The Spy Princess (19 page)

“We've got to find out where and act fast!” Bren exclaimed.

“We'll follow the Buckets to where Derek and Peitar are hiding, and use Lure on everybody,” I said. “And then we'll carry out Peitar and Derek and their friends and put them somewhere safe. We'll leave a note that they were saved by us!”

“Except, how do we carry people twice our size?” Deon asked.

“And where do we put them?” from Innon.

I threw down my quill. “We need another plan.”

“Let's just get to the Red Raven,” Deon said, in an agony of impatience. “We can figure it out on the way.”

“Not all four of us. That's a waste.” We all stared at Innon. “Three go to the Red Raven. One watches, the second Lures everyone, and the third is there in case the second doesn't get out in time. That takes care of all the villains—and saves Derek and Peitar. But,” he finished, “only for tonight.”

I gasped. “We have to find where they are so we can warn them before the Buckets wake up!”

“How?” Bren asked. “Neither spy said where they were.”

“I think that Liseon is going to cheat the baker and claim the credit,” Deon said. “You should have seen the way she was acting.”

Innon said, “We'll find out, because one of us is going to Flendar's office to raid it. Something,” he added, “we should have done long before. Since he won't be there, maybe it will be safe.”

“Who?” I asked, but I already knew. Who else was able to get in and out of the south parlor?

“Why bother going to the office?” Deon asked. “Since Flendar doesn't know where Derek is.”

Innon hugged his knees. “No, but I bet you that spy's report says where she got her information. We have to find that out if we can—we need to find out
everything
Flendar knows, in case it can help Peitar and Derek. And since we know where Flendar will be tonight, this is the best time to look in his office.”

I started packing my tools as Deon said, “Since I found tonight's caper, you have to tell me if you like the beginning of my song. You've all heard ‘The Weaver Maid and the Suitors' by now, right?”

“Everyone is singing it,” Bren said.

Deon clasped her hands. “You know how it goes, then.

 

“I knew a merry weaver,

Who liked a handsome lad.

'Twas the season of spring fever,

When love makes all run mad. . . .”

 

Bren made a face. I crawled into our changing corner to put on my dark clothes. Deon said, “I want to describe the Buckets in a funny way that will make them mad, and make our people want to sing it. Beginning with
‘
King Dirty Hands the Beanpole . . .'”

Her verse described how scrawny he was, his mud- colored hair, and his chin like a garden spade. After she finished, I said, “Did you
mean
that to sound like Peitar?”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“I thought so, too,” said Bren. “Daen, you'd only have to add a line about a crooked leg—and you know that someone on the Buckets' side will.”

She groaned. “I
didn't
! So how can I make it clear my insults are about the Buckets?”

I thought back to something Adamas Dei and Lasva had both said:
Bind people with a need, and the binding is strong. Bind them with a cause greater than immediate need, and the bond is the strongest.
“Can't it be about freedom, instead of insults?”

“But insults are fun,” she protested. “Freedom? What do you say about freedom outside of ‘I want it'? It's a good thing to have, but it's boring to sing about. People
remember
insults.”

“You can say a lot,” Innon began.

I pulled my kitchen tunic over my dark clothes, grabbed my tools—including a candle and sparker—and left them arguing.

four

T
his time, I was determined not to blunder ahead without thinking.

On the way to the palace, I rehearsed what I'd say. I would be confronted by guards, and my only hope was to rely on being known as the spit-boy. When I got to the gates, I tried to act confident, though I was so scared my knees wobbled.

“Who are you?” came a woman's voice, deep and unfriendly.

I quavered, “I'm the day spit-boy. Mirah-cook wanted me back. For the night. For early morning cooking. Because the fires get put out on account of the heat, but when I got home, I was so tired I fell asleep.”

My interrogators were in shadow while I stood in the light of many torches, feeling horribly exposed. How could they not see the dark clothes under my tunic, and my tools? Surely they knew I was lying.

