The Spy Princess (22 page)

ten

D
eon cried with noisy, angry abandon. “Stupid, cursed Innon!
Stupid,
rotten
Bren!
Why can't they be here! I'll kick them all around the city!” She buried her face in her arms.

After the other guards had left the alcove, Timeos had seen my face. His expression echoed my own. “Go,” he said, and I ran.

Now I was crouched over my fashion book, staring down at the most recent entry, the day before Derek and Peitar were taken. My description of our “secret” messages was no longer funny, and I hated the sight of the last note from the Sharadan brothers.

I wanted to destroy it all, but that wouldn't change the triumph we'd felt in fooling the Buckets any more than it would change the helpless anger and sorrow we felt now. And Peitar had called it a valuable record.
What's valuable are the words he spoke
, I thought.
Those should be in the record
.

The ink blotched and my letters scrawled and skittered over the paper. I wrote as quickly as I could, ignoring code words and secret symbols. I had to get it all down—the heat, the sound of the crowd—the way the speakers accused Peitar and Derek. How Timeos's knee had pressed into my back when my name was mentioned. Most of all, Peitar's words, and his determination—so like our uncle's. I set down every detail because I knew the story behind Peitar's and Derek's unjust deaths would vanish from the version of history my uncle's scribes would write.

When I finished, my hand aching, it was full dark. I looked up, and the glowglobe picked out the gleam of tears in Deon's eyes. “We have to be there,” she said.

I took the book along with my tools and my bag of Lure. Having Peitar's words close to me was a small comfort.

We hurried to Athaeus House, hiding when we had to. Deon tried to distract me by asking about the trial. I got to Uncle Darian's mention of the Sharadan brothers, and she gave a watery laugh. “
We're
the brothers,” she said with resolve. “We have to think of something.”

I used my lock pick to open the basement door, and we hurried through the tunnel to the dark, empty palace kitchen and crept through the hall to the servants' wing. A sliver of light no wider than a nail trimming glowed at the base of Nina's door. I tapped softly.

“Who wakens me?”

“Larei,” I whispered. The door opened. They were all there. “This is my friend Daen. We couldn't sleep.”

We'd just found a place to sit when there was another tap at the door. The newcomer was a familiar guard in full uniform—Pirlivah, Timeos's sister.

“Though you'd want a report,” she said abruptly. “Bernal Diamagan's just sent a threat to the king—if he goes through with the execution, Bernal will torch the city and leave nothing standing.”

“Now the king will
have
to let Derek and Peitar go,” Deon whispered.

“Not Uncle Darian,” I said bitterly. “Threats would just make him madder than he is already.”

“Lady Lilah is right.” Pirlivah sighed. “The city guard is to oversee the execution and hold the city. Bernal's people plan to attack on the east side—they hope the poor will join them. After the execution, the king is going to ride there, meet up with the assembling army, and personally take command. The orders are to put all Bernal's people to the sword.” She looked miserable. “The only one who's been able to get near the prisoners is Captain Leonos. And Flendar has been bragging about how Therian knew where Derek and Lord Peitar were a week before their capture. The king wanted the army here before they grabbed them.”

“Then we have lost.” Halbrek was bleak. “We've lost.”

“But people are out there, beyond the city gates, keeping watch,” Lexian said. “Hundreds and hundreds of them.”

Pirlivah said, “More. We're on double duty, no one to get any rest.”

After she left, the adults began a whispered conversation about what the military might do, what they should have done, what had gone wrong. Nobody was able to sleep. My head hurt so much I put my head down. . . .

• • •

A
ND JERKED AWAKE
,
my mouth dry. The room was dark. I started up, but Deon whispered, “Wait. They just left. They think it's better for you not to know it's almost sunup. I pretended to be asleep.” Her voice wavered. “Should we go, too?”

“We—we have to.”

I heard her inhale. “Derek's got to have one friend there.”

“Here.” I stripped off the purple-edged tunic and gave it to her.

As we raced through the empty servants' halls toward the garrison, we heard the faint sound of voices rising and falling in unison—singing. We got to the outside door, which was propped open, and a blue-white glare stopped us short. Deon ran into me.

