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

by Annie Douglass Lima

  Her heart thumping uncomfortably, Anya set out toward the palace once more. There was hardly anyone about; just a few soldiers patrolling here and there, all wearing grim expressions. Perhaps the remaining Alasian workers had found tasks to keep themselves out of the way. Or perhaps something had happened to them. Had they all been rounded up and thrown in the dungeon? Anya shivered anxiously.

  As she approached Almanian’s door for the second time that day, she heard raised voices. Since there was no one around to see, she paused for a moment and pressed her ear to the crack to listen.

  “I cannot believe you let this happen, Lieutenant. I really cannot,” the captain was thundering. He sounded furious. “You’ve been pestering me to give you additional responsibility, and what happens when I leave you in charge for a couple of hours? You let the workers revolt and kill three of my men. Three! We only lost two in all the trouble out in the city today, and only eight on the night of the Invasion itself. And yet in your incompetence you manage to lose three right here in the palace the first time I leave you in command.”

  “It wasn’t my fault,” protested Lieutenant Talifus, his voice defensive. “We fought as hard as we could, but they took us by surprise, and we were outnumbered.”

  “Enough of your excuses,” bellowed the captain impatiently. “I’ve heard them all already. That sort of thing may be tolerated among your people, but as long as you’re with the Malornian army, you’d better learn to own up to your mistakes and face the consequences. I don’t take kindly to losing three more of my men, especially when I hear you didn’t even manage to inflict a single serious casualty on the Alasian attackers.” From his emphasis on the word ‘Alasian’, it was obvious that he thought Talifus had been reluctant to harm his own people.

  “They’re all in custody, though, sir,” the traitor protested. “I thought you’d want them locked in the dungeon so you could decide what to do with them when you returned.”

  “There are four people in the dungeon, Lieutenant,” the captain barked. “Four! I’ll never believe only four took part in this attempted uprising. But nobody seems to know or want to admit who else was a part of it, and the three people who probably could have are dead. Who knows how many other conspirators there were, but the rest are getting away scot-free because you were only able to capture or identify four!”

  Anya was glad to hear that whoever else had been involved had still not been caught, and it was satisfying to know that Talifus was in trouble. However, Captain Almanian probably didn’t know how he had ruined the desk in the clinic and hit her. Now that the traitor had discovered how easy that was and how much he enjoyed it, he might very well decide to take his frustrations out on her again the next time he was in a bad mood.

  An idea came to her. Quietly, Anya moved a few steps back so the men in the room wouldn’t hear, then bent to set the cup she was carrying on the floor. Out of her pocket she pulled the handkerchief Eleya had given her to use in case the bleeding started again. Taking a deep breath, Anya blew her nose as hard as she could.

  The moist, streaming feeling in her nostrils would have told her she had been effective even without the bright red stain in the handkerchief. Anya waited and let the blood drip past her mouth and chin, all the way down to her already stained gown. Only when she was sure there was plenty of it did she dab at it with the handkerchief, not trying to wipe it away but to make it look as though she had tried ineffectually to wipe it away.

  At that moment she heard uneven footsteps down the hall. Anya turned and saw Lasden limping toward her, one hand pressing against the wall for support with each painful step. He frowned when he saw her. “What are you doing here?” he demanded in a low voice as he approached. “Are you listening at the captain’s door?”

  “I came to bring him his medicine,” Anya explained, bending hastily to pick up the cup as evidence. “But when I was about to knock, I heard him yelling in there. He sounded so angry I was afraid to go in.”

  “I told you, that’s enough excuses,” roared the captain’s furious voice, as if on cue.

  Anya jumped as though startled and gazed anxiously up at Lasden. “You see what I mean?”

  The soldier’s expression softened. “Don’t worry. He won’t be angry at you.” He reached out a hand as though to knock, then looked at her more closely in the torchlight and frowned again. “Are you all right? What happened to you?”

  “I had to blow my nose, but I guess I shouldn’t have. It made it start bleeding again.” Anya pressed the handkerchief to her face and sniffed, as though that would help.

