The Midnight Spy

by Kiki Hamilton

  Nica hesitated. It was clear Heathron couldn’t tell her apart from Jaaniyah and what she had to say was important—for her own good, as well as for the kingdom of Jarisa. She threw caution to the wind.

  “I would suggest you keep a close eye on those places where you least expect an attack from Mosaba or his men. Because that is most likely where he will strike next.”

  Both men stared at her, appearing dumbstruck.

  “Such as…” the Minister of War finally asked.

  “I’m sure you know who to watch and what to protect, Minister.”

  “Yes, of course, M’lady.” He bowed his head.

  “Is there anything further?” Nica mimicked Jaaniyah’s haughty air.

  “No,” he shook his head, “No, M’lady. We’ll keep a stout watch.”

  “Thank you.” Nica nodded and turned to Becknah. “Shall we continue?” She thought she saw the hint of a smile as Becknah nodded in agreement.

  “By all means.”

  NICA GLANCED AROUND the circular room Becknah referred to as his study. A cheery fire crackled heartily in the stone fireplace. Windows stretched up to the pointed peak of the roof, opening up to a breathtaking view of the sky shaded with orange and pink as the sun collided with the horizon.

  Everywhere she looked, books were stacked, one on top of the other, in rickety piles. Three long tables were strewn with devices. Brass candlesticks stood two and three to a table, wax drippings puddled around their bases. Nearby an hourglass that had expired stood next to a three legged bowl and a cruet of oil.

  Nica spied a sphere of the world, as well as tools to measure the position of the stars. On the far table, she could see what appeared to be a crystal gazing ball, a large book opened next to the orb.

  “Over here.” Becknah hurried to a messy bookcase toward the back of the room. Books of all sizes leaned against each other, stacked and double stacked in piles on the shelves.

  “Hidden in plain sight,” he chortled as he waved at the bookcase. “All of these, my dear Juneedika, are books of the Avedla. Getheas has written on many different topics—the stars, care of the dead, agriculture, politics, religion, mathematics. He wrote his thoughts on a myriad of subjects, yet the bulk of his writings remain a mystery. They are said to be visions of what is to come, encoded in verse, to be understood at some point in the future.” Becknah ran his crooked fingers reverently over the spines of the books. “Over the years I’ve studied many of the quatrains, but most are yet to be deciphered.”

  He pulled a very thin black book from a lower shelf. Each corner was affixed with clamped silver along with four oddly shaped metal caps that held the leather cover to the pages. The old man pointed to a silver number stamped at the bottom of the spine. “The original texts are each marked with a number.”

  Becknah held the thin book up. “We’ve just discovered this text, shoved inside a bigger manuscript.” He gave her a triumphant smile. “A once-in-a-lifetime find.” He caressed the leather cover. “I’ve only had time to take a cursory glance at the verse contained within.” He laid the book flat on the big desk and flipped through the pages of parchment until he found what he wanted. He pointed to the lines of verse on the page. “See what you can make of this.”

  Curious, Nica peered down at the page. There was only one quatrain listed on each page. It was written in Sartish. She read the words easily.

  “Between the cross and the crescent moon

  When the lion stands at high noon

  A secret of blood hidden by ancient lies

  At last revealed before one dies.”

  Nica looked up. “Is that right?” she asked in Jarisan.

  “Yes,” Becknah nodded. “That is precisely how I translated it too, though Sartish is not an easy language to read.” He peered at her over the rim of his glasses. “You also speak Jarisan beautifully. How is it that you are fluent in both languages?”

  Nica shrugged, embarrassed at her ability. “I’ve been taught languages as long as I can remember. They seem to come easily to me.”

  “A wonderful gift. You will be most useful to your father.” Becknah stopped abruptly and tilted his head to listen. “Someone approaches.” He scooped the black book off the table and thrust it into Nica’s arms. “Take this and hide.” He motioned toward the back of the room.

