The Spy Princess (3 page)

four

T
he rider dismounted at the foot of the bridge and handed the reins to Tim and Tam.

Derek was difficult to see in the darkness, until he looked up and moonlight illuminated his face. He was about Peitar's size, and he walked soft and wary. He had light brown eyes, a short nose, a mobile mouth. His dark hair was ragged, as if it had been cut with a knife.

“Deon.” He had a fine voice. “Timrei, Tameos, Milord Sharadan—”

“Hey!” Bren protested, and the tension vanished.

“I was wondering if you'd notice.” Derek laughed. “Remember last time?”

“I couldn't help falling asleep! We'd been on watch for days.”

Derek laughed again, joined by the others. “I know. I can't help teasing you—you're so easy to get a squawk out of.”

“Hmph,” Bren mumbled, embarrassed.

“Another recruit?” The brown eyes turned my way. “Name?”

“Larei,” I said, self-consciously pitching my voice low.

“You'll be a good asset.” The way Derek said that, I got the feeling he knew who I was. He must have talked to Peitar.

Bren gave me a questioning look. That good feeling I'd had earlier, the sense that I'd found some friends, had vanished. I remembered Lord Cripple and Lady Fluffbrain and Prince Greedy. I was afraid that if they found out who I really was, this time the stones would be thrown at
me
.

Derek seemed to notice the renewed tension, for his tone changed. “Listen. To business, for I have to be quick. The guards are on the prowl, and I have much to discuss with Number One before I can leave the area.”

“They're prowling because they're mad. At us,” Deon said proudly. “Did you hear about the rescue?”

“I spoke with Selenna Leader just a while ago,” Derek responded in a tone of approval. “Good job. But that won't work again. I'll tell the adults, too.”

“Better the grown-ups don't get caught in the first place,” Deon said sourly.

“Sometimes that's harder than it seems.” Unlike Deon, Derek sounded mild. “We're all taking risks these days. We must.”

I was still thinking about something Derek had said. My family name, Selenna, also belonged to the principality. Maybe “Selenna Leader” was a kind of regional leader. Obviously an enemy of my father's. Or—could it be my brother?

I looked up at Derek. “Is your leader—” It was out before I thought.

“No,” Derek snapped.

Bren looked from one of us to the other.

“We haven't met,” I said.

“Remember what I told you.” Derek lifted a hand as Bren groaned, looking from Derek to me and back again. Deon crossed her arms and glared. “You'll find things out when you need to know them, and until then, don't go looking. It will only add to your danger, and you'll be in enough before long. We've moved up the date of our strike for freedom.”

I could feel the others' excitement.

“I want you to find a way to spy at the estate,” Derek said to me. “Tim. You and your brother are to continue as messengers for Selenna Leader.”

“Right,” Tim said, and from the grass came Tam's voice, “Messenger it is.”

“Deon. Bren. You two are going to have the toughest jobs of all.” Deon grinned, straightening proudly. Bren hunched, all elbows and shoulder blades. “Bren, you first. You're going to have to make friends at the guardhouse.”

“What? We can't betray the cause by being friends with
them
.”

“I already told Selenna Leader. We desperately need someone on hand to hear their talk and report anything important. And Deon: if your mother still wants to send you to your aunt to work at the royal palace in Miraleste, don't refuse anymore. I have to have eyes and ears there—ones I can trust.”

Deon's frown vanished. “You don't mean to
work
for those court scummers. You mean to spy.”

“That's exactly what I mean. While you are working.”

She danced around. “A spy! A palace spy! I'll go tell Ma I changed my mind.”

“And that's all for this time,” Derek said.

“Tell us a story,” Bren demanded. “About one of your adventures.”

The others drew close, and Derek mused for a moment. “I had a real close call up at Obrin,” he finally said. “I was meeting Obrin Leader, and she nearly got nabbed because her horse went lame. So it was raining, and there we were . . .”

As the tale spun out, I began to wonder if Derek spent all of his time running from Uncle Darian's considerable army. And I noticed the parts that he emphasized. Not his own deeds, but the people who worked together to keep their information secret, to protect each other. He made it sound so exciting—hidden codes, everyone with secret jobs, all loyal to the cause. By the end, Deon, Bren, and his brothers were grinning, breathing fast. Me, too.

Derek said, “I'll be back when I can. I'll want full reports. The kingdom is counting on you, not just me. So do your jobs, and remember to keep practicing your reading and writing.” He clapped Bren on the shoulder, brushed his hand over Deon's head, and flicked Tim's ear. He sent a smile my way, then took the reins of his horse from Tam.

