It was nearly noon when a shout from a guard on duty atop the wall brought Anya dashing out of the clinic. “They’re coming!” he yelled, and a cheer rose from around the courtyard. Men and women began pouring out of all the palace doors, calling to each other to hurry.
Anya could hear a faint sound like a distant roar, muted and indistinct at first, but gradually growing louder. She strained her ears, trying to make it out, as palace workers – perhaps two hundred altogether – surged into the courtyard to be ready to greet the prince when he arrived. At first their footsteps and excited voices muffled the sound, but it grew in volume until soon she could hear it clearly once again. Then Anya realized it was the din of hoof beats mingled with hundreds of people shouting. There must be crowds lining the road and cheering as Prince Jaymin and all the soldiers rode past.
“This is so exciting,” exclaimed Eleya, who, along with Tonnis and Dal, had hurried up behind Anya. “We all thought we’d never see him again, and now here he is coming home at last.”
“I told you the prince would be back someday,” Wennish reminded them, appearing in their midst with a proud grin on his face, almost as though Prince Jaymin’s return was a direct result of his prediction. “It was worth putting up with all those weeks in the clinic just to be here for this.”
The cheers were growing louder, and they could identify occasional words and phrases from among them now. “Long live Prince Jaymin!” rang out again and again over the rumble of hooves on the cobblestone street outside.
The courtyard was alive with excitement, every face turned toward the open gates with eager expectation. Standing on tiptoe to peer over the crowd, Anya craned her neck and finally saw the front of the procession appear from around a corner. Soldiers in army-green uniforms were riding down the road four abreast, a few solitary figures leading the way. Then a tall guard stepped in front of Anya and she lost sight of them.
But it wasn’t long before the cheers of those closest to the gates told her that the procession had arrived. “Move back! Let them in!” someone exclaimed, and then the whole crowd was surging backward, pushing out of the way so the prince and his entourage could enter.
Unexpectedly, Anya found herself in the front, with a perfect view, as the heir to Alasia’s throne rode slowly into the courtyard on a big gray horse. There he is! The prince everyone’s thoughts had been focused on for the last month had finally arrived!
Anya caught her breath in excitement as she realized that he was wearing her cloak. And it looks perfect on him, she observed with satisfaction as Prince Jaymin approached. The gold and silver embroidery glinted in the late morning sunlight, regal but not too flashy, and the lining of white fur made the cloak look all the more elegant. Anya was filled with pride. Though he might never find out or acknowledge what she had done for him, it was enough to see the prince returning triumphantly to his palace in the garment she had helped to make.
Prince Jaymin’s face, as he approached, was full of wonder. He turned his head from side to side, taking in the sight of all the palace workers eagerly welcoming him home. From his expression of surprised delight, Anya wondered if he, like Wennish, had assumed they had all been killed. His lips moved as he turned excitedly to say something to the two men with him: an important-looking soldier whom Anya guessed must be the general and an older man whom she recognized as Tonnis’s friend from the market.
The prince turned to scan the crowd again, eyes darting back and forth as he took stock of who was there. The enthusiastic cheers and cries of welcome died down as the courtyard quieted expectantly, everyone watching his reaction. Eyes lighting up anew with each discovery, the prince looked from face to face, calling out names in delighted recognition: “Professor Dreytin! Talanthus! Lutian! Cleetas! Sir Olling! Tonnis!”
Those named bowed in response, beaming proudly at the honor of having been singled out by Prince Jaymin. But as everyone gazed at him, Anya found her attention caught by the sight of a second boy, one she hadn’t even noticed at first, riding just behind the prince. He was dressed all in black, his face half-hidden by the enveloping hood of his cloak. Unlike everyone else in sight, he was focusing not on the prince but on the crowd. There was something about his alert bearing, his intent gaze, the dark eyes that seemed to take in every detail in the throng around them, that drew Anya’s attention. Once she had caught sight of him, she couldn’t seem to pull her eyes away, not even to look back at the prince.