  Nica didn’t hesitate. Too many years of having to disappear in a split-second when Mosaba came near had trained her well. She grabbed the book and dashed into the shadows at the back of the room. She had already spotted a corner behind a tall plant where one side of a pair of emerald curtains hung, held back with a braided rope. She slipped the rope free, pulled the fabric away from the wall and slid into the space just as someone pounded on the door.

  Nica clutched the thin book against her suddenly pounding heart and strained to hear what was happening.

  The large door scraped open.

  “Becknah.” A man’s voice.

  “Tarantu. What a surprise to find you on my doorstep,” the scholar replied. “Does our finance minister need his cards read today?”

  “Though I appreciate your humor, Becknah, your presence is required downstairs immediately.”

  Nica listened from behind the curtain. Jaaniyah had mentioned the finance minister as being politically motivated.

  “I am in the middle of some calculations, at the moment.” Becknah’s voice revealed no hint of discomfort. “Can I join you at, say, half past the hour?”

  “No, you need to come now.” Tarantu’s voice held a demanding note.

  “May I ask what matter holds such urgency?” Becknah’s tone changed ever so slightly. “And the need for an escort?”

  “The King has requested your presence.”

  “Really?” Surprise echoed in Becknah’s voice. “I wasn’t aware he was able to receive visitors yet.”

  Nica’s eyes widened behind the curtain. The king? But that wasn’t possible. The king wasn’t even here. Heathron had faked his return—no one resided in the royal suite at this time. Questions exploded in her head as she realized that Tarantu could not be speaking the truth. Surely, Becknah must know the man was lying.

  “He has demanded to see you at once.” Tarantu’s voice bordered on threatening. “Please accompany me.”

  Becknah cleared his throat. “Well, well, this is a serious matter. I shall come immediately and return to my rooms later to finish my work.”

  Nica heard a rustling of robes and the stout wooden door slammed closed as he exited the room. She counted to ten before she peeked around the corner of the curtain.

  She was alone.

  ica waited but Becknah did not return.

  A sick feeling of dread filled her. Tarantu’s words didn’t ring true—where had he taken the old scholar?

  After twenty minutes, she pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the room, debating whether she should wait for his return or try to find her way back to Jaaniyah’s chambers alone. Curiosity got the better of her and she moved to the table with the gazing crystal.

  She ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the orb which was balanced on a golden tripod, leaning close to peer into the sphere. At the bottom, crystal facets sparkled, reflecting the light. But no faces, no images that she could discern appeared to reveal any information. She wondered what Becknah saw when he searched the depths of the ball.

  Beside the crystal a large, thick book lay open with sketches of the planets and stars colored on the page. Nica peered closely at the constellations drawn there. She had learned about the order of the stars from her astrology teacher. Out of habit she counted the constellations drawn on the paper. Twelve.

  The configuration of Glandar, the mysterious thirteenth sign, was missing. Though centered precisely in the middle of the star signs, Glandar—known as the golden knight—had been deliberately left out of the astrology charts created by the Ancients, for reasons that seemed to have been lost over time.

  Nica glanced over at the closed door. Still no
Becknah. An uneasy knot began to twist in her stomach.

  She looked down at the thin ledger she still held in her hands. The silver letters danced in old-fashioned shapes across the front of the black leather: The Ages. Engraved at the bottom was an odd symbol she didn’t recognize. She fanned the paper, the pages whispering as they turned. What secrets were held within the rhyming verse? She thumbed through to the page which held the quatrain Becknah had pointed out earlier and re-read the Sartish words printed in a neat script:

  “Between the cross and the crescent moon

  When the lion stands at high noon

  A secret of blood hidden by ancient lies

  At last revealed before one dies.”

  Did these lines have meaning? Did they speak of an event that had already occurred—or one yet to arrive? Nica snapped the book shut. She had greater things to worry about than ancient poems. She debated again whether to continue to wait or try to find her way back to her rooms.

