“But I’m not paying you until I find out for certain that it’s true,” the regent warned. “And next time I want you to find out more. Get there earlier and try to overhear their whole discussion. I want to know as many names as possible, as well as when they’re meeting next, when they’re planning to hold this uprising, where it’s going to take place, and anything else you can find out.”
“I’ll try, sir,” Anya told him earnestly. “I’ll listen carefully and tell you everything I hear.”
“I hope you haven’t bitten off more than you can chew,” Eleya warned that evening over supper. “What’s the regent going to think when this uprising never actually happens?”
Anya shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll come up with some reason why they had to cancel it.” She didn’t want to worry about that right now. She wanted to enjoy the excitement of knowing she could leave the palace again tomorrow and see her brother. Probably the next day, too. Maybe for a lot of days in a row, depending on how long she could draw this out. And maybe she would see that mysterious man again. This time she would try to talk to him, to get him to explain exactly what business arrangement he and Father had made last summer.
Late that night, as she lay in her sofa bed, Anya couldn’t stop thinking about what Arvalon had said earlier. Alasia would punish Father as a traitor if they could. Malorn would see him as a hero. It was all a matter of perspective. Why did that remind her of something someone else had said recently?
Then it came to her, so suddenly that she sat up in bed with a gasp of realization.
The winners write the history books, after all.
“Dannel!” she exclaimed aloud into the darkness. “The man in the market was Private Dannel!”
Chapter 14
The next day Anya spent nearly the whole morning at the market. It was wonderful to see her brother again so soon, and she lingered in the shop, talking quietly with him in the back whenever Porlim was busy out front.
“A Malornian soldier? Are you sure?” Arvalon queried doubtfully when she told him what she had realized about the stranger. “He sounded Alasian yesterday.”
“Yes, but that’s not hard to fake,” Anya reminded him. It was true. The two of them both knew how to switch back and forth between Alasian and Malornian accents at a moment’s notice. In fact, Anya had made a habit of speaking like an Alasian when she was with her Alasian friends, and in the Malornian style in front of soldiers or Regent Rampus. Fewer people were likely to be offended that way.
“Well, it makes sense that he would be Malornian, if he was talking to Father about something that would help them invade,” Arvalon agreed. “I just hope he’s the only person who knows about Father’s involvement.”
They both kept a sharp lookout, but Private Dannel did not show up in the market that day. When her growling stomach and twelve bongs on the gong told her it was nearly lunchtime, Anya said goodbye and made her way back to where the soldier waited by the buggy.
As soon as she returned to the palace, Anya was once again summoned to report to the regent. Once again, she had planned what she was going to talk about, and she mentally reviewed her ideas as she followed her soldier escort down the hallway.
He held aside the velvet curtain for her to enter the throne room, but as Anya started down the red carpet, she was startled to see Dannel standing before the throne. She paused mid step, momentarily frozen. What should she do? Should she say anything to him? Should she let him know that she knew who he was?
“Hurry up, girl,” the regent called, impatient at her hesitation. “Yes, we were having a meeting, but it can wait. Your news will be quicker, I’m sure, and it may affect some of what we need to discuss. Come here.”
Dannel gave no sign that he recognized her as she approached, and Anya decided not to acknowledge him either. It made her nervous to think of how much he knew, not only about Father but about her. Would he give her away? Surely not; he could have told Rampus about her lies already if he had wanted to. All the same, Anya wished she didn’t have to give her made-up report with him present.
“So, what did you find out today?” the regent demanded. “Anything more from those conspirators?”
“Yes, sir,” Anya told him, noticing as she spoke that they were the only people in the throne room. The soldiers who usually stood by the pillars were gone. What did that mean? Had Dannel and Rampus been discussing something so secret that the regent didn’t want anyone else to hear?
“Well, go on,” the regent ordered, peering down at her from the throne. “Out with it, girl.”
“I saw them meeting again this morning,” Anya began. “They were still talking about planning an attack.”
