by Mark Robson
For Cameron and Ella
may you never lose your love of stories.
SIMON AND SCHUSTER
First published in Great Britain in 2007 by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd
A CBS COMPANY
Text copyright © Mark Robson 2007
Cover illustration by Geoff Taylor © Simon & Schuster 2007
Cover title design by www.blacksheep-uk.com
This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.
No reproduction without permission.
All rights reserved.
The right of Mark Robson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
Simon & Schuster UK Ltd
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London WC2B 6AH
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN-13: 978-1-8473-8035-7
eBook ISBN: 978-1-4711-1656-8
www.markrobsonauthor.com
www.simonsays.co.uk
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Typeset by Rowland Phototypesetting Ltd,
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Printed and bound in Great Britain by
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DRAMATIS PERSONAE
REYNIK – Legionnaire of the General’s Elite Legion. Trained by Femke to infiltrate the Guild of Assassins. Bearer of the Wolf Spider icon.
FEMKE – Talented young spy for the Emperor of Shandar. Mistress of disguise.
SHALIDAR – Member of the Guild of Assassins (bearer of the Dragon icon) and long time adversary of Femke.
SURABAR – Ex-military General of the Shandese Legions. Now Emperor of Shandar.
LORD TREMARLE – Powerful ‘old school’ Lord of Shandar.
KALHEEN – Palace servant who accompanied Femke on her mission to Thrandor. Son of Rikala the seamstress.
LORD KEMPTEN – ‘Old school’ Lord of Shandar. Regent of the Shandese Empire in Emperor Surabar’s absence.
LADY KEMPTEN – Gracious Lady wife of Lord Kempten. Affectionately known as Izzie by her husband.
DANNI – House maid to Lord and Lady Kempten.
TOOMAS – An unscrupulous tattle tout.
LORD FERDAND – Master Spy. Mentor of Femke. Missing, presumed dead for two years. Now the Guildmaster of the Guild of Assassins.
SHANTELLA – Member of the Guild of Assassins – Brother Fox The sole female member of the Guild.
OTHER ASSASSINS – Brothers: Firedrake, Scorpion, Bear, Viper and Cougar.
LORD BORCHMAN – Shrewd ‘old school’ Lord of Shandar. Contender for the Mantle of Emperor.
LORD REAVIS – Lord of Shandar. Contender for the Mantle of Emperor.
LORD MARNILLUS – Powerful Lord of Shandar. Leading contender for the Mantle of Emperor.
JABAL – Grand Magician. Member of the Council of Magicians and tutor at the Academy of Magicians in Terilla.
CALVYN – An acolyte magician. Also known as Lord Shanier, scourge of the Legions, due to a recent incident that resulted in the loss of five Imperial Legions.
ALTMAN – Butler to Lord Kempten.
DERRIGAN DARKWEAVER – Long dead magician. Creator of the magical icons utilised by the Guild.
COMMANDER LUTALO – Commander of the Elite First Legion. Father of Reynik
DEVARUSSO – Flamboyant leader of a troupe of travelling actors.
SERRIUS – Widely regarded as the deadliest gladiator ever to tread the sands of the arena in Shandrim. Retired after sustaining a serious injury.
NADREK – A top gladiator.
DERRYN AND BARTOK – Street entertainers. Talented knife throwers.
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
CHAPTER ONE
The shadow glided silently across the wall like a giant spider, limbs spread and finding purchase with apparent ease. Given the assassin’s height above the ground, any watcher would have marvelled at the confidence with which the dark shape moved, but none saw him.
Shalidar was ever aware of the deadly drop, but totally unafraid. He breathed easily, his mind focused and calm as he reached for his next hold. He had always been an exceptional climber. His lean, athletic frame and strong fingers made the impossible appear natural. Edging confidently across a narrow ledge, he paused at the window high above the ground. It was bolted shut. Momentary irritation niggled, but did not distract him from his goal. He no longer had current passwords to access the Imperial Palace by conventional entrances, but such a minor problem would not prevent him from reaching his target.
He moved on. A gust of wind tugged at his cloak and he paused a moment, clinging to the wall like a limpet as he waited for the destabilising force to subside. The wind died to a gentle sigh and he made another series of moves. The next window was not far. A glance around the frame revealed the drapes to be open. The room inside was dark. Another glance and a warm feeling of success heated his gut. The window bolt was open.
Lifting the window whilst precariously perched on the narrowest of ledges took extraordinary balance, but there had never been anything ordinary about Shalidar. Without making a sound, he opened the window and slipped inside, silently closing it behind him.
‘Is this a step too far?’ he wondered as he crossed the room to the door. ‘Will the Guildmaster accept yet another circumstantial excuse?’
Shalidar listened at the door for a moment. All was quiet in the corridor outside. He slipped out and flitted along the passageway on silent feet. His clear mental map of the Palace allowed him to move without hesitation, but a sudden wave of doubt made him pause in the shadow of a doorway.