  A deck of worn Xanfere cards were stacked neatly on one table. She stared at the silver stars winking against the black background and thought of the Magician from whom she’d run in Berjerac. He’d been right when he’d predicted she was going on a journey, that she would be betrayed. She wrinkled her brow in concentration. What was the last thing he’d said? ‘The looking glass will reveal the truth.’’ The looking glass. A mirror. Had he seen her twin?

  She stared at the deck. Could these pictures tell her future? With trembling fingers Nica picked up the top card. The colorful images jumped out at her. A tall tower perched high on a cliff erupted in flames. A bolt of jagged lightening split the top, knocking off what appeared to be a crown. A man and woman plunged to certain death on each side as flames and smoke filled the air.

  Nica dropped the card, sorry she’d looked. She could only guess at the meaning of those pictures and whatever the answer, it couldn’t be good. Outside the palace, the clock tower tolled the hour of five and her anxiety at Becknah’s departure grew. Something was wrong. She needed to warn Jaaniyah.

  Nica hurried across the room and pulled the heavy door open. The circular steps that descended from the tower room were shadowed and dim, but empty. Without a backward glance Nica clattered down the stairs.

  “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” Jaaniyah snapped as Nica entered the bedchamber. “I don’t know what—”

  “Jaaniyah.” Nica started to explain but the other girl talked over her.

  “—could have possibly taken so long…”

  Nica grabbed the other girl’s wrist. “Listen to me.”

  Jaaniyah jerked her arm free. “Don’t touch—”

  “Something is wrong,” Nica yelled. It was as though she glared at herself in the mirror, except the mirror was making its own face.

  Jaaniyah’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What do you mean?”

  “Tarantu came and took Becknah from his study. He said the king had requested his presence—which we both know is impossible.”

  Jaaniyah’s gaze searched Nica’s face. “Did he see you?”

  “No, Becknah told me to hide. But I…”

  Her sister took a step closer. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  Nica related the events leading up to Becknah’s departure. “I waited, but he never returned. I didn’t know how to get back to your chambers. I finally had to ask a guard to escort me. I told him I was feeling faint.” Nica clutched the thin book Becknah had given her. “I think there’s something wrong.”

  Jaaniyah gave her a cool look. “Such as?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but why would Tarantu say the king had requested Becknah’s presence if the king isn’t even here?”

  “You must have misunderstood him. We speak a different language than you.”

  Nica eyed her sister, fighting the surge of anger in the pit of her stomach. There was no way she had become confused about Tarantu’s demand that Becknah accompany him. “Or maybe—” Nica raised her eyebrows— “Mosaba has spies within this castle.”

  Jaaniyah blinked in disbelief. “Tarantu may be driven by greed but even he isn’t that bold.” She swished by Nica and headed for the door. “I’ll go find him myself and demand an answer.”

  Nica followed in her sister’s wake. “Jaaniyah, if you demand an answer from Tarantu you’ll make him suspicious. Tell him you had an appointment with Becknah and he didn’t show up. If he says he hasn’t seen him, then we know he’s lying. If he tells the truth, we’ll know I’m wrong.”

  Jaaniyah sneered at Nica. “I know what to say to my own finance minister.” She turned to leave but Nica’s words stopped her.

  “We saw Heathron on the way to the Becknah’s study.”

  Jaaniyah glanced back over her shoulder. “And? Did he think you were me?”

  Nica shrugged. “He didn’t question me, but he was focused on other matters. He said Mosaba was moving troops for an attack of some kind.”

  “Where?”

  “The north and south slivers.” Nica hesitated. “But I think it’s to distract us while he does something else—maybe something worse. If by some chance Mosaba does have men who infiltrated the palace, do you have any idea why he would be interested in an elderly scholar? Why would they take Becknah?”

  Jaaniyah stood frozen, staring into the distance. “You must be wrong,” she whispered. Then she ran out of the room, slamming the door to the bedchamber shut behind her.

  Nica stared at the portal, fighting a sudden sense of being trapped. If Mosaba ever caught her she was dead. Especially if he caught her here, in Jarisa, among the enemy. Fear seethed through her body like the venom of a snake, making her feel sick. No one was safe if Mosaba’s insidious web had infiltrated the walls of the palace. She shuddered at the idea, wishing Shanks would return.

