by Mark Robson
Danar lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, but it kept cracking into normal speech. ‘Aren’t two murder charges enough to be going on with? Now you want to add grand theft and conspiracy to murder to the list. What in Shand’s name do you want to hire an assassin for? Surely there’s been enough killing here, and if you intend to have Shalidar killed, then you are wasting your time and money. Assassins will not take out contracts on one another. Surely you know that?’
Femke raised an eyebrow at Danar and gave him a look that spoke volumes. ‘Hold your judgement for a moment, Lord Danar, and give me a chance to explain fully. All will become clear. We’re not going to empty the Royal Treasury, just borrow a bit of it. A couple of thousand gold Thrandorian crowns should prove enough of a temptation for Shalidar to take on a contract. Professional assassins like Shalidar have their own code of honour, known as the Assassins’ Creed, which they swear to uphold when they accept membership into their secret Guild. Once he’s taken the down payment, then he’ll be bound by the Creed to make the kill or die trying. The sting is that we’ll be ready for his attempt, and we’ll ensure it’s public enough for Shalidar to be exposed. If he does manage the hit without being seen, I’ve got a back-up plan that will trap him anyway. Then, with the cooperation of the King and the Royal Guards, it should be possible to recover the gold from the down payment and it will be much easier to prove that Shalidar killed Anton and Dreban.’
Reynik and Danar sat silently for a moment, both looking thoughtful. Neither of them were particularly happy.
‘It could work,’ Reynik said slowly, as he thought through the line of Femke’s logic. ‘It’s awfully risky though, particularly for whomever is going to be Shalidar’s target. I take it you have someone in mind?’
‘Well, yes, actually I do,’ Femke said, reddening slightly with embarrassment. ‘Before you two came along, I was going to set myself up as the target. There are obvious problems with that, but now we have a new Ambassador from Shandar.’
Reynik and Femke both turned their eyes towards Lord Danar.
‘Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?’ he asked with a small groan.
‘You said you came here to help me,’ Femke suggested, with a lopsided little smile.
‘I didn’t exactly anticipate setting myself up as a target to be peppered full of arrows for your amusement, Femke,’ Danar hissed angrily.
‘Well, if we plan this properly, it shouldn’t come to that.’
Femke added silently to herself that she would not let it, because she was already developing feelings for him that she didn’t want to admit. What she was doing was abhorrent. She was using him. Using him in the worst possible way, because she knew he would do just about anything to win her heart at the moment. It was the worst form of abuse, but she could see no other option. She justified it by telling herself it was for the good of the Empire. ‘Let’s get the first phase of the plan over with and then we can discuss it again,’ she said firmly, clamping down hard on her thoughts. ‘Our first hurdle is to rob the Royal Treasury.’
‘Surabar is not likely to approve of that—’ Danar started, his voice still angry.
‘Danar! Stop it! I suggest you listen carefully. There is risk involved in everything we do from here on, so let’s try not to make silly mistakes. Hear out my full plan. Then, if you have any better ideas, I will listen to them. If you don’t want to help, go home. I’ll find another way around the problem. I think it fair to say we all need to keep open minds throughout the next few days. Remember that Shalidar is no fool. Despite thinking I’m safely tucked away in the Royal Prison, he’s unlikely to drop his guard. We need to outwit, out-plan and out-think him at every turn, or this is not going to work. We must succeed totally. If we fail . . . well, let’s not fail. I don’t want to live with that sort failure on my conscience.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘Have you heard the news?’ Reynik asked excitedly.
‘Yes, it’s all over the city. Surabar is coming here. I hear he’s expected in about four or five days from now,’ Femke replied. ‘It doesn’t give us much time.’