“L-lightning,” she squeaked. “Close.”

“
Real
close.” The lack of rain made it the more frightening.

As the thunder rumbled away into the distance, the singing became more distinct.

Deon's eyes widened. “That's my song.”

I listened in amazement. Somewhere out there, unseen, hundreds of voices sang the freedom verses—no, it sounded like
thousands
.

Then she tugged at me impatiently. This was the garrison proper, and forbidden territory; we needed an excuse to be there, however flimsy. There it was, on a hall table: a loaded tray. I picked up a half-filled pitcher and handed the tray to Deon.

We reached the big military courtyard at last, just as lightning flared directly overhead, a startling twist of living blue-white light that revealed rows of silent, armed city guards in efficient lines, some glancing skyward, their faces apprehensive.

When the thunder passed, the singing rose.

 

“. . . and all the nobles lied.

Slam justice for the people

When true justice is denied!”

 

“No! They left off the verse about us!” cried Deon.

“They made new verses,” I said.

“It's not about
us
!”

“But it's the
people
making verses—they've taken our song as theirs!”

Deon paused, cocking her head, and then grinned.

The sound echoed between the stone buildings, and the rolling thunder never quite died away, so we only caught phrases and the occasional word—and then a hand gripped my arm.

I started so violently my pitcher shot into the air, but its crash was lost in a tremendous clap of thunder.

Deon and I stared into Bren's lightning-bleached face. “Come on! I thought you might be here.”

The storm broke at last. Rain streamed down as we stumbled into the courtyard behind him and slipped behind a row of tall figures that smelled of wet wool.

In the next flash of light I saw that the enormous yard was full of city guards, and Uncle Darian stood alone on the balcony.

Peitar and Derek were against the far wall, facing a line of guards with bows drawn.

Someone yelled commands. When the sky lit up again, I was stunned. The execution squad was aiming its arrows at the rest of the guards!

The commander shouted,
“Now!”

And the lightning revealed his face—Deveral from Diannah Forest, in guard uniform!

“We did it!” Bren yelled, jumping up and down. “We did it!”

No one could see the struggle as the foresters attacked the guards, for even torches refused to burn in the downpour, but we could hear clangs and scrapes and grunts.

“Come on!”
he screamed. “We've got to follow—”

More lightning flared as a squad of guards burst through the doors and crashed into us kids. I was thrown into the stone wall, landing heavily on my knees as a sword fight began two paces away.

Derek and Peitar were gone. Uncle Darian remained on the balcony, streaming wet, his expression the same one I'd seen at the trial.

eleven

S
omewhere nearby a man roared, “Huzzah the Sharadan brothers!”

A hoarse cheer went up, and the sounds of fighting increased.

“
There
you are!” Bren pulled me to my feet.

The three of us ran back inside, dodging people walking back and forth or standing in knots talking. We didn't stop until we reached the crockery room, and the tunnel.

There we sank down wearily onto the dirt floor, Bren unshouldering his pack. For a short time we just looked at each other, Deon shivering. “They're safe,” she said finally. “Aren't they?”

“Yes. Hope so.” Bren's lips were purple in the dim light of the glowglobes. “We were supposed to follow. But I guess we can catch up. Innon will know where they're going.”

“Where
is
Innon?” I asked, rubbing my throbbing knees.

“He promised to take our horses straight back to Fionah, first thing. I was to find you two.”

Everything had taken place so quickly that it felt as if I had imagined it. My head was still spinning. But Deon's wasn't. “What happened?” she asked.

“When we got to the forest, Tsauderei was already at Deveral's camp—they all knew about the trial.”

“Already knew!” Deon exclaimed. “I hate that, after all our work. . . .”

“No, listen!” Bren shook his head, spattering us. “Deveral said they'd try to free them if Tsauderei could magic up a diversion. And Tsauderei said, ‘You shall have one. There is bad weather coming. When you need it, the storm will break.' So we rode back.”

“And so? How did you get into the palace without being caught?”

