Imperial Spy (6 page)

Lord Kempten shook his head slightly. Guided by Femke’s hand at his back, he eased away from the line of soldiers and into the crowd. The two of them moved slowly through the mass of lords
and ladies, taking care to do nothing that would distract from General Surabar’s progress.

As Femke directed Lord Kempten towards the side of the Great Hall her mind was racing. She had him in her power, but what should she do with him now? It occurred to her that she could lock him
in a holding room until she could hand him over to Surabar. That was the most logical solution, but Femke knew that if Lord Kempten subsequently confessed, then Surabar would show no mercy. Lord
Kempten would die as surely as if she had poisoned him. Surabar was fair, but Kempten had planned to assassinate the Emperor-to-be. That was a capital offence. Femke did not want another life on
her conscience. Was there a way to resolve this situation without more bloodshed?

It was less crowded near the side wall of the Great Hall, and as the sonorous voice of the High Cleric of Shandar boomed out the initial phrases of the coronation ceremony, the vast majority of
the gathered Nobility edged forwards to watch and listen. With the focus of the people on the front of the Hall, it was easy to edge Lord Kempten with quietly whispered promptings slowly back
towards the nearest exit. The door was locked. Femke would have been surprised if it had not been secure. General Surabar was unlikely to allow any obvious security breaches today. The only way out
of the Hall was through the main entrance, which was currently surrounded by dozens of soldiers. There was nothing for it. Leaving before the end of the ceremony was out of the question.

‘My Lord, we are going to position ourselves as close to the main exit as possible. We will leave as soon as the new Emperor makes his exit. Be assured I wish you no harm. Quite the
opposite actually, but we need to have a quiet talk before I can let you leave the Palace.’

‘You’re going to let me leave, Alyssa? That makes no sense. I thought you would hand me over to the guards. You’re certainly full of surprises, young lady. How did you know
what I was going to do?’ Lord Kempten asked in a startled whisper that could have been a lot quieter.

Femke gave a quiet hushing sound without moving her lips and then nodded subtly at the raised dais at the far end of the Hall. ‘Concentrate on the ceremony, my Lord. We’re being
watched, and I don’t want to raise suspicions. Let’s say for now that I have eyes in my head and I use them. You were obvious. I didn’t want you to throw your life away
unnecessarily. Shandar needs you, and others like you. We’ll talk more later.’

The final flattering comments were calculated to make Lord Kempten relax. They had the desired effect. As they had moved towards the back of the Hall, Femke had spotted Lord Danar pushing
through the crowds to follow their progress. Femke inwardly cursed the inconvenience of the encounter. Danar was easy to pick out, both because he was taller than most and because he was the only
person in the Hall who kept obviously looking away from the dais. She needed a clean getaway without interference and unnecessary complications from her would-be suitor.

As the High Cleric droned through the stately formalities of the ceremony, every minute stretched out in Femke’s mind until she felt the event would never end. Then, with sudden finality,
his voice fell silent. He reached down, silently lifted the Emperor’s simple circlet of gold and placed it on Surabar’s head, to a muffled applause. Next he placed the regal Mantle that
was the true symbol of power in Shandar across Surabar’s shoulders and fastened the ornate clasp at the front. The applause this time was more general, though hardly rapturous.

Bestowed with the symbols of office as Emperor, Surabar made a short speech giving an abridged account of the deceptions and treachery of the Sorcerer Lord, Vallaine. The previous Emperor had
foolishly listened to Vallaine’s advice and given him control of several Legions. The Sorcerer Lord had sent this large army into Thrandor having claimed foreknowledge of the future through a
prescient vision. He guaranteed the army would take the capital city, Mantor, provided that a certain Lord Shanier led the Shandese forces. Vallaine hoped to win power in Thrandor for his own
purposes, but his interpretation of the vision proved incorrect. Lord Shanier duped him. The result was the slaughter of the Shandese army and Lord Vallaine’s fall from grace.

Surabar then told how Vallaine had secretly murdered the real Emperor and how he had changed his appearance using sorcery to replace the Emperor, thus covertly seizing ultimate power in Shandar.
The Sorcerer’s abuses of power and his twisted ambitions were quickly outlined, followed by some general statements on how Surabar intended to heal some of the wounds that Vallaine had opened
with their neighbours, the Thrandorians.

