Imperial Assassin

by Mark Robson

  There was little point in further delay. He stepped forward into the chamber and Shalidar got smoothly to his feet. The assassin was careful not to make any sudden movements that could be misinterpreted. The dagger and whetstone he placed on the small wooden table beside him as he rose. Once standing, he bowed his head deferentially and waited for the Guildmaster to speak.

  ‘So, Brother Dragon, you decided to return to us. I admit I’m surprised to see you. I had thought you would be far away by now, and unlikely to make an appearance in Shandrim for some years. After the trouble you have caused the Guild, you’re fortunate I’ve not already ordered your death. I will allow you this one chance to explain yourself. What did you do in Thrandor that caused Emperor Surabar to declare us anaethus drax?’

  ‘I, Master? I can’t imagine that any of my actions would have caused such a thing. It’s true that some of my recent plans in Thrandor went awry, but it’s difficult to imagine how the consequences of my personal circumstances could result in such a reaction from the Emperor.’

  The Guildmaster watched Shalidar’s body language carefully as he spoke. Under the depths of his black, cowled hood, he pursed his lips. If Shalidar was lying, then he was doing it extremely well.

  ‘The Emperor has over-reacted, Master,’ Shalidar continued. ‘I could not have foreseen this. As you know, I have a legitimate business in Mantor, a trading business formed with the money I earned through my work for the Guild. I’ve hidden nothing of these activities, as there has been no reason to. A couple of the Thrandorian Noblemen were interfering with my business in Thrandor to the point they were becoming a severe disruption. As I was constrained by the creed from acting independently, I contracted Brother Falcon to travel to Thrandor to deal with the problem. You should have received my message to this effect.’

  ‘I did,’ the Guildmaster replied coldly. ‘I was not happy with the contract arrangement, but we will talk about that when you have finished your explanation.’

  ‘There is little to tell, Master. Brother Falcon travelled as a servant to Thrandor and carried out his contract, for which I paid him at the agreed rate. Sadly, events then quickly spiralled out of our control. The Shandese Ambassador was blamed for the deaths. This was unfortunate, for it caused a diplomatic incident that in turn sparked dialogue between the King of Thrandor and Emperor Surabar. Aside from the diplomatic embarrassment caused by the implication of the Shandese Ambassador in the deaths of two Thrandorian Noblemen, it transpired that the Ambassador was a spy, sent personally by the Emperor. He, therefore, had a keen personal interest in seeing that his spy was not compromised, as this would have been even more damaging to international relations. The spy was clever. She managed to find a way of implicating both Brother Falcon and me in the deaths of the two Noblemen. Though her evidence was fabricated, it convinced the King. It was she who named both Brother Falcon and me as assassins. Whether she knew it to be the truth or not is immaterial. We were compromised and forced to make a break for freedom. I managed to escape. Brother Falcon was not so fortunate.’

  The story sounded feasible. The Guildmaster reviewed it, looking for anything that sounded false. Shalidar had not tried to hide anything with clever words or fancy language. He had simply stated a sequence of events, many of which were verifiable. If he was lying, then he was doing so in perfect control and following the best practice of keeping his lies simple. Killing people was the Guild’s business. Shalidar had arranged to have two people killed. There were always consequences to deaths. The question here was: were the consequences of these two hits foreseeable? From the stated sequence of events, the Guildmaster did not see how they could be. He would have to verify what he could of the story, but he doubted he would find any holes in it. True or false, Shalidar would have covered his tracks sufficiently to blur the truth.

  ‘Brother Dragon, you know that you skate on thin ice. I will look to verify your story. If I find you have lied to me, you will die swiftly. I’ll not tolerate those who seek to use the Guild to their own ends. You’ve done very well from your membership of this elite brotherhood. If I find that greed has corrupted you from adhering to the creed, I’ll show you no mercy. How did Brother Falcon die? His icon returned here some time ago.’

  Shalidar shook his head sadly. ‘They hung him the day after they caught him, Master. I could do nothing.’

