03 - Sword of Vengeance Read Online Free PDF

gown of nightshade silk, and a necklace of ithilmar spikes now
graced her neckline. Her hair, black as pitch, hung loose around her shoulders.
    At Grosslich’s approach, she rose from the throne.
    “What word from Altdorf?” she asked, descending from the dais
to meet him. Her voice was cool, though a sibilant undertone had been added to
it.
    “The Emperor summoned me. I played for time.”
    Natassja looked thoughtful. “He won’t remain patient
forever,” she said. “Schwarzhelm will tell him the truth soon, if he hasn’t
already.”
    Grosslich frowned at that. Everyone was always so worried. It
was inexplicable, given the position of strength they were in.
    “You’re sure Lassus gave much away?”
    “He was weak,” spat Natassja. “Even now his soul is shriven.
I have seen it. A thousand years of torment to ponder a slip of the tongue.”
Vehemence made her voice shake. “And yes, he did give much away. His presence in
this has given us all away. Schwarzhelm is damaged, but he’s still powerful.”
    “Then I’ve no doubt you’ve plans in place.”
    “We still have agents in the Palace,” she said. “For as long
as possible we must maintain the illusion that Rufus was the traitor here. In
the meantime, there are two men we have to kill. One is Schwarzhelm, though that
will be difficult at such a range. The other is closer to hand.”
    “Verstohlen.”
    “Quite. See to it.”
    “Of course,” said Grosslich. That would be a singular
pleasure—the man’s bleating had become insufferable.
    “And then there’s the pursuit of Rufus. That troubles me.”
    Natassja spoke quickly but clearly. There was no trace of
mania in her eyes. Back when he’d been a normal man, Grosslich had assumed all
cultists were raving fanatics. Natassja had her moments, but her demeanour
habitually remained as smooth as onyx. Perhaps that shouldn’t have surprised
him. She’d been active in this, after all, for centuries.
    “Any more news from your men?” she asked. “How goes the
hunt?”
    “It’s difficult, my goddess,” said Grosslich, not bothering
to hide the truth. “He’s in his own country, protected by his own people. I send
more men east every day, but we can’t search every house.”
    Natassja shook her head. “Not quick enough. Come with me. I
have something to show you.”
    She led him back into the long gallery. With a faint shudder,
Grosslich realised they were heading for one of the antechambers. Number one.
He’d never been allowed in that one.
    “The one uncertain factor in this is Helborg,” said Natassja
as she walked. “He was not part of the original plan, though we were able to
make use of him. My senses tell me he still lives.” She turned to face Grosslich
before entering the chamber, and her expression was intense. “I fear his
presence. He was not foreseen from the beginning. It might have been better if
he had never come.”
    She ducked under the archway. As Grosslich followed into the
darkness his eyes took a moment to adjust.
    “I thought you used him? To goad Schwarzhelm further?”
    Natassja nodded. “We did. Lassus and I had discussed the
contingency. At every stage, we made it appear as if Helborg and Rufus were
working in tandem. But that was always in addition to the main objective. I was
never sure it was the right decision.”
    Grosslich’s vision began to clarify. The antechamber
retreated far back into the darkness of the earth. He couldn’t see the far wall
for shadow. On either side of him were long wooden tables with leather
restraining straps. There were vials of a lilac-coloured liquid and gut tubes
leading from them. Surgical instruments had been placed on a separate table, and
they glistened in the low light. Across every surface, parchment made of human
skin had been draped, painstakingly inscribed with tight-curled script. There
were diagrams, etched in blood so old it had turned black. The floor, hidden in
the gloom, was sticky. In the