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

by Annie Douglass Lima

  Anya crouched down to poke her broom at a spider web under one of the benches, wondering what Father and Arvalon were doing right now. By this time they must have finished selling the Alasian wool they had taken to Sazellia. Were they still buying merchandise to bring back to Almar? When would they be able to return? They would be worried when they got home and didn’t find her, especially after they heard about her and Bronin being dragged away.

  Anya sighed, picturing how frantic Father would be. If only she had a way to talk to him. Not just to assure him she was all right, but to ask about the information he had apparently given Captain Almanian. What in the world was that all about?

  At that moment, a clattering of hooves drew her attention to the window. Anya looked out to see a large crowd of uniformed visitors riding into the courtyard. She leaned her broom against the wall and stared out, watching as two hundred or more Malornian soldiers trotted past the clinic. She could tell they were officers because of the colored stripes sewn onto the ends of their sleeves. Privates, the lowest level of soldiers, wore no stripes, and she had learned by now that each color stood for a different rank. From lowest to highest, white was for corporal, yellow for sergeant, green for lieutenant, and blue for captain. She wasn’t sure what came after that, since Captain Almanian was the highest ranking officer stationed in the palace, but now she saw at least one visitor with purple stripes, and another with silver. Judging by the respectful way Almanian was greeting them, they must be pretty important.

  “I wonder what all those men are here for,” murmured Tonnis, who had come up behind her to peer over her shoulder. “It doesn’t look as though they’re planning to stay long.”

  He was right, Anya thought. Although grooms and servants were hurrying forward to take the horses as the strangers dismounted, they were merely leading them around behind the stable, where she knew they would probably be tied to the long bar attached to the wall for that purpose. But no one made a move to unsaddle any of them or lead them inside, as they would surely have done if their riders were to stay for any length of time. It seemed odd. Why would so many officers come to the palace for such a short visit?

  “I could try to find out why they’re here,” Anya suggested, turning to Tonnis hopefully. She hadn’t had a chance to visit the captain’s office or learn anything else important since that first night, and she was a little disappointed that her expected career as spy wasn’t taking off very quickly.

  “It might be dangerous.” But Tonnis looked as though he were considering her offer. “How would you do it?”

  That was a good question. Anya bit thoughtfully at a thumbnail, pondering, but before she could think of an answer, the front door opened and Lieutenant Lasden stepped in on his usual morning rounds. Pity. Now they would have to look busy. Anya picked up the broom and hurried to start sweeping again.

  “Good morning,” the lieutenant greeted them, smiling at Anya as he always did now.

  “Morning, Lieutenant Lasden,” Anya replied cheerfully, smiling up at him with her cutest smile. She had decided at the beginning to act as friendly as she could to all the soldiers, just in case it ever came in handy. Many of them were friendly toward her in return, and she thought perhaps it was because they missed their own children back home in Malorn.

  “Who are all those people outside, Lieutenant?” she inquired.

  “Officers from around Alasia,” he replied shortly. “How are the patients this morning?”

  “They’re fine. What are so many officers doing here?”

  He chuckled. “You’re inquisitive today.” Without answering her question, he disappeared down the hallway to check on the wounded Malornian private, who was nearly well enough to be released and had been growing more restless by the day.

  As soon as Lasden had left, Anya put the broom back in its closet and took up the tray with their breakfast dishes. “I’ll go return this to the kitchen,” she announced to Tonnis and Eleya. And I’ll try to find out what’s going on while I’m in the palace, she added silently. She knew Tonnis was planning to go to the market tomorrow to buy herbs for the clinic, so if she learned anything important, perhaps he could pass the information on to that friend of his.

  The kitchen staff was bustling around, busy with the after-breakfast cleanup, when Anya brought the dishes in. “Do you know why all those officers are here?” she asked Thessa, one of the assistant cooks, who was bending to pull two trays out of one of the large ovens.

  “No, but we’re supposed to bring them refreshments,” Thessa grumbled, setting the trays on a counter with a clang. “As if we don’t have enough else to do right now.”