“Who’s he?” she asked Eleya, though she could guess the answer.
“Who’s who?”
“That boy.”
“Why, that’s young Jaymin!” Eleya exclaimed, as though it should have been obvious. “Don’t you recognize the Prince of Alasia?”
“No, no, not him,” Anya replied impatiently. “The other boy.”
“What other boy?”
The soldiers who had been riding behind the prince and his companions had started to surge forward around them, crowding to fit into the courtyard, and Eleya obviously had eyes for no one but Prince Jaymin anyway. But Anya, standing on tiptoe, could still see the boy in black. Like the prince, he was turning his head to stare around the courtyard, but in a totally different way. He was watchful, intent, almost suspicious, as though searching the area for any sign of danger.
“Oh, you mean Erik there,” put in Wennish from beside Anya. “He’s the prince’s bodyguard. You wouldn’t believe it, him being such a young boy and all, but there’s a lot more to him than meets the eye. Before the Invasion he used to join us guards sometimes in our training exercises. It’s embarrassing to admit, but he fights better than some of us.”
As if sensing that they were talking about him, Erik turned toward the two of them. From the shadows under his hood, Anya could see his penetrating eyes looking right at her. She stared back, transfixed. So this was Prince Jaymin’s friend and companion. A mere boy, likely not much older than she was, responsible for the prince’s life and safety. He carried the future of Alasia on his probably extremely strong shoulders.
Anya smiled tentatively, but the bodyguard did not smile back. He held her gaze an instant longer as though to determine whether or not she posed a threat before turning to resume his scrutiny of the courtyard.
That night as Anya lay in bed, stuffed after her first royal banquet and contentedly exhausted from an evening of celebration, she could still see the alert way Erik’s eyes had scanned the crowd. For some reason that stood out in her mind even more vividly than the sight of the returning prince. Yes, she could well believe that there was far more to the young bodyguard than met the eye.
So Prince Jaymin was back, and all would be well with Alasia now. Though Eleya and Tonnis had assured Anya that she could stay with them for as long as she liked, she knew she ought to go home soon and make plans with Arvalon. After all, they were supposed to move to Malorn now. That is, assuming Father didn’t get caught.
Anya sighed and rolled over, an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with all the rich food she had consumed that evening. What was going to happen to Father?
Maybe nothing. Maybe the same fate that lay in store for Talifus. She could only wait and see.
“I’m not sure what to do,” Anya confided the next morning over breakfast. She and Eleya and Tonnis were eating in the dining hall along with dozens of other palace employees. All meals were provided for those who lived here, Tonnis had explained, and even those who didn’t were entitled to one free meal per working day.
Now Anya was taking in the sight of so many contented people – some faces familiar to her, some new – enjoying breakfast together and catching each other up on the events of the last six weeks. No one had to look over their shoulder to see if any Malornians were listening, or gulp down their food for fear they would get in trouble if they didn’t hurry back to work. No one looked anxious; no one looked afraid. I’m probably the only anxious person in the room, she thought, noting the many smiles and relaxed expressions.
>
“I want to go home,” Anya told her friends earnestly, “but I know my father won’t be there anyway. Just Arvalon, and he’ll probably be working all day in the market. I want to go back to school, but I don’t know if it’s worth it, since I’ve missed the first few weeks of Fifth Year already and my family will probably be moving away soon. But I don’t know for sure if we will until I know what’s going to happen to my father – whether he’ll get caught and brought back here, or not.” She added this part in a low voice, even though the three of them were alone at this end of the table. She didn’t add what she was afraid might happen to her father if he were caught, but she didn’t need to. Her friends understood. She had told them everything she knew.
“If the two princes did include him in their deal, whatever’s going to happen will probably be soon,” Eleya told her gently. “You’ll likely know in the next day or two, and if you don’t hear anything by the end of the week, I’d say no news is good news.”
“And in the meantime, the palace is the best place to be if you want to find out right away,” Tonnis put in. “Anyone they capture will probably be brought here to the dungeon until the trial.”
