history to know that as part of his punishment for treason, Lord Niromi’s name was removed from every historical reference, and all Keshian families were now forbidden from ever naming a child Niromi.
Bey continued. ‘Dangai is no one’s dupe. He has taken complete control of the Inner Legion and if things come to a bad pass, we may even see a repeat of the last attempt to seize the throne, when Empress Leikesha’s Guards battled the Inner Legion in this very palace.’
He looked out at the garden for a moment, then turned to face Kaspar again. ‘Do you know that over one thousand officers of the Inner Legion were cast into the Overn? The crocodiles feasted for months.’ He sighed. ‘However, this time I do not know if the Palace Guard would stand against the Legion, for Sezioti is not a popular figure. Respected, yes, and even liked somewhat, but he’s not popular.’
‘Why all the bloodletting? Why not a straight appeal to the Gallery of Lords and Masters? From everything I’ve heard, it seems that Dangai would carry the day.’
‘Because we are a nation of traditions, if not of laws.’ He looked at Kaspar and said, ‘We have no tradition like the Great Freedom as they do in the Kingdom of the Isles, and here there is no confirmation of the King by the Congress of Lords. If the Emperor, blessings upon him, names Sezioti as his heir, then Sezioti is the next Emperor, or at least he will sit upon the throne until Dangai seizes it by removing his brother’s head from his shoulders.
‘But I need proof, Kaspar. I need some evidence that not only is Dangai behind this, but that he is also in league with those enemies only a few of us know exist: Varen and his Nighthawks.’
‘What can I do to help?’
‘Much more than the death of Prince Nauka occurred last night. The Mistress of Luck is a gambling hall located atop Summer Winds Hill – one of the better districts in the city – it’s also a brothel, and last night several strange things occurred there. Talwin Hawkins disappeared. He went upstairs with two whores, and was followed soon after by two men, one of them Talwin’s so-called servant, the old assassin Petro Amafi, and some time soon after that, the two girls came down alone, invited some drunken louts out and left. The room upstairs was empty, save that a cord from a curtain-sash hung from the window.
‘We can surmise that Hawkins avoided a trap of some sort. But I want to know who the mysterious man who went up the stairs before Amafi was. And where has Talwin Hawkins and Petro Amafi taken him?’
Kaspar said, ‘I have no idea.’
‘Well, I suspect your man Pasko might have some means of getting word to him.’
‘I’ll have him go about it as soon as we’re done here.’
‘I have two masters, Kaspar. I serve those whom you serve, because I believe their cause is just and in the long term your objectives also aid my other master, the Emperor. I can best serve by bringing proof of a plot to him. Not guesses, not vague circumstances, but proof.
‘The other matter is that last night word reached me of an assault at an inn called the Three Willows, owned by a former Kingdom citizen by name of Pablo Maguire. A trader from the Vale of Dreams was in residence, a man of vague nationality, seeming both Keshian and Kingdom, and with him were three boys, apprentices apparently. The master was away on business, and the boys were eating their supper when an altercation broke out.
‘Why these three lads were singled out is uncertain, but it is clear that there’s more going on than meets the eye.’ Bey looked at Kaspar. ‘This Maguire isn’t another of your agents, is he?’
‘I’m like you, Turgan; I only get told what I need to know, and no more.’
The large old man let out a deep sigh. ‘I understand why our masters act as they do, but I must confess that it annoys me no end to have other agents – potential allies – close at hand and be ignorant of them.’
‘It’s all to a purpose,’ said Kaspar. ‘You can’t divulge what you don’t know.’
‘Then send your man to wherever he must be sent and start spreading the word: I need proof of Dangai’s duplicity, and I need it soon, or Kesh may be plunged into a civil war.’
‘What have your own agents found?’
Turgan Bey flexed his hands in frustration. ‘I can not trust more than a handful of those who are purportedly in my service – too many alliances have been formed and reformed around the succession.
‘The Banapis Celebration begins in less than two weeks, and the city will be thronging with visitors. The Emperor is due to make what may be his last public appearance. He will address the Gallery of Lords and Masters and then stand on a balcony waving to the crowds below, though it is unlikely that they will be able to see him.
‘In short, if there is to be a coup d’état it will most likely happen then. The Inner Legion will be in the city, but the Royal Charioteers and the Imperial Army will not be.’
‘I’ll see what I can come up with. Any idea where Tal might have gone to ground?’
‘No. Talk to your man Pasko, or go to the Merry Juggler, the inn where he was staying. Track him down and see if he has found anything.
‘Talk to our friends in the north, too, do whatever it takes, Kaspar. Help me keep this Empire intact, and if your brother-in-law won’t have you back in Olasko, I’ll see that Sezioti makes you a prince of the Empire.’
Kaspar smiled. ‘Thanks, but my appetite for power seems to be a thing of the past. I find that working on behalf of our friends in the north gives me ample cause for rising each morning, and no man can ask more than that.’ He bowed and left the room.
He signalled to Pasko who was waiting quietly on a bench outside the room, and the old servant fell into step with him. ‘I’m going to an inn called the Merry Juggler. You go wherever you need to go if unexpected trouble occurs. Something went sour last night, and our friends have gone to ground … assuming they haven’t got themselves killed.’ Lowering his voice, he said, ‘I need to speak to Tal and Caleb, and sooner is better than later.’
Pasko nodded and hurried off, turning down a corridor that would eventually take him to the lower city via the servants’ entrance. Kaspar hurried to the office of the Keeper of the Imperial Household, to request that a mount be readied for him as soon as possible. He wondered if he could find another mug of coffee somewhere, and perhaps a bread roll or slice of ham to eat before he went riding out to confront chaos.
The warehouse was surrounded by guards loyal to the Conclave. Inside, Tal watched dispassionately as Amafi continued to question the assassin. It had taken a great deal of luck as well as skill to carry the unconscious man to a safe house, and they had barely reached this deserted warehouse before dawn.
But now they were secure, at least for a while, and the prisoner could make as much noise as he wished and no one would be the wiser. And despite his refusal to talk, he had been making a great deal of noise for over two hours.
Amafi turned away from the man, who had been bound by leather ties to a heavy wooden chair, which was in turn tied to a supporting-beam in the middle of the room. It had been necessary after he had tried to break his own skull against the dirt floor. Fortunately for Tal, all it had done was render the assassin unconscious for less than an hour.
Amafi said softly, ‘We have reached a place where both he and I must rest, Magnificence.’ With a jerk of his head, he indicated that Tal should walk with him to the far side of the warehouse.
When they were some distance from the prisoner, Amafi said, ‘Torture is an art form, Magnificence. Anyone can beat a man into insensibility. Anyone can inflict enough pain so that the prisoner becomes nearly mindless.’
‘Where are we with him?’
‘This man has been trained, Magnificence, and he is a fanatic. He would rather die in agony than betray his clan. So the trick is to convince him that the agony will be endless. Then he will talk.
‘But