“Your leadership is incompetent,” the inspector went on, as though he had not heard her.
“Of course it’s incompetent. It’s nonexistent! You murdered our leadership!”
Inspector Helmen had arrived at her table. He towered before her, smiling a dangerous smile. “I suggest you hold your tongue now, little girl, before I decide to make you an example to your classmates.”
“I-I hope I am an example to my classmates,” Cella replied, visibly trembling but still meeting his gaze squarely. Inspector Helmen was growing angrier and angrier. Everyone else continued to watch in breathless anticipation.
“I’m not afraid of your threats,” she continued bravely. “You can’t do anything worse to me than you and your horrible people have already done to Alasia.”
“In the name of Prince Korram, take back your disrespectful words before I knock some respect into you!” the inspector roared, slamming his clenched fist onto the table between them. Cella jumped, and Miss Arrin stepped toward them, exclaiming, “Really, Inspector, surely this –”
Without even turning, he waved a hand dismissively to silence her, and raised his eyebrows fiercely, demanding a response from Cella.
“Why should I care about your Prince Korram?” she retorted sharply. “Prince Jaymin was the only prince whose authority would have meant anything to me. All the kings and princes in Malornian history aren’t worth one drop of the Alasian royal blood that you –”
Inspector Helmen’s hand shot out, and he struck her openhanded across the face. The sharp slap resounded loudly in the quiet classroom, and students gasped or cringed as Cella cried out in pain.
Jaymin leaped to his feet, his heart pounding in his ears. Erik seized his arm in both hands and forcibly yanked him down again.
The inspector swung his arm in the opposite direction and caught Cella across the other cheek with the back of the same hand. She cried out again. Miss Arrin was hurrying forward, pleading, “Please Inspector, don’t; she’s only a child.”
Jaymin struggled to free his arm. “Don’t be a fool,” Erik hissed in his ear. “You’ll just make things worse.”
The inspector struck Cella once more, knocking her backwards into her seat this time, and then whirled to face the rest of the class.
“I’m warning all of you,” he barked, “that you had better be careful about what you say from now on. Speaking against his Royal Highness Prince Korram could become a capital offense very soon.” He shoved Miss Arrin aside and stalked back through the rows of tables to the front of the room, students shrinking out of his way as he passed. At the front, he spun around once more to address them, his red cloak whirling about his knees.
“Very well then,” he snapped, as though the issue were settled. “I have other classrooms to speak to, and other schools to visit, so I will be going now. I, or one of my assistants, will return periodically to check on this school – and this class in particular.” He glanced sharply at Miss Arrin. “I expect to see significant progress in implementing the changes to the curriculum, and especially in educating the children as to their new roles in Malornian society. And I expect to be greeted with respect and submission the next time I come.” He glared daggers at Cella, who was glaring daggers right back at him. Finally he gave a curt nod and marched imperiously out of the room, his cloak sweeping behind him.
There was silence until the door swung shut, and then a babble of voices rose in relieved and angry exclamations. Those sitting near Cella turned to her in mingled sympathy and admiration, and half a dozen voices began asking if she was all right. Now that the strain was over, Cella’s shoulders slumped, and she dropped her head onto her table and began to sob. Miss Arrin hurried over and put her arm around the girl, speaking quietly to her.
Jaymin dropped his head to his table as well, a sigh of frustration escaping through his clenched teeth. Erik finally let go of his arm, which he had been gripping all this time. “You’re not angry with me, are you?” he whispered anxiously. “You know there was nothing you could have done that would have helped.”
“No … I don’t know … no, I’m not angry with you,” Jaymin muttered. “Just with that brute of an inspector. And Prince Korram. And the whole of Malorn.”
Miss Arrin had returned to the front of the classroom and was trying to restore order. She rapped on her table for their attention, and gradually the students quieted down and turned to face her.
