The Spy Princess (4 page)

six

W
hat was wrong? I peered over the carved railing. Two footmen, as well as Father's valet, crossed the foyer to Father's rooms. As soon as they were out of sight, Peitar appeared in the foyer, breathless from effort, and came upstairs as fast as he could.

More confused than ever, I trailed him to the rooms that he had had before the accident. He closed the door, sat down, and tied a stocking carefully around the bottom of his crutch. “Keeps me quiet in this passage. I don't use it often. Almost got caught a few years ago when Father threatened to have the walls torn out in order to search for rats.”

Then he opened the wardrobe, pushed past the old clothes hung neatly at either side, and pressed a knothole. The entire back of the closet slid into the wall, revealing—
another
passage!

He wormed his fingers under a pile of folded blankets, pulled out a palm-sized glass sphere, and whispered a word. The sphere glowed with blue-white light. An extra glowglobe! Holding it high with his free hand, he led the way.

Even with the glowglobe, it was difficult to see. There was a very narrow stairway to negotiate and then two sharp turns. We must have been at the back of the house under the guest chambers, just outside my father's library.

One more corner, then Peitar said something under his breath, and we were in darkness. My eyes adjusted to a faint line of golden light.

It turned out to be a gap in the back of one of the bookshelves, just above my own eye level, though Peitar could see.

“. . . I do not know, Your Highness. He says he's on a secret mission for you.” It was the head steward.

“I never sent anyone on a secret mission. What do I have to be secret about? Are you certain he named me as his master?”

“Well, Your Highness, he did in a, ah, metaphorical sense.”

“Stop talking twaddle and bring this fool in to me. Now! Get moving!”

Footsteps, and then, “You!” Father exclaimed. “I should have had you hanged years ago! Well, you'll hang tonight.”

“Hail to you too, Prince Gobble,” came a familiar, laughing voice—Derek!

“Why do you keep spying around my home? My valet swears he's seen you here before. Do you know someone in the household?”

Derek laughed again. “If I did, do you think I'd be lurking around? I wanted to see for myself just how well off you are, in contrast to the families starving in Riveredge.”

“Who are you spying for?”

“No one. I wish to become a voice of conscience, and that means I have to look where the power lies, don't I? The Selennas are the oldest family in the entire country. Older even than the ruling Irads. You wanted to marry an Irad princess, so you permitted the king to tax your guilds on top of your own taxes. Not that it affects
you
. It's the people of Selenna who pay.”

“You're as ignorant as you are arrogant,” Father snapped.

“Why, Your Highness! You care what a
commoner
thinks? Your face is as red as the strawberries I stole on my last visit to your overstocked garden. Why isn't some of that food going to Riveredge?”

Father said nastily, “I won't hang you tonight. I think the king might like some sport first. You there! Ride to Miraleste and find out if His Majesty wants this spy. Tell him it's the Diamagan rat. Be back by morning.” There were the sounds of someone departing. “And you. Take this fool to the old treasure room and lock him up. Post two at the door, fully armed.”

The narrow ray of light illuminated Peitar's sudden, surprising smile. He nudged me, and we left. As soon as we were back in his old rooms, I checked outside. No one was there.

Peitar sank into his armchair, forehead beaded with sweat. “Don't fret. Father has just ensured Derek's escape.”

“
Another
passage?”

“Yes. This house, as well as the palace, is full of 'em. One can tell how trusting our ancestors were of one another.”

“The palace, too? How did you
find
secret passages?”

“Mother told me about this one,” he said, surprising me again. “It was our secret together, after my accident. She discovered it. She used to scout the ones at the palace when she was small, too.”

“But this house is where Father grew up. Why doesn't he know about them?”

“When Mother asked, he said he'd only heard of one, and his grandfather had had it walled up a long time ago. Father's never been interested in creeping down dusty corridors or knocking on walls.”

“So
Mother
loved secret passages,” I exclaimed in delight.

Peitar went on. “After Mother died, I discovered I had a knack for finding them—it has to do with seeing how spaces fit together. The toughest part is finding the release mechanisms. Some are obvious. Others, you really have to search for. I'm about to give you your first dangerous job, Lilah. You'll have to be the one to let Derek out. The passage is too steep and twists too much for me.”