  “Again?” Lasden repeated. “What happened in the first place?”

  “Lieutenant Talifus hit me.”

  “He what?” Lasden looked furious.

  “You’re confined to your quarters until I decide on an appropriate punishment,” came the captain’s enraged bellow. “Dismissed.”

  The office door was flung open and Talifus charged out. If you could see thunder, Anya thought, it would probably look a lot like the traitor’s face at that moment. He paused long enough to slam the door behind him with all his strength, making the hall echo and the torches flicker, and glowered hatefully at the two of them. Anya shrank behind Lasden as the other lieutenant stormed past them down the hall and around the corner.

  Lasden took a deep breath. “We’d better not keep the captain waiting.”

  “Do I really have to go in?” Anya pleaded, as though she didn’t want to.

  “Yes, because he’ll want you to taste the drink,” Lasden told her. “But I’m sure you’ll be allowed to leave after that.” He raised his hand again and knocked.

  “What?” demanded an angry voice from within.

  “It’s Lieutenant Lasden, sir. You sent for me?”

  “Get in here.”

  Lasden opened the door, limped inside, and stood at attention before the captain, who was pacing back and forth in front of his desk, a wet cloth pressed to a lump on the side of his head. Anya was relieved to see that the door to his bedroom was still closed, just as she had left it. She approached the desk, clutching the cup as though she were nervous.

  “There you are,” the captain snapped, catching sight of her. “It took you long enough. I’ve been waiting.” He held out his free hand for the cup. Anya sipped quickly to show it wasn’t poisoned and passed it to him with both hands, handkerchief still clutched in one of them. The captain took the cup and did a double take as he caught sight of the bloody square of cloth and then her face. “What happened to you?” he demanded, just as Lasden had.

  Anya swabbed at her nose with the handkerchief. “Lieutenant Talifus hit me, sir.”

  “What, just now?”

  “No, sir, earlier. When the rest of you had gone out, he came into the clinic all angry at you and complaining to us about being left behind. He kicked the desk until it broke apart – Lieutenant Lasden can tell you; he must have seen the pieces – and then he hit me on my ear and nose. It really hurts.” She felt gingerly at her ear, which wasn’t even sore anymore, and then dabbed at her still-dripping nose again. “He probably would have kept hitting me, except that then we heard yelling and fighting from outside, and he ran to see what was going on.”

  “He wasn’t even out there when the trouble started?” The captain sounded even more furious than before, if that was possible. “He was in the clinic breaking furniture and beating up children?”

  Anya thought it wise to say nothing more. The captain glared at her for another moment, though she could tell his anger wasn’t directed at her, and then he raised the cup and downed its contents in one long draft. Anya took advantage of the moment of distraction to glance quickly at his desk, but though a new sheet of parchment lay on top of the map, she wasn’t standing close enough or at the right angle to read the writing that covered half of it. Perhaps Almanian had been writing a report to his superiors about the events of that morning.

  “All right. I’ll speak to Talifus more about the incident later,” t
he captain told her, handing the cup back. “You’re dismissed,” he added, as though she had been a soldier. “Go to the clinic and get your injuries taken care of.”

  “Yes, sir.” Pinching her nose shut with the handkerchief to try to stop the bleeding for real this time, Anya closed the door behind her, both relieved and disappointed. At least Almanian apparently didn’t suspect that anyone had been in his quarters earlier, but it seemed she was not going to find out anything else useful at the moment.

  But then she recalled the trick Arvalon had taught her a few months ago. Careful not to make a sound, she set the mouth of the empty cup against the door and pressed her ear to its round flat bottom. Sure enough, now she could faintly hear the captain’s words even though he was no longer shouting.

  “You know what will need to be done with them, Lieutenant. The four in the dungeon, and maybe three or four others – take your pick. Slow workers, troublemakers, whoever you think we can most easily spare. Gather all the other workers to watch so it will serve as a lesson to them; and of course we’ll need all our men out in force to make sure no one else tries anything. I want you to take care of it right away.”

