“Leave the slaughter to the mob,” she told him, casting a pointed glance over her shoulder at the vanguard of the People’s Freedom Army now streaming through the wall. “We have an objective.”
They refreshed their product and she led him on through the Blue Maze, leaping high to avoid the main concentrations of fleeing troops and cutting down only those who tried to bar their way. These stalwarts were few in number, mainly officers or veteran sergeants unwilling to shirk their duty even now. But the panic of the rank and file told an inescapable truth no amount of dutiful courage could deny; the Corvantine Empire would fall this day.
Having traversed the maze, they sprinted through the ring of ornate temples to long-dead Emperors, making for the central palace complex. There were fewer troops this far into the Sanctum, most of the people they encountered being courtiers and chamberlains. Some reacted with outright terror at the sight of them, whilst others could only stand and stare, either in shock or fatalistic acceptance. Spying a familiar face, Lizanne came to a halt, Hyran sliding to her side amidst a cloud of displaced gravel.
They had reached the Horse Parade where the Household Cavalry once staged their equine displays for the Emperor’s pleasure. It was mostly empty now save for a few fleeing courtiers and one rather plump man who stood still and straight-backed, sweat shining on his bald pate as he faced towards the fast-approaching rebel tide.
“Chamberlain Yervantis,” Lizanne greeted him with a bow of appropriate depth.
“Miss Lethridge,” he replied in a surprisingly well-modulated tone, meeting her gaze. She noted that his evident resolve was undermined slightly by the need to blink the sweat from his eyes.
“It would have been better if you had found somewhere else to be today,” Lizanne told him.
He inclined his head. “Logic with which I find it hard to argue, madam.”
“I take it then that you are prepared to survive the empire’s fall?”
His gaze flicked towards the temples where Kraz and Jelna were enthusiastically destroying a band of die-hard troops. “I wasn’t aware that might be a possibility.”
Lizanne stepped closer to him, looping her arm through his and guiding him towards the palace. “All things are possible in the new republic, good sir. For example, were you to tell me where I might find Countess Sefka it will transpire that you have been a Brotherhood agent for years now, as my young friend here will be happy to attest.”
Countess Sefka had secluded herself on an artificial island in the centre of the Sanctum’s broad ornamental lake. Lizanne recalled strolling the lake-side with poor, deluded Emperor Caranis not so long ago and couldn’t suppress a pang of amused regret at the man’s inventive insanity. Sethamet’s Bane, she thought, judging the distance from the shore to the island. Returned to seek justice for the Guardians’ murdered servant. If he had lived he might actually have been useful.
“Surely it’s too far to jump,” Hyran said. “Even for you.”
She nodded and started to wade into the water. “Take Chamberlain Yervantis to the general,” she told Hyran, waving him back when he attempted to follow her. “I’m sure he has a wealth of intelligence to share.”
“But the countess . . .”
“Leave her to me.” Her voice held a note of implacable command that stopped him dead and she held his gaze until he retreated from the edge of the lake. “I’ll find you later,” she said, softening her tone and trying to quell the rising guilt at the trust she saw in his face. The task she had to perform here would not be easy.
It took a few minutes to swim to the island, a half-second burst of Green making it an easy matter. The island took the form of a domed temple of ancient design and was fashioned entirely from white marble. Various scenes from Corvantine history and legend were etched into the stone and Lizanne considered she would have found it a fascinating place on another occasion. Today she found the ostentatiousness of it somewhat aggravating, another example of how the Corvantine ruling class had indulged themselves whilst their beggared people grew to hate them more with every passing year.
She levered herself out of the water and onto the island’s flat outer surface, eyes scanning for enemies even though Yervantis had assured her the countess was unguarded. “Every Cadre agent in the Sanctum was dismissed this morning,” the portly chamberlain explained. “She just . . . sent them all away.”
Lizanne’s gaze settled on a slim figure seated on a plain marble bench beneath the temple dome. Countess Sefka failed to turn as Lizanne approached, even though she made no effort to conceal the sound of her steps. Fight, she thought, coming to a halt directly behind the soon-to-be-deposed head of the Regency Council. Fight me, you bitch!
“This must be a great day for you,” Countess Sefka said, failing to turn as Lizanne lingered at her back. Her tone was much as Lizanne remembered it, full of strident surety and uncoloured by the fear she had hoped for.
“Actually,” Lizanne replied, “I find it a singular disappointment.”
Sefka’s slim shoulders moved in a shrug. “Oh well. I had hoped to hear a few choice declarations. A final jibe or two. Were our positions reversed I assure you I would have rehearsed a speech.”
“You are not me. And I, much to my lasting pleasure, am not you.”
“No. I tried to save an empire, whilst you destroyed one.”
“That was never my mission.” Lizanne stepped closer, eyes fixed on the countess’s neck beneath her tied-up auburn hair. The skin was bare and unadorned, the so very fragile bones visible beneath the alabaster skin. “I should like to know,” she said, “did you kill Emperor Caranis yourself or leave it to one of your creatures?”
Sefka’s head moved in a small laugh. “Neither. He was certainly becoming more mad by the day, but I lacked the support needed for a successful coup. The Blood Imperial, however, decided to precipitate matters. The Emperor had resolved to kill him, you see, and all his precious Blood-blessed children. Apparently Caranis got wind of the silly old bastard’s plan to assassinate you upon your return from Scorazin. How was it, incidentally?”
“Improved immeasurably by its destruction.”
“I expect so. Anyway, it seems Kalasin was very keen to get his grubby hands on whatever you had dug out of that dung-heap. Caranis couldn’t risk any harm to Sethamet’s Bane, nor any revenge from the Blood Cadre. So he signed the purge order and went off for his nightly bath where the agent Kalasin had concealed in the ceiling stopped his heart with a gentle application of Black.”
“If you know all this why wasn’t Kalasin executed?”
“A simple matter of practicalities. The two Cadres that serve this empire are like conjoined twins that hate each other, forever trapped in conflict knowing all the while that if one dies so does the other, and then so does the empire.”
“Do you know where Kalasin is? An associate of mine is very keen to see him.”
“Spirited himself away the moment your rabble reached the suburbs, I expect. A rat always finds a hole to crawl into.”
Sefka slumped a little then, her only sign of weakness so far, raising a hand to her forehead before forcing herself once again into a pose of rigid elegance. “So, what is your intent, pray tell?” she asked, voice as calm as before. “Some prolonged torture before you hand me over to your radical friends? Or just a nice, tidy assassination? I do know an awful lot of ugly things about your Syndicate, after all. Things I’m sure you wouldn’t want heard in public.”