I couldn't wait. “Where is it?”

“The library.” Peitar removed the stocking from the bottom of his crutch. “Wear dark colors so no one sees you. The release is the lower right-hand brick in the fireplace.” He went on to describe the passage very carefully so I would know just what to expect. “Avoid treading on the last step until you are both in the passage, or one of you will be left inside the treasure room, and there is no way to open it from the inside. Then hide him in your room. Lizana will take him from there—she says she has a plan.”

“When should I go?”

“Soon as night falls. He can get away then, especially if it rains as threatened.” He leaned over to tuck the stocking in a drawer.

At last I was getting answers! I hurried to another question. What is ‘black wool and ambition'?”

“I knew you'd ask that. An adventure that befell Derek and Bernal—his brother—when someone captured boys and girls with the idea of training them up to do evil things. It changed his mind about including kids in his plans.”

“So, what about—”

“Shh.” Peitar raised a hand.

We heard our father on the landing. Peitar motioned, and I dove under the bed.

The door opened, and Father said, “Peitar? There you are. What are you doing up here?”

“Sorting my boyhood books, looking for—”

“Will you join me for the midday meal?”

“I'm happy to oblige, Father. But I'm not really hungry. Can we not meet for dinner in our customary manner?”

“Very well.”

Father left, and I crawled out from under the bed and made for my room.

Lizana was there, straightening the bed things. Peitar had told me to trust her. I took a deep breath and said, “Peitar says that you're in on our plan to rescue Derek. Peitar told me about the secret passage to the old treasure room. It goes through Father's study.”

“Ah. That was the first one your mother found, not long after we came here,” Lizana said. She looked grim. “He was caught on my account. I will not sleep easy until he's on his way.”

As soon as she was gone, I opened my window. Big drops of rain spattered my face, warm and wet. It would be a big help if the storm made a lot of noise.

I sat down to write up the day's adventures. By the time I was done, the sky had turned a threatening purple-gray, and the thunder was much nearer. Lightning flashed off to the west.

Once again time crawled. When the dinner bell rang at last, I changed into my dark blue nightgown and opened my door. From Father's formal dining room came his and Peitar's voices and the ring of crystal.

My father's mealtime ritual was old-fashioned. First, he and Peitar would sit in the library, over wine. Then they'd go to the dining room.

On the way downstairs, I rehearsed a reason to be in the library in case I was caught—I'd say I wanted to read a family history. Father was proud of the Selennas and our past. No one was posted by the double doors to my father's wing. He clearly wasn't worried Derek might escape.

I slipped inside the library and quietly closed the door. Just in case, I selected a book and laid it down near the fireplace. Then, after double-checking, I pressed the lower right-hand brick.

Thunder covered the faint
graunch
of heavy stone and metal. I snatched a candle from one of the candelabra, lit it with the sparker, and ducked into the space behind the grating. When I trod on the first step of the hidden staircase, the stone gave, and I almost lost my balance. The fireplace slid closed behind me.

I carefully made my way down the steps, which were narrow and uneven, made scarier by the flickering of the candle. When I stepped on the bottom step, it sank, and with a low rumble the wall before me slid open.

Derek's eyes widened in surprise. Experienced spy that he was, he said nothing.

He was seated on the stone floor, his hands and feet tightly bound by curtain cords. I knelt and set the candle down, nervous giggles bubbling inside me. Curtain cords!

I wrestled with the knots until Derek wrenched free on his own, rubbing at his wrists and wincing. He untied his feet, then picked up the cords. I took the candle, whispering, “Use the second step,” as I motioned him inside the passage. When I put my weight on the first stone, the wall slid closed.

Then we started upward. “Thank you,” he murmured, close to my ear.

“It's Peitar and Lizana's plan,” I whispered back, delighted it was working. If this was the worst danger I ever faced—well, I could do it forever!

At the top, I peered through the opening. The library was empty.

We were soon inside. I closed the passage, snuffed and replaced the candle, picked up my book, and sprang to the doors. The way to the grand staircase seemed impossibly open and exposed. From the dining room came the sound of my brother's voice, blabbing away gamely. Father laughed once. A rare sound.

