“I’m afraid I find myself tired by the day’s events, Director,” she said to Thriftmor at the conclusion of their first and only dance. “I believe I shall retire.”
“Of course,” he said, offering a respectful smile that failed to alleviate the concern she saw in his eyes. “In the morning we must converse fully regarding your interaction with the Emperor.”
“There’s little to say,” she replied. “Except that he’s every bit as mad as we were told. However, I have a sense he will be amenable to your diplomacy. I bid you good night, sir.”
Upon returning to her suite of rooms in the concubine’s palace, her first act was to render the keen-eyed, well-toned servant unconscious. It required only a well-placed blow to the back of her head as the woman offered a respectful bow of incautious depth. Lizanne dragged the senseless woman to the bedroom, leaving her face-down on the bed with her head correctly positioned so she wouldn’t choke to death whilst aslumber.
Quickly divesting herself of the appalling dress, she clad herself in nondescript dark cotton trousers and blouse. Knowing she would need to change later, she filled her waterproof pack with garb typical of that worn by a Corvantine woman of middling station. She then turned her attention to the case of cosmetics the now-unconscious serving-woman had helpfully placed on her dresser. Like the rest of her belongings the case had been thoroughly searched. Luckily, Countess Sefka’s operatives had proven to be less than familiar with Jermayah’s ingenuity, missing three separate hidden compartments, each opened by pressing certain key points in the correct sequence.
She opened the compartment in the lid first, extracting a set of metal components and a slim leather strap, which were swiftly assembled into a device of spidery appearance. This was Jermayah’s refined design, achieved after a short but productive collaboration with Lizanne’s father. It was less weighty and more easily broken down into concealable components, whilst also featuring a more efficient injection mechanism and expanded vials.
Lizanne strapped the Spider onto her left forearm then turned her attention to the large bottle sitting in the centre of the case’s perfume rack. The Cadre had undoubtedly checked all the bottles for the presence of product, paying closest attention to the four smallest. At first glance, the larger bottle appeared no more than a pleasant but unremarkable concoction redolent of roses and cinnamon, the clarity of the liquid a pale and unintriguing contrast to the more opaque and colourful smaller bottles. Bloskin had assured her of the efficacy of this new trick from the Ironship plasmologists, but Lizanne couldn’t suppress a lingering pang of worried scepticism as she opened another compartment and extracted a stoppered vial containing a dark, viscous substance.
It’s all to do with molecular weights, apparently, Bloskin had said back in Feros on the day of her departure. Bind them with a correct mix of chemical agents and they combine into an inert, colourless liquid, though I’m told it’s a bitter brew so don’t be tempted to drink it. Simply add a little something to dissolve the binding agents and all four colours will instantly revert to their original state.
Has this been used in the field before? she had asked and saw with some surprise that Director Bloskin was a poor liar.
Of course, my dear, he said, lighting another cigarillo. I’d hardly send my best agent off with an untried compound, now would I?
So it was with some relief that she saw the liquid in the bottle change as soon as she added the contents of the vial. After a short interval of confused swirling the four colours duly arranged themselves into layers. Taking a long pipette from the compartment Lizanne began to carefully extract enough product to fill the Spider’s vials. It was frustratingly delicate work but, as she had no intention of facing the approaching encounter without product, there was no alternative.
Upon completing the task she opened the case’s third compartment and extracted a slender dagger, the seven-inch blade encased in a leather sheath, which she strapped to her ankle. Jermayah had offered to modify the case to accommodate his redesigned Whisper but there hadn’t been time. He offered a number of miniature fire-arms but Lizanne had always eschewed such weapons; they were too noisy and lacking in effectiveness to make the risk worthwhile, leaving the dagger as her only realistic alternative.
Lizanne paused briefly by the bed to ensure the serving-woman’s breathing remained regular, then proceeded to the upper floor, emptying the remaining contents of the perfume bottle into the fountain on the way. She made her way to a balcony before clambering onto the roof, crouching low and injecting a burst of Green to allow for a thorough examination of the surrounding palace grounds. It made for a depressing view; numerous Household troops patrolled the environs and even with a full dose of Green and Black she doubted she could make it across even two of the bridges in the Blue Maze before being discovered. There was the option of proceeding across the maze and methodically killing or incapacitating the guards en route, but that would exhaust her product in short order, not to mention having a parlous effect on Director Thriftmor’s upcoming negotiations.
Lizanne gave a soft groan and moved to the roof’s edge where she began to clamber down the north-facing wall of the palace. She didn’t relish the task ahead but there was nothing else for it; she had a very long swim to make.
? ? ?
She climbed free of the maze some two hours later. The swim through the labyrinth of canals had been both mentally and physically taxing, forcing her to inject repeated small doses of Red to stave off the water’s chill as she followed the map she had memorised aboard the Profitable Venture. The patrolling guards had also been a considerable nuisance, frequently appearing to scan the water-ways with commendable if annoying scrutiny, forcing her to remain submerged for several minutes at a time and further denuding her stocks of Green and Red.