“How many were there this time?” Rampus demanded. “Still a hundred?”
“No, sir; their numbers are growing. I think I saw about a hundred and fifty.”
“Did you catch any of their names?”
“No, sir.”
Rampus scowled. “No? You listened to their plans all morning and still didn’t hear a single name?”
“I – that is, they weren’t using their real names,” Anya stammered. “They said it would be better for security if they didn’t.”
“They’re concerned about security, and yet a group that size meets in public and in broad daylight two days in a row?” Rampus raised his eyebrows suspiciously.
“And they talked about the weapons they’ve been making,” Anya continued, hastily changing the subject. “Spears and bows and arrows. They’re trying to decide the best place and time to attack your soldiers.”
“So what did they decide?”
“Well, they didn’t actually make up their minds yet. Their weapons aren’t ready.”
“If they’re not ready to take action, you’d better tell me what they were saying all that time,” Rampus warned.
Anya fidgeted, resisting the urge to bite her thumbnails as she usually did when she was anxious. He didn’t seem quite as inclined to believe her today as he had yesterday. What would he do if he guessed she was lying? Something terrible, probably.
“Well, some of them talked about how the spears they’re making are coming along. And they discussed where in Almar they usually see soldiers patrolling, and debated the best places to try to attack them.”
“That’s what you said they were doing yesterday. I’m supposed to believe that that many men just sat there discussing the same things all over again?” The scowl had not left the regent’s face; in fact, it had deepened. Anya’s apprehension was deepening too. Had she bitten off more than she could chew, as Eleya had feared?
“Do you remember what I said would happen if you tried to deceive me, child?” Rampus demanded.
Actually, he had never said exactly, but Anya could guess. Her throat had gone dry. She swallowed hard, trying to think of a way to make her story more convincing.
Unexpectedly, Dannel spoke up from beside her. “I beg your pardon, sir. If I might interrupt?” At a nod from the regent, he turned to Anya. “Those wouldn’t happen to have been the people I saw in the alley behind the butcher shop earlier, would they?”
Anya stared at him, puzzled. There were several butcher shops in the market, but as far as she knew, none of them had alleys behind them. But Dannel, his body half-turned so that Rampus couldn’t see his face, raised his eyebrows and gave her a meaningful look, and abruptly Anya realized what he was doing. Rescuing her.
“Oh! Yes, they were in the alley,” she repeated hastily. “That’s right.”
Dannel nodded, turning back to the throne. “Now it makes sense. I glimpsed them there this morning on my way back to the palace, though of course I didn’t know who they were. I was in a hurry to come and report, so I didn’t stop to investigate, but there certainly seemed to be a large group back there in the shadows.”
“Really?” The regent seemed surprised but no longer suspicious. Evidently he trusted Dannel’s word. “Did you manage to overhear any of their conversation?”
�
�I’m afraid not, sir.” Dannel’s voice was regretful. “I was just passing by. But if the looks on their faces and the size of their muscles were any indication, you’d be wise to keep an eye on those fellows; through the girl, at any rate. I’d guess they’re mostly manual laborers, accustomed to hard work and ready to turn their strength against our people at the slightest provocation, which goodness knows they’ve had plenty of already.”
The regent nodded thoughtfully. “But why would they meet in a marketplace for that sort of discussion? Dark alley or no, it’s still a public area.”
Anya had no answer for that, but fortunately, Dannel did. “Our soldiers seldom venture into the market, sir,” he explained. “It’s always crowded, and if any Alasians made a move against them, no other Malornians would be likely to see or to get through the crowd in time to come to their aid. So these plotters know there’s almost no chance of any of our people overhearing them there. It probably hasn’t occurred to them that any of their own countrymen might be so villainous as to sell them out to their enemies.”
The regent nodded again. “Yes, that makes sense. Well, I will definitely continue to keep an eye on this group and find out what they’re planning. You’ll go back again tomorrow, girl, and every day until they make their move. Let me know everything you can, but don’t let them suspect you’re spying on them.”
