by Mark Robson
Malo regretted not having visited Femke whilst she was in custody. He had squandered the opportunity to question the Ambassador in depth about the murders, thinking he should wait until the trial, to avoid biasing the result. Now he was faced with an unholy mess: the Emperor of Shandar would be here in a couple of days; Malo still had no idea what had motivated the killings; Ambassador Femke was loose in the city again; the guards had killed a Shandese man in the Palace grounds because he had not stopped running when ordered; and to top it all, Malo now had disgruntled Thrandorian Merchants complaining that his order to cease trading with the Shandese Empire was killing their businesses. Thrandor was beginning to return to normal after the two recent battles. Malo did not want to provoke further conflict – particularly not with such a powerful neighbour. Life had never been simple, but Malo was beginning to wonder if he were getting too old to deal with these sorts of situations.
Will the arrival of the Shandese Emperor bring clarification, or more confusion? he wondered dolefully.
The new Ambassador, Lord Danar, was an amiable enough young fellow, but Malo had sensed he had not told the entire truth this morning. The young man had spoken smoothly, admitting to knowing the dead intruder, which was a confession Malo had not expected. But for all his calm veneer and honest-looking face, the Ambassador had been hiding something. The King was also sure the Shandese Ambassador’s servant boy had known more than he was admitting. If pushed, the young lad could be a good source of information, Malo mused. The trick would be to separate him from the Ambassador for long enough to question him more closely. That might not be easy, but it was worth consideration.
Yes, he decided. The servant boy could be the key to unravelling this whole mystery. If I get the guards to intercept him the next time he’s sent out on an errand, I’ll have them bring him to me. Without the shield of his master’s presence the boy might reveal more.
The King smiled sadly. He would not harm the lad, but he would use intimidation if it became necessary. A servant boy faced with direct questions from a King would find it hard not to give answers. Malo was not a naturally devious man, but strange situations demanded radical solutions.
Femke reached the West Wing guest rooms. She called to Danar, but there was no answer. She was not surprised. Her first impulse was to retrace her steps in the hope of intercepting him, but on reflection she decided this would not be wise. Danar could be returning to the suite by a number of different routes. No. Femke had returned to the apartment to meet him, and here she would stay.
Instinct took Femke’s eyes to the alarms she had set at the windows and she realised instantly that at least one had been tampered with. Femke was immediately on her guard. There was a chance whoever had disturbed her alarm mechanism was still here.
The hair on the back of the spy’s neck rose as she entered the apartment. She acted casually, but her senses were straining to locate the intruder. All was silent. There were not many places a person could conceal himself effectively. Her mind raced. If I’d broken in here, where would I hide? she asked herself.
The bedroom, she decided. Anyone entering their sleeping room would naturally be at their least wary. She would most likely find any intruder there.
Rather than reveal information by her movements, Femke decided to leap straight in and brave the bedroom first. As she had already announced her presence by calling out for Danar when she had first entered the living room, there was nothing to be gained by trying to be stealthy. Instead, arming herself with a handy, metal-based oil lamp, Femke pushed the door fully open on the way in, to ensure there was nobody standing behind it. The door swung freely open until it met the wall. There was nobody there.
Femke crouched down and checked underneath the large central bed. That was clear as well. It was obvious nobody was hiding behind the curtains and the wardrobe doors were fully shut – difficult to achieve from the inside – but Femke approached the large upright wooden wardrobe with caution nevertheless.
Grabbing the handles, Femke flung the wardrobe doors open, simultaneously jumping backwards. Aside from the clothes, the wardrobe was empty. The room was clear. Femke sighed with relief and walked back into the living area.
As she re-entered the room and turned to check the bathing room, Femke sensed a movement behind her. There was no hesitation. With no warning, Femke spun on her left heel, her right foot lifting up into a vicious kick. The foot was stopped from striking home by the intruder’s lightning fast wrist block, but before she could focus on the man’s face she followed up her attack by throwing her body into a back flip, cracking the man under the chin with her rising left foot and sending him staggering backwards.
‘Ow! Enough!’ came a familiar voice.