  The Guildmaster fell silent for a moment. ‘That is . . . unfortunate,’ he said eventually. In his head, he continued, ‘but very fortunate for your cause, Shalidar. Had he been alive, it would have been easy to verify the tale you have just spun. Instead I must waste precious time and resources checking out your story.’ Aloud, he added ‘I’m assuming you’re aware of the price the Emperor has put on your head?’

  Shalidar nodded.

  ‘Then can I also assume that you intend to reside here in the Guild complex for a while?’

  ‘Yes, Master.’

  ‘Very well. You’ll be given assignments like all the others, which I expect you to fulfil. They will be made more difficult because of the bounty on your head, but that is your problem. If I were in your position, I would avoid taking on any business outside of your Guild duties. It would be best to wait until the dust has settled and the bounty hunters have given up chasing shadows.’

  ‘Yes, Master.’

  The Guildmaster turned to leave.

  ‘But, Master?’

  ‘Yes, Brother Dragon?’ he answered, pausing and looking back over his shoulder.

  ‘What about the spy who exposed Brother Falcon and me? It is ultimately her fault this situation has arisen. It is she who is responsible for the Guild being pronounced anaethus drax. Will she be punished for her actions?’

  For a moment the Guildmaster said nothing. When he did speak, he began by quoting in the chanting strains of the creed. ‘I will never kill for pleasure, revenge, in anger, or out of jealousy. We are not going to take revenge, Brother Dragon. That would lower us to the gutter. Don’t even think about the spy. She is as ancient history to you now. Spend some time reciting and contemplating the creed again tonight, Brother. Make it sing in your blood. Ignore it and you will die. It is that simple.’

  Shalidar bowed his head in acceptance and the Guildmaster walked swiftly from the room, his black robes merging quickly into the shadows of the corridor outside. When Shalidar’s head came up, there was a set of defiance on his face that would have chilled even the Guildmaster’s blood.

  The meeting had been a dangerous gamble for Shalidar. He had thrown the dice of life with an outward confidence not mirrored by his heart. He had thrown and won again. Rather than come back straight away, some in his position might have travelled to foreign lands and utilised their talents there. There was always a demand for talented assassins. But Shalidar knew that if he had done this, he would always have been the outsider. Suspicion would always have fallen at his feet if there were trouble. It was human nature to suspect the stranger. Coming back to Shandrim was fraught with difficulties, but Shalidar knew how to blend in here. True, it was dangerous – particularly with the huge bounty the Emperor had placed on his head – but every road held danger in his chosen profession. It was only the degree that varied.

  Drawing back his sleeve, he contemplated the gleaming silver wristlet that bound him to the Guild. The engraved dragon there appeared to mock his inspection. There were times when he wished he could take it off and throw it away, but he knew that to do so was to invite instant death. In accepting his icon, he had bound himself to the Guild for life, or until he was retired by the Guildmaster. His life force was magically tied to the wristlet. He did not know how. It had never been fully explained. He could remove it, but he could move no more than a few paces from it without his life being forfeit.

  There had been some who had tried to run in the past, but they had all returned, or died. The icons had to be placed against the binding stone once every year. If this contact was not made to refresh the bond, the icon automatically returned to the bindin
g stone the moment the year was up. Unless the current holder of the icon was standing next to the stone at the time, he died instantly. As a safeguard against infiltrators, new members of the Guild were not told of this limitation until an initial probationary period had been completed. Shalidar remembered the shock he had felt when he had been told. It had left him wondering what other secrets the Guildmaster held. Although the Guild could not forcibly cause him to return to the headquarters at any particular time, he could no more leave the Guild than he could learn to fly.

  By long-standing tradition, Guild members met to refresh their icons at midsummer’s eve and midwinter’s eve every year. Those who could not be there refreshed their icons as soon as they returned to the complex after these dates.

  Only the Guildmaster held the means to remove an icon safely, but how that was done, Shalidar had never been able to discover. He covered it again angrily. At times the wristlet felt like a shackle. This was one of those times.