After what felt like a thousand years, a man said, “Yes, that's the spit-boy. Let him through.”

The gate creaked open. “Don't be out after curfew again,” he continued, not unkindly. “We might think you're leading a pack of rebels.” He shook his longbow as the other guards chuckled.

I hurried to the kitchen staff quarters, listening at each window until I heard Mirah's voice, and whispered her name.

She opened the curtains. “What? You'd better have a good reason—”

“I do, but I must be fast.”

I climbed in her window. Nina was there, too. “I have to get in and out of Flendar's office as quick as I can.” Mirah gave me a hard look, until I told her what we'd found out.

Nina pressed her hands together. “Oh, child, how can we—”

“Quiet!” Mirah said fiercely. “Let me think. I take it you know how to get in?” When I nodded, she said, “Come back here as soon as you are done.”

I left my tunic with her, cat-footed through the dark halls to the archive room, slipped in, and sprang the fireplace catch. Then I felt my way along the narrow passage until I reached the end: the south parlor.

I remembered what Peitar had said, and listened.

Nothing. Flendar should have been on his way to meet his spies at the Red Raven, but I no longer trusted “should have been.” I peered through a tiny slit into an empty, dark room.

Gone. I let myself in, closed the curtains, then lit my candle.

There was little on the desk, so I turned to the bureau. Locked.

My hands shook as I pulled out my lock pick and eased the mechanism open. The clicks seemed too loud, and sweat prickled under my arms.

Still no one came. The bureau shelves held neatly stacked papers. I took one stack at a time and read as fast as I could.

Then I found one from earlier today.

 

Liseon Alafio's report. I do not trust Jonah-baker, so here is what I discovered on my own. Fionah Blereus, who owns the stable off Spinners Row, sends stable boys as messengers. I followed one and once I was sure of his destination, intercepted the boy, killing the messenger without witness.

 

Liseon had found out where they were going to be, and hadn't thought twice about killing a kid to keep her secret.

Anger made my actions quick and precise. I replaced everything as it had been and retraced my steps back to Mirah's room. She'd gotten dressed, and in silence led the way to the kitchen, her candle flaring, which made the shadows jitter, close in, and jump away.

When we reached the chamber where they kept the crockery, she closed the door, bolted it, did something I couldn't see—and half of the wall slid out.

“It was deemed appropriate for you to know about this tunnel. It leads to the basement of Athaeus House. The new family there does not know it exists. Lexian will let you out and back in again. Go. I'll be here waiting,” she added grimly.

And that, more than anything else, hammered home how serious it all was.

The tunnel smelled of damp soil and was lit by glowglobes. It seemed I'd run half the night when I reached a wooden door. I tapped lightly. The door opened into a neglected garden, where Lexian waited. In the distance, the midnight bell tolled. The rest of the Sharadan brothers would be at the Red Raven now.

I squeezed past bushes, and then began another long, frightening run, dodging more patrols before I arrived, dry-throated and panting, at the Red Raven.

It was dark and silent. I felt my way to a window—

“Oh, it's Larei!” Deon!

Trembling in relief, I fumbled my way inside to find the other Brothers standing over a lot of adults slumped in chairs, or on the floor. At first it looked unpleasantly like they were all dead, but then I heard snoring. The air smelled gloriously sweet, making me feel brave and invincible.

Innon was leaning woozily against a chair. “He almost dropped, too,” Deon whispered. “But it worked.”

Bren said, “Another patrol due soon. What's news?”

“I know who sent the message—it's someone named Fionah, on Spinners Row.”

“I know who that is,” Bren whispered. “We've got to warn her. If it's not too late already.”

“I'll do it. I bet she's all right. I bet they wouldn't do anything to her until they snabbled up Derek and Peitar. And we just stopped that!”

“We'll both go, because Flendar probably put a spy there to watch her house. We'll take our Lure.”

“I have to return to the palace,” I said. “Let's get going.”