“Here's the big surprise—Captain Leonos met us outside the gates. He told Deveral that he'd heard from Lizana.” I thought about all of those letters she wrote in Delfina. “The important thing is, he got us in, and found those uniforms for Deveral's people
himself
.”

“He's on Derek's side now!” Deon clasped her hands. “Did you hear our song? Did you?”

“Captain Leonos is really on our side?” I asked.

Bren looked up at me through his dripping hair. “He seems to have changed his mind after talking to Peitar in prison. A lot of the city guards agree—they're the ones you saw with Deveral's people, fighting the loyalist guards. Let's go back to the hideout. I want to get rid of this.” Bren indicated his pack. “And change.”

The moment we slipped out of the tunnel into the overgrown garden, we heard the clash and clang of weapons from the street. After a long while it ended, and we crept out.

Daylight had strengthened as the storm moved eastward. The streets were filled with refugees. People had flung belongings onto carts, carriages, wagons—even a wheelbarrow or two. Rich and poor, it looked like they were all trying to get away.

The only time they stopped was when groups of armed guards rode by. But the guards ignored the refugees. They seemed to be searching for something—someone—else.

“Are they looking for us?” Deon wondered. “I heard yelling about the Sharadan brothers when the rescue was going on.”

Bren began to scoff, then pulled up short. We were two streets away from the hideout. “Wait. Captain Leonos asked Deveral if he was part of the Sharadan brothers. Deveral had a really clever answer—it could've been yes or no. If I hadn't known, even
I
wouldn't be sure.”

“But if that spread around—” I began.

Deon clapped. “That's why everyone yelled, ‘Huzzah!' They all think
we
did the rescue!”

“Which means,” Bren said grimly, “that they are searching for
us
.”

We looked around uneasily. Several refugee carts passed. We slipped around the back of a building and approached our alley—and there were the guards, busy with a search.

“Yes,” I whispered to Bren, hating to admit it. “And our packs are there.”

“And the glowglobe? And our money?”

I groaned. “With a note, waiting for our next delivery . . .”

Deon was belly-crawling through the mud to the edge of the alley, where she peered around an old fence. “No sign of Innon,” she told us when she returned. “But they've got our knapsacks.”

Bren made a face, and I knew what he was thinking. The Esalan brothers had said to always have more than one hideout, but it had been so much work to find and set up the one we had that we'd never gotten around to another.

“Innon might have waited out the rain at the stable,” he said. “Or maybe he caught up with Derek and them. I'll go find out.”

“He's with
Derek
?” Deon said. “Why didn't you
say
so? I'm coming with you!”

I started to say I would, too, but Bren cut me off. “What if Innon's coming from another street? And walks right into the patrol?”

We were silent as rain splashed around us.

“I'll find a spot to spy here,” I said. “If he comes, I'll stop him. Then we all meet. . . .”

“Where?” he asked as Deon began to drag him away.

“Athaeus House tunnel at noon?”

“Don't know where that is.” Bren was shivering again.

“I do,” Deon said, shivering too. “Let's
go
.”

• • •

I
FOUND A
good hiding place between a ruined stone fence and an old storage shed, from which I could see the alley opening. The rain turned into a torrent as the search party finished, and it was clear that they were definitely looking for us. They moved to the next street.

I waited . . . and waited . . . and was about to move when a pair of guards appeared from another direction. I was afraid that they, too, were going to begin a search. Surely Innon would have been here by now—if he was coming at all. It was time to leave.

As soon as the sound of their horse hooves was lost in the hiss of rain, I left my hiding place and bolted to Athaeus House. Even as I leaped fences and raced up alleys, I couldn't stop looking behind me.

I caught my breath in the garden and let myself into the tunnel, meaning to wait out the worst of the rain. The walls still held the summer heat, and slowly I stopped shivering. I sat down, thinking over and over,
Peitar's escaped! He's free. But where is he?

He wouldn't run away to safety—that was the problem. Until he either established peace or got caught again, he'd be right in the middle of things. I was so tired that my mind tumbled between worries and plans, and without realizing it, I slid into a fitful sleep.

