* * *
Lord Marak rose early. He got dressed and left the empty Torak quarters. He hesitated a moment outside the door as he debated whether he wanted to eat in the lords dining room or the one set aside for the Lords’ Council. It was early enough that neither kitchen might be open. He decided on the Lords’ Council kitchen, as they were more apt to be up early to serve the most important lords in Khadora. He climbed the stairs and found the dining room empty. He passed through the room and into the small kitchen. One man was busy making pastries. The man bowed his head slightly, but did not talk or stop his work. Lord Marak took two pastries from the tray and left the kitchen.
Lord Marak ate the pastries as he passed through the dining room and started down the stairs. His mind was distant as he walked. He kept replaying the previous day’s meeting of the Lords’ Council. He wondered if he could have played it any differently, and how he could recover from the loss. As he reached the main floor and stepped off the stairs, he did not notice the shadowy figure on the stairs leading down to the soldiers’ dining room. He did see an Imperial soldier walking towards him as he turned down the left residence corridor to return to his quarters.
Lord Marak had not gone more than twenty paces along the residence corridor when he heard a noise behind him. He spun around and saw two figures. A dark clad man was hidden behind the Imperial guard. The Imperial soldier had both hands up to his throat, and his face was a bright red, veins bulging as if they were about to burst. On the floor in front of the Imperial soldier was a knife that had been dropped. Lord Marak frowned when he saw the telltale brown stain of poison upon its blade. He also noticed the Imperial soldier wore gloves on his hands.
The Imperial soldier was struggling to free something around his neck as the shadow behind him exerted more pressure. Lord Marak acted swiftly. He brought his right arm up in a swinging motion, and his fist connected with the Imperial guard’s face. The soldier went limp, and Lord Marak recognized the shadow who had been behind the Imperial soldier.
“I want him alive, Fisher,” Lord Marak said softly. “Let’s get him into the Torak quarters.”
Lord Marak bent and picked up the knife. Fisher draped the soldier over his shoulder and followed Lord Marak to the Torak quarters. Lord Marak unlocked the door and held it open while Fisher entered and deposited the unconscious man in one of the soldier’s bunks. Lord Marak closed the door and joined Fisher in the barracks room.
“What are you doing in the palace?” asked Lord Marak. “They will arrest you if they find you. All clan personal have been ordered out of the Imperial Palace.”
“I know,” frowned Fisher as he removed the wire from the soldier’s throat. He bound the man’s hands and legs before saying, “Isn’t it convenient that all of the escorts are out of the palace while this assassin runs free?”
“Do you think this is the man who killed Bagora?” asked Lord Marak.
“Without a doubt,” nodded Fisher.
Suddenly there was a loud pounding on the door. Lord Marak reached into his pouch and found a Torak staff pin as the pounding continued.
“Put this on,” ordered Lord Marak. “We can say that you were sent to tell me something.”
Lord Marak ran to the door and opened it slightly. Marshal Chack pushed the door open and barged in.
“What is going on here, Lord Marak?” demanded the marshal. “I saw you and your man carrying an Imperial guard into this room from the other end of the corridor. I demand an explanation.”
Lord Marak sighed and pointed to the barracks room. “Come in,” Lord Marak said as he closed the door and led the marshal into the barracks room. “I was just going to try and find you. We have captured the assassin.”
Marshal Chack’s eyes narrow skeptically as he gazed at Fisher and then the Imperial soldier. “Who are you?” he demanded of Fisher.
“I am a friend, Marshal,” Fisher replied. “This soldier is your assassin. Show him the knife, Lord Marak.”
Marshal Chack looked briefly at the knife, but his attention immediately returned to Fisher. “I asked who you were,” reminded the marshal. “Don’t expect me to believe the staff pin that you are wearing. I personally escorted everyone out of the residence sections myself last night, and nobody has been allowed into the palace since then without my express approval. Who are you?”
“I am a spy,” answered Fisher. “Why is your interest on me instead of this assassin?”
“Because I know that soldier,” stated Marshal Chack. “Andretti has been a member of the Imperial Palace for a number of years. Did you know this man was a spy, Lord Marak?”
“I have known him for some time,” admitted Lord Marak. “He is a spy, but he is not your enemy, Marshal Chack. He just saved my life. That knife was aimed at my back.”
The soldier started to wake up. He groaned and opened his eyes to see Marshal Chack in the room.
“What is this?” he said indignantly. “Why am I tied up?”
“What proof do you have of your accusation, Lord Marak?” asked the marshal.
“Our words should be enough,” declared Lord Marak. “If you need more, you can find out the whereabouts of Andretti when Emperor Bagora was assassinated. Check to see where he was when Lord Woton was killed, or when I was attacked in the marketplace.”
“Or search his quarters,” suggested Fisher. “He must keep that poison somewhere.”
“What is going on?” demanded the soldier. “What tale are they stringing, Marshal Chack? I was just walking the corridor when I was attacked from behind.”
The marshal turned and walked to the door to the corridor. He opened the door and blew a whistle. Three Imperial soldiers came running. He gave instructions to each and then returned to the barracks room.
“We will have answers to those questions shortly,” declared the marshal. “What reason would this man have to kill anyone?”
“What reasons do any assassins need?” posed Fisher. “Perhaps we should ask him. I know several methods of persuasive questioning. I am sure that he will tell us everything.”
“I will have none of that on my watch,” the marshal shook his head. “I will have men transport him to a cell until the Emperor rules on this.”
“No,” Fisher stated. “He will not be moved from this room until we have the answers we need.”
“Who are you to make demands?” snapped the marshal. “The Imperial Palace is my domain. You will not give orders here. In fact, you will be arrested. I still do not know who you are.”
“My name is Fisher,” the spy stated.
Suddenly, Andretti gasped. Everyone turned to look at him and the man was trembling. “Take me to the Emperor,” he demanded. “I will tell everything only to the Emperor.”
“Marshal,” Fisher said, “these quarters are the Torak quarters. As such, Lord Marak controls what goes on in here. You may stop us from leaving these quarters with this assassin, but he is staying here until we have a confession out of him.”
“That is impossible,” argued Marshal Chack. “The entire Imperial Palace in under my domain. The Emperor will back me up on that.”
“Do you know what clan this man belongs to, Marshal?” asked Fisher.
“No,” responded the marshal. “When someone joins the Imperial Palace, their association with their clan is over. As it is with the Emperor, so it is with the lowest of Imperial workers. His clan does not matter.”
“I advise you to rethink your position,” declared Fisher. “This man is Andretti Argetta. Small wonder that he demands to be taken to the Emperor. Mirakotto Argetta is this man’s only hope of living.”
“They have no right to keep me tied up,” shouted Andretti. “I demand that you take me to the Emperor.”
There was a knock on the door and the marshal moved quickly to answer it. He returned with a heavy crease across his brow.
“He was one of the two guards on duty at the Emperor’s suite the night Bagora was killed,” Marshal Chack stated. “He left his post right after the Emperor said he was going to bed. We also found this hidden in his quarters.”