While we held this quick exchange, Innon muttered to himself. Deon took charge and guided him to the window.

As they climbed out, I inspected the adults. Flendar slumped at a table. I found Liseon by the heron signet on her finger. She was a small blonde woman who looked harmless. I thought about her killing someone not much older than me, and not caring, and I hated her.

“Larei.” Bren beckoned from the window.

There was still a trace of Lure in the air. As soon as I had climbed out, I took a deep breath, and my head cleared. Innon leaned against the wall as the cousins replaced the glass, leaving a fine lettered sign from Bren:

 

Your rest was guarded by the ever-vigilant Sharadan brothers.

 

Then the four of us raced to our hideout, where Bren—dictated to by all of us—wrote the following:

 

Fionah, Flendar's spies have found out that you sent a message about Derek and Peitar. The people who betrayed you are Jonah-baker and Liseon Alafio, who killed your messenger. We stopped Flendar tonight, but by morning, they will be after you.

  

Your friends in freedom, the Sharadan brothers

Innon lay down to sleep off the Lure, and the rest of us left—Deon and Bren with the note to Spinners Row, and I to Athaeus House, where Lexian was waiting. We returned to the palace by tunnel, and at the very end Mirah and Nina waited in company with an older man—Master Halbrek, one of my uncle's stewards!

“Did you see them safe?” he asked.

“We don't know where they are, but the capture patrol was stopped,” I said, hesitant to reveal anything about the brothers.

The grown-ups exchanged glances. Lexian looked down at his hands. “Who are you?” Mirah finally asked.

“Larei.”

Halbrek said in Sartoran, “This child is a spy and must be put to death.”

“No! Wait!” I yelped.

“Ah,” Mirah said. “So he
does
speak Sartoran, then. What did you say to him?”

Halbrek stepped into the light and looked into my face—and gave an astonished laugh. “Doesn't matter.” He had recognized me, just as I had recognized him. “But I think you had better tell the truth, young lady.”

The others' gazes snapped my way. “Young
lady
?” Nina repeated.

“Starting with who you are,” Halbrek finished.

Trapped! If Deon had been there, she would have been able to think of some good lie—and look convincing while she told it. But I couldn't think of a thing. And he knew me.

“Lilah Selenna,” I said.

Nina covered her face. Mirah let out a long breath. “I hope you realize the desperate danger you are in. Your uncle has dispatched people to find you.”

“I know. So he can threaten me and force my brother to surrender himself. I heard him say it when I was in the blue room, but I didn't tell you.” The adults accepted this, and, surprisingly, no one looked angry. Did this mean they thought I was good at my job after all—not as spit-boy, but as spy? I turned to Halbrek. “I didn't know you were on Derek's side.”

They exchanged looks again, and Nina said in a low voice, “We are actually part of an older group. Much older. But only since this trouble have we become active.”

“Older?” I repeated, confused.

Mirah gave a short nod. “There are many of us—more each day, truth be told—who believe that the one we once wanted proclaimed as heir should become the new king.”

“But . . . the only one I ever heard about who might be heir was—”

“Your brother. The one we believe should be king,” Nina said. “Lord Peitar, the new Prince of Selenna.”

five

W
e all had things to think about now.

The good thing was, they fed me and let me sleep as long as I wanted. The bad thing was, they started treating me differently, beginning with Mirah's saying how I had to remember my disguise—something I'd gotten so used to I didn't
have
to remember. And they made Lexian sleep on Nina's floor, while I got his bed.

The sun was already slanting through the window when I woke.

I hurriedly pulled on the dark clothes and the gray tunic and promptly felt sticky and damp. It was going to be a nasty day.

As soon as I reached the kitchens, I could tell that something was very wrong. Mirah gripped my arm and thrust me toward one of the tables. “Get busy,” she whispered desperately.

I had just picked up a knife and a carrot when total silence fell. And I looked up—straight into the face of my uncle. Followed by Flendar!

