In the Enemy's Service (Annals of Alasia Book 2)

by Annie Douglass Lima

  “I was sent to bring you this for your headache, sir,” she added, indicating the cup. Instead of handing it to him across the desk, she walked around the desk and right up to his chair, so she would have a better view of what he had been writing, just in case she had a chance to look without his noticing.

  “Take a sip,” he ordered, as she held it out.

  “What? I mean, what, sir?”

  “Drink some,” he demanded impatiently. “So I’ll know it isn’t poisoned.”

  “Oh.” Anya lifted the cup and sipped. The drink was bitter and had that unpleasantly healthy herbal taste that seemed to be common to most medicines.

  The captain watched her swallow and then took the cup from her. As he raised it to his lips, she dared to lower her eyes to the desk to see what he had been writing.

  I regret to inform you that in spite of all our efforts, my men have found no trace of the missing prince. I am convinced that he somehow fled the palace that night and is currently hiding with sympathizers in Almar, or elsewhere in Alasia. I suggest –

  The writing stopped, and so did Anya’s heart. Prince Jaymin had escaped? He wasn’t dead?

  The captain slammed the cup, now half empty, down on his desk; and medicine sloshed over the rim and onto his map. “What are you doing?” he bellowed, so loudly that she jumped. “Are you reading my letter?”

  “N-no,” Anya gasped, cringing as he rose to his feet in fury. “No sir, I wasn’t. I was just looking at the things on your desk. I-I-I don’t even know how to read.”

  “Oh, really?” He didn’t look convinced.

  “I’ve never been to school, sir,” she lied, looking straight at him with wide eyes to make it convincing. “I’ve always wanted to go, but my father has me apprenticed to a tailor. I’m good at sewing, but I’ve never learned to read.”

  “Really,” the captain repeated, more thoughtfully now. He looked right back at her for a moment, and she held his gaze, making sure her expression stayed nervous but innocent.

  Abruptly, Captain Almanian bent to pick up his pen and a blank sheet of parchment. “Do your best,” he ordered, jotting something on the parchment in large letters. “I want to see you try to read this.”

  As he held it up before her, Anya saw his face before she saw the message. She could read his expression easily enough, and it told her that he was testing her, waiting to see her reaction. I won’t react, she told herself firmly as she took the parchment.

  I’M GOING TO KILL YOU.

  The words stood out in bold, dark letters, filling half the sheet. Anya’s heart seemed to stop again, but she was prepared, and she carefully kept all expression off her face.

  He doesn’t really mean it, she told herself as she held the note up to the light from the lamp that hung from the ceiling, pretending to study it. He just wants to see if I look scared, and then he’ll know I can read.

  “Well?” the captain demanded, staring at her.

  Anya frowned, finally looking up at him again. “There aren’t any ‘A’s.”

  It was Captain Almanian’s turn to frown. “What?”

  “You know, sir. ‘A’. I know what it looks like, because it’s in my name. I have two of them, but there aren’t any on here.” She looked down at the writing again. “There’s an ‘N’, though.” She pointed. “That’s in my name, too. It’s the second letter. Oh, and I see a ‘Y’. Look, it’s right here.” She held the sheet out to show him as though she thought he might really be interested. “I know how to read my whole name, and write it, too. My father taught me. Shall I show you?” She reached for the pen.

  The captain shook his head and took his parchment back. “Never mind.” He sat down and picked up the cup again, and Anya resisted the urge to sigh with relief. He believed her.

  He had taken only one swallow when there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” he called tiredly, setting the cup down once more.

  The door opened and Lieutenant Talifus walked in, the swollen bump on the side of his head noticeable even in the dim light. He glanced at Anya in surprise, his face darkening in a scowl, before he turned back to the captain. “Excuse me, sir. I need to talk to you about an incident involving one of Lasden’s workers.”

  The captain glanced at Anya too, as though wondering whether they should have this discussion in front of her or not. Then he stood up and pushed his chair aside. “Make it quick,” he ordered, striding across the room to where the Alasian traitor waited by the door. In a low voice, he demanded, “What happened?”

  This is my chance. Anya looked down at the desk again, but was disappointed to see that the captain had set his note on top of the half-finished letter. She didn’t dare reach out her hand to brush it aside – he would probably notice the movement out of the corner of his eye – so she glanced across the desk to see if there was anything else interesting.

  Another letter caught her attention, this one written in different handwriting, apparently to the captain. It was partly covered by the map, but she could see the bottom half of the sheet.

  The first team was almost completely successful, so you needn’t worry about any attacks from the Alasian army. It was nearly wiped out, and the few surviving soldiers are scattered in the hills. They are unlikely to pose any significant danger, and our troops are searching for them as we speak.

  That didn’t sound good. Anya hoped the poor soldiers wouldn’t get caught. Maybe they could disguise themselves and hide in the city or something. She read on.