• • •

I
WOKE ABRUPTLY
,
a mass of aches. My body seemed bruised all over, especially my knees, where I had fallen. My head throbbed. And I was starving.

I forced myself to stand and let myself out of the tunnel, into the garden. The sun was out, and I could tell that noon had passed a long time ago. A carriage rolled by, piled high with luggage. There was no sign that Bren, Innon, or Deon had been there, no note.

My tunic had gotten twisted as I slept. I adjusted it and felt the transfer ring. I could have gotten all three of us to the valley—but what about Innon? And would Deon have gone? She'd been desperate to catch up with Derek.

At least I could have asked,
I thought, more miserable than ever.
How could I forget the ring? And then fall asleep!

Should I try running all over the city in hopes of finding the others? Or just use the ring? Yes, I'd be safe at last—and Tsauderei would never let me out of the valley.
I've got to find Peitar. And that means finding Bernal's army . . .

“Need a ride out of town?”

The voice came from a wagon full of prentices. The speaker was a big, strong-looking boy with black hair. He looked about fifteen. “You can ride with us—we can fit in another.” He jingled a coin purse. “And even eat, if we run out of supplies. Mistress Platas gave us plenty.”

“Where are you going?” I asked, thinking of my bruised knees.

“East Road, on our way to—”

“East Road?” Wasn't Bernal's army somewhere on the east side of the city? “Thanks!”

I boosted myself up. The others hauled me in and made room in the back.

Twice the boy offered the invitation to other kids. The first squeezed into a corner with a sigh of gratitude and promptly fell asleep. The second, a tall girl wearing a long apron over a coarse-weave gown, walked beside the wagon, her face distrustful.

“Why?” she asked. “You don't know me, and you look like guild prentices. I'm a housemaid.”

Up on the driver's box sat a young man and woman around Peitar's age. The woman looked back and smiled. “Crowded yet, Landos?”

“We've still got room,” Landos replied. Then he said to the girl, “Like they told us Lord Peitar said at the trial: if we don't help each other, then we're no better than the Norsundrians. Come on!”

I was about to cry, “Peitar didn't say that!” but stopped myself just in time.

“Get left behind?” Landos asked as the girl sat down and tucked her apron over her knees.

She grimaced. “The new
Lady
Jalkenna. Said for me to clean the house and lock up. When I finished, the family was gone—leaving me to get out on my own. Well, I'll get myself out, and to a new job. Lady Jowl is closer with a copper-piece than a dockside innkeeper.” She looked around at the others. Most wore the plain brown tunics of guild prentices. Several had blue squares stitched on the front, like Landos. “You all glaziers?”

“Some,” Landos said.

“We're gilders,” a girl said, indicating the kids on either side of her.

“Stable hands.”

A few glances flicked my way. “Spit-boy at the palace.”

“I thought that was palace gray.” Landos nodded at my tunic. “So you must have seen some of the action, eh?”

“Like what?” I asked cautiously.

He leaned forward. “Kitchen people hear everything. All the rumors yesterday said that the Sharadan brothers got Derek Diamagan and Lord Peitar Selenna free. Is it true?”

“The Sharadan brothers?” the housemaid exclaimed. “They're
thieves
. My cousin's wife is friends with the stable hands at the Red Raven, and she said the Sharadan brothers burgled them and bragged about it.”

“They're
not
thieves,” countered the little gilder. “They saved my mistress's sister's family from starving. And not just that family, from what I know.”

“That's what I heard, too,” Landos agreed.

A stocky, red-haired gilder said, “Thieves! Like the Guild Chief said, only criminals would keep that treasonous coward Selenna from justice. Whom we can thank for our being on our way out of the city, leaving our homes to be burned and looted
again
.”

“Treasonous?” Landos repeated, his friendly expression hardening.

“Treasonous coward,” the gilder boy repeated, arms crossed. “Never touched a sword in his life, but that didn't stop him'n that bandit Diamagan from sending a mob to cut throats.”

Landos said in a soft voice, slow with menace, “You think you can sit here in our wagon and yap out those lies?”

“Yes.”

Only when they all stared at me did I realize I had spoken.