Imperial Spy

by Mark Robson

  ‘Prosecution calls Kalheen, servant of Ambassador Femke,’ Brenden announced.

  Judging by his expression, Kalheen had not expected the call either. He rose and was escorted forward to take position in front of the throne.

  ‘Kalheen, did you see the Ambassador on the morning after the death of Baron Anton?’

  ‘Yes, my Lord.’

  ‘And was the Ambassador different in any way when you saw her?’

  ‘Well, no my Lord, but . . .’

  ‘But? But what, Kalheen?’ Brenden asked pointedly.

  Kalheen looked first at Femke and then up at Emperor Surabar. ‘I’m sorry, your Majesty,’ he said nervously. ‘I can’t lie here.’

  ‘Lie about what, Kalheen? Has someone asked you to lie?’ Brenden asked, pouncing on the word like a cat on its unsuspecting prey.

  There was a hushed expectancy as everyone leaned forward to hear Kalheen’s answer.

  ‘No, my Lord, no one has asked me to lie about anything. It’s just . . . well . . . Ambassador Femke is not a normal Ambassador, my Lord. I don’t know for certain, but the more I’ve thought about it since the murders, the more I’ve found myself wondering exactly what she does do. I’ve worked in the Imperial Palace a long time and I’ve noticed her there before, my Lord, but she is not always dressed as an Ambassador.’

  A wave of gasps swept the Courtroom. Reynik looked up at Shalidar. The assassin was making no effort to conceal his smile.

  ‘What then, in your opinion, is Femke’s other profession, Kalheen? A spy – or an assassin?’

  ‘Objection, your Majesty,’ Sateris interrupted. ‘Prosecution is leading the witness.’

  ‘Overruled. I want to hear the answer, Commander,’ King Malo replied firmly.

  Kalheen looked at the Emperor apologetically as he answered. ‘Either is possible, my Lord,’ he said.

  Lord Brenden dismissed Kalheen, all but preening as he continued. The servant’s information had opened the floodgates. With the line open, Brenden piled suspicion on accusation over the question of Femke’s character and raised questions about the nature of her true purpose here in Mantor. He posed the rhetorical question ‘Why would an innocent person run?’ which he then answered by stating his belief that they would not.

  There was more and it went on for some time. Reynik was amazed Emperor Surabar was looking so calm. He did not know Femke’s plan and the prosecution had in all but clear statement accused him of sending Femke to cause this diplomatic mess. Maybe he was going to allow her to take the fall and deny all knowledge of her mission here. If so, then taking the Mantle had changed the General. The Surabar that Reynik had heard about from his father and uncle would never have sacrificed one of his troops in such a way.

  Commander Sateris, when he finally got a chance to speak, did so clearly and succinctly. His first move was to call Phagen as a witness.

  ‘Phagen, if you had to describe Kalheen as a person, would you say he was an honest person?’ Sateris asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Phagen replied quietly.

  ‘Louder, please, so that everyone can hear you.’

  ‘Yes. Kalheen is honest.’

  Reynik gritted his teeth at both the question and the answer. Where is Sateris going with this? he wondered.

  ‘So, you would not say Kalheen is prone to making things up?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘That’s interesting,’ Sateris observed. ‘My information about Kalheen leads me to believe that he likes storytelling nearly as much as Lord Brenden here.’

  Sniggers sounded around the galleries. Brenden looked irritated, but said nothing.

  ‘Kalheen likes to tell stories, but he doesn’t lie,’ Phagen said, reddening with embarrassment.

  ‘So he never exaggerates? He never stretches the truth to improve his stories?’ Sateris fired the questions like cross-bow bolts.

  ‘Well, yes, he embellishes his stories, but . . .’

  ‘I think I get the idea. Thank you, Phagen. You’re dismissed.’

  Reynik felt like applauding. By the expression on Emperor Surabar’s face, Reynik guessed he did too.

