LITMIR.BIZ

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the worst.’

      With a bland expression and a forced smile, Kaspar said, ‘You do that, Amafi.’

      Pasko said, ‘Convey word to those who might care about such things.’

      Amafi nodded. Pasko, a dour man of middle years, had been dispatched by the Conclave to keep a close watch on Kaspar. The former Duke of Olasko had earned a great deal of good will by carrying word to the Conclave of the threat from the Dasati the year before, but he was still not entirely trusted. So, Pasko kept an eye on Kaspar, while Talwin watched Amafi.

      The plan was straightforward: the Conclave had sent three groups of agents – Kaspar and Pasko, Tal and Amafi, and Caleb and the boys – to the City of Kesh. Kaspar, as a minor envoy, would have access to many key government ministers and functionaries; Tal would be able to move easily through the social circles of the minor Keshian nobility: as a past Champion of the Masters’ Court and with his reputation as a womanizer and gambler he would have no shortage of social invitations. Caleb and the boys would be able to negotiate their way through the common citizenry of the Empire, from honest labourers to criminals. It was hoped that by using three different sets of agents some clue could be uncovered as to the whereabouts of the leader of the Nighthawks. And Pug hoped through one of these channels that he would learn the whereabouts of his old enemy, Leso Varen.

      Amafi relayed Kaspar’s message to Tal, who said, ‘If we are separated and questioned, you know what to say.’

      ‘Yes, Magnificence,’ replied the grey-haired assassin. ‘You have met the Comté on a number of occasions in Bas-Tyra and elsewhere. You have even played cards with him, and you were pleased to discover yourselves travelling on the same boat from Caralién to Kesh. We travelled by land from Pointer’s Head to Ishlana, then by river boat. The Comté said he had come from Rillanon, so I assume he came by land from Deep Taunton to Jonril then by boat to Caralién. It was a most fortuitous happenstance as the Comté is convivial company.’ With an evil smile, he added, ‘And an indifferent card player.’

      ‘Don’t overdo it,’ said Tal. ‘But if they assume I’m staying close to him to cheat him at cards, they will perhaps not suspect that we are plotting together.’

      ‘A small bad intention is often far more easily believed than a big one, Magnificence,’ whispered Amafi. ‘Once I avoided the gallows by merely claiming to have entered a certain house to have a dalliance with the man’s wife instead of attempting to kill him. The woman vigorously denied it, but the odd thing was, the louder she claimed it wasn’t so, the more the authorities believed it was. I was put in a cell, from which I escaped a few days later; the man beat his wife, causing her brother to kill him in a duel, and I collected my fee for the man’s death, despite the fact I had not placed one finger upon him. I did, however, revisit the wife to console her, and found her behaviour clearly demonstrated why the constables were inclined to believe me and not her.’ With a half-wistful look, he added, ‘Grief made her ardent.’

      Tal chuckled. There had been several times in their relationship when he would have happily murdered Amafi, and he was certain there had been more than one occasion when the former assassin would have killed him for the right price, but at some odd point along the way he had become fond of the rogue.

      His feelings for Kaspar were a great deal more complex. The man had been responsible for the wholesale destruction of his entire people, and but for a freak act of fate Tal Hawkins, once Talon of the Silver Hawk, would have been dead along with the majority of the Orosini.

      Yet Kaspar was now an ally, another agent working for the Conclave of Shadows. And Tal understood how many of Kaspar’s murderous decisions had been made under the influence of the Conclave’s most dangerous enemy, the magician named Leso Varen. Yet even without Varen’s influence, Kaspar could be a cold-hearted, unforgiving bastard. Yet even when he had served Kaspar with the intent of betraying him to revenge his people, there was something about Kaspar Tal admired. He found himself in the confusing situation of knowing he would give his life to save Kaspar against their common enemies, but that in other circumstances, he would happily kill the man.

      ‘You look lost in thought, Magnificence. Is something troubling you?’

      ‘Nothing more than the usual, Amafi. I find the gods have an evil sense of humour, sometimes.’

      ‘That is true, Magnificence. My father, an occasionally wise man, once said that we were blessed only when the gods remained ignorant of us.’

      Tal’s gaze returned to Kaspar. ‘Something’s happening.’

      Amafi turned to see a minor court official speaking to Kaspar, and after a moment, Kaspar and Pasko followed him through the small side door Kaspar had mentioned to Amafi. Tal sighed. ‘Well, now we shall see if our plans fall apart before they begin.’

      ‘Let us hope the gods are ignoring us today, Magnificence.’

      Kaspar was led by a very polite functionary through a long series of corridors. He was taken by side passages around the smaller reception hall used for greeting visiting dignitaries towards the suite of offices reserved for the higher ranking government officials.

      The palace of the Emperor occupied the entire upper half of a great plateau that overlooked the Overn Deep and the lower city at the foot of the tableland. Ages before, Keshian rulers had constructed a massive fortress on top of this prominence, a highly defensible position to protect their small city below. Over the centuries the original fortress had been added to, reconstructed and expanded, until the entire top of the plateau was covered. Tunnels extended down into the soil, some leading into the lower city. It was like nothing so much as a hive, Kaspar thought. And as a result he rarely knew where he was. Of course, before this particular journey he never had to worry about getting lost, because as a visiting ruler, he had always had an attentive Keshian noble or bureaucrat to see to his needs.

      Kaspar understood the organization of the Keshian government as well as any foreigner could, and he knew that this nation, more than any other on Midkemia, was controlled by bureaucracy, a system that had endured longer than any ruling dynasty. Kings might give edicts and princes command armies, but if the edicts were not handed down to the populace no one obeyed them, and if orders to move food and supplies around weren’t forthcoming, the prince’s army quickly starved to death in the field, or mutinied.

      On more than one occasion, Kaspar had been thankful his duchy was relatively small and tidy by comparison. He could name every functionary in the citadel that had served as his home for most of his life. Here he doubted the Emperor could name even those servants who worked in his personal apartment.

      They reached a large office, and Pasko was instructed to wait on a stone bench outside. Kaspar was motioned through a door into an even larger room, one that was an odd mix of opulence and functionality. In the middle of the room sat a large table, behind which rested a man on a chair. Once powerful, he had gone to fat, though there was still ample muscle under that fat. Kaspar knew that there was a shrewd and dangerous mind in that old man’s head. He wore the traditional garb of a Trueblood: a linen kilt around his hips bound by a woven silk belt, cross-gartered sandals on his feet, and a bare chest. He also wore an impressive array of jewellery, mostly gold and gems, though there were some interesting polished stones among the dozen or so chains he had around his neck. These stood in stark contrast against his night-black skin. He regarded Kaspar with eyes so dark brown they looked sable, and then he smiled, his white teeth dramatic in contrast to his face.

      ‘Kaspar,’ he said in a friendly tone. ‘You look different, my friend. I’d say better, if you think that not overstepping the mark.’ He waved the escort outside, then with a motion of his hand ordered the two guards by the door to go as well, leaving Kaspar alone with him.

      Kaspar nodded slightly. ‘Turgan Bey, Lord of the Keep, why am I not surprised?’

      ‘You seriously didn’t think the former Duke of Olasko could sneak into the Empire without our notice, did you?’

      ‘One can hope,’ said Kaspar.

      Lord Turgan indicated that Kaspar should take a seat. ‘Comté Andre?’ He looked at something

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