not

used a key. His study’s in a fairly remote part of the house and it’s wood-panelled, so you’re all right making a certain amount of noise, but don’t overdo it. Oh, and make sure the lock’s turned when you break the door. If somebody notices it’s unlocked

and

broken, that’s going to give it away. Tell me what happens next.’

‘Down the stairs to Aphrim, and we do the same to the door there; smash it.’

‘That could be the most dangerous point. If somebody should walk past, or you attract attention breaking the door-’

‘We’ll kill them.’

‘Yes. It’s important nobody gives your description. Obviously that would ruin the plan. But again, no magic.’

‘You can count on it.’

‘I hope so. I wouldn’t want a repetition of the brawl you had with Caldason and that woman.’

‘That wasn’t of our choosing. They were following us.’

‘And that’s worrying. If they followed you from my HQ they’ll suspect we’re connected.’

‘Doesn’t do them any good though, does it? Who are they going to tell who’d believe them? Anyway, by then Caldason’s going to have a lot more to worry about.’

‘I suppose so. Here.’ He handed over the keys and the seal. ‘And I want them back, as we arranged.’

‘Of course.’

‘One other thing. If you were thinking of using them to try a little blackmail on me, forget it. Not only would you not get the reward, I’d have every paladin in the city out looking for you. With orders to kill on sight.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it. Once this job’s done, Aphrim and I are going to be out of your hair forever.’

That was exactly what Devlor Bastorran had in mind.

A reception was being held at Ivak Bastorran’s palatial town house.

The guest list was select and the hospitality lavish. Many of Bhealfa’s most influential families were represented, and there was more than a smattering of the great and good from Gath Tampoor who were stationed in the colony. A small orchestra played in the mansion’s ballroom, and couples in the latest imported fashions had taken to the floor.

In an adjoining reception room, Ivak and Devlor Bastorran, resplendent in their dress uniforms, greeted guests, a trickle of whom were still arriving, despite the lateness of the hour.

‘It was an excellent idea of yours,’ Ivak said, ‘to honour Laffon like this.’

‘I see it as politic, uncle. Now that the CIS has been given the go-ahead to operate outside Gath Tampoor proper, he’s likely to be an even more powerful man. He certainly seems

to have found favour with the Empress. It doesn’t hurt the paladins to be on good terms with him.’

‘Well, I’m glad you’re here to think of this kind of thing, Devlor. These diplomatic shenanigans aren’t my forte. Never have been.’

‘Quite so, uncle. But the credit really belongs to you, for allowing your home to be used tonight.’

‘I can see you’re going to be a great asset to the clan leadership one day, my boy.’

‘Thank you, uncle. I’m looking forward to it.’

‘But not too soon, what?’ He laughed.

‘As you say, sir. Ah. Here comes the guest of honour himself.’

Laffon joined them, a crystal wine glass in his hand. Devlor thought it typical of the man that it contained nothing stronger than water.

‘It’s a wonderful gathering, gentlemen.’ He flashed them a rare smile. ‘Thank you again. It was good of you to arrange this at such short notice.’

‘We’ve been intending to do it from the moment we heard you were coming,’ Devlor lied. ‘It seemed appropriate to have you here following Rukanis’ successful prosecution, in which you played such a vital role.’

‘Hear, hear,’ the older Bastorran added.

‘You’re too kind,’ Laffon replied, lifting his glass to pallid lips.

‘Of course, this should be seen as a double celebration,’ Devlor said.

‘How so?’ Laffon asked.

‘Apart from Rukanis’ guilt being established, we have cause to commemorate your other triumph, Commissioner, in respect of the CIS being given so much greater responsibility in the war we’re all fighting against the terrorists.’

‘The Empress did my organisation a great honour in

bestowing such trust on us. We’ll all be doing our best not to let Her Highness down.’

‘Gods bless her,’ Ivak declared, taking a swig from his brandy glass, which he then deposited on the tray of a passing servant.

‘I’m sure there’s absolutely no danger of you or your esteemed organisation disappointing the Empress,’ Devlor said. ‘And it goes without saying that the paladins will always be keen to co-operate with you in every way we can.’

‘As will the CIS with the paladins,’ Laffon returned in a show of equally transparent insincerity. ‘I very much look forward to our working as closely together in future as we just have in respect of the Rukanis case.’

At that point, Devlor’s aide, Lahon Meakin, approached, bowed and begged their pardons. He whispered briefly in the younger Bastorran’s ear, and as quickly withdrew.

‘I do apologise,’ Devlor told them, ‘but a trifling matter requires my attention for a moment. If you’ll excuse me…’

‘Certainly, my boy. The work goes on, doesn’t it? There’s no rest for the upholders of the law. You go ahead. I’ll keep the Commissioner here company.’

Devlor smiled and exited.

The message Meakin had delivered to him, as earlier instructed, was merely a reminder that midnight was a little more than a quarter of an hour away. And midnight, as paladin tradition dictated, was the hour when an honoured guest was toasted.

Devlor walked out of the reception room, nodding and smiling at guests he passed, and into an adjacent chamber which in turn led to the hallway where the front door was. He lingered there for a moment, exchanging the odd word, then retraced his steps back to the reception room.

Laffon and his uncle were still engaged in conversation.

‘Everything all right, my boy?’ Ivak enquired.

‘Perfectly, uncle. Only I’m afraid it’s necessary to take you away from our guest for just a moment.’ He looked to Laffon. ‘A small decision has to be taken in respect of the wine we’ll be having later. It’s very much a matter for the head of the household.’

‘Of course. I quite understand.’

‘Surely you can take care of it, can’t you, Devlor?’ Ivak said, piqued at the prospect of being dragged away.

His nephew glared at him. ‘It really would be best if you could come yourself, uncle.’

‘Oh, very well. Excuse us, Commissioner.’ He was led off grumbling.

Devlor took him to another, less crowded room.

‘Uncle, the fact is I told a little white lie back there.’

‘You did? You don’t want me to select the wine?’

‘No. This has nothing to do with wine. It’s a matter I thought best dealt with away from prying eyes. A messenger just arrived with this.’ He turned his jacket to one side, revealing an envelope poking out of his inside pocket.

‘What is it?’

Devlor leaned in and whispered, ‘It bears the seal of the Empress herself.’

Ivak’s eyebrows rose. ‘A message from the imperial court?’

Devlor nodded. ‘Under the circumstances I thought it best to be discreet.’

‘You were absolutely right. Hand it over, it could be urgent.’

‘And possibly sensitive. It’s certainly going to be of a private nature. Perhaps it would be best perused in your study, with the door locked. Just to be on the safe side.’

‘Yes, good idea.’

‘Here, slip it into your pocket; there’s no sense in letting everybody know about it. You get on. I’ll make your excuses.’

They parted at the foot of the staircase.

Devlor returned to Laffon. He invited several others to join

them. Then one or two more. Before long, the younger Bastorran was at the centre of quite a group, amusing them with his fund of anecdotes and stories of clan exploits.

Two floors above, his uncle had secured his study door and was sitting at the desk. When he took the envelope from his pocket, he noticed something odd about it. It bore a wax stamp, but the wax was flat and unadorned. There was no imperial seal, as Devlor had told him. Puzzled, he reached for a paper knife and slit open the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of vellum. He unfolded it and found that it was completely blank.