Imperial Assassin (32 page)

The coalescence was every bit as disorienting as Reynik had predicted. Femke sensed rather than felt him catch her weight as they re-materialised in the underground chamber. Despite her best
efforts at maintaining consciousness, Femke’s mind could not cope. When she surfaced again, she had vague recollections of being carried. There had been shouting and the sound of running
feet. Had it been real, or a dream?

Femke opened her eyes. It was dark. The air felt strange – close. She tried to lift her hand to her face, but it impacted something wooden just a few inches above her body. Of course! The
bed, she realised. Reynik had done it. She was under his bed.

The stone floor had sapped much of the heat from her back. Her bottom, her upper back and the back of her shoulders felt numb. How long had she been here, though? There was no way of telling.
Time was of the essence. She had no idea how long she had before Reynik was due to come back. For all she knew he could be due back any moment, or worse, he could be overdue. All she could do was
to explore the complex as swiftly as possible. She would learn what she could and then return here in the hope that Reynik would make it back.

Easing herself inch by inch sideways, Femke edged her body silently out from under the bed on elbows and heels. All was silent – silent and dark. Moving slowly, Femke first sat up and then
struggled to her feet. She took a moment to massage blood back into her posterior. The restoration of blood flow brought pain, but it was a wholesome pain, tinged with the relief of a return to
normal. She flexed her thighs. They felt perfectly normal.

There was no time to dwell on discomforts any further. She had to get moving. A doorway was visible in the darkness. Light was spilling around the edge of the door. She crept soundlessly across
the room towards it and listened. She could hear nothing. If someone were in the adjoining room, then he was remaining very still. Femke waited at the door for at least two minutes, straining her
ears for any sense of movement or sound on the other side. Still nothing.

Reaching down, she drew a throwing knife from the holster at the top of her boot. Then, in one smooth, silent motion she opened the door and dived through it, tucking into a silent roll. Her
acrobatic manoeuvre brought her back to her feet. She scanned the room. Nobody was there. The flickering light from three torches filled the living room. She took a moment to absorb a few details.
The first thing she noticed was the predominance of spider imagery. She shuddered. Spiders had never been among her favourite creatures.

Femke noted the lines of books, the richness of the furniture and the spider motif emblem over the onward doorway. Her eye was caught by the stonework around the door arch.

The chambers had been carved from solid rock, but someone had clearly then tidied up the shape of the rooms by building in standard shaped doorways using cut stone. Whoever had made this doorway
was a master craftsman. Femke looked back at the doorway to the bedroom. It had been made to a similarly high standard. There was something familiar about the way in which the stones had been
fitted together around the doorframe that niggled at her memory. She had seen masonry work like this somewhere before . . . but where?

Whatever the answer, it was not ready to leap straight to the forefront of her mind. She took a close look at the doorway to memorise the pattern in which the stones had been fitted, then she
moved on. The door out from the living chamber was already open. Again there was nobody outside. Whatever Reynik had done appeared to have drawn all attention from his rooms. She pushed forward as
fast as she dared, slipping along the corridor, ghostlike in her silence.

At the end of the corridor was the doorway into the central chamber. Femke slipped into the shadow-filled stall that looked out into the meeting place of the Guild. As she entered, she heard
someone else entering through another of the stalls. Ducking down as low as she could, she crawled forwards and crouched in the forward right hand corner of the little booth. Footsteps approached.
Was it one set, or two? It was difficult to tell.

‘I’d rather be out hunting him, Guildmaster, but I’ll take the first watch. Sadly, I can’t see him being foolish enough to return here again. I’d like to have been
the one to nail him. To be honest, I’m surprised he came back at all once he knew his disguise had been compromised. I can’t imagine what was so valuable that he felt he had to retrieve
it. Fox is taking over from me? Good.’

Femke listened to the man’s voice as he approached. It was not Shalidar. She would have known his rasping tones anywhere. It was clear the second set of steps she could hear was the
Guildmaster’s. She silently prayed that he would speak so she would get a chance to hear the voice of the man whose identity the Emperor wanted so badly. It was not to be.

A hand appeared over the gate at the front of the stall. Femke shrank back as far as she could into the corner. The man opened the latch and swung open the gate. It opened towards her, shielding
her further from the man’s sight. He stepped into the booth and allowed the gate to swing shut behind him. As the gate swung shut, she could see the tall figure of the assassin in the dim
light. For a second she thought he would see her, but he turned and exited through the back of the booth.

Femke released her breath in a silent sigh of relief. The quiet retreating footsteps of the Guildmaster were audible, so she risked a peek over the rail of the booth. A figure in black was near
the central podium. Even as she looked at him, he started to turn back towards her. She ducked back down, wondering why he was turning back. Had he forgotten to tell the other assassin something?
Had he somehow sensed her presence?

She waited silently for a few moments, but there was no sound of returning footsteps. After about a minute Femke decided to risk another peep over the rail. When she did, she found the central
chamber empty. Curious, she thought. Where had the Guildmaster gone? She had not heard him leave the chamber, yet his footsteps had been clearly audible when he walked across the chamber to the
centre. Did he have a transfer stone there somewhere? She decided to find out.

With one final look around the chamber to make sure it was clear, she slid over the gate and crept across to the pulpit-like structure in the centre. When she reached it, she noticed the black
hole in the floor. Walking closer, she realised that it was not a hole but a steep, descending spiral staircase. That was why the Guildmaster had turned towards her. He had to in order to step down
onto the first step. It was good to find that this disappearance was not magical in nature.

