The Spy Princess (11 page)

If anything, Derek seemed almost as upset. Then he straightened and clapped his hands on his knees. “Sideos. Farian. Linnah. I need to speak with Peitar. You know where we have to begin. Can you get started, each to recruit one person for a specific job? Just like the old days.”

Linnah sent a glance Peitar's way, more perplexed than angry. Then they were gone, and Peitar sat down, giving a grateful sigh.

Innon sighed, too, as I joined him on the floor. “What happened after my uncle sent you out of the parlor?”

“People were acting odd—servants carrying bundles of stuff, guards running, weapons out. Then Derek spotted me. He said that Deon had told him about me, but just as we began talking, everything started happening. He said to wait, and sent Lizana. She'd told my father to escape, and I hope he did—I hope he didn't come back to search for me. I got rid of my toff clothes and mussed myself up. By then the mob was looking for courtiers to chase and kill.”

I shuddered. “Bren said she was warning people. Do you know why? Did she go against the revolution?”

“No. She acted on Derek's orders. She told me one of the last arguments he and Peitar had was over the fact that all nobles weren't evil—that some were good for their lands, and if they were all killed, everyone would suffer. I guess he changed his mind at the very end, because he made her a list of people to tip off.”

“Did she get to them all?”

“No.” Innon's face was bleak. “And some refused. Said loyalty meant staying to help the king. So a lot of those died,” he finished in a flat, tired voice.

I stopped asking questions, as they were only upsetting us both, and we turned our attention to Derek and Peitar.

“. . . I should have remembered that his warriors were dedicated. They struck fast. There were a lot of volunteer guards around Irad—they enjoyed shouting things at him, throwing garbage. . . .”

I said, “Did you let them torture him?”

Derek didn't meet my eyes. “No,” he admitted, as though he'd been weak. “I know I promised a good show, but first I wanted there to be a trial. I suspect only that kept their hands off him. They practiced their speeches while he sat there bound and gagged—”

Peitar cut in. “You needn't elaborate. Go on. So some of the royal guard rescued him.”

“Yes. They were outnumbered, but my volunteers weren't experienced. Irad's raiders killed the ones who didn't run, which is probably what's going to happen to us when he returns. He got away in the one coach I'd managed to save. I'd saved it for you, actually, but you left too soon.” Derek smiled grimly. “You expected something like this, didn't you?”

“His guards are disciplined and loyal. And as you say, your people had passionate hatred but no unity. No one in authority that they will recognize, and no training.”

“Yes, well, here's something you didn't foresee. Irad seems to have Bren's cousin Deon.” When I gasped in surprise, Derek turned to me. “She was my best message runner and volunteered at the kitchen in trade for meals. She was sent by one of the cooks to clean the carriage, and I don't think Irad's guard knew she was in it when they seized it.”

“Have you searched?” Peitar asked.

“Yes. No sign of her.”

“That means she'll be borne off to wherever their camp lies and put to work fetching water and cooking. They'll be low on servants.” He sighed. “His mood must be vile.”

Derek cursed under his breath. “And he'll return. That's what I keep telling everyone, but they all think if they could beat him once, a second time will be easy. They don't listen, Peitar, except if it's something
they
want to do!
Authority
, you said. Everywhere I'm hailed as a hero, the author of freedom, but when I ask them to band together to fix a bridge or rebuild a house, everyone is busy looking for more nobles or bartering what they took. When all that is used up, where are we to get new goods?”

Peitar rubbed his forehead. “I don't know.”

“And when Irad returns, it's going to be me—and you—he comes after first.”

“Yes. That's the main reason I'm here.”

“You'll stay, then?”

“I'll stay.” He did not sound particularly happy, but he did sound decisive. “And we can test the truth of what I said in my letter. We should speak of making law that protects everyone, low and high.”

Derek shook his head. “I hope you're right.”

“But you must not stay, Lilah,” my brother said. “I'm afraid it's going to get worse before it gets better. There is one worry that would haunt me, and that is your safety. Promise me you'll leave, now, for Mother's refuge?” Mother's refuge—he meant Delfina Valley, far away in the mountains down south!

“But I want to help!” I protested.

Derek gave me a serious look. “You can help best,” he said, “by going there.” By the way he spoke, I knew that Peitar had told him about Delfina Valley.

“I appreciate your desire to help, Lilah,” my brother added. “But the situation here is beyond your experience.” When I was about to say that it was beyond
Peitar
's experience as well, he added in a low voice, “And I don't want you hurt by any more well-intentioned mistakes.”

