Imperial Assassin

by Mark Robson

  The second part to your answer is that there are a select few who do know all the faces. I am one. The others are selected from the serving staff. Of the assassins, only I know which of the staff serve all members.’

  Lots of things were beginning to fall into place for Reynik now. The silver spider talisman worn by the assassin who he had fought in the street that night must be one of the icons. By walking over to the street lamp to view it in a clearer light, Reynik had inadvertently taken it too far from its bonded owner. It was horrible to think he had killed the man by such an innocent act, but it must be true. The talisman had dematerialised before his eyes. It all fitted.

  If the man who had brought him here were ‘Brother Viper’, then Reynik would expect the man’s icon would be in the shape of a snake. The metal thing he had been asked to hold whilst blindfolded had been curved and almost tubular like the body of a snake. Yes, that made sense too. One thing that did not make sense was the serving staff.

  ‘But how do the serving staff get here, and how do you know they are trustworthy? Do you not worry about infiltrators amongst them?’ Reynik asked, puzzled.

  The Guildmaster smiled. ‘No,’ he said, clearly amused. ‘When men come here to serve, they do so for life. Members bring them here, but once they’re in, they cannot leave. There is no conventional way in and out of this complex. As you’ve probably worked out by now, it is totally subterranean. This complex was tunnelled out over six hundred years ago. No one knows exactly where it is, not even the Guild members. It is one of the greatest secrets of our time.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘No one knows . . .’

  The phrase echoed in Reynik’s mind like the ringing toll of the death bell. Even if he were accepted as a member of the Guild he would not learn the location of the headquarters. How could he have ever anticipated this? What was more, he was about to be life-bonded to a magical icon that would tie him to the Guild for ever. Could things get any worse? Then he remembered something his father had once told him:

  ‘Son, no matter how bad things look, they could always be worse. Never let despair overtake your ability to look for the positive.’

  The positive – he had to look for the positive in this situation. The Guildmaster was here and willing to answer questions. This was an opportunity that may not arise again for some time. He had better make the most of it and look to pass on as much information as he could to Femke when he next saw her.

  ‘Guildmaster . . . Sir? I’m not sure what form of address you prefer.’

  ‘Guildmaster is fine.’

  ‘Guildmaster, my mind is full of questions. Your answers each fill in a small piece of the enigma that makes up this Guild, but every one you put in place makes me aware of ten more pieces I didn’t know were missing. For example, you say there is no conventional way in and out of the Guild, yet you have servants living here. To live here would require regular supplies of food and drink, along with many other small necessities of life. How does the Guild maintain such supplies without anyone in the supply chain knowing where the goods are going? Also, if this is a subterranean complex with no way in, or out, how is it that the air is still fresh after centuries of use?’

  ‘It’s good that you’re thinking of such things. It shows a sound understanding of logistics. Many of the other Guild members take such things for granted. Suffice it to say for now that the designers of this place thought of such things. When you have settled in and become established as a member, then, if you’re still curious, I’ll show you how these things are achieved.’

  ‘Thank you, Guildmaster. I’ve always been interested in how things work. I’m also curious about these magical icons. Magic is not something I’ve encountered very often, so I know little about it. In this case, though, the magical process does not interest me as much as the practicalities. The place where Brother Viper used his icon to bring me here – is this the only such place from which he can transport into the Guild, or are there others? And the reverse – can he transport anywhere with this icon, or are there limitations?’

  The Guildmaster laughed. ‘Your questions are both understandable and intelligent. I’ll answer them, but then we must move on. I called for the ceremony to begin soon, as the Guild is in the middle of a very busy time.’

  ‘Yes, I imagine so. The Emperor has not made life easy for you recently. The Emperor’s declaration of anaethus drax was a major reason for not seeking involvement with you, but now I see how impossible it will be for the Emperor to touch us here, I’m glad your people came to me.’

  ‘Indeed. Well, as you will soon see, the icons do have limitations. They are the moving parts in a citywide network of magical items that have been in place for centuries. Each icon is magically linked to four other objects: the binding stone, the home stone and two city destination stones. The binding stone is used to bond each member with his icon. When a member dies, his icon transports to its appropriate place on the binding stone. The next person to touch that icon is bound to it. Some of the icons have had literally hundreds of bondings since they were first made. Others have had only a few dozen.’

  The Guildmaster paused for a second as if pondering why such differences had occurred. When he continued, Reynik wondered if the pause had been to consider the history of his own icon, if indeed he had one.

  ‘To use the icon to travel, the bearer must touch it to his home stone, or to one of the destination stones. If the icon touches a destination stone, the bearer will always be brought to his quarters here in the Guild complex. If the icon is touched against the home stone, then where the bearer is transported to depends on which side of the home stone the icon touches. There are thirty destination stones in all. Each icon has one unique destination stone and one that is shared with another. You will quickly learn the location of yours.’

  ‘Fascinating,’ Reynik said with genuine enthusiasm. ‘And you, Guildmaster, do you have a separate icon?’

  ‘That is a question I’m not willing to answer at this time. Come. We need to go to the central chamber. It’s nearly time for your induction. We don’t want to keep the others waiting.’

