plans in Thrandor went awry, but it’s
difficult to imagine how the consequences of my personal circumstances could result in such a reaction from the Emperor.’

The Guildmaster watched Shalidar’s body language carefully as he spoke. Under the depths of his black, cowled hood, he pursed his lips. If Shalidar was lying, then he was doing it
extremely well.

‘The Emperor has over-reacted, Master,’ Shalidar continued. ‘I could not have foreseen this. As you know, I have a legitimate business in Mantor, a trading business formed with
the money I earned through my work for the Guild. I’ve hidden nothing of these activities, as there has been no reason to. A couple of the Thrandorian Noblemen were interfering with my
business in Thrandor to the point they were becoming a severe disruption. As I was constrained by the creed from acting independently, I contracted Brother Falcon to travel to Thrandor to deal with
the problem. You should have received my message to this effect.’

‘I did,’ the Guildmaster replied coldly. ‘I was not happy with the contract arrangement, but we will talk about that when you have finished your explanation.’

‘There is little to tell, Master. Brother Falcon travelled as a servant to Thrandor and carried out his contract, for which I paid him at the agreed rate. Sadly, events then quickly
spiralled out of our control. The Shandese Ambassador was blamed for the deaths. This was unfortunate, for it caused a diplomatic incident that in turn sparked dialogue between the King of Thrandor
and Emperor Surabar. Aside from the diplomatic embarrassment caused by the implication of the Shandese Ambassador in the deaths of two Thrandorian Noblemen, it transpired that the Ambassador was a
spy, sent personally by the Emperor. He, therefore, had a keen personal interest in seeing that his spy was not compromised, as this would have been even more damaging to international relations.
The spy was clever. She managed to find a way of implicating both Brother Falcon and me in the deaths of the two Noblemen. Though her evidence was fabricated, it convinced the King. It was she who
named both Brother Falcon and me as assassins. Whether she knew it to be the truth or not is immaterial. We were compromised and forced to make a break for freedom. I managed to escape. Brother
Falcon was not so fortunate.’

The story sounded feasible. The Guildmaster reviewed it, looking for anything that sounded false. Shalidar had not tried to hide anything with clever words or fancy language. He had simply
stated a sequence of events, many of which were verifiable. If he was lying, then he was doing so in perfect control and following the best practice of keeping his lies simple. Killing people was
the Guild’s business. Shalidar had arranged to have two people killed. There were always consequences to deaths. The question here was: were the consequences of these two hits foreseeable?
From the stated sequence of events, the Guildmaster did not see how they could be. He would have to verify what he could of the story, but he doubted he would find any holes in it. True or false,
Shalidar would have covered his tracks sufficiently to blur the truth.

‘Brother Dragon, you know that you skate on thin ice. I will look to verify your story. If I find you have lied to me, you will die swiftly. I’ll not tolerate those who seek to use
the Guild to their own ends. You’ve done very well from your membership of this elite brotherhood. If I find that greed has corrupted you from adhering to the creed, I’ll show you no
mercy. How did Brother Falcon die? His icon returned here some time ago.’

Shalidar shook his head sadly. ‘They hung him the day after they caught him, Master. I could do nothing.’

The Guildmaster fell silent for a moment. ‘That is . . . unfortunate,’ he said eventually. In his head, he continued, ‘but very fortunate for your cause, Shalidar. Had he been
alive, it would have been easy to verify the tale you have just spun. Instead I must waste precious time and resources checking out your story.’ Aloud, he added ‘I’m assuming
you’re aware of the price the Emperor has put on your head?’

Shalidar nodded.

‘Then can I also assume that you intend to reside here in the Guild complex for a while?’

‘Yes, Master.’

‘Very well. You’ll be given assignments like all the others, which I expect you to fulfil. They will be made more difficult because of the bounty on your head, but that is your
problem. If I were in your position, I would avoid taking on any business outside of your Guild duties. It would be best to wait until the dust has settled and the bounty hunters have given up
chasing shadows.’

