For a brief instant the guard on the right of the door hesitated as an important - looking foreign nobleman and his two servants rushed through the portal. By the time he glanced at his companion, they had gone. The second guard shrugged ever so slightly, as if to say now it was someone else’s problem.
Once they were inside the perimeter of the Imperial apartment complex, no one challenged their right to be there. They circum-vented the Great Hall and the Gallery of Lords and Masters, as those areas would be fi lling with the luminaries of the Empire and special guests who would fill the upper plaza as the nighttime celebration commenced. Even now, jugglers, dancers, musicians, and all manner of entertainers were performing for the assembled crowd. A great boulevard that separated the lower city from the palace itself was cordoned off. It would provide the route for a great parade, with elements from the Legion, the great chariot companies and the Cavalry all marching by, followed by exotic animals, and, finally, a great stage on which a theatrical tribute to the Emperor would be performed.
Kaspar reached Turgan Bey’s office as the Imperial Master of the Keep was rising from his chair of office. “There you are,” he said as he saw Kaspar. “I thought the message madness, for I wondered how you were going to get here.”
“Looks like you know what you’re doing,” Kaspar said, motioning for Amafi to keep a lookout at the door, while Pasko went to the open terrace.
Kaspar came to stand next to Bey and whispered in his ear. “I know where Varen is, and I think I know what is to happen next.
Whom do you trust?”
“Right now, damn few people.”
“Who among the Inner Legion, the Masters of the Chariots, and the Imperial Horse?”
“Even fewer. Why?”
“Whom do you trust to save your Empire?”
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“Kaspar, what is this about? Is our Emperor in danger?”
“Worse,” said Kaspar. “I think the entire Imperial family is at risk.”
“Tell me quickly,” said Bey.
Kaspar outlined the idea he had shared with Pug earlier, and as he spoke, Bey’s face drained of color. When Kaspar was done, Turgan Bey said, “Kaspar, I don’t want to believe it. But what you suggest explains many things that up to now seemed without reason.” He sat back and was silent a moment, then asked, “If you’re correct, is there anything we can do?”
“I need you to get to as many of those you can trust and let them know that when things turn ugly, the best thing they can do is to keep their swords sheathed, unless they see a direct threat to someone close by. Get a lot of drunken nobles running around with their swords out and people are going to die needlessly.
“The thing to remember is that we only need a few men close to the princes. They must be men you can trust, and impress on them . . .
well, you know what to say. But I’ll repeat this one thing. The Nighthawks did not flee the city; they are here in the palace, and tonight they plan to bring the Empire to its knees.”
“Kaspar, if you’re right, you’ll be made a prince of Kesh.” Then he looked him in the eyes. “And if you’re wrong, or if you’ve completely lost your sanity, we’ll both be fed to the crocodiles.”
Kaspar’s eyes reflected a hint of doubt. “It’s a risk, but we have no choice.”
“Where will you be?”
“I have to be on the dais, close to the Imperial family.”
Bey went to his desk and pulled open a drawer. He took out a small staff of ivory, with a single golden circlet around it. “This is as good as an armed escort, Kaspar. No guard will question what you are doing if you’re holding this.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, what next?”
“We wait,” said Kaspar. “We can prove nothing until the Nighthawks make a move. And when they do, we will have to act quickly.”
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Turgan Bey looked at Kaspar and said, “May the gods protect Kesh.”
“And us all,” said Kaspar, as the Master of the Keep left his offi ce.
Amafi said, “Magnificence, what now?”
“We wait,” said Kaspar, sitting in Turgan Bey’s chair.
Nakor led Bek through the throng. “Nakor,” said the large youth.
“This is wonderful! I’ve never seen so many people!”
Nakor nodded. “Kesh is the largest city in the world, Ralan.”
“They are having fun, aren’t they?”
“Yes, and so far managing to do so without hurting each other,”
said the little gambler as he wended his way through the crowd.
“This is good?”
“Yes,” said Nakor. Every chance he got he had been trying to in-culcate Ralan with the concept of good, and while he knew he could never change the young man’s nature, he thought he might alter his perspective a little.