“Servants' stairs,” I muttered. And, to Derek, “Stay close.”

Down the hall. Open the narrow door just under the stairs—and we were in!

We raced up to my floor, and I opened the door a crack. No one in sight. I grabbed Derek's sleeve, pulling him toward my room. Then came the clack of Father's shoes right below us! I opened the door and shoved Derek inside.

“Lilah?”

Shock panged through me. I peered over the landing. My father stood below, holding his whiskey glass. “I thought I heard someone in the library. Was that you, child?”

“I wanted a book.” I held it up. “Don't come near, Father, I'm still sick!”

My father frowned. “There's a dangerous criminal in the house. Though he's under lock and key, I want you to keep to your room. Who is that with you?”

I turned my head, wildly, reaching for excuses.

Lizana stood in the doorway, holding a tray. “Lizana,” I said gratefully.

“Good. She can stay with you until morning, when we'll be rid of this villain.”

He went back to his meal, and Lizana and I closed ourselves in my room, where Derek stood, his clothing rumpled and torn, bruises over one eye and on his jaw. He handed Lizana the curtain cords. “Maybe they will think I escaped by magic if they don't find these.”

“Good thinking,” Lizana whispered. “Now, children—”

“Children?” I gawked at her

“To me, Derek's just a child. Put this on, young man.” She held out the cloth she'd carried under my dinner tray.

Derek shook out the gray fabric, and grinned. “A dress!”

“You are going to be Merilda, the downstairs maid. She's going to be very, very ill, and must go home. You can't make it over the wall tonight,” Lizana explained. “It's too well patrolled. You need to leave while the storm is at its worst. No one will want to get a thorough drenching just to examine a sick maid.”

Derek pulled the gown over his clothes. Lizana handed him two balled-up rags to stuff down the front, and then wrapped a shawl around his head, hiding his hair.

“Stoop a little,” she said. “Small steps. And straighten that bosom! You have one side up and the other escaping into your armpit!”

I smothered my giggles as Derek struggled to reshape his front. Then, under Lizana's eye, he practiced walking. Once, he looked at me and minced across the room, sashaying like any noble girl at a ball, his wrists arched as if he held a fan—shoved his drooping bosom back into place—waggled his hips around.

I had to bite my pillow to keep from howling.

“That's enough. Children!” Lizana whispered, but she was smiling.

“I make a handsome lady, don't I?” Derek fluttered his eyelashes.

“Terrible!” I wheezed. “T—t—”

“You'll do. Come along,” Lizana said crisply as she checked outside my door.

Derek hunched his shoulders, flipped an end of his shawl at me, and followed Lizana, his steps slow and small. I admired the way he managed to seem shorter and older.

When they were out of sight I gulped down my food, then recorded Derek's rescue.

seven

N
othing happened for the next few days, other than a series of storms that kept me inside. Just as well, for as far as Father knew, my cold was lingering on, and I wanted to visit Bren and the kids and brag about rescuing Derek.

On the first nice morning, Peitar appeared at my door. “We're leaving tomorrow for Miraleste.”

“Tomorrow!” I sat up in bed. “Then I've
got
to go to the village!”

“Are you sure that's wise?”

“I've got to say good-bye.”
And tell them what happened to Derek
.

“All right,” he said at last. “I'll ask Lizana to use my old dodge with Father. It used to buy me a day of freedom when I needed it.”

“What's that?”

“A supposed ‘special medicine' that will make you sleep all day, but you'll waken on the morrow completely recovered.” He spoke with that funny tone that was half mockery and half something harder to define. A little like sadness, maybe regret. Then it was gone. “Be careful. Father was exceptionally angry about Derek's escape.”

Soon I was in my Larei clothes, in the garden. Extra guards had been posted, pacing slowly in the hot sun as they looked for anyone who might sneak in. But I was patient. When they were out of sight, I got over the wall and ran until I reached the old bridge. As I crossed, I noticed a group of people farther up the banks scrubbing at clothes and laying them on rocks or the sparse grass to dry. It was horrible that no one had cleaning frames.