‘No, but it makes my job easy tonight,’ Reynik bubbled enthusiastically. ‘It’s the perfect trigger for a demonstration in front of the Palace. I should be able to pull most of the Royal Guard to the front gate for you and keep them there for some time. I’ve already found a suitably enraged local who’ll make a great front man. It won’t take much to wind him up. Then I’ll slide into the background and watch the fireworks. Once I’m sure the distraction will give you enough time to get in and out, I’ll come to the servants’ exit and wait nearby in case you need any last minute help.’
‘That sounds great.’
‘How did you get on with the other things we needed?’
‘No problems,’ Femke answered with a pleased smile at her success. ‘Danar and I will be kitted out by mid-afternoon. The uniforms are all but ready and the armourer has promised I can pick up the weapons after lunch. We’ll be ready to go any time after then, so don’t worry if your diversion blows up a little early. We should be flexible enough by then to be able to initiate the plan at any time.’
‘What about the more exotic requirements?’ Reynik asked, curious to see how far Femke’s success stretched.
‘Also sorted,’ Femke replied with a grin. ‘The alchemist knew exactly what I wanted and supplied everything without question, despite the quantities I required. It’s nice to find there’s one trade left that doesn’t ask awkward questions at strange requests.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t report it to someone though,’ Reynik said seriously.
‘It doesn’t matter if he does. It’s unlikely that Shalidar will be monitoring alchemists – why would he want to? If the King is informed, well, it’ll make little difference to the plan, so let’s not worry about what we can’t fix.’
‘Where’s Lord Danar? I haven’t seen him this morning.’
‘I sent him out for food again,’ Femke replied with a grin. ‘He’s happy to be useful and he does have a knack of finding tasty snacks.’
‘I thought the stomach was the way to a man’s heart,’ Reynik jibed.
‘As I am a man at the moment, he could be on the right track,’ Femke replied pompously, in an exaggeratedly deep voice. She failed to keep a straight face for more than a few seconds and laughter followed.
Later that afternoon, Femke gave silent thanks for the talkative young guard who had inadvertently given her so much information during her time in the Royal Prison. It had not proved difficult to intercept a requisition order from the Royal Quartermaster and alter it slightly to include two extra uniforms. Knowing the routine was half the battle of getting hold of materials by deception. After her long chats with the guard, Femke felt she understood the Thrandorian military system well. A simple note at the bottom of the requisition order had arranged for the two uniforms to be collected direct from the tailor’s. It would be some days before the Quartermaster noted the extra cost on the order, if he ever did.
Danar collected the two uniforms. Each came packed inside a medium-sized rucksack. The tailor’s shop was the collection point, but the boots, belts and various other accoutrements had all been gathered and included inside the rucksacks. The only parts of the uniform not included were the weapons. These had to be picked up separately from a smithy. Femke went to collect these.
The smith gave Femke a penetrating look when she told him why she was there. ‘So you’re to become a Royal Guard, are you?’ he asked, taking in the slim, boyish figure dressed in tunic and hose.
‘Yes, sir,’ Femke replied, nodding enthusiastically.
‘I’ll be honest – I’m surprised that you passed the strength test with arms like those. You’ve no muscle on your bones at all, lad.’
‘I’m stronger than I look, sir,’ Femke said with a perfectly straight face, taking in the smith’s tree-trunk-like arms and legs with apparent unconcern.
‘I supp
ose you must be. I understand you’re collecting for two?’
‘That’s right, sir.’
‘Well, good luck with the training, son. If you’ve any sense you’ll eat more and exercise some meat onto those arms of yours. You’ll never be taken seriously in a fight with biceps like those.’
Femke thanked the smith for his advice and promised him she would try. Then, with the swords and knives tucked under her arms, she left the smithy and walked quickly back to the arranged meeting place.
When Femke saw the rucksacks that Danar was carrying, she was delighted. With the rucksacks effectively being an extension of the uniform, there would not be many questions asked if a Royal Guard were to wear one into the Palace. It would be the perfect way to carry the loot from their raid, together with some of her purchases from the alchemist’s shop.
‘Looks like we’re all set,’ Femke commented as she approached Danar at the rendezvous point.
