Imperial Traitor (14 page)

The further he got from the library, the more it sunk in that he was alone and vulnerable here in Shandrim. He glanced down at the librarian’s hand in his and wondered who was gaining more
comfort from the physical contact? She should be safe now. He could send her on her way. There was a multiple street junction ahead. He would do it there, he decided.

His mind reeled with a confused jumble of events, facts and possibilities that were likely to leave him with a severe headache. The Guild had captured Femke. Cougar had said nothing about her
being killed, which gave him hope that they would keep her alive for the time being.

He knew that Femke would not give up hope. He had seen that side of her while they were in Mantor. But what could he do to help her? It made no sense for him to try to penetrate the Guild
headquarters on his own. The Wolf Spider quarters would no doubt be under heavy guard, particularly now that they had Femke. He had returned for her once. They would be sure to take precautions
against him trying again.

If he could get some of those crystals that Femke had used in Mantor to incapacitate the Royal Guards, maybe it would give him the edge he needed to storm in and take her. No, it was a
fool’s chance, he decided. He needed more than parlour tricks. To rescue Femke from the Guild, he would need some serious backup.

When Cougar stepped out of the side street not ten paces in front of them, it was hard to say who was more surprised. Judging by the expression on Cougar’s face, Reynik realised that the
assassin had found them by chance. Both men were quick to react. Reynik let go of the young woman’s hand and charged at Cougar, whose sword seemed almost to leap from its scabbard.

‘Run!’ Reynik shouted, not looking back to see if the young woman had complied. His focus was fixed on his enemy, who was ready for him as he closed the distance between them.

The first clash was fast and furious. Reynik landed a jabbing blow with his stave to Cougar’s shoulder. The assassin opened a cut on Reynik’s right forearm. The assassin backed off,
but Reynik moved in concert to deny him the chance to recover his poise. He pressed forwards, raining blows on the assassin in an avalanche. Any lesser swordsman would have been overwhelmed by the
fury and speed of that attack, but Cougar did not lose his poise. He backed away calmly, deflecting blow after blow with his blade. Reynik managed to get a few strikes past the assassin’s
guard, but none that were telling.

Reynik was mid-swing when something hard smashed into the back of his left shoulder. Pain burned like molten fire as his left hand lost its grip on the stave and fell, useless to his side. He
followed the swing through by gripping more tightly with his right hand. Cougar deflected it easily. Reynik ducked and twisted to try to fix a position on his new adversary whilst leaping
momentarily clear of Cougar’s reach. Something dark and round whistled past him. There was a hollow sounding
thunk
and a groan. Reynik twisted again in time to see Cougar, eyes
rolled back, collapsing as if someone had just melted every bone in his body.

Pain and confusion warred within Reynik. He whirled, his senses scrabbling to find a logical explanation for what was happening. It took a moment for the cobblestone in the librarian’s
hand to register in his mind. Her face held a look of iron determination that he would not have expected in one with such a delicate appearance.

‘You can put the stone down now,’ he said gently. ‘I don’t think you’ll be needing it.’

‘Is he . . . is he . . .’ The young woman could not finish her sentence.

‘Dead?’ Reynik guessed. ‘I’m not sure. Let’s take a look, shall we?’

The assassin had dropped his sword as he fell. Reynik kicked the weapon out of the killer’s reach and gestured for the librarian to pick it up. He did not want to risk Cougar coming around
with a weapon close to hand. Life was gradually returning to his left arm, though it was incredibly painful to move. He flexed his fingers a few times and, putting his staff down for a moment, he
rubbed his shoulder gently. It did not feel as if anything was broken, but he doubted he would get full strength back in his arm for at least a couple of hours.

‘Sorry about your shoulder,’ the young woman apologised. ‘I thought I had a clear shot at him, but you moved just as I threw. To be honest the first throw was a bit of a
sighter. I haven’t had to throw for some time.’

‘You’re forgiven,’ Reynik replied. ‘To look at you, I’d never have guessed you would have the strength to throw something with that much force. I’m just glad
that you hit your target with the second shot. He would have finished me within a few seconds otherwise.’