  He had destroyed Kalheen’s credibility as a witness in just a few sentences. Having done so, Sateris did not play on emotion. He used simple logic. He presented Femke as an intelligent and highly capable young woman who had risen quickly to the position of Ambassador through ability, personality and trustworthiness. He questioned the lack of motive for the killings and pointed out that many people were present in the Palace during the times of the murder of both Baron Anton and Lord Danar. Lady Femke’s presence did not mean she had wielded the knife to kill Anton, nor the poison that killed Danar. He stated that because Femke had been placed at the scenes of all the murders actually lent more weight to the conspiracy theory. Finally, he told of the budding relationship between Femke and Danar and questioned her closely about it.

  Femke answered as honestly as she could. Tears flowed freely from her eyes as she spoke of him, though she did not volunteer information about his involvement in breaking her out of prison, nor of the raiding of the Treasury. There were some around the Courtroom who muttered about staged theatrics, but a few were touched by the apparent honesty of her answers and her outward distress at the death of her fellow Ambassador.

  When Commander Sateris moved to sit back in his seat, the King asked him if he had any witnesses to call. The Commander started to shake his head when Femke stopped him by interrupting in a loud voice.

  ‘Yes, your Majesty. Defence calls Alchemist Pennold.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Lord Brenden frowned and shot a disapproving look across at Commander Sateris for introducing an unexpected witness for the defence at the last second. If Sateris knew anything about this announcement by Femke, then he was doing a good job of not letting it show. At present, the defence advocate looked about as much in the dark about what was going on as the prosecutor did. He was drilling a furious look into Femke.

  ‘Your Majesty, I know it is unusual for the defendant to call a witness, but I beg your indulgence,’ Femke added, hoping the King would keep his part of their secret bargain. He did.

  ‘Very well, Femke, you shall have your witness. Bring in Alchemist Pennold.’

  The doors opened and a curiously dressed old man with wild, silver hair entered with a tottering gait. His hair was sticking up in random clumps around his scalp and although he was clean-shaven, his face had an air of scruffiness about it. Mismatched colours competed with stains and burn marks on his clothing. Pennold had either not thought to dress smartly for his visit to the Palace, or he had no presentable clothes to wear. Either way, seeing the old man was like a breath of fresh air to Femke. His entrance brought a fond smile to her face. He wandered forward, obviously awestruck by his surroundings and shouldering a cloth sack with something heavy inside its folds.

  ‘Master Pennold, did you bring the rock as I requested?’ Femke enquired of the old man as he approached.

  ‘What? Oh, the rock! Yes, yes, naturally, my dear,’ he answered absently. ‘Hardly would have been much point in my coming along otherwise, would there?’

  ‘Excellent! Now, Master Pennold, if you could put the rock over there in the middle of the Courtroom please. Thank you so much. Your Majesty, I’m afraid that before you make your final judgement as to my guilt with regard to the three murders, I must first ask that another crime be taken into consideration.’

  Mutterings swept around the hall. What was she about to confess to? Another murder? The King raised his right hand and silence fell.

  ‘Go ahead, Femke. What is this crime, and what was your part in it? I’m sure I’m not alone in being fascinated to hear your answer.’

  Femke had seen Reynik as she had entered the hall and had caught his signal as to the location of Shalidar within the Courtroom. Reynik had placed his right hand on his right shoulder as she had entered, telling her that the assassin was high up on the right side of the Courtroom – the last place that Fem
ke had wanted him to be. He was a long way from where Pennold was placing the rock. Despite the alchemist’s assurances that the rock’s properties would manifest perfectly well anywhere in a room of this size, she felt nervous. If this did not work, then she was going to look the fool in front of the entire Thrandorian Royal Court, together with her own Emperor. If her strategy failed she would be convicted of three murders. Whilst Commander Sateris had done an admirable job of presenting her defence, he was fighting an uphill battle against a damning tide of evidence. If she were in King Malo’s position, Femke knew what her verdict would be.

  ‘Your Majesty, I’m not sure if the raid on your Royal Treasury is common knowledge amongst the members of your Royal Court, but it was I, together with Lord Danar, who carried out that raid.’