  There was silence for a moment. When Lasden spoke up, his voice was hesitant. “Sir – I beg your pardon, but is that really necessary?”

  The captain sighed. “I wish it wasn’t, but you know as well as I do why we have to do this. Three of our men were killed, Lieutenant. Three! We can’t let them get away with that, or they’ll be revolting again every chance they get. It could be you or me next time.”

  “Yes, sir. But the boy, Jommal – sir, he’s only fourteen. Does he really–”

  “If he’s old enough to attack our men, Lieutenant, he’s old enough to suffer the consequences.”

  There was a pause. Then, “I understand, sir.” Lasden’s voice was bleak. “The four who did it – I understand that it’s necessary. But three or four others? Ones who may very well be innocent?”

  “We have to, Lieutenant.” The captain’s voice was growing impatient, but Anya thought he sounded more weary than angry. “It’s what I told them all at the beginning, remember? I warned them that if anyone harmed our people, the guilty party would not be the only one to pay with his life. In fact, that blacksmith and his apprentice were the very ones I used as examples in the first place. It was a threat I never wanted to have to follow through on. I didn’t think it would be necessary; I hoped the threat itself would be enough. But those Alasians called my bluff, so now we have to prove I wasn’t bluffing.”

  There was another silence. Anya’s heart was beating so hard she pressed the handkerchief over it to muffle the sound, just in case. Could Captain Almanian really be ordering Lasden to go out and murder seven or eight people, including a boy only a few years older than herself? That didn’t fit with the captain she thought she knew, the one who smiled at her and let the captives eat delicious meals in the dining hall and had a niece who he said looked like her.

  And would Lasden do it? She could tell he didn’t want to. Would he be able to change the captain’s mind? If not, would he just follow orders the way soldiers were supposed to? That didn’t fit with the lieutenant she thought she knew, either; the one who was kind to the captives and seldom raised his voice and allowed Wennish and other Alasians to be treated in the clinic. The one who had come in that morning so sad about his friend Sergeant Morris.

  Yes, she had been told how the soldiers had killed hundreds of Alasians on the night of the Invasion. But somehow she had never really pictured Almanian or Lasden being part of that slaughter. Certainly not Lasden. She didn’t like the idea of his being a killer. The thought of it made her stomach feel quivery.

  “Sir,” Lasden began again from the other side of the door, “I understand all that; and you’re right, of course. But there’s been so much killing already. Perhaps we could implement some other consequence just this once, at least for those who weren’t actually involved. Shorten their rations, lengthen their work days, even have them flogged or locked in the dungeon for a while; and warn them that next time we won’t be so merciful. That way–”

  “I’m not asking for suggestions, Lieutenant,” Almanian barked, his voice rising again. “Your repeated protests are verging on insubordination. I’ve made my decision, and your orders are to implement it. You’re not required to like it. Is that clear?”

  No, Anya thought desperately. No, no, no. You can’t just murder them. Say no. Don’t do it. Make him change his mind.

  Another pause. Then, almost desperately, Lasden replied, “Yes, Captain, it is. But sir, as you know, I was injured in the skirmish this morning. The doctor’s orders were for me to stay off my feet for the rest of the day. To be honest, sir, it’s only with difficulty that I’m standing before you now. I’m sure – I’m sure Lieutenant Talifus would be glad to prove his loyalty to Malorn by implementing your decision.”

  Anya’s eyes widened. Lasden didn’t want to do it, but he didn’t mind if someone else did. Do you think that makes it all right? She felt betrayed.

  The captain frowned – Anya could hear it in his voice – as he replied, “If I hadn’t witnessed your injury myself, I would say you were making excuses. And if I hadn’t seen how you fought out there today, I might be tempted to question your loyalty to Malorn and your commitment to our cause.” So he felt betrayed too – but for the opposite reason.

  There was no answer. Finally Almanian spoke up again. “Very well, Lieutenant. Take the rest of the day off, but stop by Talifus’s quarters on your way to your own and send him back over.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” The relief in Lasden’s voice was obvious.