As soon as he rode off, Bren yawned. “I'm desperate hungry. Even boiled beans will taste good.” But he gave me a funny look.

I ran off, looking back frequently. No one followed.

• • •

N
EXT MORNING,
I
took a bath and came out to the welcome smells of hot oatcakes and eggs. As I ate I thought about what had happened—and that's when the Idea struck me. I would write everything down.

But how? I couldn't ask Father for paper, much less a blank book. He'd demand to know why, as paper was expensive. I could ask Peitar, who wrote a lot of letters—but it was clear to me now that he needed every sheet. Writing letters was as important to him as being able to escape out into the garden was for me.

Well, maybe it was a bad idea. Derek had talked about the importance of keeping secrets, and if I wrote everything down, what happened if the wrong person read it?

Books . . . my eye strayed to the shelf above my ladylike desk, which mostly held old lesson books. Then my eye was caught by the gleam of gilt—the binding of a volume I'd never opened.

On my last Name Day, my bossy Great-Aunt Tislah had sent me a set of court fashion drawings as a hint about what a young lady in my position ought to concern herself with. The right-hand pages of the small, thin book were illustrated, with the name of the court and the particular fashion lettered below. The left-hand pages were blank.

Blank pages! And who would ever think to check a fashion book? Not even Father's nosy, disapproving valet. If he did . . . supposing I used some code words? No one would know what it was about. They'd think I was talking about clothing and court.

I opened to the first drawing, smoothed the page opposite, and dipped my pen. Using my tiniest handwriting, I put in everything I could think of, from the way my father admired his new shoe buckles while dropping hints about my future to Peitar's tense forehead when he was thinking, Deon's quick movements, Bren's way of turning into knots and angles when he was worried. At first I made up code words, but by the time I finished half a page, I realized I wasn't using them. So I started abbreviating and drawing tiny pictures as symbols. Just as I finished, there was a knock at the door. I hurriedly put the book in a drawer.

Peitar entered and smiled absently at me. “How was your day in Riveredge?”

“We saved somebody from hanging! And we saw Derek, and he said I'm to be spying here.”

“That's to get you in and out, in case Bren or one of the others spots you.”

“So you
did
know! Are you Selenna Leader?” I asked.

Peitar made a curious grimace. “No. He calls me Number One. Selenna Leader is someone else, someone in Riveredge.”

I tried so hard not to yell my voice squeaked. “
You
are Number One?”

His cheeks reddened. “Does that seem so impossible?”

“No! It's just that I thought—well, isn't part of revolution a lot of sneaking around? Like in Derek's stories.”

“I cannot sneak, it's true,” he said almost apologetically. “So I have to get my information in other ways, and I must use it to outthink the—the enemy.”

“Enemy,” I whispered. “It's so strange. Being Number One means you're even more important than these leader people.”

Peitar moved to my window seat. “In a way. We'll see. What do you think of Derek?”

“He tells good stories,” I said, suspicious that he was trying to distract me. “I want to know more about what it means to be Number One.”

After too long a pause, he said, “I don't want to tell you that. I am uneasy enough telling you this much, but I confess I'm glad to have an ally.”

“I'm not a baby! Do you think I'd blab it to Father? Or anyone else?”

“You would under torture.” His face was grim. “And don't think our uncle would hesitate.”

“Oh, I believe
that
. So why do the village boys and girls get to know more than I do?”

“That's just it—they don't. They only know their portion of the plan.” Peitar paused. “It was a promise I extracted from Derek. He's been fomenting revolution ever since I first met him, when we were boys. He's used to risk—he and his brother, Bernal, both. He wants to give the young a chance to participate as much as the adults. But I don't think they really understand the risks, or the cost. So I made Derek promise to tell them only as much as they need to know. That way, should things go wrong, it might buy their lives.”

“You say you've known him since you were boys, so that means that
you
were a boy when you started being Number One, right?”

Peitar glanced at my time-candle, then struggled to his feet. “Lilah. The point is, I am just trying to keep you safe.”

“Which is why you're suddenly too busy to answer questions?”

“As long as you act like that, I'm reluctant to tell you anything,” he retorted, and swung out the door, crutch
thock
ing on the polished wooden floor.

I fumed.
Something
was going on. Then a thought struck me. Why would he glance at the candle? Because he had an appointment?

I returned the fashion book to the shelf, capped the ink bottle, then raced out, silent on bare feet. No one in sight. I ran downstairs and crossed the great hall, just in time to see Peitar walk out into the garden.

