“I didn’t think I was going to get a chance at him,” Ifor said, climbing over the windowsill. “Thought I was going to have to jump through the glass and interfere. Good thing you led him over to the door, Kip.”
“It was no genius on my part,” Kaymar answered, pressing his hands against the puncture wound in his thigh, bending over and breathing deeply until the bleeding slowed. He could feel his heart slowing, the chest pain receding. “I panicked, forgot the door was locked. That was awfully close, Bear. I was in far over my head.” He stood upright, then went to DeLarco’s trunk at the foot of the bed.
“Sorry it took so long, but you two were running around like spiders on a hot griddle. I couldn’t get a clear shot for fear of hitting you.” Ifor put his hands on Kaymar’s shoulders. Kaymar felt life pouring into him and stood motionless for a moment, rejoicing – then got back to business.
They hauled DeLarco’s trunk into the middle of the room. The key was in DeLarco’s pocket.
“We’ve got them,” Kaymar breathed, unearthing several notebooks, an address book and many documents. Ifor rifled Delarco’s pockets further, producing another notebook. It was all there – enough information about Therbalt’s organization to make that greasy gentleman more than uncomfortable.
Kaymar searched the rest of the room while Ifor methodically stuffed DeLarco into the trunk after lining it with a tarpaulin he’d brought along. Any parts of the body that didn’t fit, Ifor simply trod upon until they did.
“You aren’t treading grapes, Bear,” Kaymar chided as Ifor stomped vigorously on DeLarco’s knees, preparatory to folding his legs into the trunk on top of the rest of him. Nauseating crunching sounds filled the room.
“For such a tough man, he uses a very small trunk,” Ifor answered. Kaymar searched under the mattress, finding more documents and money. Ifor finished arranging DeLarco in his cramped berth and shut the lid, locking it securely with the key, which he proceeded to toss out the window. They could hear it jingle on the paving stones outside.
“I have just the address to ship him to,” Kaymar said, brandishing a letter. “If you’re ready, let’s go.”
“I know it’s a nice night, Kip, but you might want to get dressed before going out on the street, if we don’t want to draw attention,” Ifor smiled. Kaymar had been searching the room in his birthday suit, dribbling blood from his wounded thigh and back.
Kaymar groaned in disgust, scrabbling for his garments. While he dressed, Ifor eased the windowpane he’d removed back into place, found Kaymar’s dirk pin and handed it to him, then put something in Kaymar’s hand.
“Here, you’ll want this.”
Kaymar looked at the tiny object in his palm. It was Delarco’s tooth.
“Souvenir,” Ifor said. Kaymar laughed softly, flung the tooth into a corner, then hugged the big man before helping him heft the trunk out of the door and into the night.
***
During the two weeks Ifor and Kaymar had been gone, gloom had settled over The Shadows like a cloak woven of bad tempers and frayed nerves. No word had come from Erdhan and though no-one spoke of it, everyone feared the worst.
Borsen had fretted himself into nightmares, causing Franz and Menders deep concern. Despite the manliness he projected since gaining his Tailor’s Certificate, Borsen was still emotionally fragile and easily tipped toward ill health.
Menders and Eiren sat around a low table in the library with Doctor Franz and Katrin. Borsen was curled in an easy chair by the fire, dozing. The teapot on the side table had grown cold, once-warm pastries were left uneaten. The four sat around a table, playing cards with weary indifference.
“Whose bid is it?” Eiren asked unenthusiastically. She wished some word would come about Kaymar and Ifor, if only to ease the minds of the young people.
“Um, mine I think,” Franz said. He studied his cards with minute care, then announced, “Four gold crowns.”
“You have no such hand, sir,” Menders said sourly. “You’re a liar.”
Looking at Eiren, Franz said, “How does he always know when I’m bluffing?”
Eiren shrugged, forcing a small smile.
“You’re supposed to say, ‘I call to see you’, Menders,” Katrin said.
“Is there a funeral? Something I don’t know about?” Kaymar’s voice, at its most flippant, came from the doorway.