As she flipped, Femke cast the oil lamp aside and sprang off her hands to land nimbly on her feet. Her hands snapped up automatically into a defensive posture. A sheepish-looking Reynik faced her with one hand clutching at his chin and the other raised in a signal to stop.
‘Reynik!’ Femke hissed angrily. ‘What do you think you’re doing here? You’re supposed to be watching Shalidar.’
‘I was trying to. I tailed him from his house, but Shalidar’s one slippery customer. He had one of his own men watching him. I’m glad you warned me of the possibility, or I would have been caught. He led me a merry dance around the upper city, before coming to the Palace. This damned place is like a maze. I thought I knew it quite well after all my exploring over the last few weeks, but I lost him. I thought it best to come here and warn you.’
‘You’re a bit late,’ Femke muttered, the anger not quite dissipated from her voice. ‘He made his move not ten minutes ago.’
‘Danar?’ Reynik asked, his voice immediately anxious.
‘I don’t know,’ Femke sighed, shaking her head. ‘I managed to shove him out of the path of Shalidar’s knife. Then I told Danar to come here whilst I went after Shalidar. I never caught up with him, and Danar has disappeared. I don’t know what’s happened, but I fear the worst.’
‘Oh, Shand!’ Reynik exclaimed, a note of horror in his tone.
‘What? What is it, Reynik?’
‘Before I lost him, Shalidar met with someone here in the Palace. I don’t know who it was, because I couldn’t see the person he was talking to. I’m sorry, Femke. I’m a soldier, not a spy. Shalidar was giving him instructions. I can’t be a hundred per cent positive, but my guess is that Shalidar isn’t working alone in the Palace.’
A sick feeling spread through Femke’s stomach. A lot of things clicked into place like the final pieces of a jigsaw. The picture it made was not a pretty one. What if Shalidar’s associate here in the Palace was not simply another of his minions? What if that associate was another assassin? A whole lot of things could then be easily explained. When Femke had chased the person who had thrown the knife at Danar, something had gnawed at her mind about the chase. Because she had assumed that Shalidar was the knife thrower, it had been impossible to resolve the feeling. Now it made perfect sense. The knife thrower had not been Shalidar. Which meant that . . .
‘Shand’s teeth!’ Femke spat, turning and running to the door.
‘What?’ Reynik asked, automatically following her across the room. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘The knife thrower earlier wasn’t Shalidar. Danar is in more trouble than I imagined.’
Femke wrenched the door open and ran out into the corridor where she skidded to a halt. Reynik followed and was momentarily confused by the expression on her face. It was flickering between pleasure, horror, fear and uncertainty. He followed her gaze down the corridor to see Lord Danar, staggering in a drunken fashion along the passageway towards them.
Femke appeared rooted to the spot, but Reynik was quick to help the young Nobleman, who collapsed into his arms with a groan of pain. Reynik staggered as Danar lost control of his limbs and went completely limp, leaving the young soldier to bear his full weight.
‘Quick! Help me get him into the room. He must be in
jured. Grab his other arm and we’ll carry him together. Ready?’ Reynik ordered Femke. His firm tone and specific directions were exactly what Femke needed to spur her back into action. They hoisted Danar up between them, carried him into the living area and laid him on the sofa.
‘Where are the house staff when you need them?’ Femke muttered angrily, as she knelt down next to the young Lord and began tending him.
‘We’re lucky they’re not here,’ Reynik objected. ‘My presence would be difficult to explain. Let’s keep them out of it, shall we? We don’t want to invite more trouble.’
‘Get me a cloth, would you? I need to clean this blood away to see what we’re up against,’ Femke replied, ignoring him.
There was a lot of blood around Danar’s neck, but as soon as Femke wiped the surface blood aside, she could see that the cut to his throat was superficial. There had to be something more, Femke decided.
‘Danar? Can you hear me? It’s me, Femke. You’re safe now. You made it back to the guest suite. What happened? What’s wrong?’
Femke rattled out the questions, but she managed to keep her voice panic-free. Danar did respond slightly. His eyes, which were still wide open, focused on her briefly and he smiled as he recognised her.