  ‘Lords and Ladies of Shandar, I appreciate you all coming here today. I know you all have busy schedules to attend to, so I’ll not keep you long. I’ve called you together to ask your help with a most important matter.’ Emperor Surabar paused and scanned the sea of hostile faces. It was plain that the last thing the majority of these people wanted to do was to help him, but what they wanted was irrelevant. If there was even one among them who would give him information that could save further bloodshed, then this meeting would have been worthwhile.

  ‘As you know, I declared the Guild of Assassins anaethus drax a short while ago. I firmly believe this organisation to be an abomination from another age. It should not be allowed to exist in a civilised society. There may be those of you who have reason to disagree with this view – that is your prerogative. However, I would implore those of you who are sympathetic to my beliefs on this one issue, if you have any information that could help me in my quest to stamp out this organisation once and for all, then please arrange an audience as soon as possible. If no information is forthcoming within a day, I will initiate drastic measures to commence the destruction of the Guild by other means. I’m merely attempting to minimise the pain for everyone with this appeal.’

  A buzz of speculation fizzed in the Court at what the ‘drastic measures’ might be.

  ‘Your Majesty.’

  Silence fell. Expectation hung in the air like an aroma. Was someone going to give support to the Emperor in public? Who had spoken?

  ‘Yes, Lord Merrik?’

  ‘With all due respect, what you ask is nonsense, your Majesty.’

  ‘Really, Lord Merrik? Why do you say so?’

  ‘Because no one with even the slightest sense of self preservation would consider giving such information even if they had it, your Majesty. The Guild of Assassins is not an organisation to be trifled with. T
hey have existed here for centuries . . .’

  ‘Leeching off foolish Lords with more money than sense of honour, or decency,’ Surabar interrupted. ‘Don’t give me any tripe about them having a creed, as if that justifies their murders. There is a justice system in this city. It is not always perfect, but it is here for a reason. I want the days when people seek to circumvent the justice of the Empire to come to an end. The Assassins’ creed is an excuse for them to make money from murder – nothing more.’

  ‘I was not going to endorse their existence, your Majesty. I was going to point out that they have enjoyed hundreds of years in which to establish information-gathering networks that put the Imperial spy network to shame. They have people everywhere, your Majesty. You cannot protect your people from them. Lord Kempten spoke up on your behalf and he paid for it with his life. Legion Commanders are now falling like flies because they’re loyal to you. As the Emperor, however, you remain safe from their attentions. They cannot kill you because of their creed, your Majesty. You did know that, didn’t you? That’s why everyone around you dies, while you live on. That’s why no assassin has come knocking at your door.’

  ‘An assassin was caught whilst making an attempt on my life only last week . . .’

  ‘Then I would bet my last coin he was not a member of the Guild, your Majesty. If he had been, then it is highly likely you would now be dead.’

  The Emperor paused to contemplate Lord Merrik’s words for a moment. Surabar knew he had lost the initiative. Merrik was right. The Guild did have an excellent intelligence network. They had also been killing one after another of the military commanders who were loyal to him, and he had been able to do nothing to stop them. Anyone who did give him information would be in extreme danger of a visit from one of the Guild. However, he had one last card to play and he decided to use it now.

  ‘I accept, Lord Merrik, that what I ask of you today could bring danger to your door. However, think of the benefits: a society where justice was served in the courtroom rather than the back alleys; life in a society where an impartial mediator settled disputes rather than the first side to hire a talented assassin – some ends are worth the means. There are those who would sacrifice everything to make those ends a reality. Lady Kempten, would you join me a moment?’

  All eyes in the Court shifted to watch the demure figure wearing a sombre black dress who rose from her seat in the front row and gracefully ascended the steps to the Emperor’s dais. She stopped at the Emperor’s right side and turned to address the Court.

  ‘My husband . . .’ she began, her voice strong and true. ‘My late husband believed passionately in Emperor Surabar’s abilities to reform the Empire. He believed Emperor Surabar’s reforms would benefit every citizen of Shandar, from the most powerful Lord to the poorest beggar on the street. If he were here today, he would have volunteered any information he had despite the possibility of reprisal from the Guild. Why?’ She paused for effect. ‘Because he believed it was right. Because he believed it was the way forward. Because he believed that society as a whole would benefit. My husband was willing to give his life for those beliefs. Do not let fear hold you back. The Guild’s days are numbered. Emperor Surabar’s new Shandar will be a stronger and better place to live for everyone.’

  Lady Kempten had got to them. Surabar could see it. Not all of them, of course, but a few. The Emperor had not expected miracles. But, looking around the Court at the faces of the Nobles, he felt the result had been worth the effort, even if no one came forward with information afterwards.

  ‘Thank you, Lady Kempten. I believe I speak for the majority present in offering sincerest condolences at your loss. I understand that you are retiring to your country house for a time, which is most understandable. My warmest wishes go with you and your family.’

  Lady Kempten curtsied to Surabar and descended from the dais, a picture of elegance and fortitude in the face of great tragedy. Surabar waited until she had taken her seat before concluding his short address.