The Palace appeared silent and deserted. It was dangerous to stay in any one place for too long, but he needed a few moments to settle his indecision. If he killed Emperor Surabar, the ex-General would become the second bearer of the Imperial Mantle he had assassinated inside a year. For the first hit he had enjoyed the benefit of the perfect cover, but he had no such protection this time. If he killed Surabar, concealing his involvement from the Guild would be impossible. The Guild would use truth serum to force information from him if they felt it necessary. The thought made him shudder.
The Assassins’ Creed forbade a member of the Guild to kill the Emperor. The penalty for doing so was death. Shalidar had twisted the creed on many occasions to suit his need, but he had stretched his luck to the limit during recent months. The Guildmaster’s patience with him was wearing thin, but the reward was tantalising: legal inheritance to a powerful noble House. If he were to play his hand well, such a position might ultimately see the Emperor’s Mantle placed on his own shoulders. It hardly seemed possible, but Lord Tremarle was serious. Shalidar was sure of it. The death of the Lord’s last remaining son, Danar, followed by that of his best friend, Lord Lacedian, had provided a powerful if misguided motive for seeing the Emperor dead. However, to capitalise on the old man’s misconceived notion of revenge, Shalidar would have to gamble with his own lif
e. Did he dare?
His turbulent thoughts began to calm and his dark eyes glittered with calculating malice. He slid out from the doorway and moved noiselessly forwards into the depths of the Palace. It was late. The passageways were quiet. Getting close to the Emperor’s study without being seen would not be difficult.
He had come to the Palace to look for Wolf Spider. His reason for being here was legitimate. The Guildmaster had tasked him to kill the young man who had infiltrated the Guild. Wolf Spider’s links to the Emperor were beyond doubt. The legitimacy of his presence in the depths of the Imperial Palace gave Shalidar further reason to consider making the hit tonight. But how could he make the hit look accidental? If his target had been anyone other than the Emperor, he would have used Wolf Spider as a smokescreen without hesitation. But the Guildmaster was no fool. It would not take him long to work out what Shalidar was about.
The assassin moved like a phantom through the Palace, gliding smoothly from one dark recess to the next. There were some sounds of movement from within rooms on either side of the passageways, but no one disturbed him as he threaded his way into the heart of the Emperor’s domain.
The smell of polish and cleaning wax hung heavy in the air, as it always did in the Palace corridors. Despite the high ceilings and the inevitable smoky odour from the burning torches that lit the inner walkways, every door, every wooden panel, every surface gleamed with the effort of generations of Palace staff.
As he expected, two guards held post outside the Emperor’s study. They were dressed in full ceremonial armour and were armed with swords, knives, and what looked like miniature crossbows. Crossbows! That was a development he had not considered. It was most unusual to arm indoor guards with mid-range weapons.
Shalidar held his position. He was hidden in deep shadow some distance along the corridor from where the two men were standing silent and alert. Torches were alight in the Emperor’s study. He could see the light shining through the narrow windows that opened high in the wall of the passageway. Surabar was there, but the assassin had no way of getting any closer without revealing himself to the guards. As things stood, he would have to kill them to get to Surabar. He was not prepared to test the guards’ marksmanship in order to get close enough to guarantee clean kills. The risk was too great. He needed a diversion: something to draw the guards away from the door, or distract them.
Fire was always good, but he did not want to risk burning down the Imperial Palace. No. He needed something spectacular, but not life threatening – an occurrence that would catch everyone’s attention and draw the Emperor from his study.
The question remained: what? Unusually he found himself bereft of ideas to begin with. Then the seed of an idea germinated within his mind. Within seconds it flourished and grew. It was genius, he decided – a plan worthy of the Dragon. Everything he needed was here in the Palace. A surge of excitement filled his belly with fire. Hugging the shadows, he slipped away and made for one of the Palace’s many drawing rooms.
It did not take long for Shalidar to find what he needed. There was a writing desk with all the necessary implements in a nearby room. Writing was not something he made a habit of, as it left a trail that could be traced. However, in this case it was necessary. He lit a candle at the writing desk and began. Once he had drafted his letter, he rewrote it neatly in a bold, flowing script. With the final copy finished to his satisfaction, he set fire to the draft. This he threw into the fireplace and watched to make sure it was totally consumed before returning to his polished version.
He blew gently on the ink for a moment to help it finish drying, then folded the letter neatly and melted wax over the join to seal it. There was a generic Imperial household seal on the desk, so Shalidar pressed it into the drying wax. It was a nice touch, he decided with a twisted grin.
Next he needed someone to deliver it. Speaking to somebody would generate another piece of traceable evidence that he could do without, but it did not cause him great concern. By the time he was finished, any lasting evidence would be blurred.
He snuffed out the candle and left the drawing room. Nobody was abroad in the Palace at this time of night. The only people still at work were the cooks, who were preparing the food for the morning. Shalidar made for the servants’ exit, but not with the intention of leaving. Instead he went to the cloakroom near the external door. It took but a few moments to find what he was looking for.