‘Yes, Master.’

The Guildmaster turned to leave.

‘But, Master?’

‘Yes, Brother Dragon?’ he answered, pausing and looking back over his shoulder.

‘What about the spy who exposed Brother Falcon and me? It is ultimately her fault this situation has arisen. It is she who is responsible for the Guild being pronounced
anaethus
drax.
Will she be punished for her actions?’

For a moment the Guildmaster said nothing. When he did speak, he began by quoting in the chanting strains of the creed. ‘
I will never kill for pleasure, revenge, in anger, or out of
jealousy.
We are not going to take revenge, Brother Dragon. That would lower us to the gutter. Don’t even think about the spy. She is as ancient history to you now. Spend some time
reciting and contemplating the creed again tonight, Brother. Make it sing in your blood. Ignore it and you will die. It is that simple.’

Shalidar bowed his head in acceptance and the Guildmaster walked swiftly from the room, his black robes merging quickly into the shadows of the corridor outside. When Shalidar’s head came
up, there was a set of defiance on his face that would have chilled even the Guildmaster’s blood.

The meeting had been a dangerous gamble for Shalidar. He had thrown the dice of life with an outward confidence not mirrored by his heart. He had thrown and won again. Rather than come back
straight away, some in his position might have travelled to foreign lands and utilised their talents there. There was always a demand for talented assassins. But Shalidar knew that if he had done
this, he would always have been the outsider. Suspicion would always have fallen at his feet if there were trouble. It was human nature to suspect the stranger. Coming back to Shandrim was fraught
with difficulties, but Shalidar knew how to blend in here. True, it was dangerous – particularly with the huge bounty the Emperor had placed on his head – but every road held danger in
his chosen profession. It was only the degree that varied.

Drawing back his sleeve, he contemplated the gleaming silver wristlet that bound him to the Guild. The engraved dragon there appeared to mock his inspection. There were times when he wished he
could take it off and throw it away, but he knew that to do so was to invite instant death. In accepting his icon, he had bound himself to the Guild for life, or until he was retired by the
Guildmaster. His life force was magically tied to the wristlet. He did not know how. It had never been fully explained. He could remove it, but he could move no more than a few paces from it
without his life being forfeit.

There had been some who had tried to run in the past, but they had all returned, or died. The icons had to be placed against the binding stone once every year. If this contact was not made to
refresh the bond, the icon automatically returned to the binding stone the moment the year was up. Unless the current holder of the icon was standing next to the stone at the time, he died
instantly. As a safeguard against infiltrators, new members of the Guild were not told of this limitation until an initial probationary period had been completed. Shalidar remembered the shock he
had felt when he had been told. It had left him wondering what other secrets the Guildmaster held. Although the Guild could not forcibly cause him to return to the headquarters at any particular
time, he could no more leave the Guild than he could learn to fly.

By long-standing tradition, Guild members met to refresh their icons at midsummer’s eve and midwinter’s eve every year. Those who could not be there refreshed their icons as soon as
they returned to the complex after these dates.

Only the Guildmaster held the means to remove an icon safely, but how that was done, Shalidar had never been able to discover. He covered it again angrily. At times the wristlet felt like a
shackle. This was one of those times.

He had won his first gamble today. He had been accepted back by the Guildmaster. He knew he would have to tread carefully, but he had no intention of forgetting what Femke had done in Mantor. He
would take his revenge. It might take a while to manipulate events to achieve it, but Shalidar could be patient when he had to be. He had always paid lip service to the Assassins’ creed. It
had never bound him as it had the others. If the Guild ever found out about any of his breaches of their law, he would be executed. It was partly the thrill of this danger that had led him to twist
the words of the creed time and again. At one time or another, he had flaunted almost every critical phrase, but he had always covered his tracks meticulously. His fellow assassin, Falcon, would
have died in Mantor regardless of the outcome of events there. He had learned too much of Shalidar’s activities. By hanging him, the Thrandorians had saved Shalidar the job and provided the
perfect cover.