  ‘Lords and Ladies of the Imperial Court, thank you for your time. I will not keep you any longer from your day. My door will be open to any who wish to speak with me on this matter.’

  Reynik felt a sense of dread building inside him as the Guildmaster led him down the corridor away from Brother Viper’s quarters. At the end of the corridor was a door. It opened into a dark, stable-like booth in which Brother Viper was standing next to a solitary chair. The booth looked out into a large chamber with a central podium.

  The Guildmaster acknowledged Viper’s bow with a nod as he passed through the booth. Without pausing, he opened the gate out into the chamber and led Reynik out towards the podium. As he walked forward, Reynik noted the other booths around the outer wall of the chamber. There seemed to be lots of them, each with a different animal symbol on its gate and on the wall above it.

  Reynik turned around to look at the symbols. A cougar, a wolf, a bear, a firedrake, a falcon, an eagle, an owl, a fox – they were all predators. Finally it made sense. His eyes settled for a moment on the dragon motif on one of the gates and he shivered. Alarm bells sounded in his head as he looked at the dragon. He had seen that symbol before. ‘Shalidar!’ he thought, the sense of impending doom momentarily shattering, as a wave of hatred surged through him. His mind flashed back to Mantor and the house Shalidar had owned there. The house had sported many pictures, images and ornaments featuring dragons. The reason for the assassin’s interest in them was suddenly clear. The dragon was his symbol.

  The slightest of movements in the darkness of the dragon booth brought Reynik back to the present. Had he been staring? He hoped not. He should have realised the booths would be occupied. If Shalidar recognised him, he was as good as dead. Would Shalidar recognise him, though? It was unlikely. They had only met properly once, when Reynik had been pretending to be the representative of a wealthy client for Shalidar’s services. Reynik did not believe their encounter on the Palace rooftop counted, as Shalidar had barely glanced at him before running away. No. The link was too tenuous. They were hundreds of leagues from their last meeting, and Reynik had since changed his appearance. There was little likelihood of Shalidar linking him to their brief encounter in Mantor.

  The Guildmaster had climbed up onto his pulpit-like podium. Reynik remained at the base of the steps. He tried not to look nervous, though his apprehension was building again. It was hard to know where to look, as he did not want to be seen to be staring at anything in particular. Also, there was the difficulty of what to do with his hands. It felt wrong to have them by his sides, but if he put them behind his back it might be seen to be a military stance, which was something to be avoided. If he clasped them together, he knew he would fiddle with his fingers. His palms were already slick with nervous sweat. What was to happen next? The Guildmaster had not primed him with any details.

  The Guildmaster’s voice suddenly punched out into the dim hall. ‘I accept . . .’ There was a slight pause, then a number of voices joined together in a ritualistic chant that Reynik realised must be the infamous Assassins’ creed. He listened to the words, fascinated by some of the phrasing. If the assassins were bound by these words, then it was clear that Shalidar had been treading a dangerous path over recent months.

  ‘I state this creed in the full knowledge that should

  I break it,

  My life will be forfeit.’

  The final words rang around the chamber. Reynik’s chest tightened, his nervousness heightening by the second. Where was the binding stone the Guildmaster had spoken of? It did not appear to be in this chamber. How did it work? Would the binding be painful, or disorienting, like his first magical transfer into the Guild headquarters?

  ‘Brothers, this is a good day. We welcome in a new Brother to our Guild. Please, walk around the central podium, young friend.’

  Reynik did as he was told. He walked slowly, keeping his face impassive and his eyes straight ahead. He did not allow his eyes to linger on the dragon emblem th
is time, but swept past it as he did all the others until he was back where he had started.

  ‘You have all had a chance to see his face. Does anyone know of any reason why this man should not be acceptable as a member of our Guild?’

  Reynik’s heart thumped in his chest. Would Shalidar say anything? Had his uncle’s killer recognised him? Precious seconds of silence passed unbroken. Apparently he had not.

  ‘Very well.’ The Guildmaster looked down at Reynik. ‘You may raise your hood,’ he said solemnly. ‘Do not lower it again in this chamber. Step forward, Brothers, and we will proceed to the naming room.’

  The Guildmaster stepped down from his podium and led Reynik over to the wall between the bear and the griffin alcoves. The wall looked to be solid rock. Reynik could see no sign of a way forward, but he was not about to make a fool of himself by saying anything aloud. The Guildmaster drew something from beneath his cloak and waved his hand in a peculiar gesture at the wall. Reynik itched to see what it was that the Guildmaster held, but there were a dozen assassins standing close behind him. He did not want to do anything that might be misinterpreted.

  In the blink of an eye, a section of the wall vanished, leaving a dark, door-shaped hole. Reynik had gone beyond being astonished. It appeared there was a lot to this complex that defied everyday understanding. What had happened to the wall? Had it been an illusion all along? Had a section of it been transported away using the same sort of magic as the talismans possessed? The question was irrelevant, he decided. The Guildmaster was leading him forward into the dark passageway. His concern was what awaited him at the far end.