“I hope,” she began, when everyone was listening, “that whatever happens, you never forget what Cella has done. There may be some very hard times ahead for Alasia. It should be an inspiration for us all to remember her courage and the loyalty she showed to our kingdom. Cella,” the teacher said gently, “I know your father would have been proud of you, as would the king and queen and Prince Jaymin, if they were alive. Thank you for the example you have shown to us all.”
Chapter 6
When the bell finally rang to signal the end of school, Jaymin and Erik were the first ones out of their seats and the first in line by the door. Outside, the ground was still muddy from last night’s rain, but the clouds had broken up and a little pale sunlight shone through. They half-ran out the door, across the playing field, out of the school gates, and down the hill.
“At last,” Erik sighed as they made their way past the rows of houses and toward the center of town. “I was beginning to think school would never be over.”
“So was I. All I could think about all afternoon was Sir Edmend. I wonder if he’s waiting for us in the town square yet.”
They brushed past a group of women chattering by the roadside. Ahead of them lay the marketplace, and the boys had to slow down as they entered the crowd of shoppers and merchants and vendors selling their wares from little stalls and tables and mats spread out on the ground. This was so interesting and so different from anything they had experienced in the palace that Jaymin couldn’t help glancing around with fascination as he did every time they came through the market. Eagerly, he sniffed the air, rich with a dozen different scents competing for his attention. The aromas of dried fruit and fish and grain, live sheep and goats and chickens, leather goods, pottery, baking bread, and roasting meat all mingled with the smells of the mud underfoot and the unwashed bodies all around. A cacophony of sounds competed to drown each other out: the shouting of the shopkeepers, customers bargaining for better prices, chickens squawking, sheep and goats bleating, donkeys snorting, whips cracking, and carts creaking as their drivers wormed their way along the crowded street.
The two boys squeezed through the crowd, trying not to stare at the food as they passed. His mouth watering, Jaymin thought wistfully of the days when he could have asked for anything he liked and been given it without hesitation by merchants who would have felt honored to even be noticed by the Prince of Alasia.
He and Erik finally made their way through the last of the crowd in the marketplace and into the open square beyond. A few bare trees stood here and there, and high-backed stone benches provided tired townsfolk with a place to rest. In the center of the open area, a small fountain splashed in a marble basin. An engraved plaque beside it announced that the fountain had been placed where those with a little more money could afford to live.there by His Majesty King Jaymin II in memory of his late wife Queen Cantyra. Jaymin’s grandparents, whom he had never met. Beyond the square, larger houses and wider streets marked the part of town
“This is too open,” Erik muttered, staring around. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to meet here. We’ll be easy to spot if any soldiers come by.”
“Well, we are in disguise,” Jaymin murmured, not really listening. He had caught sight of Sir Edmend, who was waiting for them on a bench beyond the fountain, looking very ordinary in his gray cloak and woolen hat. He had grown a beard, too, Jaymin saw; and though it looked a little strange on him, it did help with the disguise.
Eager though Jaymin was, he was careful to keep his steps slow and casual as he and Erik approached. Sir Edmend’s eye
s filled with relief when he saw them, though he gave only a nod of greeting as they arrived. The relief changed to concern as he took in the ragged clothes he had helped to provide – more ragged now and much dirtier than before – and Jaymin’s straggly hair and dirty face.
Sliding over to make room on his bench, the old man said merely, “Good day. I hope things have been going well for you?” He looked Jaymin over anxiously as though to confirm that he was really still alive and well.
Jaymin thought Sir Edmend looked older; his face had new creases and was lined with worry. The two boys seated themselves beside him, though Erik turned sideways to keep an eye on the surrounding area. At the moment no one else was close enough to overhear them, but there were other people around – though no Malornians in sight – and he wasn’t taking any chances.
Jaymin shrugged. “Things could be better, but we really can’t complain.” He kept his voice low in spite of his eagerness. “So, where have you been? What have you found out?”
