Prologue from Imperial Spy

‘Seize that man! He’s to be held on charges of treason.’

For the slightest instant, Shalidar was off balance. He was expecting to meet the Emperor. Instead, General Surabar was standing inside the Emperor’s study, pointing at him with an accusing finger. The two guards who had entered the room with Shalidar were slow to react to the order. Survival instinct and a wealth of experience gave him the edge he needed. In the blink of an eye, Shalidar spun, hands flashing blows that felled both guards before they had a chance to move. Without pause, he drew a knife and hurled it at the General.

Time seemed to slow as he released the blade. As it left his hand, he saw the spy girl, Femke, draw a blade from her boot. Her face held a strange combination of pain and determination and her grey-blue eyes chilled him with their intensity. General Surabar swayed aside, avoiding the thrown blade in an astonishing display of agility for one so old. Almost simultaneously Femke threw her knife as Shalidar launched into a dive out through the open door.

The knife sliced past him so close that he felt it go by. It rammed home into the wooden doorframe with a juddering thud, leaving the assassin in no doubt that it had been thrown with deadly force. Nobody had come that close to killing him for many years. Worse, the blade had been thrown by a young woman who had barely crossed the threshold into adulthood.

Assassins were normally the unseen killers – unknown and unexpected. Hits were planned meticulously to avoid any chance of the assassin being caught. There were always random factors that defied the best planning, but Shalidar had a flair for improvisation. He was the best in the business and only the richest could afford to call on his services. No hit was planned today, but somehow, Femke had turned the tables on him. The young woman had set him up, for which he would exact a painful retribution in due course. For now, his focus was on a clean escape from the Palace.

Like a shadow fleeing from the light, Shalidar raced down the corridor. His footfalls made no sound and he ran so smoothly that he appeared to flow along the passageways. After a few turns the assassin paused to glance behind him and listen. There was no sign of pursuit, but he refused to take unnecessary chances.

Shalidar was known around the Palace, though few knew his profession. Most thought him a bodyguard or an advisor to the Emperor. The secrecy was essential, for if the truth of his role in the Palace became widely known, he would become useless as a weapon.

Thoughts flashed through Shalidar’s mind as he reviewed his situation. The complexities of his web of deceit and his history of meddling in Imperial affairs were now in tatters. It was most infuriating. Anger burned in his gut, but he clamped down on the emotion and concentrated.

It appeared that General Surabar was assuming power in Shandar, which was extremely bad news for all assassins. The General was well known for his dislike of hired killers. He believed that killing was what soldiers did out of necessity in battle, not a trade for those who looked to gain wealth at the expense of the lives of others. It made sense for Shalidar to get out of the capital as swiftly as possible. Maybe he should even consider leaving Shandar altogether.

Shalidar had always had an aloof disdain for what he saw as the oafish and obvious ways of the military, but he did respect General Surabar’s reputation for efficiency and thoroughness. With the huge numbers of troops in the city maintaining public order in the wake of the recent unrest, General Surabar had the power to make life difficult for Shalidar.

‘Time to move on,’ he whispered, unconsciously twisting a silver wristlet part hidden by his sleeve. ‘But first, one loose end to tidy up.’