  Anya sniffed eagerly at the spicy aroma of fresh almond biscuits. “I could help,” she offered, seizing one of the sweet treats and nibbling at its hot crumbly edge. “If you’re that busy, I’ll take the refreshments to the soldiers. Just tell me where to go.”

  “Don’t let Phenniel catch you eating that,” the woman warned in a low voice, glancing around to make sure the head chef wasn’t watching. “They’re for the soldiers only, he said. But if you really want to help, I surely wouldn’t mind. Goodness knows I’ve got plenty of work to do down here.” She pulled a silver serving platter out of a cupboard and began to transfer the biscuits onto it in a decorative arrangement. “The guests are somewhere up on the third floor; I know that much. A group that size, you’ll have no problem finding them when you get there.”

  Anya climbed the stairs slowly so as not to jostle the pyramid of biscuits. Sure enough, when she reached the third floor she heard voices from down the hall. Lots of voices. She followed the sound through an open door, its elaborately carved and gilded panels suggesting that something royally important lay within, and found herself in a large chamber crowded with soldiers.

  Stepping inside and peering around, Anya couldn’t figure out what they were all doing. Most of them just seemed to be standing around and chatting idly. She began to make her way through the crowd with her tray, trying to listen in on conversations. While the officers helped themselves to the biscuits, she watched them, noticing that many of them were gazing at paintings on the walls.

  Worming her way a little closer, she saw that the paintings all featured people, some of them wearing crowns, all dressed in fancy clothes. Little engraved plaques beside each one displayed their names, and Anya realized that these were kings and queens, and in some cases princes and princesses, from Alasia’s past. She had learned about them in school, but dead historical figures had never truly seemed like real people to her. They were just names and lists of accomplishments. Now, seeing their faces gazing out at her from their frames, it struck her for the first time that they had once been flesh-and-blood men and women and boys and girls, just as she was. She gazed back at them in awe and imagined them living here in this palace, perhaps even standing in this very spot, having conversations as they looked at pictures of those who had come before them, just as she and the Malornians were doing right now.

  But why were the Malornians here, anyway? Surely they couldn’t really be interested in Alasia’s long-dead rulers. Anya had yet to overhear anything that would give her any clues, but she did notice that many of the visitors were not even looking at the paintings. They seemed to be waiting, moving slowly with the crowd toward the other end of the room. So she kept on walking among them, letting them take biscuits from her tray while she meandered casually in that direction as well.

  The closer she got to the end, the more the crowd slowed. Whatever they had all come to see must be just ahead. Could it be the pictures of King Jaymin III and Queen Esarelle? Perhaps they wanted to take a look at the royal couple they had murdered a week and a half ago, though Anya couldn’t imagine why. She craned her neck, trying to catch a glimpse over everyone blocking her way.

  “He looks younger than they said,” someone in front of her observed. “Isn’t he supposed to be twelve?”

  “The portrait is probably a year or two out of date,” someone else suggeste
d.

  “You can see the family resemblance, sure enough,” another voice pointed out. “Looks just like his father, doesn’t he?”

  That answered one question. Since the royal families seemed to be arranged in chronological order, anyone twelve years old at this end of the gallery could only be Prince Jaymin. But why were they staring at his picture?

  “Move along once you’ve gotten a good look, if you please,” a different officer requested. “There are plenty of us behind you who haven’t seen yet.”

  “Anya? What are you doing up here?” demanded a new voice from just beside her, and Anya jumped guiltily. It was Captain Almanian. “Aren’t you meant to be working in the clinic?”

  Act like you’re supposed to be here. He doesn’t know you’re snooping.

  “Oh, hello, Captain,” she chirped, smiling innocently up at him. “Good morning! When I took our breakfast dishes back to the kitchen, they asked me to help bring some refreshments up here because of how busy they were. Tonnis and Eleya didn’t need me at the moment, so I thought I ought to do something useful. Lieutenant Talifus gets annoyed if he sees me just standing around.” She held up the tray. “Would you like a biscuit? They’re delicious. That is, they smell delicious,” she amended, remembering belatedly that she was not supposed to have had any.