They were across the kitchen, but Uncle Darian's eyes seemed to pick me right out, and he frowned slightly. “Bow,” someone muttered, and I almost hit my head on the table, my short hair flopping in my face.

I felt that cold, emotionless gaze pass over me, and away. Flendar smirked at us all, his mouth twisted unpleasantly. He was dressed more like a king than my uncle was.

They began talking in low voices—and then they were gone.

“We have work to do,” Mirah snapped.

As if released from springs, everyone returned to their tasks. For a time the only sounds were from the chopping blocks, the hissing slide of baked goods going into the oven or coming out, and the creak of the spit.

Tension made the hot air seem even hotter. I felt like I was boiling as I chopped my way through the vegetables piled before me. I dared not look up.

No one came near me, either, for an endless time, until: “Come along,” Mirah said, and we went into the storage closet. “They're furious about last night's failure,” she told me quickly. “Flendar seems to be looking for someone to blame. We think you'd better lie low for a time.”

They sent me to stack clean dishes in the crockery room, which took the rest of the day. There were many sets, ranging from hand-painted porcelain to the plain cream- colored clayware used for the servants. Late in the afternoon, Mirah and Lexian joined me. When we opened the secret cupboard, there was Steward Halbrek, a woman in weaver's garb—and a guard.

Lexian whispered, “On our side.”

In the half-dark, the three adults bowed to me. I felt like laughing. After all, there I was, barefoot, grubby, dressed like a spit-boy. But they did not smile. Maybe those bows were really meant for Peitar.

“Lady Lilah,” Halbrek began.

“Call me Larei,” I interrupted. “You have to think of me as Larei the spit-boy.” I spoke with all the assurance of the Esalan brothers' experience.
Live your disguise, don't just wear it
, they had said.

Again, to my surprise, the adults all seemed to approve. “Very well,” Halbrek said. “First, a request. Will you show Lexian how you entered Flendar's office? A guard is stationed outside at all times.”

I was glad that I'd been as careful as I had. “It's a secret passage,” I said, and then remembered that first horrible morning, when Uncle Darian summoned Peitar and me. “The king knows about it, too. Do you think he told Flendar?”

“No,” Steward Halbrek said. “I am almost certain he did not. He might feel it necessary to have someone listening to Flendar from time to time. So Lexian, you will have to be extra careful.”

“I'll be glad to show him. But you have to be able to unlock the bureau.”

“I'll see about the lock. Lexian, your new duty is to copy every day's dispatches and get them to Timeos here.” He nodded to the guard. “Or to his sister Pirlivah, on the night watch.”

“What's going to happen?” I asked.

“We will identify all his spies,” said the weaver. “And we will take care to let those spies overhear what
we
want them to learn.”

I knew Bren and Innon would be delighted—and Deon would be mad that she hadn't thought of it first.

“You must act quickly,” Halbrek said to Lexian. “So that Lady—Larei here can leave with the rest of the staff, and remain unnoticed.”

• • •

B
ACK IN THE
stifling hideout, I had to take a big drink of water before I could report.

Deon groaned when I was finished talking. “You get all the fun, Lilah. All we did was make a bunch of spies snore. I didn't even get to throw the message through Fionah's window.”

Bren grinned. “You know I've the best aim of us all.”

“Bren wouldn't let us talk to Fionah's people when they took the horses through the back of the ironmonger's yard and away. Boring!”

“At least Peiter and Derek must be safe now,” I said. “I'd rather be bored watching than turning spits, or seeing my uncle!”

“Ugh!” She made a terrible face. “True! I just wish we could have told Fionah who we were. We don't even get to see people's surprise when they find the money.”

“We hear about it,” Innon said. “It's all over the city.”

“But
that's
not fun, either. I'm not even getting my song done! And if you don't want it to be about how ugly Dirty Hands and his commanders are, you three have to help me.” She grinned wickedly. “Or else . . . why don't we go to the palace?”