Bren must be at the guardhouse. The idea of going there was scary, but I had to trust my disguise. I loitered slowly toward the stable. Several of the guards stood about in the shade—and there he was, on the other end of the porch, busy cleaning horse tack.

I kicked some pebbles, and he looked up. I walked on by, and heard him say, “Gotta go get some grub. Be back later!”

“Just see that you do,” came a lazy reply. “You've got more work awaiting you, brat.”

I kept walking. Bren caught up, his face red. “Larei,” he gasped. “Looking for Derek? Because he's—”

“Gone, I think to Miraleste,” I finished. “He got caught, but then he got rescued.”

“He did?” Bren's eyes widened. “How?”

My moment had come. “I did it,” I said, striving to sound casual instead of proud. “Secret passage in Selenna House.”
Now
let him think I wasn't any good, or trustworthy!

Bren whistled. “Nice work. How did you manage that?”

“He was talking to someone and got caught. They locked him in the cellar, and there's a secret passage out. Derek
did
assign me to spy at Selenna House,” I finished defensively, because Bren was eyeing me with far more question than admiration.

His face cleared. “That he did. So did Prince Greedy get steamed?”

“Oh, yes. He was boiling! Now he's taking u—uh, them to Miraleste.” I could have kicked myself. What was wrong with me?

“Them?” Bren asked, and he made that crook-leg sign. “Lord Cripple and Lady Fluffbrain?”

I bit my lip. “Yes. So what have
you
learned?”

“Nothing. They think kids are as smart as rocks, so they talk a lot, right in front of me. But it's all just stupid blabber about gambling, drinking, and what they do when they have free time. Not a hint about secret plans or anything interesting.”

“They might not know any.”

“My aunt sent Deon to the capital—remember, Derek asked her? So once Prince Greedy and his brats are gone, will you be coming here to help?”

“Can't.” I fumed at myself for not thinking everything through.

“Can't? Why not?”

“I'm . . . going along. I have my job, after all!” There was a silence.
So much for bragging,
I thought
. It's never as good as you think it's going to be. Not if it causes questions you can't answer.
“Maybe I'd better go back.”

“Don't. Let's find the others and have a game. I'm sick of doing all the guards' worst chores, and it's too muggy for spying anyway.”

“You can just go?”

“Sure.” Bren shrugged. “It's not like they actually hired me. All I get is dinner scraps.”

He knew where all his particular friends were to be found, at the other end of the village. We played a complicated game whose rules kept evolving. Running, hiding, capture and rescue, silly dares—the day sped by. As darkness fell, the smaller kids headed home. I left reluctantly.

How awful that I had found friends at last, just in time to leave them. And for Miraleste, which I hated. I had no friends among the children of the courtiers. How could I? We never acted normal, not with all the grown-ups worried about position, and tattling servants, and, above all, the cold, watchful gaze of my uncle, the king. Peitar told me that we kids were pieces to be moved about on the game boards of the adults, though we hadn't a notion of what the game was, nor its rules.

One New Year's Week they'd forced us to prove our courtly manners by talking exclusively in Sartoran. Though the court fashion for speaking exclusively in Sartoran had ended three generations before, when Sartor was taken by Norsunder, it was still considered important to know the language, so Sartoran lessons were part of my training to become a lady.

A lady! And ladies got betrothed.
I kicked at some rocks. To have to wear some horrible dress, all stiff with ribbons and gems and whatnot, and stand there for everyone to stare at, next to some arrogant bore I'd probably loathe on sight! Ugh!

Everything seemed so
unfair
. As I trudged home, my spirits sank. I couldn't even enjoy the triumph of rescuing Derek. I hopped the wall as usual, the clouds and the darkness so thick that the sentries couldn't see far. When I reached my room, Peitar stuck his head in, his anxious face relaxing when he saw me. “I'm glad you're back,” he said.

I sighed. “Oh, Peitar, I shouldn't have gone. I did so many stupid things—”

He looked worried, and I hastened to say, “Nothing life-threatening. But I'm going to miss them all, so much! Oh! Deon got sent to the palace. New job. Do you think I can be Larei and find her?”