  He had won his first gamble today. He had been accepted back by the Guildmaster. He knew he would have to tread carefully, but he had no intention of forgetting what Femke had done in Mantor. He would take his revenge. It might take a while to manipulate events to achieve it, but Shalidar could be patient when he had to be. He had always paid lip service to the Assassins’ creed. It had never bound him as it had the others. If the Guild ever found out about any of his breaches of their law, he would be executed. It was partly the thrill of this danger that had led him to twist the words of the creed time and again. At one time or another, he had flaunted almost every critical phrase, but he had always covered his tracks meticulously. His fellow assassin, Falcon, would have died in Mantor regardless of the outcome of events there. He had learned too much of Shalidar’s activities. By hanging him, the Thrandorians had saved Shalidar the job and provided the perfect cover.

  ‘Your turn will come, Femke,’ he whispered softly. ‘Your turn will come.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘All done,’ Reynik said wearily.

  ‘Show me,’ the File Second ordered.

  It was over. The last trench was dug. Tomorrow he would return to the relative normality of a training routine without all the extra evening duties. The relief at that thought brought a warming feeling to his stomach. Reynik jumped down into the trench, his knees threatening to buckle at the shock of the impact. A moment later and he had demonstrated the dimensions of his hole to the satisfaction of the supervising File Second.

  ‘Very well. Stack your shovel with the rest, then go and get cleaned up. I don’t want to see you in the restrictions party again, Legionnaire.’

  ‘Thank you, File Second. I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble.’

  Reynik climbed out of the freshly dug toilet trench and walked over to the pile of tools by the equipment tent. He placed his long-handled shovel with the rest and sighed with relief as he gently rubbed his blistered hands together. ‘If I never dig a hole again, it will be too soon,’ he decided.

  It was as he turned to leave that he spotted the lone figure walking between the tents not far away. Despite an overwhelming wave of tiredness, something about the silhouette instantly registered in his mind as being wrong. A shiver shot down his spine and he knew he could not ignore his premonition that whoever the figure was, he was up to no good.

  ‘Walk away. Don’t get involved. It’s nothing to do with you.’ The thoughts tumbled through his mind. ‘If you’re wrong, there could be consequences. You might end up back on restrictions again.’

  But it was not that easy. The feeling would not go away and Reynik found his eyes returning to the figure now rapidly fading into the shadows of the dusky camp. The man was dressed in uniform, but Reynik could not see his Legion insignia at this distance. It would have been hard in full daylight at this range, but in the poor light of dusk it was impossible to make out. That walk; the way the man stepped. It was familiar.

  ‘That’s it!’ Reynik breathed. ‘He’s not marching like a Legionnaire. No one from the General’s Legion marches like that. He’s making an effort, but it doesn’t look natural. He’s no Legionnaire. He walks more like . . . Shalidar! No! It couldn’t be!’

  The shocking thought that he might be looking at his sworn enemy galvanised Reynik into action. Any concerns about potential repercussions were cast aside. If that was Shalidar walking bold as brass through the camp, then Reynik wanted to ensure the assassin did not escape. His hand went automatically to his hip, seeking the comfort of his sword hilt. He cursed softly. His sword was in his tent, which was in the opposite direction from where the figure was disappearing. There was no time to go and fetch it. He didn’t even have his knife with him, as it kept getting in the way when he was digging. Should he follow without a weapon? Should he follow at all?

  His curiosity said yes. Also, his instinct told him he might not get another chance. It was now or never. With a quick glance back at the File Second to see if he was watching, Reynik picked up his long-handled shovel again and set out after the retreating shadowy figure. The shovel was unwieldy, but it could be used as a weapon at a push. Adrenalin began to flow as he dashed silently between the nearest rows of tents in an effort to close down his distance from the figure.

  ‘Be careful,’ Reynik told himself silently. ‘Shalidar is bound to be on his guard for signs of pursuit.’

  The dim, dusky light made it easy for him to flit from shadow to shadow as he raced to catch up, but Reynik knew that if Shalidar detected him, he could easily find he had switched from hunter to hunted without warning. Darkness would fall quickly now. This would make tracking the killer both more difficult and more treacherous. In order to keep the assassin in sight, Reynik would be forced to follow him more closely, thereby increasing the danger of discovery. There was no wisdom in this, he concluded, but his resolve to follow did not waver.

