by Mark Robson
Danar and Femke bowed and left the room. The two guards were waiting outside and immediately stiffened to attention as the door opened.
‘Do you need us to lead you back to your quarters?’ one of the guards asked Danar.
‘No, there’s no need, thank you,’ Danar answered with a friendly smile. ‘I think I noted the way accurately, and I can always ask someone if I become unsure. The King spoke of going for a stroll in the grounds. Given the troubled events of the last few weeks, might I suggest it would be more appropriate if you accompanied him on his walk? The Palace has proved a dangerous place recently. I don’t like to think of his Majesty walking the grounds alone at the moment. Enough damage has been done to relationships between our two countries. Let’s not run the risk of a total catastrophe, shall we?’
The two guards looked at one another and then back at Lord Danar. They nodded and bowed.
‘We’ll do as you suggest, my Lord,’ said the spokesman of the two. ‘Thank you.’
Danar nodded back and set off down the corridor with Femke once again following a few paces behind. He did not turn to see if she were there, or speak to her at all. He simply walked silently along the reverse of their route from the visitors’ suite.
Femke understood his silence, for she was deep in thought as well. Part of her mind was mourning Ennas, whilst another was trying to imagine a sequence of events that would lead to his killing a guard and trying to escape. The image of Ennas on the table in the morgue filled her thoughts. Unfortunately, this lack of focus on her surroundings could not have come at a worse time.
It was the slightest flicker of a movement, but it was enough to break through Femke’s reverie and register in her mind as danger. Without thinking she launched forward into a dive and shunted Danar to the left. A blade flashed through the air, passing just over Femke and directly through the path Danar had been walking. Someone had leaned around a corner ahead and hurled the blade with deadly accuracy. Femke landed heavily, her mind leaping to the conclusion that the ‘someone’ had to be Shalidar. The spy was on her feet again in a flash.
‘Get back to the suite,’ she ordered Danar, who had crashed into the wall and fallen to the floor. ‘Don’t open the door without Royal Guards present. I’ll get there as quickly as I can.’
With that she sprinted off down the corridor and around the corner in pursuit of the assassin. What she was going to do when she caught up with him, Femke was not sure. Shalidar was bound to be carrying more weapons and she was unarmed, but Femke desperately wanted to catch him. It was now a matter of principle. He had taken the bait. The rest was up to her.
As she turned the corner, Femke caught a glimpse of a running figure disappearing into another side corridor a little way down on the right. Powering forward as fast as she could, Femke raced after the fleeing figure. As she turned the corner into the side corridor, he was already out of sight again, having made another turn into the small maze of passages that made up this part of the Palace.
Damn, he’s fast! she thought, zipping ahead to the next intersection where she paused to listen. The thick carpet muffled the sound of the assassin’s footfalls, but it did not silence them completely. Femke could hear enough to tell that he had turned right again. He’s circling around, she realised with a surge of panic. If Shalidar gets to Danar before he’s moved, the crafty fox will get a second chance.
The thought that Shalidar would get to Danar before she caught up with him injected even more pace into her legs and she all but flew down the corridor in pursuit. When she reached the next intersection, the assassin had turned right again and once more she caught a fleeting glimpse of him disappearing around a curve in the corridor ahead.
As Femke passed the place where she had left Danar a minute or so before, she was pleased to find he was no longer there. With luck the assassin would not follow the same path through the Palace as Danar, she thought. Femke had not noticed the assassin’s knife anywhere along the corridor, so either Shalidar or Danar must have picked it up.
Please let it be Danar, she prayed as she pelted along the corridor, her jaw set with fierce determination.
Suddenly, Femke reached a four-way junction and she skidded to a halt. To her astonishment there was no sign of the assassin anywhere, yet she could see a significant distance in all directions. Nobody could run that fast.
Trying hard to control her panting breath, Femke strained to listen for signs of the assassin’s footfalls. At first, she thought the blood pounding in her ears was masking his escape, but as she calmed her breathing still further, Femke realised there was no sound to listen for. Shalidar had disappeared.