‘Peace,’ he stated firmly, ‘is always preferable to war. War should always be the last option, to be used only when all other means of negotiation have failed. As a soldier of
many years’ experience, I can say with authority that whilst war will sometimes gain the Empire new territory and subjugate peoples, the pain and loss involved in achieving those gains are
seldom worth the price paid in human lives. I hope that my reign as Emperor will reflect these views and that Shandar will prosper as a peaceful Empire under my rule.’

Polite applause followed the speech. Femke sensed that there were a few amongst the Nobles who were responding more warmly to his words than they would like to admit. But though Surabar had
struck a positive first note, it would take more than a few words to stave off the inevitable attempts to remove the Mantle from his shoulders.

The trumpets blared as Surabar withdrew down the aisle of soldiers, who in turn peeled inwards in a precision display of formation marching to reform the column and march out of the Hall behind
him. As the last soldiers left the Great Hall, Femke steered Lord Kempten to follow on behind them. Instead of heading for the main corridor towards the official exit, Femke diverted Kempten off
into a side passage and led him into the heart of the Palace. Once clear of the crowds, Femke tried the door to one of the Palace administrators’ offices. It opened. Given that all eyes would
follow the progress of the new Emperor, the chances of being disturbed here were slim.

Once inside, Femke invited Lord Kempten to take a seat whilst she sat on the edge of the desk. The height of the desk meant she was looking down at him. It was a small advantage, but it gave the
illusion of authority. There had been some time during the ceremony for her to formulate a plan, so Femke cut straight to the chase. The truth – or at least some of it – would make her
task here easier.

‘Now, Lord Kempten, let’s place any unpleasant thoughts of harming one another aside for a moment, shall we?’ Femke asked, casually pressuring the final tooth on her comb with
a thumb. A needle sharp spike suddenly appeared out of the other end with a metallic ringing tone. It was good for him to see she had not been bluffing. She placed it on the desk beside her and
crossed her legs in a relaxed pose. ‘I’m sure you’re aware what would happen if I branded you a traitor. If I called for the guards and had you searched right now, they would find
a weapon. If my supposition is correct, then tests would prove that weapon to be poisoned, as is my comb.’

‘How do you know this? I told no one – not even my wife!’

‘How is irrelevant. Listen; I’m currently in the fortunate position of having the new Emperor’s ear, and there’s a lot about him you don’t know. You were a fool
today. A brave fool, but a fool nonetheless. Throwing your life away in an effort to prevent Surabar becoming Emperor would have been a pointless waste. Your eldest son is growing up fast, but he
isn’t ready to fill your shoes yet, my Lord. Please don’t rush into any self-sacrificial nonsense again. The truth is, Surabar doesn’t want to be Emperor. He doesn’t intend
to keep the Mantle long.’

‘What? Then why in Shand’s name has he taken the Mantle at all?’ Kempten asked in disbelief.

‘Try to look at it from this perspective, my Lord – who would you expect to see take the Mantle if not Surabar?’ Femke replied.

‘Well, I don’t know exactly. There are several Houses that have legitimate claims to the Mantle—’

‘Exactly!’ Femke interrupted. ‘To be more precise, my Lord, there are several Noble Houses that would cut each other to pieces in order to place the Mantle on the shoulders of
one of their Lords. It would be a blood bath. What Shandar needs now is peace, not more killing. We suffered drastic losses during the ill-advised invasion of Thrandor. The last thing we need now
is to decimate our Noble Houses by entering a bloody succession feud. When General Surabar unmasked the traitor, Vallaine, he decided, for the good of Shandar, to take power for long enough to
re-establish order. He will then decide which of the Houses has the strongest claim to the Mantle. My understanding is that once he’s established who among the Noble families has the most
deserving and able candidate, he intends to abdicate his position to this chosen person. You must agree, my Lord, that there are Nobles who, though they have a claim to the Mantle, would make
terrible leaders for Shandar.’

‘Yes, that’s true,’ Kempten admitted. ‘I follow the logic, but do you honestly believe that Surabar will give up the Mantle? Power can be an addictive drug.’