‘My brothers and I used to compete as youngsters at who could throw stones the furthest. Being the eldest, I had a slight advantage for a while, but it became harder to win as my brothers
got older and stronger. In the end I realised I could no longer hope to beat them, so I changed the rules. That’s the benefit of being the eldest. Instead of competing for distance, we made
targets to knock down. I practised a lot and became very accurate. It seems I haven’t totally lost my skill.’

Reynik picked up his stave again. Keeping his distance, he prodded the motionless body of Cougar in several places. The assassin did not flinch. It looked very much as though he was dead, or at
least deeply unconscious. If he was bluffing, he was doing a very good job of it, Reynik decided.

The street was still empty, but someone could come along at any moment. Reynik did not want to be caught standing over an unconscious man with a weapon in his hand.

With a heave, Reynik rolled Cougar over. A quick scan over the man’s body revealed what he was looking for. The decorative, clip-on, silver belt buckle in the shape of a cougar’s
head told him instantly that the assassin was still alive. If he had been dead, the icon would have returned automatically to the Guild. For an instant, Reynik hesitated. He had spared
Cougar’s life at their last encounter. The assassin had tried to kill him again. It was clear that the man would not give up, but was that justification enough to kill him in cold blood?

Reynik gritted his teeth. If their positions had been reversed, Cougar would not have hesitated, but that did not make it any more right. He was out of time. Taking a deep breath, he unclipped
the silver buckle from Cougar’s belt.

‘What are you doing?’ the librarian asked anxiously. ‘Are you going to rob him?’

‘Not exactly,’ Reynik replied. He got to his feet, fingering the icon as his conscience played havoc with his emotions. ‘You had better go. You should be safe enough now. Just
keep heading along that alley there. If you do have to visit your home to gather possessions, then do it quickly. Get out of the city as fast as you can. Go. You need to get away from here before
we’re seen.’

‘But what about you?’

‘I’ll be fine now,’ Reynik assured her. ‘Thanks again for your help. I won’t forget it.’

She nodded, a haunted look of rejection in her eyes. ‘I won’t forget you either. Good luck.’

‘You too.’ He watched for a moment as she set off up the street. A part of him wanted to keep her close and look after her. In his heart, however, he knew he had done the right
thing. She would not have survived long in the cutthroat world of espionage and political intrigue.

He turned and threw the silver buckle as hard as he could back along the street. Cougar’s body convulsed once and then lay still again. Reynik did not look down at the body. Nor did he
watch to see the sparkle of energy as the silver icon vanished before striking the cobblestones. Instead he walked purposefully away from the scene, deliberately taking a different road from that
of the young woman. He had sent a message to the Guild that they could not ignore. The Guildmaster would not know how Cougar had died, though he would guess who had caused his demise.

To kill in self-defence was honourable. What he had just done made him feel as bad as he had after he had assassinated Lord Lacedian in order to infiltrate the Guild. For good or bad, it was
done. He knew he had to move on. Femke’s life could depend on what he did next. A horrible thought struck him. What if the Guildmaster took her life in direct response to the death of Cougar?
That was a consequence he had not considered.

‘Oh, Shand!’ he muttered softly. ‘What have I done?’

As the world swam slowly back into a hazy sense of reality, Femke became aware that all was not well. At first she felt overwhelmed by confusion and pain. Her head was pounding
and her hands and feet throbbed with a counterpoint rhythm that was most disconcerting.

She tried to move, only to find her limbs would not respond. Where was she? Her blurred vision slowly cleared until, with effort, she found she could focus for a few seconds. The concentration
required to control her sight made the pain in her head sharper, but she was determined to place her surroundings.

The room she was in had no windows. What light there was danced and flickered. It made maintaining her concentration all the more difficult. She closed her eyes to shut out the disturbing blurry
images. Her mind turned to the question of how she had got here. Slowly, piece by piece, her memory returned. She remembered visiting Toomas. What information had she sought? Or had she been
selling? She did remember climbing out of an inn window, though. Why had she done that?