‘Damn you, Shalidar!’ she shouted in frustration, punching one fist into her other hand in extreme annoyance. ‘Damn you to hell!’
The assassin must have somehow slipped through one of the many doors along the corridors, but whether she had passed his hiding place, or whether it was further on from the junction, Femke had no way of knowing. It struck her that although she had not caught the assassin, neither had she come across Lord Danar. This was good, in that Shalidar was also unlikely to have seen him; but confusing, as she would have expected Danar to return to his room this way. Danar had disappeared as well.
What in Shand’s name is going on? she wondered. What should she do next? Searching the rooms nearby would be dangerous, as Shalidar would lay traps for her. The logical thing to do now was to return to Danar’s suite.
If she was honest, Femke had not expected to catch Shalidar. Allowing him a chance at a hit without Danar being surrounded by an army of guards had been the riskiest part of the plan. She was cautiously pleased that it appeared Danar had not been hurt. Shalidar would not get another easy chance. The next phase of the plan was to go to the King and arrange for the Shandese Ambassador to be surrounded by the most intense security cordon possible. With the tight timescale left for Shalidar to complete his contract, Femke felt sure he would try something risky rather than lose such a large amount of gold. That was when they would nail him. By displaying Shalidar’s true colours to the King, Femke felt sure she could clear her name and restore some trust to the peace negotiations she had begun. Failing this, she had a fallback option that was equally as convincing.
There was a niggle in Femke’s mind about the attempted hit that bothered her. The fleeting glimpses she had gained of her enemy teased her that she had missed something vital. Femke could not define it and this was not the time to be distracted. The spy knew she was vulnerable standing exposed at the junction of the corridors. The need to move away from the place forced her to make a decision.
Torn briefly between retracing her steps, and going back to the suite, Femke decided on the latter to see if Danar had made his way there by a different route. If Danar was there, then they could swing straight into the next phase of the plan. If not, then Femke would have to search for him and hope Shalidar did not get to him again.
Danar was not sure if he should be insulted at Femke treating him like some little boy needing protection. True, she had saved his life by pushing him out of the way of the knife, but then to send him to his room while she ran unarmed after the assassin did little for his ego.
Femke had disappeared around the corner by the time Danar got to his feet. In a gesture of irritation he brushed at his tunic and hose. Before Danar had finished the gesture a hand suddenly grabbed him across the mouth from behind and he felt the cold line of a blade resting on his throat.
‘Come this way, Lord Danar. I want to have a little chat before I kill you,’ the sibilant whisper of Shalidar ordered in his right ear.
Danar was stunned, but left with little choice. If he did not cooperate he could be dead in seconds. If he went with the assassin, there was a small chance Shalidar could make a mistake. How had the assassin gone from being in front of him a few seconds before to behind him? Was he a magician that he could transport himself from place to place? If not, then who was Femke chasing?
Shalidar manoeuv
red Danar back up the corridor a short way and through a door into a storage room. The assassin closed the door silently behind them and then remained still, as if waiting for something. Before long, Danar heard the sound of someone running past at high speed. There was a pause of several seconds and then another person raced past the door and on down the corridor.
‘Now then,’ Shalidar whispered gleefully. ‘We shouldn’t be disturbed for a while. If you try to call out, you’ll not finish the attempt. This knife is very sharp and will slice through your windpipe in an instant if you don’t do exactly as I tell you. Do you understand?’
Danar moved his head in the subtlest of nods.
‘Good,’ Shalidar approved, removing the hand from Danar’s mouth. The blade at the young Lord’s throat did not waver. ‘Now that we understand each other, you can start by filling in a few gaps. What has Femke been cooking up for me?’
‘Femke? How would I know? I’ve only just arrived—’
‘Don’t play innocent with me, Danar,’ interrupted Shalidar with an angry snarl in his voice. ‘I know you sprang her from prison. I know that was her outside in the corridor a moment ago. What did she hope to gain by having me kill you?’