Or, put less nicely, I'd already landed us in prison once. He was afraid I might do it again. I knew he was right. And I had no stomach for fighting and killing. My throat hurt too much to speak, so I just nodded.

Peitar looked relieved. “Good. And you, Innon, I wish you'd go with her.”

Innon sat up, looking surprised.

Derek gave him a pat on the shoulder. “I do, too. You've been a great help, but Peitar can take your place. If we settle Miraleste, we'll send word to you both. And take Bren, would you? I don't want any more of you kids disappearing.”

I dreaded having to tell Bren about Deon.

Innon turned to Peitar. “Where are you sending us?”

“Lilah will show you. Down south.”

“I hope you don't mean anywhere near Diannah Wood!”

“Through it, actually.”

Innon grimaced. “You want to get rid of us permanently? People
disappear
there!”

Peitar turned to me. “I won't ask Innon to trust me. He doesn't know me. But will
you
trust me, Lilah, when I tell you that you will be safe?”

“All right,” I said, surprised and very curious. “Then let's go. I don't know how long Bren can protect our horses.”

Peitar smiled and touched my brow. “Go in safety, Lilah.”

I did not look back as we walked away, but Innon did, and then he looked at me. “What's wrong?” I asked.

“You didn't hug him. Are you mad at him?”

I thought about that—how I used to climb on Peitar's lap, until I learned that it hurt him. But nobody hugged at Selenna House. Lizana wasn't allowed, Father didn't think it was appropriate . . . the last hug I remembered getting was from my mother.

And I wasn't going to say that. “I'm not mad,” I said, as we reached the stable, where Bren was waiting. I gathered my courage and blurted out the bad news about Deon.

To my surprise, he said, “Deon?
She'll
be all right. She'll think it's an adventure . . . except if she gets put to work! Then she'll be making up insult songs to sing for us when she does manage to escape.” He paused, then said doubtfully, “So are we really going to just . . . run away?”

Innon pushed back his filthy hair and listened.

“I still want to help,” I said. “I think the revolution's made a mess of things. Peitar seems to want to fix it. I want to help him, but I don't know how.”

“It would worry him to find you anywhere in the city,” Innon said. “It's been terrible, and reports are, it's worse in the countryside. That's why I didn't try to go home.”

“I know. It was . . . horrible at my house. But it seems cowardly to just leave Peitar to deal with it.”

“And Derek. So let's figure something out,” Bren said.

“I tried,” Innon put in. “But there was too much to do, and everybody wanted to be in charge and not listen to anyone else.”

“All right,” I said. “How about this. We keep our promise and go south. But we stay there just long enough to figure out a way—a
good
way—to help. One that won't make Peitar worry.”

“And Derek,” Bren put in.

I didn't say,
This is his fault
, but I thought it. “And Derek. Then we will return and do what we can. Agreed?”

Bren smiled for the first time in days. “I'll try the kitchens. Maybe I can talk us into some food.”

Innon and I waited with the horses until he returned with a small bag of provisions, then the three of us were off to Delfina—and Diannah Wood.

four

“T
hat book by Adamas Dei of the Black Sword was so old-fashioned I didn't get very far. Who was he, exactly?” asked Bren, later that day.

“He wrote a lot of wise stuff that Peitar likes to quote,” I replied. “He was an ancestor of Lasva Dei the Wanderer, that's all I know. I'd rather read about
her
.”

Innon said, “He's one of the very first of the Dei family, who go back at least a thousand years. They were really important in Sartor, almost as important as the ruling family, the Landises.”

“But isn't Sartor controlled by Norsunder?” Bren asked.

“For the past century. Nobody can get in or out. Anyway, Adamas supposedly had a sword whose blade was black steel and could cut a rose petal without making a bruise, but he gave up being a warrior and became . . . what did Peitar say, the first day I met him? A visionary.” Innon grinned at me. “Like your brother is. Minus the sword.”

“Ha!” I exclaimed. “So that's why nothing he quotes from Adamas makes sense—half the time Peitar doesn't either. Two buds on a branch.”

Bren snorted. “No wonder I had trouble reading it. Sounds like a noble poetical spouter—that's what Derek calls 'em.”

There was a pause, and Innon squinted upward. “It's good to get out of Miraleste, but ugh! It's hot.”

“Nasty weather for anything,” I said, looking around the parched but untouched land. Maybe the revolutionaries had only been in towns, estates, and cities. “I vote for a swim as soon as we reach the Miseos River.”

Our horses plodded steadily southward into a wide valley. Patches of tangled hickory and red cedar dappled us with shade. Wild blueberries grew everywhere. We stopped a few times to pick and eat them.