Wrapping an Imperial guard’s long night cloak around his shoulders, he gathered his hair at the back of his head and put on a helmet. He turned up the collar of the cloak to hide any telltale tufts of his unmilitarylike locks trailing from the back of the helmet. Once dressed in his crude disguise, he surveyed the effect in a large wall mirror. His dark eyes scanned up and down the reflection, noting every detail. His boots were not regulation style, but he did not intend to let anyone see his feet. He would pass at first glance as an Imperial guard, and that was all that mattered. As a final matter of more important detail, he rubbed at his cheeks to make them flush as if he had just walked in from the cold. Perfect, he decided.
Without pause he turned and crossed the hallway to the entrance to the kitchens. He opened the door a little and leaned through the narrow gap such that just his head and shoulders were inside.
‘Anyone here know someone called Kalheen?’ he asked, looking around and making eye contact with each of the handful of cooks on the late-evening shift.
‘Yeah, I know Kalheen. He’s floor staff. He doesn’t work here in the kitchens,’ one of them answered, suspicion in his eyes.
‘Do you know where his quarters are?’ Shalidar asked. ‘I have a letter for him. The girl said it was very urgent – something to do with life and death. Might be a family member or something.’
The kitchen hand looked across with an enquiring expression at one of the older men. The response was a terse nod. ‘No problem,’ he said, ‘I’ll take the letter. If he’s in his room, I’ll have it in his hands in a few minutes.’
‘Thanks for that. It’ll save me getting into trouble for being away from my post too long. You know what security’s like at the moment. Everyone’s paranoid.’
There was a general grumbling agreement to that statement. Without fully entering the kitchen, Shalidar handed the letter to the man and then withdrew, closing the door behind him. It was a few steps to the external door. He exited swiftly, pleased with the success of his ploy.
Once outside, he moved instantly into the nearest deep shadow. He needed to give the cook a good head start, so he counted slowly to one hundred. As he counted he removed the cloak and helmet and stowed them under a nearby shrub. With the count complete, he re-entered through the door. If Brother Falcon’s description of Kalheen were accurate, then the man’s gullibility would lead him to act swiftly. Shalidar knew he had very little time to get into position. Every second counted.
He set off through the maze of corridors at a brisk walk. His eyes and ears strained ahead for any sign of movement. Intimate knowledge of the Palace served him well, as his indirect route through the less frequently used passageways gave him a clear path to his observation point in the shadows near the Emperor’s study. Nothing had changed. The guards were still in position. The Emperor’s study was still lit. As long as Kalheen took the bait, the Emperor would be hard pressed not to come to the door when it began.
Kalheen awoke with a start from his sleep. Someone was knocking insistently at his door.
‘Wha . . . what? It can’t be morning already? Shand! Have I overslept again?’ he muttered as he rubbed at his eyes and tried to focus on something. ‘Who is it? What do you want?’ he called more loudly.
‘Letter for you. Urgent I’m told. Do you want me to slide it under the door?’ replied a voice.
It was not a voice that was instantly familiar, though something in Kalheen’s mind told him he should know the person to whom the voice belonged.
‘A letter?’ he asked. ‘Who’s it from?’
�
�I don’t know. A girl sent it apparently. Said it was a matter of life or death . . .’
‘Mother!’ Kalheen exclaimed, instantly fearing the worst. He leaped from his bed and stumbled across to the door. Flinging it open, he grabbed the letter from the messenger’s hand with a worried mumble of thanks.
The kitchen hand was a little put out by Kalheen’s abruptness, but the pale look of shock and concern on the servant’s round face was enough to make forgiving his rudeness easy.
‘I’d better get back to the kitchen. I hope the news is not all bad,’ the messenger said, backing away.
‘Thanks,’ Kalheen mumbled, his attention totally fixed on the folded, sealed note held between his fat, trembling fingers. There was no question of his lighting the torch in his room. His hands were shaking too much to contemplate trying to kindle a flame. Heedless of anyone else seeing him in his rumpled old nightshirt, he walked the few paces along the corridor to where the nearest lit torch was bracketed and took a closer look at the letter. The handwriting was not his mother’s. Was that good or bad? He did not like to think. It was sealed with an Imperial seal, so someone here in the Palace had written it. ‘Who in the Palace would write to me on a matter of life and death,’ he thought. Was this some sort of practical joke? If so, then it was not funny.
He broke the seal and opened up the letter. His eyes widened as he began to read.
Dear Kalheen,
I’m sorry to contact you like this, but I need your help. There are traitors at work in the Palace. The Emperor’s life is in danger. If I cannot flush them out into the open, then I fear he will not live to see the dawn.
There are not many in the Palace I can trust. After our recent trip to Thrandor together, I know I can count on you. What I need you to do is simple, but of the utmost importance. If you do it right, then it could make the difference between the Emperor living, or dying tonight.
Go immediately to the Imperial Bell Tower. Don’t delay. When you get there, go inside and barricade the door from within. Then ring the Imperial Bell. Don’t stop ringing it until the guards break in. The bell will panic the traitors into action. I will do the rest.