‘Apparently so.’
‘OK, let’s nip back to the Baker’s Arms and get changed. We need to get to the Palace soon in case Reynik gets ahead of himself. Rabble-rousing is an inexact science. We wouldn’t want to miss our opportunity.’
The Baker’s Arms was another mediocre inn that offered acceptable, if basic, accommodation at low prices. Femke had chosen the inn because there was a back exit. The back door was kept locked, but the landlord had conveniently supplied them with a key each for the duration of their stay. The arrangement was not the safest, as it was ripe for abuse by thieves. However, as they had little that was worth stealing and were carrying those things they valued with them, Femke cared little.
The back door of the inn opened onto a quiet alleyway. This led to one of the small side streets, which in turn led to one of the major thoroughfares up through the levels of Mantor. Danar and Femke elected to slip in through the back door, change, and slide out again before anyone noticed their presence.
Danar carried his rucksack, in which Femke had carefully placed several glass vials of different-coloured powders wrapped in cloth. Half a dozen vials of blue powder on one side of the bag were separated from a similar number of vials filled with green powder by lots more layers of soft cloth.
‘What are those for?’ Danar asked, as Femke took great pains to protect the integrity of the vials.
‘Let’s just say that if we need to use them, things will not be going to plan,’ Femke replied, her tone implying ‘And that’s that, so don’t ask any more’.
‘I thought I’d ask in case I need to use them,’ Danar muttered grumpily.
‘You won’t be using them,’ Femke stated firmly. ‘If in some insane moment I decide to let you use the vials, you can be sure I’ll give you specific directions. Try to forget they’re there, and don’t mess with them unless I tell you. Is that clear?’
‘Perfectly,’ Danar muttered.
‘Here – take this,’ Femke added, passing him a strange-looking circle of cloth. It was about three inches wide and laced with a stretchy material top and bottom. ‘If I get the vials out, pull the cloth over your face and wear it like a mask across your mouth and nose. Keep it where you can get at it quickly at all times.’
‘Great!’ Danar said sourly, fingering the strange material and wondering what on earth it was made of. ‘Remind me why I’m coming on this trip again?’
‘Because you volunteered. Because you didn’t want to be left out. Because you can’t get your stubborn head around the fact that I could do this perfectly well on my own,’ Femke answered, counting off the reasons on her fingers. ‘And also because this way I don’t have to lug the spoils all the way back down through Mantor,’ she added with a grin meant to soften the harshness of her previous comments. There was little point in taking him if he was going to sulk all the way. Silently, she had to admit to herself that one of the main reasons for taking him along was because she loved looking at his roguish, little-boy smile.
Shand, but he’s cute, Femke thought, her heart leaping at the thought that this handsome young Lord was actively pursuing her affections. It was amazing to her that he still appeared willing to leap into notoriety on her behalf, despite her dressing as a man and treating him as if he were an inconvenience. If this jaunt goes well, I’ll ease up on him a little, she promised herself.
It was later in the afternoon than Femke had intended by the time they took up position close to the main gate to the Royal Palace. There they waited, keeping a low profile until the first sounds of a rapidly approaching, angry mob reached their ears.
‘Sounds like Reynik’s on his way,’ Danar commented with a grin.
‘About time! At least he’s bringing plenty of friends with him. Come on, let’s go,’ Femke said, relieved to be moving again. The worst bit about a mission like this was always the waiting. Once events were in motion and the adrenalin was pumping, Femke was in her element. Today was no different.
Together they marched around the Palace wall to the servants’ gate where they were admitted without question. Femke had never worried that her uniform would give her away, for she knew her appearance was convincing. The one element of the disguise that worried her was her walk. Despite much observation and practice, Femke had never truly mastered the art of walking like a man. There was something about the movements that were so alien she could not mimic them with authenticity.