  There were a few gasps from around the Court. A low hum of angry muttering swelled briefly.

  ‘I kept the incident quiet to give my security people a chance to investigate,’ the King answered, his voice stern with disapproval. ‘However, as the investigation appears no longer necessary, I shall be most interested to hear why you chose to do me the disservice of stealing my gold.’

  ‘Well, your Majesty, I’d hate you to think we stole your money for personal gain. Unfortunately, in order to prove my innocence I needed to lay my hands on rather a lot of money. Far more money than I, or any normal person, was likely to have at my disposal. As most Royal Treasuries contain lots of gold, and it was to you I needed to prove my innocence, I decided it was not unreasonable to borrow some for a while.’

  Most of the audience was silently shocked by Femke’s impertinence, but a few, including Lord Brenden, who suddenly started coughing into his hands to hide his smile, saw the funny side of it. There was a twisted sort of logic to Femke’s reasoning so far, but she was doing her case few favours with the manner of her presentation.

  ‘And for what possible reason could you want all that gold, Ambassador Femke? Most good alibis would settle for a lot less.’

  Femke smiled and nodded her head in acknowledgement of the King’s riposte.

  ‘True, your Majesty, but we did not need the money for an alibi – quite the opposite. We needed the money to hire the best assassin I know. His services have never been cheap, but I wanted enough money to entice him into attempting a hit at short notice. I knew from early on during this sad series of events that this particular assassin was behind the killings. He told me as much in person on the night after Count Dreban’s murder. That confession would never hold up in this Court, for there were no witnesses present and it would be my word against his. His alibis for the times of the two murders were watertight, with eminent Thrandorians willing to testify to his whereabouts at the approximate times of both deaths. Also, he claimed both kills had been paid for. I did not realise how he had managed this until it was too late. I thought to prove to you he was a killer by catching him red-handed. Therefore, Danar and I set up what we thought was the perfect sting.’

  ‘Your Majesty . . .’ Lord Brenden protested, trying to stop the flow of Femke’s story, as he recognised the looks from around the Court. Femke had everyone’s absolute attention and people were beginning to get involved in her story. This was dangerous to his case. He knew the power of a well-told story better than most.

  ‘Silence, Brenden, you had your chance. Let the Lady speak. Please, Femke, do continue. I assume, as Lord Danar died, something went wrong.’

  ‘What went wrong, your Majesty, was that I didn’t bargain on getting two assassins for the price of one. I had wrongly assumed all along that my adversary was personally responsible for killing the Baron and the Count. He was responsible all right, but he did not wield the knife on either occasion. He commissioned the kills. My miscalculation cost Lord Danar his life. I felt certain I could protect Danar from one, known assassin, but it never crossed my mind that the killer I was looking for would work in tandem with another.’

  ‘So, you failed to protect Lord Danar from these killers, he was killed by them, and you failed in your attempt to catch them?’ King Malo prompted.

  ‘Not quite, your Majesty. My goal was to catch a killer red-handed and that is what I’ve done – in fact, I’ve caught two of them.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Lady Femke. Your story is most interesting, but there’s not a shred of it that has substantive evidence to back it up. Why should anyone believe you?’

  ‘Well, your Majesty, you’ve not seen the true evidence yet. I will show you a link between the two killers that is undeniable. Whilst one’s alibis are watertight, the other was not able to be so careful. I can demonstrate to the Court that the second man was perfectly placed, both to kill Baron Anton, and to frame me. Count Dreban’s murder is more difficult to prove, but having established the first two links, I believe the rest of the story will fall into place quickly. Would you mind asking everyone in the Courtroom to hold their hands up with their palms forward at shoulder height, your Majesty, and you’ll see what I mean.’

  There was shuffling and murmuring around the hall as many people instinctively looked at their palms. Reynik noticed that Kalheen was particularly pale-faced and his palms were sweating. With a quick check to see that Shalidar was still in his seat, he prepared to move the instant he was required. It would happen soon and he did not want to let Femke down. If Kalheen made a move, he would not get more than a few feet.