‘Surabar has been a General for some years now, my Lord. He is used to wielding power over large numbers of people. To my knowledge he has never abused that responsibility, and he’s
well known to be a man of his word. I believe that he’ll follow through his intentions. He took the Mantle under duress. I can say no more of the circumstances, but I want you to think
very
carefully about what I’ve said. Please – no more assassination attempts. I must also advise you that the Emperor’s intentions are to remain secret. Surabar will be
watching for the strongest candidate to emerge. Tampering with this process by leaking his intentions will have dire consequences both for you, your family, and the Empire. You’re to tell no
one. If it is discovered that his plans have spread further than your lips, then you, and your entire House, will die swiftly. You have been warned, Lord Kempten. I’ll lead you back out to
one of the Palace side exits now. I suggest you support Emperor Surabar and encourage others to do so as well. Those who listen to you stand to benefit greatly, particularly if they belong to one
of the major Houses.’

As Femke watched a thoughtful Lord Kempten leave through one of the servant gates a few minutes later, she felt satisfied that he had taken on enough of her speech to make him cautious. He would
doubtless feel great relief at his reprieve from a traitor’s death. This would remain at the forefront of his mind for some time. Femke had read his responses. She was convinced he would sit
back and watch Surabar for a while before moving against him again. Femke would have to inform the Emperor of the risk Lord Kempten posed, but Femke felt sure she could make Surabar see the
benefits of her solution. If Lord Kempten took her speech to heart, then intercepting him today could prove more important to Emperor Surabar’s life in power than the coronation ceremony.

Lord Danar watched with frustration as Lady Alyssa slipped out of the Great Hall ahead of him. He wanted to try to pick up his conversation with her, but the press of people
was making it impossible to catch up. Sliding in and out of the crowds as politely as he could, he kept pausing and standing tall as he was forced to slow by the mass of bodies funnelling into the
narrow corridor. Stretching on tiptoes he tried to see over the heads of the people ahead. Lady Alyssa was nowhere to be seen, and Lord Kempten had disappeared with her.

A commotion involving the clashing of many weapons drew him to push forward. Ignoring the complaints and protests, he squeezed his way through to find out what was happening. To his amazement
there was a fully-fledged battle being fought in the Palace forecourts. The newly invested Emperor and his soldiers had been forced back against the front wall of the Palace. They were surrounded
and outnumbered, but appeared to be holding firm as a great mass of men in nondescript clothing swarmed around them.

None of the Noblemen were openly armed and none appeared ready to reveal weapons if they were hiding them about their persons. Much as in the Great Hall, the response of the Nobles to the
situation was mixed. There were those who looked genuinely shocked, those who seemed openly pleased and those who were trying to disassociate themselves from the instant rebellion. Notably, there
were none who threw themselves into the fight on behalf of the new Emperor.

The fate of Emperor Surabar was of little consequence to Danar. The man could live or die. There would be plenty of Noblemen ready to don the Mantle in his place. Judging by unfolding events,
one or more of them already had it in mind to take over. Danar did not care. His thoughts were elsewhere and he was completely uninterested by the politics of the moment.

What did Alyssa want with Kempten, Danar wondered, his eyes searching for them amongst the masses of people still spilling out from the large doors at the front of the Palace. Surely she
isn’t fostering a romantic relationship with the man . . . ? He shook himself. Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself firmly. Kempten isn’t the type. He’s the most loyal
family man around. He’s always the first to condemn any infidelity amongst the rest of us. So why were they walking so closely? Alyssa seemed to have her arm around him much of the time.
Could it be that she prefers the company of older men?

Danar scoured the surging mass of people for any sign of her distinctive red dress whilst remaining careful not to get dragged into the fighting. The dress was nowhere to be seen. For today, it
seemed, his pursuit of Alyssa would have to wait. However, he resolved that he would win his wager – not for the wager’s sake, but because he was attracted to this mysterious young
woman. As Sharyll had promised, she was an enigma. Danar had never been so intrigued by a woman before. His friends had named her the impossible catch; but assuming she had not been killed in this
ridiculous mêlée, his instincts told him he still had a chance.