  Once again, she wondered why Mosaba had stolen and kept her alive all these years. It certainly wasn’t because he enjoyed her company.

  No, there was a bigger plan, but she couldn’t see what it was. Yet.

  t had taken several queries and one or two interruptions requiring her opinion on other matters, before Jaaniyah was informed that Tarantu was in the stables. She hurried from the Great Hall in search of her finance minister.

  The sky was streaked with orange and red turning to purple as the light faded into night. She crossed the dusty ward in the direction of the stables, hurrying passed the lamplighter who carried a torch and was setting the lanterns ablaze in anticipation of the coming nightfall.

  Jaaniyah slowed as she neared the deep shadows of the large barns, the last rays of the sun highlighting the dusty motes in the entry but unable to penetrate to shadows deeper within the structure.

  “Mr. Tarantu,” she called, squinting to see through the dim shadows. On the far left side of the barn she spotted his familiar black and white checkered vest. “A word, please.” She beckoned with her hand. “Now.”

  The petite man said a few words to the stable hand to whom he was speaking then walked with a quick step toward her.

  “M’lady. Are you wishing to ride at this hour?”

  Jaaniyah clenched her teeth at his overly sincere tone. “No, I’m looking for Becknah.” She tried not to snap. “No one has been able to locate him.” Remembering Nica’s warning, she added, “We had an appointment and I was told he was last seen with you. Do you know where he’s gone?”

  Tarantu blinked. “No M’lady. I’ve not seen Mr. Becknah since noon—when he was with you.” The finance minister blinked again, his brows pulled down in puzzled innocence.

  “With me?” Jaaniyah sputtered, then remembered Becknah had been out with Nica. “Oh, that, yes, well—” she tilted her head. “Where did you see us, precisely?”

  “When you walked through the Great Hall.” Tarantu clutched his hands together and leaned forward from the waist as though in a perpetual bow. “I called out, but you appeared to be deep in conversation with the scholar.”

  “And you’ve not seen him since?”

  “No, M’l
ady.”

  “Well, if you see him, please tell him we need to speak immediately.”

  “Most certainly, M’lady.” Tarantu closed his eyes and dipped his head. “As you wish.”

  “Thank you. Please, carry on,” Jaaniyah replied, fighting the urge to shoo him off with her hand. She watched as the little man hurried back into the deepening shadows of the stables. Asa Sabra, she swore silently. The only way to know if Tarantu was lying or if Nica was wrong was to find Becknah.

  With a swirl of skirts Jaaniyah turned and hurried out the big stable doors. She cut the corner close as she exited, intent on her thoughts, and ran straight into someone walking a horse into the barn.

  “Oh!” she cried as her chest slammed into theirs. The other person grunted in pain as she made contact. In reflex, she pressed her hands against the hard, leather-draped chest and pushed herself back. The heady scent of man and beast filled her nostrils as she glanced up in shocked surprise.

  Jonn Shanks gazed down at her with a lazy grin. “Now this is a pleasant surprise. I had no idea you’d miss me so much, M’lady.”

  “Jonn,” Jaaniyah breathed, a thrill racing through her. “You’re back.” She soaked in the pure manliness of him: his tousled hair, his startling blue eyes above a scrubby growth of beard. Rather than the finery of a Jarisan soldier, he was dressed for travel in leathers and boots, designed to blend in with the forest.

  “Dirty, tired and hungry, but back—” Shanks agreed— “and mostly alive.”

  “Where have you been?” Jaaniyah cast a quick look behind her before she leaned close and whispered, “have you seen my father?”

  A frown flitted across Shanks’ face before he nodded. “Improving. How are things here?” He raised his eyebrows, making his meaning clear.

  “I’m not sure at the moment.” Jaaniyah said, vaguely irritated his first question was about Nica. “Becknah visited my chambers unannounced this morning. We had a most enlightened conversation.”