There was a general explosion of people rising from chairs. Katrin and Borsen flung themselves at their astonished cousin, who found himself being embraced from both sides. Franz turned the lamps up high, took one look at Kaymar and left the room.
“Why the hells didn’t you send word you were coming!” Menders snapped, his relief coming out as a bolt of fleeting anger.
“And lovely to see you too, Cousin,” Kaymar taunted.
“We move with stealth and secrecy,” Ifor pronounced from behind Kaymar, before going away up the corridor.
“Did he do that to you?” Katrin gasped, looking at the long, healing slash on Kaymar’s cheek. “And your hair is brown!”
“Easy there, Cuz,” Kaymar laughed. “Both were done by me, part of the disguise and the brown will wash out of my hair. Here, let go for a moment, both of you. Now, ladies first.” He held out his arms to Katrin and hugged her. Then he did the same for Borsen.
“I’m all right. Everything’s all right now. Unhand me, young sir.” He laughed and ruffled Borsen’s hair. He looked over at Menders, seeming shaken by the reaction of the youngsters.
“They knew all along,” Menders explained. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to put up with a festival of love for a while, Cousin. They’ve been terribly worried over you.”
Kaymar frowned and Menders knew he wished Katrin and Borsen hadn’t known. Then he laughed ruefully and gave up, allowing the “festival of love” to go on unabated as the young people clung to him.
“Oh, did you get him?” Katrin finally asked, looking up at Kaymar. Then her expression shifted to shame. “How terrible! Asking if you’d killed someone.”
“I understand and it’s all right. Yes, we solved that little problem.” Kaymar grinned. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. We came straight over on the boat after squaring some things away and sending off a parcel. Is there anything to eat? And here’s the patient and lovely Eiren.” He released Borsen and kissed Eiren’s cheek. She fingered his fading black eye silently, but he shook his head, flicking his eyes toward Katrin and Borsen.
“Come on, you two,” Eiren said to the children. “Let’s put a platter of food together. I could eat a grundar all of a sudden.”
“Me too.” Borsen went with her through the doorway, looking back at Kaymar happily.
“Ifor has taken the documents and notebooks to your office and locked them in the safe,” Kaymar said to Menders, who came over and put an arm around his shoulders, now that everyone else had had a turn. “The bastard must have been collecting notes to write his memoirs. He wrote everything down. I have locations, names, plans, maps, all leading back to our friend Therbalt.”
Menders felt as if his heart had stopped for a moment. Then a grin spread across his face.
“I’ve sent word to Surelia for Melnor to hold off with the explosives until you’ve had a chance to see what we have,” Kaymar continued.
Franz came back in with his medical bag. “What needs seeing to?” he inquired with firm authority.
Kaymar shrugged and took off his shirt.
He was covered with bruises that had blossomed darkly during the return to The Shadows. Franz flinched and muttered something about poultices, taking a bottle from his bag while looking worriedly at the swollen wrist that had received the brunt of DeLarco’s swung chain.
“Your heart sounds terrible,” Franz scolded after plying his stethoscope. “Once we get you patched up, you are to go to bed and stay there for at least a week.”
“After today, Doctor, I have no desire to do anything else,” Kaymar answered, letting his voice sound less than jaunty for a moment. Docto
r Franz sighed and patted his shoulder.
“What did you do with the body?” Menders asked, needing to know if a cover story had to be concocted.
“Ifor tucked him away in his own trunk and we sent it off to Lord Therbalt at the address conveniently supplied,” Kaymar said with satisfaction. “Cartage to be paid by recipient.”
Franz jerked bolt upright from where he had begun cleaning the slash on Kaymar’s back, gaping, while Menders collapsed on the edge of the desk, so he wouldn’t fall on the floor, and laughed wholeheartedly.
Kaymar Shvalz grinned with satisfaction and the ineffable air of a man who had somehow been reborn.
(55)
To Protect the Princess
“Cousin, she wants to go to Hemmett’s graduation,” Kaymar said insistently, leaning against Menders’ closed office door.