Anya shuddered at the thought of her father being dragged down those stairs and shoved into a bare little cell like the one she had been locked in. But it was better than thinking about what could happen to him later. Yes, she would stay here in the palace until she found out.
That day turned out to be even busier than the last. Just as Tonnis had predicted, dozens of soldiers stopped by the clinic to ask for remedies for minor wounds, strains, sprains or bruises. Anya helped mix the healing brews that Eleya gave them to drink, and searched in the cupboard for the herbs Tonnis and Dal called for to mix each medicine or prepare each poultice.
Not long after breakfast, when Anya had stepped into the front room to place a newly refilled jar of grated comfrey root on the supply shelf, she happened to glance through the window into the courtyard. A wagon was rolling out over the drawbridge with Bronin at the reins, a dozen guards on horseback surrounding it. Pausing for a better look, she saw Phenniel, Talifus, and the three other traitor guards sitting inside, along with two men she didn’t recognize. They all had their wrists tied behind their backs and fastened to a bar that ran around the edge of the wagon. Their faces, those she could see from here, were pale and anxious-looking.
“Where are they being taken?” Anya inquired of a soldier who had just stepped in through the front door.
“To the courthouse in town,” the man replied grimly. “The time has come to answer for their crimes against Alasia.”
Anya bit her thumbnail anxiously. “What do you think is going to happen to them?”
The man shrugged. “The judge will hear the evidence against them and decide whether or not they’re guilty of betraying their king and kingdom. Not that there can be much doubt. If they are found guilty, they’ll certainly be sentenced to death as a warning to anyone else who might consider turning traitor.”
“Executed today?” Anya wondered, her insides tightening at the thought.
“I doubt it. The proceedings will probably take a couple of days; and anyway, I think they’re still waiting for a few more traitors to be tracked down. It will all be settled within the week, though, I’m sure. And good riddance. Don’t you worry; none of those villains will be left to trouble Alasia again.”
He brushed past her on his way to the back room, and Anya sat down on a bench, her legs suddenly weak. A few more traitors. That might mean Father. It must mean him. He was going to be tied up and dragged to the palace, then he’d be driven out to the courthouse, tried, found guilty, and sentenced to death, along with Talifus and the rest. Then he would be executed, and, just like that, Anya and Arvalon would be orphans.
“No,” she whispered, biting her lip. “They can’t kill my father, no matter what he did. Please, no!” She squeezed her eyes tightly shut to hold back the tears that threatened to leak out anyway.
Behind her closed eyelids, she saw Talifus as she had seen him a moment ago. His face was gaunt and pale, his expression one of a man who knew exactly what fate awaited him. He had been wearing her yellow scarf.
Anya’s fears were realized early that evening.
She was hard at work in the back room again, determined not to rest, not to stop for a moment. That was the only way she could keep her mind off of her worries. But she looked up from the kettle she was scrubbing when Wennish stepped through the doorway, and something about his expression made her heart clench up.
“Can you spare Anya for a moment?” he asked the others. “I need to talk to her.”
“Of course,” Eleya assured him, and seeing Anya’s face, gave her hand a quick, comforting squeeze.
Anya followed Wennish into the front room where they could talk in relative privacy, and sat down on a bench beside the guard. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” Wennish began, “but I thought you’d want to know right away. Our soldiers have just brought in three more men accused of selling information to Malorn.”
“No,” Anya whispered, staring at him desperately.
“I’m afraid it’s true. Your father’s name is Karro, isn’t it?”
Anya nodded, her heart sinking.
“I had a chance to talk to him for a moment as the three of them were being taken to the dungeon,” Wennish explained. “I told him that you’re here and that I’d try to bring you to see him.”
“Are they all going to court?”
He nodded. “Tomorrow.”
“No,” Anya repeated, nearly choking on the word. “No! Not my father!”
“I’m sorry, Anya,” Wennish sympathized, placing an arm around her shoulders. “I truly am. But, remember, nothing’s final yet. There’s always a chance there won’t be enough evidence to convict him, so don’t despair. Would you like to visit him now?”