‘Femke. Thank Shand,’ he slurred, his voice weak and indistinct. ‘Shalidar . . . poison . . . nepthis . . . need antidote . . .’
‘Nepthis!’ Femke exclaimed in horror. ‘How long ago? How much?’
‘Don’t know,’ Danar mumbled, his eyes making a long blink. ‘Ran as fast as I could . . .’
‘Blast it, Danar! Don’t you know anything?’ Femke cried, her voice anguished. ‘Running forces the body to pump blood around faster, so the poison spreads more quickly. Reynik, we have to get the antidote quickly. Nepthis is a deadly poison. Danar doesn’t have long.’
‘Where are we going to get an antidote for nepthis?’ Reynik asked with desperation in his voice. ‘I can hardly go to the infirmary and ask for it. Besides, I’ve never heard of it before. Is the Palace infirmary likely to hold the antidote? I could try to steal it if they do, but I’m no thief. I’d be caught for sure.’
‘I’ve got antidote,’ Femke said defiantly. ‘It’s in my little hand case.’
‘Well, don’t just sit there. Where’s the case and I’ll get it?’
‘It’s with the rest of the things that could be tied to Ambassador Femke – the things I left at the tavern.’
Reynik looked at Femke with horror in his eyes.
‘But that’s in the lower city. I’ll never get there and back in time.’
‘It’s his one chance, Reynik. It’s either that, or we sit here and watch him die.’
Femke’s face looked haunted by an inner torment that Reynik could not begin to imagine. The guilt within her eyes touched Reynik’s heart. He nodded, gritting his teeth in determination.
‘I’ll get there and back with all possible speed,’ he promised.
‘Reynik.’
‘Yes?’
‘Be careful. The guards shot Ennas in the grounds last night. He’s dead,’ Femke told him, her voice flat as she fought to keep her emotions under control.
Reynik did not reply, but Femke knew the news had hit him hard. Everything was going wrong and there seemed little they could do. Reynik looked down at Lord Danar, taking in his shallow breathing and his pale face. He was young and his body was strong, but Reynik could see that the nepthis was already well established in his system. Reynik was not familiar with the poison, but he did not have to be. Femke’s face had told him all he needed to know. He knew there was little hope. He did not want to leave Femke to face the inevitable alone, but he had no choice.
He pulled Femke into a quick, tight hug. ‘Be strong,’ he said simply.
‘Be quick,’ she replied gratefully.
Reynik ran to the door, looked briefly around outside and then disappeared at a run. Danar groaned in pain. His face was drenched in sweat and so pale he almost looked green.
‘Easy, Danar,’ she crooned, gently stroking his brow with her fingers. ‘It’s going to be OK. Here, have a sip of water. It will help.’
‘I’m going to die, aren’t I?’ Danar asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.
‘No, you’re not going to die. Reynik has gone for the antidote. You’ll be fine,’ she responded, pouring a glass of water from the jug on the table. Her words were brave, but her voice lacked conviction. Danar recognised it instantly.
‘Good,’ he said, his lips twisting into an ironic smile. ‘Because I’d hate to have come all this way simply to die before I’d finished winning you over.’
Femke lifted Danar’s head forward and held the glass of water to his lips so that he could drink. Tears welled in her eyes, despite her efforts to hold them back.
‘That’s impossible,’ she choked, her voice thick with emotion. ‘You’re Lord Danar – fiendishly handsome and irresistible to women. You won me over a while ago, Danar. I’ve simply been too stubborn and preoccupied with nailing Shalidar to admit it.’
As she said the words, Femke realised that although she had spoken them to make him feel better, they were true. Danar had won her heart. Romance had never had a place in her life; yet here was a man who had drawn her under his spell. Danar had shown a level of commitment to winning her that she had never known, nor expected from anyone. He was a man whom she now realised she could have come to love, and he was dying before her eyes. Her hard life had never been so cruel.
‘You’re just saying that, but I thank you for it,’ Danar replied, his face lifting with a pained smile.