“I know,” Menders replied from behind his desk, shuffling papers and not looking up.
“Katrin wants to go, and what is more, she should go,” Kaymar persisted.
“I know,” Menders repeated with stern emphasis. “I’m against it.”
“So am I, but I think she should go anyway.”
Menders’ head came up quickly. “Have you taken leave of your senses? With all that we’ve been through? With all that you’ve been through? With Therbalt still out there, somewhere? We haven’t finished him off yet, you know.”
Kaymar took two long strides across the room then eased himself down in the chair facing the desk. His body still ached everywhere from the abuse he’d taken from DeLarco.
“Listen, cousin of mine, I know all that as well as you. But look at us, two of the most…. no, the two most resourceful men I know. Are you telling me we can’t think of a way? Obviously, she cannot go as the Princess but I think we could work up something if we opened our minds.”
Raising his eyebrows, Menders nodded. “Go on.”
“There’s enough information in those documents I brought back to implicate more than two dozen active or would-be conspirators in Erdahn, correct?”
“At least.”
“And, what can we do about it? How can we best use that information?”
“We can’t,” Menders said sourly. “I’ve passed on a condensed synopsis to the Court Assassin’s office, but as Bartan replied, they don’t have the manpower or resources to act on it effectively.”
“Correct,” Kaymar smiled. “And if we were to act on our own, outside of the official sanction of the Court, a lot of people would be very unhappy.”
“Exactly.”
Kaymar was still smiling, the impish grin that told Menders his mercurial cousin had cooked up a plan during his week of enforced bed rest. “However, your Charter of Guardianship empowers you to take whatever actions are necessary to ensure the Princess’ survival and safety, am I correct? So, if we were to take Katrin to Erdhan – heavily disguised of course – it would be your responsibility to ensure any known threats were removed first. No royal sanction needed, because in essence, you already have it.”
Menders felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Kaymar excelled in turning viewpoints around. “You’re right,” he said. “I couldn’t take the Princess to such a dangerous place without acting first to secure her safety. That’s standard operating protocol. So I would be duty bound to eliminate her enemies.”
“In fact, they’d have your head on a pike if you didn’t.” Kaymar smirked with self-satisfaction.
Menders suddenly felt better than he had in days.
Katrin had asked to go to the graduation and he knew it meant a lot to her to attend, just as it did to Hemmett to have her there. When he’d explained that he could not risk letting her go, she had countered him with a frustrated denunciation. She pointed out that nothing they did mattered anyway because for all their security precautions, some woman had managed to walk right up behind her and nearly shoot her at point blank range. That particular barb of truth, filtered through the critical point of view of a young girl, had struck Menders to the heart.
“We’ll need to draw up assignments, travel orders and so on,” Menders said.
“Done.” Kaymar took a folded sheaf of paper from his jacket pocket and handed it across the desk. “Just needing your review and approval. If we time this right, it coincides nicely with Melnor’s planned incendiary attack in Surelia. If things go our way, we’ll get Therbalt in the mix as well. Melnor might still winkle him out.”
Melnor was one of Kaymar’s protégés, trained in the art of explosive warfare. He was the first of a group that was becoming known as ‘Kaymar’s Men’ or sometimes, just the ‘K Men’.
Menders looked skeptical. “You think so?”
“I do.”
Menders began signing the papers, making the orders official. It was as if he’d drawn up the documents himself; he could find no fault in the planning.
“What will you tell Katrin about this?” Kaymar asked after a short silence.
Menders’ pen paused above a signature line that would seal the fate of yet another enemy of the Princess.
“I’m still debating that. Recently, she has shown more interest in knowing what’s happening. But when I think of what we need to do now, I hesitate at giving her that information. I don’t believe she has the stomach for it.”
“It’s not her stomach that worries me,” Kaymar answered flatly. “It’s her head. I don’t think she’s capable of dealing with such things and maybe that’s best for her. But if she was ever made Queen…”
“We’ll deal with the present actualities,” Menders interrupted, signing more papers. “No point in fabricating trouble about a situation that may never arise.”
