Read Online Imperial Assassin by Mark Robson - Free Book Online Page B

order.
    Although Femke’s activities had left her none the wiser about the location of the Assassins’ Guild headquarters, she had not really expected to get that lucky. Likewise, there were
none who speculated on the identity of the Guildmaster. Doing so would have been tantamount to inviting death to dance. However, the information she had gleaned would be interesting to the Emperor.
Attitudes were changing slowly amongst the Nobles. There had been a gradual, but positive shift of opinion over the few months since Surabar had taken the Mantle. He was winning them around with
his firm, but positive approach to ruling Shandar.
    Lord Kempten had won some over during the Emperor’s trip to Thrandor. The fact that an old-school Lord like Kempten could be so won over by the ex-General’s abilities had given many
of his peers cause to reconsider. There was still a large cadre of Noblemen who were intent on replacing Surabar with one of their own. However, when Lord Kempten had sent some of their more
outspoken members to the gallows, the group had been forced to become a lot more circumspect about their activities.
    Femke was still mulling over the information she had gathered when she and her servant left the eastern boundary of the city. Constant mental reinforcement of the names and other nuggets she had
gathered was vital if she was to retain every detail. Writing them down was not an option. To do so was dangerous in the extreme. With hindsight, she realised that she should have been paying more
attention to the road.
    The sudden fizzing buzz of an arrow was followed by a sickening thud as it punched her servant from his saddle. He did not cry out as he fell. The arrow had caught him squarely in the chest.
Femke’s mind raced. If an assassin had fired the arrow then she would have been the target. It was more likely to be the fame of Lady Alyssa’s wealth that was the motive behind this
attack. Assuming this was true, she knew there was a chance of getting out of the situation alive.
    It was easy to let shock and horror flood her features. She let out her best ‘damsel in distress’ scream, the high-pitched trill cutting through the surrounding trees with an
intensity that would carry a good distance.
    ‘Stop that noise now, or the next arrow will stop it for you,’ ordered a deep voice to her left.
    Femke clamped a hand across her mouth and loosened the knife up her sleeve in the process. She always had several weapons about her person. Whether she would attempt to use them would depend on
how many adversaries there were. If the odds were bad she would continue to play the pathetic, terrified Noblewoman until a suitable opportunity arose for making her escape.
    ‘There ain’t no one else followin’, boss,’ came a second voice from some distance behind Femke.
    ‘Good,’ the original, deeper voice responded. There was a rustling noise in the bushes by the side of the road. Two men emerged, both wearing self-satisfied grins. One was
barrel-chested with thick, black hair, a square jaw and strangely angular features. He was holding a sword as if he knew how to use it. At his side was a slimmer man sporting a bow. He was
sly-faced with lank, greasy-looking hair. Femke had no doubt that it was he who had just killed her servant. His proud glance across at where the unfortunate man had fallen was enough to confirm
that view. The third man remained hidden somewhere along the road towards the city.
    ‘At least three of them,’ she thought. ‘But they’re split, which helps.’ She remained seated on her horse, as if frozen in place by fear. The two men approached her
confidently.
    ‘Get down off the horse, Lady,’ the leader ordered, raising his sword until it was pointing at her. ‘We’d like to get better acquainted with you and your money, and we
can hardly do that while you are sitting up there shaking, now can we?’
    Femke squeaked fearfully from behind her hand, her eyes wide. The two men