“Quite a lot, and I’ll tell you everything. But first, are you truly all right? You’ve been safe? No one suspects?”
“I’m safe,” Jaymin assured him. “Everything’s fine, really. No one has had any reason to suspect anything.”
Sir Edmend cast a worried look past him at Erik as if for confirmation of what Jaymin had said. “Maybe I should arrange for some guards – better security –” He sounded doubtful, and though Jaymin was sure it would put Sir Edmend’s mind at rest, he guessed the old man didn’t really have any way of arranging such a thing.
Erik glanced back at him and shook his head before turning to scan the area once more. “I don’t think that would be a good idea, sir. He has been safe so far, and guards, even in disguise, would only draw unwanted attention. It’s better this way. No one sees him as anything but an ordinary boy.”
Sir Edmend nodded as though satisfied, though his expression still betrayed concern. “Well, if you are quite certain.” He gave an embarrassed little chuckle, turning back to Jaymin. “You don’t know how many sleepless nights I’ve endured in the last two weeks wondering if you were still all right. I know I ought to make a better plan – find somewhere safer for you to go – but I really can’t think what else we could do with you at the moment. Perhaps hiding in plain sight here really is the safest thing for now.” He sighed, shaking his head. “But I’ll breathe a lot easier when all this is over.”
“So will I,” Jaymin responded, trying to be patient. “But in the meantime, please tell me what you’ve found out.”
“Of course. I’m sorry. In answer to your original question, I’ve been all over, but mostly in Almar and the Southern Woods.”
“The Southern Woods?” Jaymin echoed in surprise. “What’s in the Southern Woods? Besides the best venison in Alasia, of course.”
Sir Edmend smiled. “You’re going to like this.” He lowered his voice almost to a whisper. “The Alasian army is there, under the command of General Dirken.”
Jaymin drew in his breath and cast a delighted glance at Erik, who was still too busy looking around for soldiers to notice. “That’s wonderful!” he exclaimed. Dirken was a capable leader and skilled military strategist. Jaymin’s father had once remarked in private that though the general’s manner was gruff, he truly cared about the men under his command, and he probably knew more soldiers by name than any other military leader in Alasian history. Jaymin had met the general a number of times, and admired his commanding presence and the way he always seemed to know exactly what to do. If the army was in his charge, it was in good hands.
“How many soldiers survived?” he wondered, almost afraid to ask. “Rumors around here have it that the Malornians caught our army by surprise on the night of the Invasion and destroyed it completely.”
“The Malornians themselves probably started that rumor to take away any hope we might have that Alasia could defeat them,” Sir Edmend replied. “But the general told me the true story of what happened on the night of the Invasion. Most of our army had been camped in the hills south of Almar, where they had been doing maneuvers for the last week, when three or four thousand Malornian soldiers attacked their camp on their way to the capital. Our troops were able to slow some of the force of the attack; although outnumbered, surrounded, and taken by surprise in the middle of the night as they were, they couldn’t do much; and most of them were indeed wiped out.”
Jaymin winced. “But I can’t believe that not one of them could have broken away from the battle to go warn the city. Even if they were surrounded, it was dark. There had to be a way to sneak through enemy lines.”
Sir Edmend shook his head grimly. “Bad news there too, I’m afraid. As they realized what was happening, a small group of volunteers was sent to do exactly that. But they must have either been caught and killed, or – more likely – they were in the Malornians’ pay as well. The warning was never delivered, and the reinforcements our army needed never came.”
“Wait a moment,” Jaymin broke in, frowning. “What do you mean, ‘as well’? Was someone else working for the Malornians?”
Sir Edmend nodded ruefully. “I’m afraid so. That’s how the enemy got into the palace. Several of the palace guards were in league with them, including Captain Talifus. I’m not sure if their motive was money or if the Malornians promised them power and position, but the result was the same. Those who should have sounded the alarm opened the gates instead.”