  The current unrest in Almar is only to be expected, but the companies assigned to the city should be able to bring it under control soon. In the meantime, your task is simply to protect the palace and its assets and make sure all is ready for my coming. My messenger will inform you of the exact date after I hear that the situation has stabilized sufficiently. I expect, of course, that all will be in order when I arrive, and that I will find no cause for disappointment in the condition of the palace – soon to be my second home – or your oversight of its operations. I am certain I needn’t remind you of the consequences if that should be the case, or if you should fail to find the prince whom you say somehow evaded you on the night of the Invasion.

  The letter ended on that abrupt note and was signed simply, Regent Rampus.

  Anya chewed one of her thumbnails thoughtfully. She knew who Regent Rampus was from her visits to Sazellia with her father. Malorn’s King Kerman had died four years ago, leaving behind Queen Aleris, Prince Korram, and Princess Kalendria. Prince Korram, who was seventeen, was in charge of the kingdom now, with Regent Rampus helping him rule until he was old enough to become king.

  Anya wondered if there was anything else useful on the captain’s desk. She glanced down again, trying to move her eyes but not her head. A sheet of parchment peeping out from under two others caught her attention. The writing on it was different from Almanian’s or Rampus’s, and very little was visible between the other sheets that covered most of it. But what she saw made her catch her breath and look again.

  Though Karro’s information was useful, he is not likely to be among those who willingly provide any more. In addition, he is traveling outside of Almar at the moment; however, you could contact one of our other –

  The rest of the note was out of sight beneath Rampus’s letter. Anya stared at the fragment she could see, momentarily frozen. Karro was her father’s name. Why would the Malornians be writing about him?

  Perhaps they weren’t. It could be some other Karro.

  But Anya knew that was unlikely. She had never heard of anyone else by that name. Father’s parents had created it for him by combining their own names, Karria and Rogan. It was unique. Besides, whoever had written the note knew that he wasn’t in Almar right now. It must be talking about him.

  What information could Father possibly have given to Almanian and his people? As far as Anya knew, her father had never even met the captain, and he would certainly never have agreed to help them harm Alasia. Perhaps he had merely given them info
rmation related to his job. But why would the captain receive a note from somebody about Father’s merchant work?

  It didn’t make sense. Anya wanted to pull the parchment out so she could read the whole thing, but from the angle at which the captain was standing, he would be sure to notice if she reached out her hand.

  The lieutenant’s irritated voice broke into Anya’s thoughts. The officers had been speaking too quietly for her to hear most of their conversation, but now Talifus’s voice rose until she could clearly make out the words.

  “But Captain,” he was protesting, “all Lasden did was send him to the clinic to get his injuries checked. I really think some sort of punishment is in order to keep this kind of thing from happening again.”

  “It seems the man has received plenty of punishment already,” the captain retorted, annoyance in his voice. “I’ve told you my decision, Lieutenant. Thank you for the report; you’re dismissed.”

  Anya pretended to be examining her fingernails as the captain shut the door and returned to his chair. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him cast a suspicious glance at her and then at his desk, as though to make sure she hadn’t touched anything. Thankful she hadn’t, she pretended not to notice as he resumed his seat. “If you’ve finished, sir, Eleya said I must be sure to bring the cup back.”

  “Just a moment.” He drained the last of the medicine and handed her the empty cup, sitting back and rubbing his forehead again with a sigh. Disappointed that there would be no way to read the rest of the letter, Anya turned and headed reluctantly for the door, but the captain stopped her halfway there.

  “What did you say your name was? Anya?”

  She paused and turned around. “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s a Malornian name. Is it common here in Alasia too?”

  “I don’t think so, sir. My father is Malornian.” She purposely left out the word half. It sounded better this way, and if he did know her father, perhaps it would be better not to let him know she was Karro’s daughter, just in case.

  “Really.” The captain sat up, regarding her with interest. “That explains why you’re dressed that way; and you look Malornian, now that I come to think of it. Dark hair and light eyes. Very much like my youngest niece, actually. What about your mother? Is she Malornian too, or are you half and half?”

  “My mother was Alasian, but she died when I was born.” That part was true.

  “I see. And how old are you?”

  Anya hesitated only an instant. She knew she looked a little smaller than her age; she always had. If she pretended to be younger, perhaps people here would treat her better. For some reason, grownups were often kinder to little children. “I’m eight, sir,” she lied.

  “Only eight years old, half Malornian, and still a prisoner of our people here in enemy territory,” the officer mused, almost to himself. “Unfortunate, the way war brings things about sometimes.”

  Anya wasn’t sure what she was expected to say to this, so she said nothing.

  “Well, anyway,” the captain added, “tell that physician and his wife that from now on if I send for anything from the clinic, you’re to be the one to bring it.”

  “I will, sir.” Is it because I’m part Malornian? Or because he thinks I can’t read, so he doesn’t need to worry about me seeing private information? Either way, Anya liked the idea. It would be exciting to visit his office again and try to find out whatever she could, and never let him suspect. She had always loved acting out stories of adventure and danger. Now she would get to be a part of one. And besides, she might find more clues about the issue with her father.

  Thinking of Father brought a twinge of guilt. Anya knew he wouldn’t approve of her telling lies; he was always firm about the difference between right and wrong, and he had reminded her and Arvalon more than once that deceiving people was wrong. But Father wasn’t here; and living in the palace surrounded by so many soldiers could end up being dangerous; and what she was doing was for a good cause, after all. That was all that mattered. Wasn’t it?

