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signs of the battering it had taken at the hands of Shalidar, but her eyes were bright with intelligence.
Femke knew exactly what she was asking. She knew that there was no such thing as a ‘risk free assignment’. He could set her an administration task, but that would be like asking a
freshly graduated soldier to stand and guard the supplies whilst all his colleagues went off into battle. He would do it, but would resent the duty. That resentment would then fester against the
person who gave the order. The Emperor needed Femke’s help too much to alienate her. No, she would need something to do that would utilise her skills, yet not be likely to result in physical
confrontation. As he thought about it, he realised he had the perfect task.
    Shalidar was a picture of calm. He sat in the simple, windowless chamber, painstakingly stroking the whetstone along the blade of his dagger. The steel blade glinted in the dim
light as he turned it from side to side, taking care to apply an even effort to both edges. The slow, rhythmic, grinding ring of stone on metal was almost hypnotic as the assassin waited for the
Guildmaster. It was not a meeting he was looking forward to, but he knew it was necessary if he were to avoid being hunted by killers far more deadly than any the Emperor had in his employ.
    The Guildmaster, hidden in the shadows outside the open doorway, observed him silently for a moment. ‘Shand, but you’re a cool one, Shalidar!’ he thought. ‘If you
weren’t so damned talented, I’d have you killed where you sit. It would be a terrible waste, but it would save me a host of trouble.’
    He looked at the lean figure sitting in the wooden chair, one leg casually crossed at ninety degrees over the knee of the other, and he felt cold anger build within his gut. After jeopardising
the future of the Guild with his recent antics, Shalidar must know that his life hung by a thread. The Guildmaster held the power to snuff him out like a candle with a given word, yet Shalidar sat,
cool as ice, and apparently unconcerned with the precariousness of his situation. How could anyone be so arrogant and self-assured? For a moment, the Guildmaster considered slipping away and
ordering Shalidar’s termination. ‘No,’ he thought. ‘I’ll give him one chance to explain his actions first.’
    It was likely that Shalidar knew the Guildmaster was there. He had not become a deadly killer without having a keen awareness of his surroundings. The Guildmaster had made no noise, yet he knew
that to Shalidar it was almost like a sixth sense, an awareness of being watched that would alert him to his master’s presence.
    There was little point in further delay. He stepped forward into the chamber and Shalidar got smoothly to his feet. The assassin was careful not to make any sudden movements that could be
misinterpreted. The dagger and whetstone he placed on the small wooden table beside him as he rose. Once standing, he bowed his head deferentially and waited for the Guildmaster to speak.
    ‘So, Brother Dragon, you decided to return to us. I admit I’m surprised to see you. I had thought you would be far away by now, and unlikely to make an appearance in Shandrim for
some years. After the trouble you have caused the Guild, you’re fortunate I’ve not already ordered your death. I will allow you this one chance to explain yourself. What did you do in
Thrandor that caused Emperor Surabar to declare us
anaethus drax
?’
    ‘I, Master? I can’t imagine that any of
my
actions would have caused such a thing. It’s true that some of my recent plans in Thrandor went awry, but it’s
difficult to imagine how the consequences of my personal circumstances could result in such a reaction from the Emperor.’
    The Guildmaster watched Shalidar’s body language carefully as he spoke. Under the depths of his black, cowled hood, he pursed his lips. If Shalidar was lying, then he was doing it
extremely well.
    ‘The Emperor has