A pair of burly City Watchmen pushed through the crowd, shouting for the pedestrians to clear the route. Nakor grabbed Bek’s arm and led him to the far side of the boulevard. “Many years ago I came here with two men: Guda and Borric. They were fi ne fellows.
We did the same thing then that we are going to do now.”
“What’s that?” said Bek.
With a sly grin, Nakor said, “Crash a party. Follow me.”
Bek shrugged, but the idea of arriving uninvited appealed to him, so he kept the little gambler’s back in sight as they made their way through the crowd and headed to one of the many entrances to the palace.
Magnus stood quietly in deep shadow, hidden by a colonnade from those nearby. From across the large boulevard, he had a direct view of the upper plaza, and he knew he could be there in seconds. He looked in vain for Kaspar or Nakor, and seeing neither, he felt a stab 3 1 2
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of apprehension. If Kaspar was correct in his surmise, this could be the pivotal moment in the short history of the Conclave of Shadows, for with a single misstep, their four most powerful practitioners of magic could be obliterated.
Pug and Miranda waited. Everything that could be done had been done and they could only sit and linger until the signal came, then they would act. Pug looked out of the window of the nearly empty house and thought how odd it was that he was never visited by a sense of home any more.
“What are you thinking?” asked his wife, softly, as the distant sounds of revelry reached them through the night air.
“Crydee, and being a boy,” he said softly. “Sorcerer’s Isle is home, but . . .”
“Home is where you were a child.”
He looked at her. In so many ways he felt incomplete when she was not near, and yet if they lived another hundred years together, he knew he would still never fully understand Miranda. “Is that how our boys feel?” he said.
She smiled. “When this is over, ask them.”
He looked thoughtful. “I will. When this is over.” Then he stared out of the window again, waiting.
Kaspar quickly made his way through the press of the royal family, trying hard to get the attention of either prince. He caught Dangai’s eye, and the Prince crossed over to greet him. He wore his formal attire as Leader of the Inner Legion—black gartered sandals, a black kilt, black jacket and chest plate, and a massive helm that completely covered his head and was topped by a splendid horsehair plume, also dyed black. “Kaspar. I didn’t realize you’d be joining us.”
“I wasn’t on the Master of Ceremonies’ list, I’m afraid.”
The Prince regarded Kaspar for a moment, then smiled. “Well, it’s not a formal state function, and everyone here is half - drunk already, so I doubt anyone will mind.”
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Kaspar lowered his voice. “How many units of your Legion are close by?”
Dangai’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as he asked, “Why?”
“Because I believe there will be an attempt to take your brother’s or your l
ife tonight, possibly both of you.”
“Why was I not warned before this? And why must I hear it from a foreign noble?”
“Because your entire Imperial Intelligence Corps has been sub-verted,” said Kaspar frankly. After conferring with the Magistrate in the morning, Pug and Kaspar had pieced together a picture that could mean only one thing: the reason their first attack on the Nighthawks had failed, and the reason that the Nighthawks had gone when they finally uncovered their nest, was that the assassins had been aided by Keshian spies.
Kaspar had taken the Emperor’s warning about everyone having spies to heart. The Magistrate had openly admitted that, prior to his current accommodation with the members of the Conclave, he had sold information on the whereabouts of various foreigners to men he knew to be Imperial agents. It was the only explanation. The Conclave had been watched from the moment they had arrived in the city, and the only reason they were not all dead was because Varen saw an advantage in having Conclave agents in Kesh, fomenting trouble.
Implicate them, and Kesh would go to war.
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?”
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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 fi re before it turns into a confl agration.”
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Dangai left Kaspar and Amafi came to his side. “Were you believed, Magnifi cence?”
“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 fi rst 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 infl uential commoners enjoyed the Emperor’s largesse. As darkness approached, two events were being anticipated, Emperor Diigai’s arrival and the an-nual fi reworks 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.”
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“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, Magnifi cence.”
“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 fi ght,” 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-3 1 7
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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.
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