  Abruptly, Anya realized that he was about to leave the room and that she was standing right there in plain view. Before she could do anything about it, the handle turned, and her heart leaped in panic. Where could she hide? She would never make it all the way down the hall in the split second she had left, and there were no other rooms close enough for her to dart into. Clutching the handkerchief and the empty cup, Anya jumped aside, pressing her back to the wall behind the door as it opened. At least the captain wouldn’t be able to see her at this angle. But Lasden would if he turned his head.

  Lasden shut the door behind him without turning and began to limp slowly down the hall. His head was down, his shoulders slumped, his whole bearing that of discouragement and defeat. Anya watched him go, feeling terribly exposed. Her heart was still pounding and her palms were sweaty. It suddenly occurred to her that if she were caught here where she wasn’t supposed to be, she might very well end up getting picked to be one of the extra workers whose death was to serve as an example to the rest.

  Halfway down the hall, the lieutenant paused and leaned against the wall, shifting his weight to rest his injured leg for a moment. Anya heard him sigh, and she couldn’t help feeling sorry for him in spite of everything. But she was afraid of him at the same time, and she wished he would hurry up and go down the stairs or turn the corner out of sight.

  He probably would have, too, if she hadn’t dropped the cup. Anya was switching it nervously from one hand to the other to wipe her damp palms on her dress when it slipped from her sweaty grasp. Frantically she fumbled for it in midair, but the cup hit the ground before she could catch it. She snatched it up hastily and clutched it to her chest, but the damage had been done.

  At the first sound, Lasden’s weariness and discouragement seemed to vanish like magic. He spun around, dropping into a half crouch as though he thought an enemy might be striking at his head, whipping out his sword and sweeping it through the air with both hands in a whistling arc.

  Anya cowered in the corner, frozen in fear. She stared wide-eyed at the officer, wondering what he would do. Would he kill her right now? Drag her into the captain’s office and tell him she had been eavesdropping?

  What Lasden did was sigh again, straighten up, and sheathe his sword. His eyes left hers to focus on the door beside her. Anya turned, following his gaz
e. Had the captain heard? Would he come out to see what was going on?

  The door remained closed, no sound from the room beyond. Either he hadn’t heard, or he had thought nothing of it.

  Lasden looked back at Anya, scowling. “Come here,” he ordered quietly.

  Anya didn’t move, trying to decide what her chances were. He was standing right in the middle of the corridor. Could she make it past him without being seized? If she could just get by, he probably wouldn’t be able to catch her with his bad leg. But what then? There were too many soldiers around for her to hide anywhere in the palace. Prince Jaymin had apparently found a way out, but she couldn’t imagine how. What could she do?

  “Come here, Anya,” Lasden repeated impatiently, still in a low voice. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  For some reason she believed him. Yes, he was capable of killing her, but he wouldn’t do it if he said he wouldn’t. Timidly, Anya approached.

  “Come with me,” he ordered, gripping her shoulder with a firm hand as soon as she was within reach.

  There was no escape now. “What are you going to do with me?” Anya whimpered, her dread returning.

  “Hush.” Lasden began to limp forward again, leaning heavily on her shoulder for support. Reaching the end of the hall, he turned left before the stairs, pausing at the first doorway. “Just a moment.” He knocked with his free hand, never loosening his grip on her.

  The door was jerked open and Talifus stood there, scowling. “What do you want?”

  “Captain Almanian has sent for you again.”

  “What does he want?”

  “He’ll have to tell you that himself.” Lasden backed out of the way as Talifus flung himself through the doorway, slammed the door, and marched angrily down the hall and around the corner. His mood had obviously not improved.

  “Keep going.” Lasden propelled Anya on until they came to the next door. Turning the handle, he pushed her gently but firmly into the room ahead of him.

  Anya looked around in the dimness. If the captain’s quarters had been designed for an honored guest, the lieutenant’s might have been intended for the honored guest’s servant. There was no sitting room, just a bedroom with a low wardrobe and a single straight-backed chair standing before a small table across from the bed.