  ‘What brought you back to Shandrim, Shalidar?’ he wondered. ‘With half the bounty hunters in Shandar salivating over the reward the Emperor has placed on your head, why would you choose to return? It’s got to be something important.’ Even more intriguing was the question of what he was doing in the heart of the campsite of the Emperor’s own elite Legion. Did Shalidar have a friend within the Legion? It would not surprise Reynik if this were the case. Assassins and spies all seemed to have friends in unlikely places.

  He was catching up fast. The killer was apparently in no hurry to go anywhere, but he was moving steadily between the tents towards the edge of the city. If Shalidar had a friend in the Legion, then he had already paid him a visit.

  It was an abrupt rumpus erupting behind Reynik that fitted the main piece into the jigsaw. The assassin wasn’t here on a social visit. He was here on business. By the sound of the confused shouting behind them, Reynik guessed Shalidar had already concluded that business and was now coolly walking away, as if nothing had happened. Who had been the victim? It was impossible to tell from the noise.

  ‘Well, it isn’t over until you disappear, Shalidar,’ Reynik said under his breath. ‘And you’re not going to disappear so easily today.’

  The assassin accelerated his pace slightly. He was still showing no signs of undue haste, and certainly not enough to draw attention to his movements. Reynik felt that his stealthy movements were more likely to draw attention than the bold, striding pace of the assassin. It was annoying, but necessary. He could not afford for the assassin to notice that he was being followed. If he was spotted, Reynik was as good as dead. It would not take much for the assassin to drop out of sight around a corner and set an ambush for his pursuer. With the element of surprise, even a half competent assassin could kill anyone he chose with ease. For an expert assassin like Shalidar, it would be as simple as drawing breath.

  ‘Looks like you’re heading for the guard post on the main South West Avenue. Now why would you want to be seen there, Shalidar? Do you think you’re going to stroll out of the camp with no one the wiser?’ Reynik was amazed at the man’s audacity. Surely one o
f the guards would notice he was not a Legionnaire.

  Having worked out where the assassin was going, Reynik turned and ran silently between the lines of tents at ninety degrees from the direction of his destination. Once he was far enough offset from Shalidar’s route to avoid detection, he turned and paralleled the assassin’s track. It didn’t take long to overtake him. By the time Shalidar reached the guard post at the edge of tent city, Reynik was in position, concealed nearby to watch what happened.

  The assassin stopped and began talking in a low, urgent voice to the guards. His body language conveyed his message beautifully. Reynik was not close enough to hear what he was saying, but he did not need to be. He got the message loud and clear. Something bad had happened in the centre of the camp and the guards were to increase their alertness.

  ‘Very clever,’ Reynik conceded silently. ‘As the bearer of the news, you put yourself above suspicion. Decision time. If I let him go into the city I will most likely lose him, or be discovered. If I call out, others might die.’

  It was a difficult choice, but Reynik could not in conscience let the assassin go. He drew a deep breath and then launched into a sprint from his hiding place.

  ‘Stop that man!’ he yelled. ‘He’s an assassin. Stop him!’

  The guards looked around in surprise, but if the assassin was surprised, he showed none of it. The momentary confusion of the guards was enough to give him the advantage he needed. Before Reynik had covered half the distance to the guard post, two guards were down and the other two had backed away in shock, giving the assassin the space to make his break.

  He ran. Reynik ran after him, yelling for the remaining guards to follow as he went past. They didn’t move. Seconds later a glance over his shoulder revealed them to be dithering; paralysed with indecision. He would receive no help from them, he realised. It was one on one. In his dreams, Reynik had imagined this meeting, though this was not quite as he had envisioned it. In his mind, he had thought to meet Shalidar face to face with a sword in his hand to duel with him to the death. Not surprisingly, he had never pictured himself dog-tired, chasing the assassin with a shovel as his only weapon!