“Yes, sir.” Anya finally dared to breathe freely again. “I will, sir. Don’t worry.”
“Good.” The regent pulled out a silver coin, and this time Anya managed to catch it when he tossed it to her. “Your month starts today. And I’ll expect another report tomorrow; a more detailed one, I hope. You’re dismissed.”
Weak with relief, Anya curtsied and turned to go. It was all she could do not to run from the throne room.
When she got to the clinic, Eleya and the others had already finished lunch. So Anya walked over to the dining hall by herself, secretly relieved that she would have some time alone to think. She wasn’t ready to talk about what Dannel had just done for her yet. She was too confused.
The hall was nearly empty, only a few palace personnel seated here and there finishing their food. Anya took her plate of cold roast chicken and mashed potatoes to an empty table near the corner of the room and started in.
Why had Dannel come to her rescue like that? If the regent found out he had been lying, surely the soldier would get in big trouble too. Why would a person who had apparently convinced her father to help in some way with the Invasion now risk his neck to save her from the regent’s wrath? Try as she might, Anya couldn’t think of an answer.
She was startled when Dannel himself strolled casually up and took a seat across the table from her. “Enjoying your lunch?”
Anya’s instinctive reaction was to shrink away from him, the knife and fork she had been using clutched nervously before her as though they could offer some protection. Yes, he had saved her from getting in trouble, but she didn’t trust him. He made her nervous.
Dannel merely chuckled, resting his elbows on the table between them and leaning forward confidingly. “I saved your life today. You know that, don’t you?”
Would Rampus really have had me killed just for lying to him? Possibly. Especially if he knew everything Dannel seemed to know about her.
“I suppose so,” Anya admitted grudgingly. “Thanks for helping me out. It was nice of you.”
Dannel laughed quietly. “I don’t do things to be nice. I do things for my own profit, though I must admit I’m occasionally motivated by the thrill of a challenge like the one you and I faced a few minutes ago. I’m sure you’ll agree that it can be quite thrilling to successfully deceive a person who would order your execution if he had any idea you were lying to him. But thrill or not, I don’t work for free.” He looked her straight in the eye, all traces of humor gone. “You owe me now.”
Yes, I suppose I do. Anya fished in her pocket and pulled out the coin Rampus had given her. “You can have what he paid me.”
Dannel’s face reflected amusement once again. “Is that all your life is worth to you?”
“It’s all I have,” Anya protested. “Well, except for the other silver coin he gave me the first time. It’s in the clinic; I can get it for you if you want.”
“You misunderstand me. Even that isn’t much to offer in trade for my protecting you today. Anyway, I earn a good salary and commission. I don’t need your money.”
“Then what do you want?” Anya didn’t like the direction this conversation seemed to be heading. It was too much like what had happened with Tonnis and Talifus.
Dannel gazed thoughtfully into the distance. “That’s a good question. I haven’t quite decided yet, but I’ll let you know when I do. In the meantime, I just wanted to make sure we’re both clear on the fact that you’re in my debt.” He waited, smiling at her, and Anya finally nodded reluctantly.
“I guess I am.”
“Good! Now that we’ve got that straightened out, I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your lunch. Never fear; I’ll come and find you again sometime when I’m ready to claim a favor worthy of having rescued you from Rampus’s wrath.” Pushing back the bench, Dannel stood and stepped over it, turning toward the exit. Pausing momentarily, he added over his shoulder, “It might not be soon.” Then he was gone.
Anya stared after him, her appetite vanished. What had she gotten herself into?
The next morning, she strolled idly through the crowded streets of the market, planning the update she would give the regent about her imaginary group of plotters. The dark clouds building overhead threatened rain, and all around her, shoppers hurried to finish their errands so they could get home before the storm. With the extra business that morning, Porlim had needed Arvalon’s help in the shop, so Anya was simply strolling.