Did she dare go down? Reynik had told her the assassins all had chambers that were accessed through their relative booths. By the same token, it seemed likely that this stairwell led to the
Guildmaster’s private quarters. If this were the case, then he was unlikely to be surrounded by guards. After all, this was a very secret headquarters with a unique entry and exit control
system. She decided to risk it.

As soon as Femke put her foot onto the first stair, she realised why she had not heard the Guildmaster descend out of the chamber. The stair had a small triangle of carpet attached over the
central part of the step. The next was the same. She grinned. No doubt this was useful to the Guildmaster when he wanted to make a silent entrance. Used in reverse, it would allow her to descend
without worrying about him hearing her approach.

With her knife held firmly in her right hand, she stepped down into the darkness. After half a dozen steps, she discovered a handrail to her left, which allowed her to steady herself with her
left hand, whilst still keeping her blade out in front.

The staircase was narrow and steep, but the stairs were flat and well cut. After roughly two full spirals in total darkness, a dim light shone up from below. Step by step, she continued to
descend, crouching down and leaning forward so that she could see as far ahead around the spiral as possible. The bottom of the stairwell came into view. Femke stopped to listen for signs of
movement. To her horror, the sounds she did hear were not coming from below, but above. Someone was coming down the steps behind her, and he was not far above.

There was no time for caution. She fled silently down the last few steps and found herself half-way along a lit corridor. Left or right? It had to be an instant decision. She opted to run right,
sprinting forwards silently on her toes, her heart hammering in her chest. A little way along the corridor there was a recessed door on the right. She ducked into the recess and pressed her body
back against the door.

Her every muscle was taut. Despite the adrenalin and the after effects of the sudden sprint, she held her breath to listen. At first all she could hear was her heart pumping. Then she could no
longer hold her breath against her straining need for air. Slowly – ever so slowly – she exhaled and drew in another lungful. Relief. The quiet sounds of retreating footsteps were as
music to her ears, giving her leave to begin breathing more normally again.

Femke decided to risk a quick look along the corridor. The retreating figure was dressed in a set of brown robes. Must be a servant, she thought. Was this the servants’ level? That
didn’t make sense. Why would the entrance to the servants’ level be in the middle of the assassins’ meeting chamber? No, it was more likely that the servant was on his way to do
something for the Guildmaster. With a little luck she might discover where he was. If she could just steal a look at the Guildmaster’s face, she would know if Reynik’s assertion that he
was a member of the Nobility was correct. Femke knew all members of the Nobility, major and minor, by face and name. It was required knowledge for one in her profession.

The servant went all the way to the far end of the corridor and knocked on the door there. He must have received a response, for he entered. Femke wasted no time. She raced out from her hiding
place and down the corridor to listen at the door. There were sounds of movement within, but no talking. Come on, come on, she urged silently. Say something!

‘Will you be wanting your meal soon, Guildmaster?’

There was a pause. Femke’s anticipation reached fever pitch.

‘Thank you, Jurre, that would be wonderful. What’s on the menu today?’

Femke’s jaw dropped and her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. For a moment the urge to scream ‘Traitor!’ was overwhelming. There was no longer any need to see the
Guildmaster’s face. She would know that voice anywhere.

Reynik took Femke’s weight as she slumped. He was ready for it. Had she come through that first transfer without passing out, he would have felt most inadequate. There
were so many things that Femke was good at, he was pleased to see that she reacted to this situation in the same way he had. He was ready to drop her if there were anyone present in the room, but
all was quiet. It seemed the Guild had not yet set a watch on his quarters. He doubted they had long before someone thought of it.

Dipping to sweep up her legs, he lifted Femke into his arms and carried her through to the bedroom. She was completely out cold. He guessed it would take a good few minutes for her to come
around. He could not afford to wait that long. It would be better if he created a diversion to draw attention away from his rooms and out into the streets of the city. Then, when Femke awoke, she
should stand a chance of looking around the complex without having to wade through a line of assassins to do it.

Gently, he lowered her to the floor. For a moment his eyes lingered on her peaceful face. Her lips looked soft and inviting. The temptation to lean down and brush his lips against them was huge.
Why had she kissed him? Did she feel something for him after all? He had assumed she was only friendly because they were working together. Did it go further than that? Had she begun to feel a
romantic bond?

It was not easy to slide her under the bed. In the end he had to be quite forceful. He tried to be careful of her damaged ribs, but it was not easy to find other suitable areas to push on. If
she suffered bruising as a result of his rough handling, he would find it hard to forgive himself – especially after that kiss.

‘Snap out of it, you idiot!’ he chided himself, in a whispered growl. ‘Grow up and concentrate. This is no time to be thinking about such things.’

He pulled the blankets down so they hung to the floor on the near side of the bed. No one would see Femke now unless the room was searched with purpose.

A noise drew his attention back to the door. Someone was coming. He had to get out fast. He ran to the door. Voices were approaching the door on the other side of the room. Reynik decided to
make a run for the transfer stone. It was not far, but the door on the other side of the room opened at the same time as he broke into a run across the room. It was the Guildmaster and one of the
other assassins. He did not know which one. Whoever it was reacted very quickly.

Ripping the spider talisman from its leather cord, Reynik dived for the transfer stone at the same time as the assassin drew and threw a knife. Out of the corner of his eye, Reynik saw the
spinning blade cutting through the air towards him even as his hand stretched out with the talisman. He gritted his teeth as he waited for the blade to bite, but the anticipated pain never
came.