Peitar shook his head. “No, Lilah. It was risky enough here, and the palace is far better watched. If Uncle Darian catches you . . .”

“Ugh.” I shuddered. “I forgot for a moment about
him
.”

“Don't. Don't
ever
forget him. And we don't want to do anything that can jeopardize Derek or any of his people.”

The door opened, and Lizana came in with my dinner. “Good,” she said when she saw me, then nodded at Peitar and left.

“That reminds me,” I said once we were alone. “If Derek overthrows our uncle, and I hope he does, is he going to be the king?”

“I don't know. There's a lot to happen between now and then.”

“I think I'll take my Larei clothes along. So when the gang yells things at our carriage tomorrow, I can pretend to be Larei and it won't feel so horrible.”

“Only if you take care never to let anyone but Lizana see those clothes. Now eat and get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day.” And he was gone.

I frowned at all that steaming food on the tray, and decided I'd take a bath first. I was beginning to unlace my tunic when a voice squawked, “Ulp!
Lady Lilah!
No!”

I froze. The branches thrashed outside my open window, and Bren landed on the sill. “You followed me! And you were listening at my window!”

Bren's expression was a peculiar combination of triumph and embarrassment and fear and curiosity. “I had to!” He sounded strangled. “You're a girl,” he added.

“I never would have guessed,” I snarled.

“You're really a Selenna. A noble, and you dressed like . . . You didn't tell us.” He sounded more perplexed than angry.

“You said you'd never make friends with us ‘scummy nobles.'”

“But this is different!”

“How was I to know? That's what you said.”

“You let us call you all those names. . . .”

“Look. Just take back what you said about Peitar. Including doing that awful thing with the fingers.”

Bren mumbled, “I know it's stupid. Derek told us it was.”

“Then why do they do it?”

“Because your brother will never be a leader. He couldn't fight a duel or lead an army in—well, uh, that's what the grown-ups say.” He stopped, his face the reddest I'd ever seen.

“Well, duels are stupid, and Lasva the Wanderer said that all wars do is make messes that other people have to clean up. And, by the way, some of the servants here are Derek's friends.”

Bren stared down at my carpet. “Never again.” He looked up. “If you'll—”

“If
you'll
—”
Forgive me.
He didn't want to say the word any more than I did. I nodded.

And we shook on it. We were still friends, then.

Bren took a long breath as he looked around. “This is quite a room.”

“Oh, you should see my father's suite. Mine's plain compared to his.”

He shook his head, but I could tell he wasn't really thinking about my father's fashionable furnishings. “Will you take me along? I want to help spy in the capital. I think the guardhouse is a waste of time.”

I motioned him inside, and he stepped on my carpet as if eggs were squishing between his toes. I tried to hide my grin. “We'll have to ask Lizana.” I pulled the summons bell.

Bren noticed the alcove, where Lizana had left a cool bath waiting.

I said, feeling very awkward, “My cleaning frame is in there, too. Want to use it?”

He shook his head quickly, obviously as uncomfortable as I. “No. Nobody at home has one, and they'd notice.” Then he glanced at my untouched supper, and away.

“Help yourself. I'm not hungry. And no one will know.”

Bren's cheeks were soon bulging.

Lizana appeared, her brows lifting when she saw him. “He wants to come with us,” I said. “To Miraleste. I was hoping he could. It would be good to have a friend.”

“What about the guardhouse in the village?” she asked.

Bren looked surprised that she knew. “Tim can take over.”

“Your mother—”

“My mother would be happy if I went to Miraleste.” Bren grimaced. “She's a real—”

“Snob,” I finished, remembering what she'd named him.

“She'd love it if I got a job there. And I'd be one less mouth to feed.”

Lizana pointed at me. “You. Get to sleep.” She turned to Bren. “You go back down that tree, get out, and make it right with your family. Tell them you'll draw footman pay, though you'll start as a page. That ought to help. At dawn, be at the kitchen entrance. Go in the gate, all nice and legal. I'll have the proper clothes waiting for you.”

Bren finished my dinner and licked his fingers clean before he climbed out the window.