‘Kill me? What do you mean? Femke likes me. I’m sure she does. Why would she want me killed?’ Danar spluttered, determined to string Shalidar along.
‘If you expect me to believe you’re not in on this, Ambassador Danar,’ he said, sneering the title as if it were the lowest form of filth, ‘then you must take me for Shandar’s greatest fool. I’m no fool, Danar. Your acting is not gaining you anything. Femke either thinks she’s good enough to catch me, or she wants you out of the way for some reason. The sad thing for you is that either way, you get to die. You see, Femke will never be good enough to catch me, and if she wants you dead, then she has the good grace to pay well.’
‘I . . . I . . .’
‘I can see I’m going to get little of use out of you, am I? Aside, that is, from one and a half thousand gold sovereigns I’ve already been paid. Rest assured I’ll put your bounty money to good use, Danar. Your head isn’t worth such a price. You’re pathetic. Surely you realise that Femke is a spy through and through. I’ve watched you, Danar. I’ve seen the look in your eyes. You must know she doesn’t share your love and never will. Femke has used you from the moment you arrived in Mantor. She has used you like she uses everyone – as a means to an end, a pawn in her grand game of cat and mouse. Well, Danar, you and Femke alike are the mice here, and I’m the cat. And I’m afraid the predator must kill its prey.’
‘Wait! No! I’ll tell you everything,’ Danar offered frantically. ‘You don’t have to kill me, Shalidar.’
‘Ah, then you know my name at least. Good! Now, what is the little minx up to this time?’
Danar took a deep breath and tried desperately to think of a plausible story. The blade pressing uncomfortably against his throat tightened a fraction. Any thoughts he had of lying left him then and he lost his cool altogether. In a panicked babble, Danar blurted out the basic plan. It was irrelevant now, he thought. The primary plan had not worked. The idea had hinged on Femke preventing Shalidar from getting to Danar on his first attempt. The assassin had outwitted them.
Shalidar listened silently until Danar had finished outlining how they had planned to get the King to order such heavy security around Danar over the next couple of days that it would be impossible for Shalidar to get close to him without exposing his identity. The guards would then be ordered to stop Shalidar and search him for weapons at every opportunity. When the Emperor arrived, Femke was going to use her influence with him to have Shalidar exposed as an assassin. Femke would then be reinstated to her position as Ambassador, and her reputation restored.
‘Having Femke as a respectable Ambassador would fit nicely into your plans as well,’ Shalidar noted casually. ‘Having a relationship with an Ambassador would bring less disgrace to the family name, wouldn’t it? Whereas I’m sure the more traditional members of your family would not look on your dallying with a spy so favourably. It would all have been so neat. Unfortunately, however, I’ve never seen the value in lovers, or in love itself for that matter. I’m not the romantic type.’
Shalidar paused and Danar squeezed his eyes shut, expecting to feel the knife slice across his throat at any second. The assassin had what he wanted. Danar could not think of any way out of this situation. Death seemed inevitable.
He could have volunteered Femke’s back-up plan, but telling the assassin about this would achieve little. Exposing the rest would buy him a few seconds, but Shalidar already appeared content with the information he’d been given. Danar knew more. Lots more. But holding back that knowledge gave him a small source of inner triumph.
He tried not to think about what it would feel like for the blade to cut though his windpipe, but his mind was filled with pictures of a slow, gory death. Then, to his complete astonishment, Shalidar gave him a glimmer of hope.
‘Femke has been a complete nuisance ever since I first met her. Tell her if she wishes to live to see another year, she must give herself up to the King and take responsibility for the murders of Baron Anton and Count Dreban. If she does this, I’ll not interfere with the decision of the Royal Court, nor bother her if she escapes jail again. However, she must further promise not to meddle in any of my affairs again. If I discover she has done so, then I’ll hunt her to the ends of the earth to see her dead. Is that clear?’