“Sounds like that Lexian has taken over spying on Flendar,” Bren grumped.

“No,” I said. “Remember what the weaver said?
We
can spread false information, too.”

Deon flopped onto the dusty floor. “So, what, we wait for them to tell us what to do?”

“No,” Innon said. “Don't you see? It's
fake
information they want spread. . . .”

Deon bolted upright as I added, “That means we can write a lot of false reports, with code words, references to meetings—”

“Always at midnight, or just before dawn bells, so the spies won't get a wink of sleep.”

“And held in terrible places, like the bottom of a quarry at midnight, the far side of the lake just before sunup . . .”

Deon crowed. “Or at the fish market at noon, and carry a basket of old fish as a sign!”

Bren smacked his forehead. “I got an idea! You two can write those up, Innon and Larei, while Daen and I plant false signs. Three stacked bricks, a rock on a fence post. You write them into the reports.”

“And we'll leave more mysterious signs.” Deon rubbed her hands together.

“And coded messages,” Innon suggested. “I can make up a code that's easy to break.”

“With lots of sinister hints, and fake names of members of the Sharadan brothers—”

“The sinister secret society of the Sharadan brothers.” I could hardly get the words out, I was laughing so hard. “Code names. Leader Hawk Eye. Assassin Twisted Nose . . .”

“Blood Knife and Sharp Fangs and Dead-Aim and—”

“Skunk Stench!”

“He's the brother at the fish market!”

After that, it was impossible to stay serious, and I didn't give a second thought to the real enemies or their real tasks.

• • •

T
HAT WEEK WAS
the most fun we'd had since we left Delfina. One of Deon's friends at Five Points was a cousin of Fionah Blereus, so we were able to find out that she and her family had gotten away safely. And we finished Deon's song.

 

I knew a merry weaver,

Who liked a handsome lad.

'Twas the season of spring fever,

When love makes all run mad!

 

Became:

 

I am a freedom seeker.

'Tis nowhere to be found.

From king to common speaker

The words of war resound.

 

Of course, the last verse was about ourselves, ending with,
And the poor get gold and silver / from the Brothers Sharadan!

Deon loved that line the best of all. The next morning she took the song to Five Points and sang it to the kids there. Bren soon heard it down at the docks, and Innon from two carters at the north gate. By the end of the week, it was all over the city.

Our codes and signs worked, too. Deon spied a Bucket waiting at the fish market. She laughed until she choked as she described the man waving a basket of rotten fish and being cursed by passersby.

None of us wanted to go to the quarry at midnight, but we hoped Flendar had sent Buckets, especially when there were fierce thunderstorms the two nights after Innon laid his false trail.

We had a wonderful time, and we were helping the cause by keeping Flendar's spies busy. The weather was so hot that I was glad Mirah had told me to lie low and stay away from the kitchens.

Then, one morning, we were aware of a change.

Some of the histories say things like,
The entire city was gripped by one mood.
I don't know if that's true, but here's what I can tell you. All four of us knew something was wrong as soon as we reached the main street.

Innon said, “I think we'd better forget the messages and just scout today.”

“It's the weather,” said Deon. “This has to be the hottest day we've had yet.”

Bren shook his head. “Something's not right. Did a patrol ride through our alley last night? I kept dreaming about being chased by horses.”

“Maybe I'd better go back to the kitchens for news,” I said, and everyone agreed.

The closer I got to the palace, the more knots of whispering people I saw. A patrol rode along, swords out, the steel reflecting the sun. I kept my head down to avoid the dazzle, as well as any attention. The palace sentries had been doubled, and even they were head-bent in low-voiced conversations.

I walked into the busy kitchen. Mirah's lips pressed into a pale line when she saw me.

She pushed me straight into the crockery storage room. “Oh, child, I had rather be in prison myself than have to tell you, but your brother and Derek Diamagan were captured just before dawn.”