It took some time, but she gradually filled in the gaps in her memory. Eventually Femke organised her thoughts into a chronological chain of events that led up to the last moment she remembered
before waking here. Then the realisation dawned on her – someone had clubbed her out cold.

She tried to move again. Her limbs would not respond. Panic gripped her gut with icy fingers. Was she paralysed? Had she lost the use of her arms and legs? With grim determination she forced her
eyes back into focus and discovered one of the sources of her discomfort. Her wrists were tied to the arms of the chair in which she was sitting. It was fair to assume that her ankles were
similarly tied. Whoever had tied the bonds had not shown much concern for her circulation. Her hands and feet felt swollen with trapped blood. It was no wonder they were throbbing with pain.

Dizziness and a wave of nausea swept over her. The room began to spin and tumble. Femke knew she was sitting motionless in a chair, but reality and perception had become detached. It took every
ounce of her will to re-establish her sense of balance and avoid ejecting the contents of her stomach. The effort left her breathless, but she succeeded.

‘She’s coming around. Go and tell the Guildmaster,’ she heard a voice say.

Quiet footsteps set off at a quick pace out of view. The voice was that of a woman, low and sultry. Her reference to the Guildmaster confirmed Femke’s worst fear – she was back in
the Guild headquarters. The woman was behind her and to her right. Had she been there all along? It seemed likely. But who was she? The voice had a lilt to it that sounded vaguely familiar. Maybe
hearing a little more of the woman’s speech would spark her memory.

‘Hello? Who are you?’ Femke asked. ‘Why have you brought me here?’

‘Come now, Femke. You know perfectly well why you’ve been brought here. You cannot meddle in the affairs of the Guild without consequence. As for who I am – that is something
I’m forbidden to reveal even to a condemned prisoner.’

The voice was tantalising. It was both familiar, and yet not so. When the woman had first spoken, Femke had felt positive that the speaker was someone she had met before. Now she was not so
sure. Maybe the voice reminded her of someone – but whom? As she tried to sift through memories her head pounded all the more. It was no use. The pain was too intense for her to retain any
sort of coherence in her thinking. A name would come to her in time – if she had time enough. Formulating a plan of escape was far more important right now.

‘What’s the matter, Femke? Feeling fragile, are we?’

The woman’s voice almost purred with pleasure, her taunting barbed with poisonous sarcasm. Femke had heard enough to brand the voice into her mind so she felt no need to respond to
provocation. ‘With luck,’ she thought, ‘I’ll get the last laugh here.’ The thought fired her with a feeling of positive energy that spread through her body. Gradually
the pounding in her head reduced, and by wriggling her fingers and toes, she found that the pressure in her hands and feet eased.

The sound of approaching footsteps sharpened her focus further.

‘Thank you, Brother Fox, you may leave us.’

It was Ferdand, but which role would he play this time? Ferdand the mentor? Ferdand the master spy? Ferdand the Guildmaster? Or would he accept himself for what he was: Ferdand the traitor.

‘Very well, Guildmaster,’ the woman purred. ‘Call me if you have need. I’ll not go far.’

Femke’s mouth felt suddenly dry as a mixture of fear and fury caused her tongue to stick to the roof of her mouth. Anger gave her limbs renewed strength. She strained silently against her
bonds with every ounce of force she could muster. Her efforts did not go without notice.

‘Don’t be foolish, Femke. I taught you better than that. In situations like these you need to apply your brain rather than brawn.’

‘Is that what you did when you sold your soul to the Guild?’ she spat in reply.

Lord Ferdand walked around until he was standing in front of her. Drawing his hood back he regarded her face to face. His expression held a degree of resignation and hurt at Femke’s
accusation.

‘My reasons for joining the Guild are not important today,’ he said, keeping his voice flat and emotionless. Then he lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper. ‘Right now
I have a bigger problem than explaining my history to you. Answer me this – how on earth am I to extricate you from this mess without having to order your execution?’