Jaymin stared at him, incredulous, gripping the edge of the bench’s seat. His own people had betrayed them all into the hands of their enemies! If it hadn’t been for a few Alasian traitors, his parents would still be alive! He scowled in disbelief, thinking of what he would like to do to those wretched traitors.
“But what about the rest of the army?” he asked finally, forcing his mind to move on to other issues. “Where were the other soldiers?”
“Well, we had a few regiments spread out here and there around Alasia, mostly doing routine border patrols and such, though obviously not enough in the right places.” Sir Edmend snorted. “By the time they found out what had happened, the Malornians were already occupying Almar. The city is swarming with enemy soldiers! So when General Dirken realized the state of things, he didn’t come charging in to try to take back the capital right away as some might have expected. Instead, he’s regrouped what’s left of the army from throughout the kingdom – about eight hundred fifty troops – and they’re all hiding out in the Southern Woods. ”
“Eight hundred fifty? That’s all?” Jaymin was aghast.
The old man nodded soberly. “I’m afraid so. And Dirken is the only general left.”
Jaymin’s shoulders slumped. He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, thinking about all those men and their families. How many Alasians were, like Cella, now mourning the loss of fathers, husbands, brothers, sons?
“You know our army was never very large to begin with,” Sir Edmend added, almost apologetically.
Jaymin nodded sadly. “There were just over three thousand soldiers as of last month. After so many years of peace, I wouldn’t have thought we really needed a big army.”
“Many of us felt the same way. That’s a mistake I don’t think we’ll make again,” Sir Edmend murmured ruefully. “But anyway” – he lowered his voice once more – “General Dirken has got all the soldiers busy training and preparing, and when they’re ready, they’re going to march on Almar and try to drive the Malornians out again.”
Jaymin brightened a little. At least something was going to be done, he thought, though it seemed unrealistic to think of taking back such a big city full of so many enemies with only eight hundred fifty soldiers. But General Dirken must have a clever plan, he told himself; he was too good a strategist to attempt such a thing without one.
Aloud, Jaymin asked, “Does the general know about that tunnel through the hills where we escaped?”
“I doubt it; not many do. Why?”
“Well, it might be useful. If Almar is reall
y that well guarded, I think it would be easier to retake the palace from the inside, and the rest of the city from there.”
Sir Edmend raised his eyebrows, nodding slowly. “That’s a good idea. I’ll mention it when I see the general next.”
Jaymin stared thoughtfully out at the marble fountain before them, wondering if it would work. He had a sudden picture in his mind of Prince Korram, perhaps sitting like this in his palace in the Malornian capital of Sazellia a few months ago, wondering if his plans to invade Alasia would work. Was he excited now at how well his Invasion had succeeded?
But what had motivated the other prince to plot such a thing in the first place? That was still a mystery. Jaymin wondered if his parents had been naïve, not to suspect anything from their seemingly peaceful neighbors to the south.
“Do they know that he is alive, sir?” Erik spoke up for the first time, nodding toward Jaymin.
Sir Edmend shook his head, and then nodded it. “Well, most Alasians don’t, but some of the Malornians do. You may have noticed the way they often seem to be looking for someone.”
Jaymin glanced up in alarm, thinking of the soldiers he often saw patrolling the streets of Drall. Were they searching for him?
“You must try not ever to let any Malornians get a close look at you,” Sir Edmend told him seriously, his voice full of concern. “I’ve been told that many of the officers have been shown your portrait from the palace gallery, and that they’re hunting for you.”
Before this alarming news could really sink in, Jaymin suddenly felt Erik stiffen. “Get up. Now. We have to get out of the open.”
Jaymin and Sir Edmend whirled around to see what Erik was looking at. Two soldiers on horseback were riding down the street toward the town square. Jaymin leaped to his feet in alarm. They’re hunting for me! “Where shall we go?” he gasped, glancing around wildly for somewhere to hide.
Prince of Alasia (Annals of Alasia Book 1) Page 7