  “Good night, sir,” she chirped to the captain, silently ordering her conscience to leave her alone. “I hope your headache gets better soon,” she added for good measure as she opened the door. She turned once more and smiled her sweetest little-girl smile at him from across the room.

  “So do I,” Almanian replied, and she was rewarded by seeing his stern face soften as he smiled back.

  Chapter 6

  The next morning, Tonnis judged that two of the three injured Malornian soldiers were well enough to be discharged. Their absence lightened the day’s workload considerably, and when the soldier who often hung around the clinic wandered off on other business, Eleya handed Anya scissors and a needle and thread.

  “Why don’t you bring that nightgown downstairs to work on in Wennish’s room?” she suggested. “I think he’s lonely, all by himself in there most of the day with nothing to do but think about all his friends who were killed. Maybe it will cheer him up if you sit with him and talk a bit.”

  Anya, who preferred company to working alone any day, was only too glad to follow Eleya’s suggestion. Besides, if talking to Wennish would aid his recovery, she could certainly oblige. Helping him would be another way she could help Alasia.

  She seated herself cross-legged on the extra bed across from the guard and bent to her work, carefully cutting apart the nightgown Eleya had given her so she could remake it to fit.

  Wennish turned his head to watch, and Anya thought his eyes brightened a little when she told him how much she loved to sew and that she planned to be a tailor when she grew up. Though the man probably had not the slightest interest in sewing himself, he seemed glad of the company, and listened as she described how she was altering the garment, occasionally holding it up to show him the decorative touches she was adding. The wounded guard didn’t talk much, but he smiled a few times as Anya went on to tell him about herself and her family, and replied with a word or two to her questions about him.

  Eleya, coming to check on her an hour later, was impressed. “You’re fast, aren’t you? Nearly finished already, and it’s beautifully done, too. I wish I sewed that well.”

  Anya smiled and rethreaded the needle to start on the final hem. By the time Tonnis put his head around the doorway to warn her that Sergeant Morriss was on his way and she had better come out and look busy, she had finished the job and made a new friend.

  But friends or not, she still didn’t want to spend the rest of her life here. For the next few days, Anya kept an eye on the palace gates every time she went outside, just in case she might have a chance to sneak away; but they were always locked and guarded. Even when someone came in or out, the gates were usually opened barely wide enough to let the person through and then closed immediately afterward. And there were never fewer than three soldiers standing nearby.

  So Anya’s hope of escape through that route slowly faded. But there must be another way; Prince Jaymin had apparently found one, after all. She would keep her eyes open for other possibilities.

  In the meantime, she fit easily into Eleya’s and Tonnis’s routine, helping them feed the patients their meals, crushing herbs and boiling water to make medicines and healing teas, and keeping the clinic clean. Sometimes she ran errands, taking remedies to officers with headaches or other minor complaints. When patients came into the clinic to be treated, Anya was often asked to fetch bandages or water or thread Tonnis’s needle for him. And in her spare time, she kept Wennish company, chatting about this and that while she sewed.

  In the evenings after they had finished supper, Eleya and Tonnis joined Anya in Wennish’s room. Tonnis would sharpen and polish his surgical tools, Eleya would knit, and Anya would sew. Tonnis had found an old Alasian guard’s jacket for her somewhere about the palace, its previous owner undoubtedly among the victims of the Invasion, and she worked at remaking it into an almost-stylish coat for herself. When she had finished that, she repaired and altered a torn dress that one of the cooks ha
d given her so she wouldn’t have to wear the fancy gown every day. The gown was starting to get a little dirty from all her hard work, although Eleya had helped her wash it out under the pump once or twice. Anya was afraid that even if she ever escaped from the palace, it would no longer be perfect enough for its intended owner to wear to a royal function. Well, there was nothing she could do about that now.

  After she had finished the coat and dress, Anya asked Eleya to teach her how to knit. While she worked on a series of scarves and mittens, she discussed the state of Alasia with Eleya, Tonnis and Wennish, proud to be part of their conversation just like a grownup. Tonnis confided that a friend he had recently met in the market seemed to have information about Prince Jaymin, and together the four of them speculated about where the prince might be hiding and how this friend might be helping him. Anya told the others everything she had learned in Almanian’s office, except the part about her father. Until she knew more about whatever he had done, she wasn’t sure she wanted anyone else to know.

  As Wennish grew stronger day by day, he began to join in their conversations more and more. The guard seemed to take strength from the thought of the missing prince, as though it gave him needed purpose now that he could no longer serve the king. Prince Jaymin’s return was something to live for, a reason to recover, and he was definitely starting down the road to recovery.

  Although she enjoyed the knitting, her new friends, and even the clinic work, Anya found herself thinking often about her family and how much she missed home. Everything was so different here, and even though that was exciting in some ways, it was exhausting too.

  I’m not used to being this busy, she reflected as she swept the front room on the morning of her fifth day at the palace. Of course she had always done chores at home, but they didn’t take hours and hours the way they did here.