I think our horses were as glad to see the river as we were. We watered and tethered them loosely so they could crop grass and watercress, then splashed in fully clothed. The boys had a water fight. I just floated, my eyes closed against the blazing sun as a couple of lazy fish nibbled at my toes. Songbirds warbled in the brush.

My mind kept going back through the horrors of the past week—like when you can't help touching a bruise just to see if it hurts as much as you think it does. I couldn't quite believe that Father was really dead. I wondered what Peitar was doing.

Finally we dragged ourselves out, our clothes wet and heavy, but cool, and shared out a small loaf that had been stuffed with greens, chicken, and cheese. It was so small that afterward I was still hungry—but Bren was used to hunger, and Innon and I had begun getting used to it.

We resumed our ride. The road turned from the river to the mountains, which grew larger through the day, fading at last into shadows a shade darker than the sky. By then we were dry, but thirsty and ravenous. The horses were drooping. Finally, the road crossed one of the Orleos River's branches.

“How about camping near that bridge?” Bren suggested. “My dad taught me how to catch fish with my hands, and I got a sparker from the palace.”

After we saw to the animals, Innon and I went to gather sticks. Bren had caught two small fish by the time we returned, and they were soon cooking over a merry fire. Along with a stale bun and an end of cheese, it was a delicious meal. But those were the last of our provisions. Tomorrow we'd have to forage.

We lay on sweet-smelling grass under a clear, starlit sky, listening to the rush and chuckle of water, and in the distance the rustlings of small animals, the cries of night birds. The air was too warm for us to need blankets, and everything was peaceful, but my heart seemed to lie inside my chest like a stone.

Bren said, “Lilah? Peitar will be all right. Derek'll make sure that no one harms him.”

“I wish that was true.” Memory arrowed back to Derek's words in that hot, stuffy little room. “He might want to. He might try. But if anyone wants to hurt Peitar, can Derek really protect him? And I don't mean just rioters—my uncle's out there, too. I know he blames Peitar because Peitar is friends with Derek. I think Uncle Dirty Hands is the biggest threat of all.”

Innon sat up, silhouetted against the stars. “D'you wish Derek had killed the king, then?”

“Not like that,” I said quickly. “And . . . oh, I don't know
what
I feel, except I don't want to see him again—ever,
ever
.” My throat tightened. “I just know I need to find a way to help Peitar make things right again. Somehow. And I don't want to talk about it anymore.”

Silence from the boys.

I managed to sleep, but the murmur of voices filtered in, twisting my dreams into nightmares. I woke with a start to hear two soft, fierce almost-whispers.

“. . . I don't care what Derek says he is. I mean, I like Peitar, too, but he's not a leader. He's not.” Innon's anger didn't match up with the easygoing boy I'd first met.

“So the revolution's all in our heads?” Bren, on the other hand, had not lost a jot of his sarcasm. “Derek told me that Peitar was Number One—and Derek
is
a leader.”

“No, he isn't. He
started
that revolution—anyone can start a fight. You didn't spend a week in Miraleste, watching bullies beat people up and take what they wanted. Derek makes all kinds of speeches, but he can't stop it.”

“He says people have to decide for themselves. That's what freedom
is
. No one is a lord, or everyone is a lord for himself.”

“My father says most people are content to follow—”

“Your dad's a noble! Of
course
he'll say that! Derek's strong. He's fought off a lot of the
king's
bullies.”

“Strong doesn't mean smart. Stupid, mean, and evil can be strong—and that's who's going to be ruling under Derek's ‘freedom.'”

“He isn't going to just sit around and watch that happen,” Bren retorted.

“He
can't
stop it. I tell you, I was
there
. I walked around yesterday, trying to find something to eat, and heard people wishing that the king would come back. And they weren't nobles—there aren't any nobles around the city anymore.”

“I don't believe anyone said they want Dirty Hands back.” Bren sounded fierce.

Innon didn't answer, and I drifted off, not waking until morning.

• • •

W
E CONTINUED SOUTH
.
Most of the time we were alone on the road, as there are no great cities or market towns just south of Miraleste. To the west stretched the plains on which flax and wheat had grown in better times. To the east lay the broadening river valley, where rice beds stretched between river branches.

And to the south lay the long, dark line of Diannah Forest.

“I really don't like having to go there,” Innon said finally.

“Peitar told us that we'd be safe,” I reminded him.

“How?
No one's
safe in Diannah Wood! The king mounted a couple of surprise attacks to clean it out—both times, the outlaws found out and vanished. And I guess there wasn't enough money in the treasury to put a garrison in the forest just for a few caravans.”