‘No, Danar, I’m not just saying it. I mean it,’ Femke sobbed, finally losing control of her tears as they streamed down her cheeks in rivers. Placing the glass of water back on the table, Femke bent over him and kissed him with gentle passion. The kiss lasted some time. When their lips finally parted, Femke laid her head lightly on his chest, unable to look at his face any more.
‘Fiendishly handsome and irresistible, eh? I like the sound of that, but I think you missed out charming, witty, stylish . . .’ he joked, his voice wheezing out the words.
Femke could not reply. Her throat felt swollen and her stomach felt sick. Tears would not stop running from her eyes and she simply held her cheek against his chest and listened, hoping desperately that he could hold on long enough for the antidote.
‘Femke, listen,’ Danar said suddenly, his voice a little stronger and his tone changing from jovial to serious. ‘Shalidar gave me a message for you and it’s not one you’re going to like.’
‘What did he say?’ Femke eventually croaked, not moving position at all.
‘He said to tell you to go to the King. He wants you to take responsibility for the deaths of Anton and Dreban. If you comply and don’t meddle in his affairs any more, he promises not to interfere with the decision of the Royal Court.’
‘Anything else?’ Femke asked softly.
‘He said he would hunt you to the ends of the earth and kill you if you didn’t do as he asked.’
‘Oh, that’s all right then.’
‘Femke!’ Danar protested. ‘He’s serious. He’ll kill you and I—’
‘Shhh! Hush, Danar. Be calm. Be still. I know he’s serious. I didn’t mean to agitate you. Sarcasm has become a bad habit of mine recently. We’ll deal with Shalidar once you’ve recovered. Now concentrate on calmness. Calmness will stave off the effects of the poison. You have to hold on until Reynik returns.’
‘I didn’t tell him, Femke.’
‘Didn’t tell him what, love?’ she asked gently.
‘About the plan – the whole plan. He doesn’t realise . . .’
‘Shh! That’s wonderful. Forget the plan for now. Concentrate on calmness. Please do as I say. I don’t want to lose you.’
Femke felt Danar slowly relax his muscles into the sofa again. His breathing slowed to a shallow, regular rhythm. Femke’s tears gradually dried as she concentrated on the rise and fall of his che
st and she found herself praying to any deity that was listening for Reynik to get the antidote and return swiftly. Religion had never paid any part in Femke’s life as she had always considered it a crutch for the weak, but at this moment she was so desperate that she was willing to try anything in the hope of a miracle.
Time trudged forwards with the dreadful lethargy of a death march. Minutes silently dragged their way from one to the next as if reluctant to pass into history. Femke’s mind wandered in the stillness. The warmth of Danar’s chest against her face took her to happier places – the peaceful quiet of a simple home in the countryside and no worries of spying, dangerous missions, or assassins.
After a while, she tried to picture where Reynik might be. Would he have run down through the streets to the tavern? she wondered. Or would he have tried to find a horse nearby that he could use? Would his contacts amongst the Thrandorian Royal Guards supply him with a horse? No. Why should they? Reynik would not waste time with such things. He’s young and fit. His practical, military training will lead him to make with all possible speed on foot.
The thoughts gradually shifted to different questions again. What if he couldn’t find the hand case? It wasn’t very big. Would he bring the case, or would he take it apart to get at the antidote. There were a number of vials in the case. What if he gets the wrong one?
Femke’s mental torment continued for some time. Her one solace was that Danar’s breathing remained settled and quiet throughout. Not wanting to move for fear of disturbing his peaceful state, Femke decided that he must have slipped into sleep, as he was so quiet. Suddenly, his breathing started to speed up again as a new wave of panic gripped him.
‘Femke?’ he called, his voice full of fear.
‘It’s OK, Danar. I’m still here. What is it? What’s wrong?’ she soothed.
‘I can’t see anything. I’m blind. It’s all gone dark,’ his voice rose in panic.
Tears leaped back into Femke’s eyes. This was it – the beginning of the end. If the poison had spread sufficiently to rob Danar of his sight, there was little time left. Reynik had to arrive soon, or the antidote would not be able to act quickly enough to save Danar.