‘Absolutely, Shalidar, I’ll take your message to her immediately.’
‘Yes, you will, because if you don’t go straight away, then you’ll die before you have another chance,’ the assassin rasped, and then he jabbed something sharp into the back of Danar’s leg. Danar flinched and felt the knife blade at his throat cut the skin slightly. A trickle of blood ran slowly down his neck and Danar wondered what on earth the assassin was doing.
Shalidar pushed Danar towards the door, but did not open it straight away. A pulsing sensation began in Danar’s leg where he had been jabbed and suddenly a sick feeling rose from within the pit of his stomach.
‘If you want to live, then you’d better get to Femke quickly. Tell her that I’ve blessed you with a wound filled with nepthis. It’s a rare poison, but I know Femke has used it before. If you’re lucky she’ll give you the antidote. Don’t waste time, Danar. Nepthis does not take long to do its work. Good luck and don’t forget my message.’
With that, Shalidar opened the door, removed the knife from Danar’s throat, and shoved him hard in the middle of the back, propelling him out into the corridor. The door slammed shut behind him. The snick of a key turning in a lock sounded before he could regain his balance.
Whirling in outraged fury, the young Lord turned back to the door and banged on it hard with a clenched fist. It was a futile gesture for he was still unarmed, but Danar felt better for his small act of defiance.
The young Lord had no knowledge of the action of poisons, so he made no effort to curb his boiling anger as set off towards the guest suite at a run. All he knew was the faster he reached Femke, the faster she would be able to give him the antidote. His logic was flawed, for by staying angry and running rather than maintaining his cool and walking gently, Danar began pumping the deadly toxin rapidly around his body.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
King Malo strolled through the Palace grounds, his head filled with theories. Anger gripped him whenever he thought of the murder of his dear friend, Anton, but his mind was consumed now with solving the recent riddles. Never had Malo known such a time of intrigue in the Palace.
As a boy, Malo had loved solving puzzles. His tutors had marvelled at his powers of reasoning and his dedication to following a problem through. It was a skill that had been most useful during his reign, but the current maze of conundrums appeared impossible to solve.
Thrandor had enjoyed forty years or more of peace with its neighbours. King Malo had faced many diplomatic issues, but none had degenerated to the poi
nt of taking up arms until the invasion last year by the Terachite nomads from the desert lands south of the border. Since then the world had gone mad Malo reflected sadly. Bloodshed had abounded, magicians had appeared to spring from nowhere to duel in front of his city gates and now, after years of predictable Court life in the Royal Palace, suddenly came a deluge of murder, theft and deception.
Why? he asked himself silently. Why now and why here? What did Ambassador Femke have to gain by killing Anton and Dreban? Did she kill them? What was the link between the two men and the Ambassador?
Malo had not known Anton and Dreban to have any dealings together. Anton had appeared to dislike the Count intensely, blocking Dreban’s moves to gain power within the Royal Court. Dreban had enjoyed an unsavoury reputation. Malo was aware of the Count’s manipulative nature, though he had never seen evidence of illegal or treasonous activities. If the Count had been plotting for power, his secret remained intact.
As far as the King knew, Ambassador Femke and Baron Anton had met only once, when Femke had brought the gifts from Emperor Surabar into the Royal Court. Count Dreban had not been present at the time. To the King’s knowledge, Femke and Dreban had never met before he had been murdered, though it was possible that they had seen one another during the open Court session Femke had attended.
Now the Ambassador had escaped the Palace Dungeon, a feat King Malo had thought impossible. Had this Ennas fellow, whom Lord Danar had identified as being from the Shandese Court, had a hand in the robbery of the Royal Treasury as well as in Femke’s escape? When had he arrived in Mantor? Why had the robbers taken so little? They could easily have carried away more. There were a myriad of questions Malo would love answers to before the Shandese Emperor arrived, but unless inspiration sparked, or Femke was found, the King knew he was unlikely to discover the truth.