  The captain shook his head. “No, thank you. Make sure all our guests have had some who want some, then go back to the kitchen and tell them to send up drinks as well. And hurry – everyone will be leaving shortly.”

  Already? They just got here. Anya nodded obediently. “I will, sir.” She turned and wandered slowly back through the crowd in the other direction, offering biscuits to anyone who looked at her, wishing she had had a chance to see the picture everyone had apparently come to examine.

  As soon as her tray was empty, Anya hurried back down to the kitchen. She would volunteer to bring the drinks up too, and then she’d have one more chance to find out what was going on.

  But no. “Run along back to your clinic, girl,” Phenniel ordered with a frown. “This isn’t your job. My people will take care of serving the guests.”

  “But Captain Almanian said to bring them some drinks,” Anya protested, trying to look innocent and trustworthy.

  “Thessa will take care of that,” the man told her sharply. “You don’t work in my kitchen, so get out of here.”

  Disappointed, Anya trudged back across the courtyard toward the clinic. Along the way, she noticed Bronin leaning on a shovel just outside the stable, deep in conversation with another groom. Had either of them overheard anything when the visitors arrived? Perhaps they could tell her more about what was happening.

  “No idea,” Bronin replied in answer to her question. “From what little I heard, they were in a hurry to get inside and see something, but I don’t know what.”

  “We’d better get back to mucking out those stalls,” his companion advised. “Talifus is bound to come by and see we aren’t busy.”

  “I’ll help,” Anya suggested eagerly. Maybe if she hung around the stables till the officers returned for their horses she would overhear something more.

  “A little girl like you, shoveling stinky manure?” the groom queried doubtfully.

  “Oh, I’ve done it before,” Anya hastened to assure him. “We have two horses back home. I shovel out their stalls all the time.” That wasn’t quite accurate, but it was close enough, she told herself. Caring for the horses was normally her brother’s job, while Anya’s chores involved washing dishes and keeping the house tidy. But she often took turns in the barn when Arvalon was sick or the two of them felt like trading tasks for a day.

  “Anya can hold her own in a horse’s stall,” Bronin assured his companion, winking at her. “If you really want to, here you go.” He handed her a shovel.

  Anya had expected the smell, but not on this scale. Two horses in dirty stalls were nothing compared to dozens of them. Bronin pointed to a wheelbarrow halfway down the long aisle. “Shovel all the muck into there, then we’ll take it round back to the greenhouse for their compost heap.”

  To Anya’s relief, she had only been working a few minutes when a third groom stuck his head in the open doorway. “All those men are coming out again. We’d better get their horses ready.”

  “I’ll help,” Anya volunteered again, dropping her shovel and hurrying outside. Sure enough, officers in red and black were beginning to trickle out of the front door and stream across the courtyard. She ran around to where the horses were tied, seized the reins of the first one she came to, and began unfastening them from the long bar.

  Anya had no idea how to tell which horse belonged to which man, but she led the white mare she had just untied toward the approaching crowd, trying to look as though she were dutifully following orders. As the river of officers flowed around and past her, she overheard a scrap of conversation between two of them.

  “That face should be easy enough to recognize.”

  “Yes, as long as he isn’t too well disguised.”

  Then a heavyset captain appeared by the horse’s side. “There she is,” he exclaimed. “Hold her still for me while I mount.”

  Anya did as she was told, stroking the horse’s velvety nose while its rider heaved himself into the saddle and gathered up the reins. As soon as he was out of the way, she dashed back around the stable for another horse, dodging Bronin who was leading one in the opposite direction. Once again she kept her ears open and was rewarded with another fragment of conversation.

  “Well, Lieutenant, I’m off to Wistra again.”

  “I’m heading to Mosra, myself, sir. Wish me luck in finding him there.”