  King Malo saw no reason to deny Femke’s request, so he ordered the Courtroom to comply. Reynik smiled as he noted the smug expression on Shalidar’s face. That’s one expression which won’t last long, he thought with a tight grin.

  When everyone had their palms up, the King looked around the room with a puzzled expression. ‘I fail to see the meaning of this, Lady Femke. What relevance does it have to your story?’

  ‘It is simply explained, your Majesty. The chances of my catching one assassin with bloodied knife in hand, so to speak, were remote. Even had I known there were two of them, for me to catch both would have been impossible. However, that was never my intention. The money was the key to my evidence, your Majesty. The gold held the answer. Alchemist Pennold here will testify that he provided me with a special substance with which I coated the gold – all of it. The rock in the middle of the Courtroom is emitting some sort of invisible rays that I don’t pretend to understand, but they cause the substance to react when in direct line of sight. Anyone who has handled your gold will be affected, for it stains the skin with a coating that is virtually impossible to remove. Look now, your Majesty, and you will see the two killers, caught, as promised – red-handed.’

  ‘Look – his hands are glowing red,’ someone yelled. ‘Stop him!’

  Shalidar was already on the move. He had been sitting one row from the top of the tiered Courtroom. As soon as he realised his hands were beginning to announce him, he sprang to his feet and vaulted over the people behind to get to the windows. Reynik was poised to grab Kalheen, so he missed Shalidar’s initial move. To his surprise it was not Kalheen’s hands that began to glow, but Phagen’s. Femke had confided her suspicion that it was one of their three companions who had to be the second killer, but she had not been able to determine whom. Reynik had been sure the other killer would prove to be Kalheen.

  Phagen made his move a second or two after Shalidar. When he did, the assassin was incredibly quick. Reynik leaped to his feet to follow, but he had been caught off guard and Phagen managed to fell the two guards who had escorted the four Shandese men into the Courtroom before Reynik had a chance to react. Phagen’s chances of escaping were slim. There were lots of guards between him and the door, but Reynik did not allow them their chance.

  Diving forward, Reynik grabbed the slim man from behind, slamming into the assassin’s legs in a spectacular tackle. Despite hitting the floor hard, Phagen twisted quickly and began to rain blows onto Reynik in rapid succession. Reynik reacted well, blocking the assassin’s fists with lightning-fast reflexes of his own. The fight lasted but a moment. The four guards who had
escorted Femke in swarmed over Phagen a couple of seconds later, pinning him to the floor. Once down against such odds, there was little chance of him getting up again until the guards had him bound and firmly under their control.

  Kalheen was shocked to see Phagen run. He imagined what his mother would say when he told her he had unknowingly shared a room with a killer. The stout little seamstress with her flashing eyes and her stubborn manner had always berated him for his lack of attention to detail. She never appeared to miss anything. But then, he had always known that Rikala was an extraordinary woman.

  With Phagen down, Femke looked up to the right-hand side of the Courtroom in time to see Shalidar despatch the second of the two guards posted to guard the windows. Silver flashed at his right wrist as he struck the final blow. He was getting away. There was no obvious path up to him through the sea of panicking people on the bench-style seats. Femke looked across to Reynik, who was still struggling to his feet. They were equally powerless to stop the assassin’s escape. Scanning around the Courtroom for something to block Shalidar’s getaway, Femke’s eyes settled on the rope holding up the great central chandelier structure.

  The thick rope stretched up from where it was secured to strong metal mountings on the wall next to the main door through pulleys on the ceiling to the right of the hall and across the ceiling to another pulley directly above the centre of the room. The huge metal structure looked enormously heavy. Femke saw instantly what she had to do and broke into a sprint towards the wall to the right of the main door.

  ‘The rope, Reynik! Cut the rope!’ she yelled, covering the ground quickly.

  Reynik grasped her plan immediately and ran the couple of paces to the nearest guard. Before the guard knew what was happening, Reynik snatched the hilt of the guard’s knife and drew it from its sheath.

  ‘Hey!’ the guard exclaimed. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’