Imperial Assassin by Mark Robson Read Free Book Online

refreshed their icons as soon as
they returned to the complex after these dates.
    Only the Guildmaster held the means to remove an icon safely, but how that was done, Shalidar had never been able to discover. He covered it again angrily. At times the wristlet felt like a
shackle. This was one of those times.
    He had won his first gamble today. He had been accepted back by the Guildmaster. He knew he would have to tread carefully, but he had no intention of forgetting what Femke had done in Mantor. He
would take his revenge. It might take a while to manipulate events to achieve it, but Shalidar could be patient when he had to be. He had always paid lip service to the Assassins’ creed. It
had never bound him as it had the others. If the Guild ever found out about any of his breaches of their law, he would be executed. It was partly the thrill of this danger that had led him to twist
the words of the creed time and again. At one time or another, he had flaunted almost every critical phrase, but he had always covered his tracks meticulously. His fellow assassin, Falcon, would
have died in Mantor regardless of the outcome of events there. He had learned too much of Shalidar’s activities. By hanging him, the Thrandorians had saved Shalidar the job and provided the
perfect cover.
    ‘Your turn will come, Femke,’ he whispered softly. ‘Your turn will come.’

C HAPTER T HREE
    ‘All done,’ Reynik said wearily.
    ‘Show me,’ the File Second ordered.
    It was over. The last trench was dug. Tomorrow he would return to the relative normality of a training routine without all the extra evening duties. The relief at that thought brought a warming
feeling to his stomach. Reynik jumped down into the trench, his knees threatening to buckle at the shock of the impact. A moment later and he had demonstrated the dimensions of his hole to the
satisfaction of the supervising File Second.
    ‘Very well. Stack your shovel with the rest, then go and get cleaned up. I don’t want to see you in the restrictions party again, Legionnaire.’
    ‘Thank you, File Second. I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble.’
    Reynik climbed out of the freshly dug toilet trench and walked over to the pile of tools by the equipment tent. He placed his long-handled shovel with the rest and sighed with relief as he
gently rubbed his blistered hands together. ‘If I never dig a hole again, it will be too soon,’ he decided.
    It was as he turned to leave that he spotted the lone figure walking between the tents not far away. Despite an overwhelming wave of tiredness, something about the silhouette instantly
registered in his mind as being wrong. A shiver shot down his spine and he knew he could not ignore his premonition that whoever the figure was, he was up to no good.
    ‘Walk away. Don’t get involved. It’s nothing to do with you.’ The thoughts tumbled through his mind. ‘If you’re wrong, there could be consequences. You might
end up back on restrictions again.’
    But it was not that easy. The feeling would not go away and Reynik found his eyes returning to the figure now rapidly fading into the shadows of the dusky camp. The man was dressed in uniform,
but Reynik could not see his Legion insignia at this distance. It would have been hard in full daylight at this range, but in the poor light of dusk it was impossible to make out. That walk; the
way the man stepped. It was familiar.
    ‘That’s it!’ Reynik breathed. ‘He’s not marching like a Legionnaire. No one from the General’s Legion marches like that. He’s making an effort, but it
doesn’t look natural. He’s no Legionnaire. He walks more like . . . Shalidar! No! It couldn’t be!’
    The shocking thought that he might be looking at his sworn enemy galvanised Reynik into action. Any concerns about potential repercussions were cast aside. If that was Shalidar walking bold as
brass through the camp, then Reynik wanted to ensure the assassin did not escape. His hand