Both Danar and Reynik had assured her they felt her approximation was passable, but for Femke nothing less than perfection was acceptable. The knowledge that it was something she could not totally master had left her feeling irritable.
Because Femke knew precisely where she was going, there was no hesitation as she led Danar from the gate to the nearest door into the main Palace building complex. Servants and courtiers alike passed them by within the crisscrossing maze of corridors with no more than the usual courtesy nods of acknowledgement, so they progressed quickly and without incident into the heart of the Palace.
Exactly as the young guard had said, there was a plain door a little way down the corridor from the entrance to the main chamber of the King’s Court. Femke paused at the door and looked Danar straight in the eye.
‘Remember – don’t say anything. Let me do the talking,’ she said firmly.
‘Whatever you say, sir,’ Danar replied with a wry smile and a cheeky wink.
Femke groaned silently and hoped he would not do or say anything stupid. All was going smoothly, but the next few seconds were crucial. Taking a deep breath, Femke opened the door and they stepped through into the short corridor on the other side, closing the door behind them. Four torches lit the corridor, casting a flickering light from where they were mounted in brackets on the wall.
The two guards at the far end of the corridor saw them instantly and their hands moved to their sword hilts instinctively. On seeing the uniforms they stopped short of drawing their weapons and their stances relaxed a little. Femke and Danar walked confidently down the corridor towards the two guards until they were ordered to halt and state their purpose.
‘One of the captains sent us,’ Femke answered. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t know his name. We haven’t long since started our training, but the captain ordered us here to relieve you. He wants you at the front gate. It sounds like there’s a riot going on down there – a protest about the Emperor of Shandar coming. The captain’s words were quite colourful. “Get your arses down to the Treasury door and send the two numb-knuckles you find there to the main gate. Even you should be able to stand in front of a locked door without looking like a complete pile of horse—”’
‘Captain Mikkals,’ the two guards chorused together, grinning at one another with a knowing look. ‘Any other instructions?’
‘No. Get down to the main gate and help was all he said,’ Femke replied with a shrug. ‘If you could go quickly we’d appreciate it, because . . . well we didn’t exactly know where the Treasury was and it’s taken us a while to find you. You know what the Captain’s like. He’ll skin us alive on the next training
session if he thinks we’ve been slack.’
‘Oh, he’ll give you a hard time anyway,’ one of the guards replied, still grinning broadly. ‘That’s Mikkals. I’m convinced he’s a sadist. Come on Wils, we’d better get down there and see what’s up.’
‘I don’t know. Shouldn’t one of us go and confirm the order? It’s highly unusual to be relieved mid-shift,’ Wils answered uncertainly.
‘How many riots have you seen at the Palace gates?’ the first guard asked impatiently, clearly wanting to get in on the action. ‘None! And neither have I. Come on. We’ve been given a chance to do something interesting and you’re worried about leaving the most boring duty there is.’
‘Well, I just think . . .’
‘You think too much. Come on, let’s go.’
The two guards started to move down the corridor. ‘Hey, what’s with the rucksack?’ asked Wils suspiciously as Danar passed him.
Danar opened his mouth to reply, but Femke jumped in quickly.
‘We were on our way to the training quarters when the Captain collared us. Sodan here trashed some of his kit so badly during the last training session that we had to go and buy him a replacement set before the next inspection.’
‘There goes the training pay, huh?’ the other guard said with a tone that held a mixture of sympathy and amusement.
Danar nodded glumly.
‘Bad luck, Sodan. Still, look on the bright side – it’s only a couple of months until you start getting more than a couple of silvers a week.’ The two guards laughed and continued down the corridor at pace. ‘We’ll try not to be long. Have fun,’ they called back as they disappeared out of the door.
The door closed behind them and Femke remained motionless for two or three seconds before whirling around and peering with an expert eye into the lower of the two locks on the solid metal door behind them.
‘That went well,’ Danar commented as Femke drew a lock pick from her pocket and carefully inserted it into the lock.