Anya nodded, swallowing hard.
“I think I can get you in. They don’t normally allow visitors down in the lower level, but I can probably talk the guard into making an exception. Go on, get your coat, and then come with me.”
The lower level. Where the worst prisoners are kept. Woodenly, Anya followed him across the courtyard, shivering in the cold breeze, and then into the palace by one of the side doors.
“Sorry, no visitors,” announced the guard on duty by the entrance to the dungeon. “All the prisoners are in the lower level.”
“I understand, Sergeant,” Wennish replied respectfully. “But you do have the authority to make an exception, and I think you would if you recognized this young lady. Do you know who this is?”
The man peered at Anya in the light of the lamp that hung beside the closed door. “No. Should I?”
“This is Anya,” Wennish announced dramatically, as though he were introducing a celebrity. “If you haven’t heard of her yet, you undoubtedly will soon. She’s a heroine of the Invasion. The Malornians kidnapped her from her home and dragged her here to work for them, but instead she taught herself to spy on them. On Captain Almanian, the highest-ranking enemy officer stationed at the palace, and even on Regent Rampus himself.” He paused to let his words sink in. “And, not only did she spy on them, but she worked with Tonnis as part of a spy network to secretly slip the information to Sir Edmend, who was working with the Alasian Resistance, and who in turn passed it on to General Dirken and none other than our own Prince Jaymin. Anya’s role here was invaluable, and if it hadn’t been for her efforts, it is quite possible that the palace would still be in enemy hands today and our prince and army defeated.”
“Is that so?” The sergeant was smiling now, but in the way of one who is enjoying a story he’s not sure he should believe.
“It certainly is,” Wennish assured him earnestly. “And not only that, but she nursed me back to health when I lay dying from my injuries. I owe her my life.”
The man chuckled. “Really? Funny, I thought that was Tonnis.”
“Well, he had a hand in
it too,” Wennish admitted, “but I don’t think he could have done it without Anya’s expert nursing skills.”
In spite of herself, Anya felt a smile curling the corners of her mouth. Maybe Wennish was just trying to make her feel better, but it was working.
“This sounds like one of your tall tales,” the sergeant chuckled. “Like that time last year when you were on gate duty on the night shift, and you singlehandedly drove away a horde of attacking rioters. Come to find out they were just a couple of drunkards on their way home from the local tavern.”
Wennish reddened. “That was different.”
The dungeon guard laughed again. “I’m sure it was, but I suppose it can’t hurt to let you and the little girl in for a few minutes.” He fished a ring of keys out of his pocket. “I’ll take you down there.”
The cells at the top level were all empty now. Anya couldn’t help peering into the one that had been hers, but there was no sign of her recent stay. No trace of Talifus in the one next door, either.
The sergeant led the way to the end of the hall, where he paused to unlock another heavy door. “All right, down you go,” he told them. “I have to lock it behind you, but just knock when you’re ready to come back out.”
The lower level was colder than the upper one, and it had a musty smell. Anya wrinkled her nose, shivering, as she made her way carefully down the stairs, Wennish behind her. It was darker down here, too, with only a couple of torches attached to the wall along the stairway and none at all farther on. Other than that, it looked a lot like the upper level: the same size hallway with the same number of cells on either side, though these cells had no ledges to sit on.
“I’ll wait up here while you talk to your father,” Wennish told Anya, sitting down on one of the steps. She appreciated the fact that he was trying to give her some privacy for what could be an awkward conversation, but she felt very alone as she proceeded into the gloom without him.
Ten pale faces peered out from among the shadows behind the bars as she slowly made her way along the hall. So much for privacy. There was Talifus, with Phenniel in the next cell over. Beyond them were the three traitorous Alasian guards, and on the other side were four other men she didn’t recognize. “Anya?” called a voice from the last cell on the left. “Is that you?”
In the Enemy's Service (Annals of Alasia Book 2) Page 30