  “For two thousand gold pieces, I’m not wishing anybody luck but myself!”

  The voices died away as their owners trotted through the crowd and out the gates.

  Anya was starting to put the pieces together, and she didn’t like what seemed to be happening. She heard nothing else useful as the rest of the officers eventually found their horses and rode out of the courtyard, but she thought she had heard enough. When the last horse had been claimed, she started back toward the clinic, eager to tell Tonnis and the others what she had learned.

  But she had taken only a couple of steps when she heard angry voices from behind the stable. Alasian voices. Casting a quick look around to see if anyone would notice her, Anya crept toward the corner and peered around it.

  Lieutenant Talifus was pacing back and forth, complaining bitterly to a private. Anya recognized the other man, though she didn’t know his name; Eleya had pointed him out to her the other day. He was one of the Alasian traitors who had let the Malornians in on the night of the Invasion and then joined their army.

  “I can’t believe that man,” Talifus was growling. “I really can’t.”

  “I don’t know what he was thinking, sir,” the other soldier was quick to sympathize. “Your suggestion made perfect sense.”

  “I know it did. He just doesn’t have the sense to see it. None of them do. Here they are sending scores of foreigners out all across the kingdom to look for a boy they’ve never set eyes on, and those of us who’ve seen him practically every day for the last twelve years are stuck here patrolling corridors and guarding gates.”

  “There’s no logic in it, sir,” the other man agreed.

  “He doesn’t trust me. That’s what it is. Almanian has never trusted me. He’s prejudiced against Alasians. I hate that man – but you didn’t hear that from me, Private.”

  “Of course not, sir,” his companion assured him.

  I was right. Anya crept away and hurried back to the clinic to relate the news. She just hoped that Tonnis’s friend would have some way to warn the prince before it was too late.

  Chapter 7

  Three mornings later, the soldiers guarding the gates hurriedly tugged them open, and a lone Malornian soldier whom Anya had never seen before came galloping through. She stepped outside to see what was happening, rubbing her forearms briskly in
the icy winter air. Her other, warmer, dress was hanging by the fireplace to dry since she had washed some mud stains from around the hem earlier, and her arms always felt a little cold in the fancy one.

  “I’ve been sent to speak to your captain,” the stranger called to the curious soldiers who clustered around him as he pulled his foaming horse to a halt. “It’s urgent!”

  Someone ran to fetch Almanian, and then, after a quick conversation between the newcomer and the captain, the cluster of soldiers took off sprinting across the courtyard. The sight reminded Anya of the time last summer when she had accidentally left half a slice of cake out on the kitchen counter overnight. In the morning it had been black with ants, which had scurried rapidly away in all directions when she blew on them.

  Some of the soldiers dashed toward the barracks, from which they emerged a moment later strapping shields to their arms. Were they about to fight in a battle? Anya had seldom seen them carry shields except when they went out into the city. Others vanished into the stable, and the rest disappeared to summon other soldiers from in and around the palace. In a moment dozens of saddled horses were being led out into the courtyard, and nearly every Malornian who worked there, or so it seemed, was scrambling to mount. Then the huge gates were pulled open again and at least a hundred fifty soldiers cantered out with Captain Almanian at their head and Lieutenant Lasden just behind.

  “What’s going on?” wondered Eleya, joining Anya in time to see them all disappearing down the road as the gates swung slowly shut again.

  Anya couldn’t tell her, and there was no chance to try to find out. “Get back to work!” bellowed Lieutenant Talifus, striding around the corner. He was obviously in a foul temper. “Don’t you have anything better to do than stand there gawking? Get busy or I’ll find you more work.”

  Of the few soldiers left around the palace, none came in that morning to check on them. The last Malornian patient had finally been discharged the day before, so there was no one else in the clinic. Tonnis, Eleya, and Anya took advantage of their unaccustomed freedom by relaxing in Wennish’s room, where Anya worked on the socks she was knitting for him as they speculated about what might be going on.