“Agreed.”
Menders scanned the documents assigning targets to various of Menders’ Men, frowning. He looked up at Kaymar. “Nothing for yourself?” he asked.
Kaymar’s smile faded. “As a matter of fact, that’s something I meant to talk to you about.”
Menders sat back, listening.
“I’ve lost it, Cuz. Lost my edge. I found that out the hard way when I was up against DeLarco. He was younger, faster and meaner. I panicked. Panicked like a first timer, lost my nerve, felt overwhelming fear during a mission for the first time. I forgot he’d locked the door and ran to it trying to get away, trapping myself. I was in way over my head and should never have attempted it in the first place.”
Menders rose slowly, came around his desk and then perched on the edge closest to Kaymar. He adjusted the set of his glasses carefully.
“There comes a time when all active assassins feel as you do. I’m aware that you know that I have lost my edge and could never function as an assassin again. You’ve been too gracious to say so, but I know you thought it,” he said slowly.
Kaymar opened his mouth to speak but Menders raised a hand, continuing. “I hadn’t the heart to show you this before now. It arrived the night before you and Ifor came home.”
Menders drew a folded slip of yellow paper from his vest pocket and handed it to Kaymar.
Menders,
Kaymar’s identity is known to DeLarco. He is in great danger. My girls are unable to locate either Kaymar or Ifor.
Gladdas D
“I decided to go myself, to try to intercept DeLarco, though it was probably already too late,” Menders continued. “Eiren told me, mincing no words, that I wasn’t up to it. I realized, reluctantly, that she was right. It was a very humbling moment for me. When I saw how DeLarco tore you up, I realized that he would have wiped the floor with me and sent my skin home in the form of a rug.
“I sent several men to Erdahn immediately after getting Gladdy’s message – you were nowhere to be found. It takes so long – everything was probably all over and done with by the time I got that note.”
Kaymar nodded and folded the paper slowly, then handed it back. Menders’ torment at the time must have been considerable. There were traces of it etched into the fine lines around his eyes.
“They say the be
st thing after a fall is to get back on the horse,” Menders said after a moment.
“Tell that to a jockey with two broken legs,” Kaymar quipped darkly.
“You haven’t lost your edge, you were just out of practice. I might be best suited behind a desk these days, but you… you’re my best. I need you.”
Kaymar thought it over.
“Perhaps… one more then. I’d like to finish what we’ve begun.” Kaymar rose gracefully and sauntered out of the office without another word, the shift in his mercurial moods obvious.
Menders took the message from Gladdas Dalmanthea and placed it carefully in an open drawer.
Despite his outward flippant calm, Kaymar’s chagrin over causing Menders anguish had been palpable during their conversation, as was his concern over his reduced prowess. The young assassin was not that young anymore, and no operative could go on forever. In time, Kaymar would need other pursuits to ease and divert his often overwrought mind. He had always prided himself on being the best, though by nature he was not cut out to be an assassin. For him to lose his pride in his abilities would bring on self-doubt, which would lead to self-loathing – which could lead to his incipient madness driving him to torment and mutilate himself. Menders would watch him closely over the next few weeks.
“My troubled boy,” Menders said softly, closing the desk drawer as gently as he would touch a baby.
***
In a rented room in Erdahn, Kaymar stood before twenty of Menders’ Men, ten of Gladdas Dalmanthea’s “girls” and as many of Bartan’s Assassins, ready to pass on Menders’ orders. They were simple. Every person incriminated by the documents found in DeLarco’s lodgings was to be eliminated – no exceptions. No mercy would be shown.
“We have to finish this tonight,” Kaymar said. “Menders is bringing Princess Katrin to Erdahn tomorrow, so it must be over by then. She will come in a closed carriage with Menders and Eiren, guarded by Haakel and two others. She’ll be dressed as a widow. I want you three at the Academy at nine to be there when she arrives. I have more men posted in the hall itself.”
Weaving Man: Book One of The Prophecy Series Page 73