“Peitar seemed to think we'd be all right,” I repeated. “Derek, too. Maybe the outlaws only come out for nobles and rich traders. I'm not going to worry.”

• • •

T
HE NEXT TWO
days brought us ever nearer to Diannah. Bren was the best at catching and cooking fish for our meals, but Innon was handy, too. He'd roamed for entire days up in Tasenja, his parents' province, and had learned what was good to eat and what to avoid.

Finally, great trees closed around us, blocking even the mountains from view as we rode into the cool, shady maple forest that bounded the deep heart of the wood. Our horses picked their way over mossy logs and spongy undergrowth. The occasional broad-wing hawk drifted silently through the dark canopy above, making us feel we were being watched.

It was a strange feeling, especially after so many days in which we'd seen almost no one. I thought it was my imagination until I saw Innon looking around uneasily—Bren, too, as the light began to fade. He pulled out the small paring knife he'd taken from Selenna House.

Dark came faster than it had out in the open. Bren said, “Maybe we'd better dismount and scout out a campsite. Lilah, you see best in the dark—”

“Halt,” a voice ordered.

“Uh-oh,” Innon muttered. “Let's get out of here!”

“Which way?” I asked—just as someone grabbed the bridle of my horse. Then I was pulled from the saddle and landed with a thump on the mossy ground. Innon stood silently near his horse, a slim woman beside him, her drawn sword resting point down. Bren tried to defend himself, but a man knocked the knife out of his hand.

We were led through dense forest to a sheltered, campfire-lit grotto and an older, bearded man, standing with a group of adults. Bren glowered, Innon looked terrified, and I kept thinking over and over,
Peitar said we'd be safe, Peitar said we'd be safe
.

“We haven't done anything to anybody,” Bren said.

I was about to add that we had nothing of value, when fingers twitched the book out of my sash, and I yelled, “Hey! That's mine!”

“Who are you, little fire-eater?” the bearded man asked.

“Lilah Selenna,” I blurted before I could think, and Bren moaned.

The man accepted the book from the forester behind me. “And these others?”

“Innon Tasenja,” Innon said, coming to stand beside me.

“Bren Breneoson.” He sighed.

“Well. Let's just see what we have. Fashion sketches?” the bearded man said in a voice of amazement, and the other adults laughed. I fumed. By the light of the fire, he read out some of the descriptions of the gowns, to more laughter. Then he paused. “Now,
here's
something different.” He continued reading in silence, then looked up and frowned. “I see Selenna's name—not surprising. But here's Derek Diamagan, and King Darian Irad. Would that be the same as ‘Uncle Darian'? I can't make out many of the words. Come here, girl. You read it to us.”

“I refuse!”

“Then I'll throw it in the fire,” the man said.

I remembered what Peitar had done with his letters. “So burn it.”

“All that work, so quickly consigned to ash? What can you be concealing, I wonder?”

I looked at the waiting adults. They looked back, and though they knew two of us were nobles, and one wasn't, they hadn't separated us or made any threats.
Peitar said we'd be safe
.

So I started reading aloud, faltering when my abbreviations confused me. There were some chuckles at first. Otherwise, they listened in silence.

When I paused for breath, the man said, “Skip to the mention of the king.”

I paged to the day of the revolution, and read to where Peitar, Bren, and I left Miraleste. Then I shut the book, for I wasn't going to talk about what had happened to Father.

It seemed to be enough. The man stared down into the fire, then looked up. “So. You were there for this revolt. What have you to say for either cause?”

He wasn't looking at the boys but at me.

I shrugged, feeling awkward. “I don't know. I want—I want justice, and freedom, and all the things Derek talked about, but I don't want it the way it's been. I don't want any more people getting killed.”

“Do you think your brother knows what to do?”

“If anyone does, it's Peitar,” I said stoutly. “Or if he doesn't now, he will. That much I'm sure of. It's just that I don't know if anyone will listen to him, because he can't fight with a sword, and he has that crooked leg, and he doesn't always make sense.”

“Your account of his words makes plenty of sense,” the man retorted, but not unkindly. Then his tone changed. “When you see Lord Peitar Selenna again, you tell him if he has need, he can send a message here to Diannah Wood, to Deveral, and there will be what help we can muster.” I gaped at him. “Deveral. Can you remember that?”

“Deveral. Diannah Wood.” I added in a tentative voice, “Um, how should he send a message? How will you know to believe it?”

Deveral gave a sudden smile. “If he speaks to Lizana, the message will get to us. When she's not by, he's to send someone and use her name.”
Lizana?
More secrets! He addressed the others by the fire. “Feed them, and in the morning put them on the road to the valley.”