“Morning, Anya,” a shop attendant greeted her, bustling past with arms full of rolls of cloth.
“Good morning,” Anya called back as the woman disappeared into the market’s largest clothing and sewing supply store. Anya had often shopped here before the Invasion, and now she jingled her two silver coins together in her pocket, trying to decide if she wanted to spend them today. She hadn’t done any sewing in a while. Maybe she could buy some inexpensive fabric and make herself another dress.
“Excuse me. Did I just hear that young woman call you Anya?”
Anya looked up to see who had spoken. A man about her grandfather’s age had come out of the shop and stood looking at her quizzically. He was dressed in a long cloak with a hood, and carried a bulging bag under one arm.
“Yes,” she told him. “That’s my name. Who are you?”
“Are you the Anya who works in the palace?” he asked, ignoring her question.
“Yes.” She stared up at him, puzzled. How did he know her?
“I’m a friend of your friend Tonnis,” he explained quietly.
“Oh!” Tonnis’s friend in the market! Anya grinned. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Not too much, I hope.” He frowned. “Actually, Tonnis has told me about you too. He says you’re good at sewing. Is that right?”
“Yes, it is.” This was no time to be modest. “Can I help you sew something?” Whatever he needed, it must be important.
“Maybe you can.” He beckoned for her to join him under the shadow of the roof’s overhang and pulled something blue out of his bag. It was a cloak, she saw, taking it in her hands. Royal blue, sturdy but a bit plain for her taste.
“I bought a couple of cloaks just now, but I’m not entirely satisfied with this one,” the man told her. “It’s the closest thing I could find to what I was looking for, but it’s just not…” he paused, searching for the right word. “Not striking enough. Would you perhaps be able to… decorate it a little? Tastefully, of course. Nothing too flashy. Just make it more – well–”
“More regal looking?” Anya suggested.
“Yes! Exactly.”
Anya’s heart began to beat
a little faster, though she was careful not to let her feelings show. Holding the cloak up, she saw that it wasn’t quite long enough to be an adult’s, and the color suggested it might be intended for a boy, not a girl. Could it be…?
“Yes, I can touch it up,” she told him eagerly, running her hands over the plain soft fabric. Especially if it’s for who I think it’s for. But it must be. Why else would he be so particular about making a simple cloak look just right?
“But don’t use lace or ribbons,” he cautioned. “Nothing like that.”
“Oh, certainly not,” she assured him. “I could line it with a layer of fur, for one thing. That would make it warmer, and white fur showing around the edges always makes clothes look important. And instead of it fastening at the throat with this button, I could attach a decorative clasp. Oh, and I could do some embroidery around the hem and collar.”
“What sort of embroidery?” the man demanded doubtfully. “Not flowers or anything, I hope. Nothing too pretty. This isn’t a little girl’s cloak.”
“Oh, no, sir,” she assured him. “I can see that. No, I could use gold or silver thread and not make shapes or pictures, just designs.” With one finger, she traced a graceful, swirling pattern across the fabric. “Something like this. Something simple but elegant, formal enough for – oh, even for someone important to wear in public; but not too flashy.”
Relief showed on the old man’s face, and when he didn’t correct her, Anya’s heart soared. I was right! “Yes, that would be perfect,” he agreed. “So, would you have time to do that for me in the next couple of days? I could pay you.”
“I only need enough money to buy the supplies,” she assured him. “Don’t worry. I love sewing, and I haven’t had a chance to do much lately.” Besides, it would be an honor to help make something that Prince Jaymin might wear, assuming her hunch was correct. She had never sewn for royalty before. It would be a dream come true. “They sell thread and clasps and plain fur right in this shop here,” she told the man. I can’t afford all that myself, but if you’ll buy them for me, I can get started right away. I’m allowed to stay in the market all morning now, so if I work hard I can probably finish the job by tomorrow and give the cloak back to you the next day.”
In the Enemy's Service (Annals of Alasia Book 2) Page 22