He skirted a neatly clipped hedge and made his way to the front of the house, where he stopped at the fountain and glanced around, though the lower windows were curtained.

I'd never seen Peitar act sneaky before. He leaned against the rim of the fountain and reached toward one of the cherubs, the one with the harp. His hand turned. He bent farther—shifted—and disappeared.

five

A
secret passage!

I dashed outside to the fountain. Now it was my turn to check over my shoulder. But if I wanted to find out what was going on, I'd have to take the risk.

Peitar had fiddled with the little cherub with the harp. I patted the cold marble face, then pressed, poked, and tweaked its little round nose. Something gave slightly.

When I tweaked more firmly, one of the shallow pools moved silently beneath the central statue, sending ripples through the water. A wedge-shaped gap opened, just large enough to slip through. I had to see where it went.

I clambered down the stairway, and when I trod on the seventh step, the marble rumbled, closing over my head, leaving me in cool darkness.

My eyes adjusted as I descended. Cleverly placed slits in the fountain let in air and a dusty, bluish light. I reached a floor of hard-packed dirt and looked around. I was in a small circular room lined with a jumble of chests and dully gleaming carved objects.

A treasure room? A
second
treasure room—we had one in the house, but it was empty. I could explore later. Right now I was more interested in where Peitar had gone.

There were passages on either side, and from one came the rise and fall of voices. I followed the sound, walking down an incline. Something moist brushed my face—tree roots. Then the tunnel turned sharply—light glowed on the rough walls—and the voices were clearer.

“. . . from where?” That was Derek!

“Yes,” Peitar said. “No one pays attention to the rag pile.”

“Then she suspected us. How did we slip up?”

They were talking about
me
!

Peitar said, “Lilah came up with her plans for investigating the village on her own. She had no ideas about revolution. I'm sure of it.”

“She did show surprise last night, but I have been lied to before.” Derek sounded tired.

“Well, I've put her off again.” Peitar sighed. “Just now. So, to business. Why have you moved up the date for your uprising?”

“
My
uprising,” Derek repeated, sounding displeased. “
You
keep quoting the wisdom of the greats. Wasn't it your favorite, Adamas Dei of the Black Sword, who said, ‘A ruler can only govern by the consent of the governed—'”

“‘—and when the interests of the governed are replaced by the ruler's own interests, that ruler has become a tyrant.' Yes,” my brother replied calmly. “But right after that he said, ‘This is why education is a necessity, so that the governed may enlighten the ruler.' He never advocated violent overthrow. Derek, I will help, as I promised. But I will tell you again and again, until the very end, that I think violence is the wrong approach.”

“I see no other solution. The nobles will not give up their privileges without bloodshed. To think otherwise is to dream, safe in this big house—ah, Peitar, don't give me that look! We both know that your father's valet spies on you, and there are your own tensions with the king. But you've never starved, or been forced to sleep out in the winter cold, or felt the desperation that drives people to murder just to feed their families!”

“We've been over this ground before,” Peitar said. “Has something new occurred?”

“Two reports from the capital. From the palace, as it happens. Neither of these contacts knows the other, but their reports came on the same day—and concerned the same events.”

“About my family's trip to Miraleste?”

“Yes,” Derek answered. “One overheard a command to the city captain for garrison space for incoming regiments next month. The other intercepted a written command to one of Irad's minor moons—”

“Moons?” Peitar sounded like he was smiling.

“Tasenja was the name.”

Tasenja? I didn't know any Tasenjas, but many nobles didn't bring their children to court until they were Peitar's age.

“Ah,” Peitar said. “A northern family, not powerful, but dedicated, and wealthy. Go on.”

“He was ordered to produce his son for a betrothal.”

Peitar's voice dropped; I could barely hear him, so I crept closer. “A betrothal? How does this relate to the uprising?”

“Because there's apparently to be a big military review as part of the festivities,” Derek said. “Don't you see? It's an excuse to cram Miraleste with warriors, who can squash any signs of unrest.”

“I . . . see. Yes, I think you are right. My uncle would certainly never exert himself for a series of social events. He hates balls and parties even worse than I. So, what must I do?”

“First, find out if your fox-faced little sister likes the prospect of a big party—”

I snorted. Then remembered I wasn't even supposed to be hearing the conversation.

“Fox is right.” Peitar laughed. “And I believe she just flushed a pair of rabbits.”

I backed hastily out of the tunnel, used to Peitar's inability to maneuver. But I had forgotten about Derek. Strong hands clamped down on my shoulders, and he marched me to where Peitar sat in a low chair, his bad leg extended before him. A single candle on a small carved table lit his rueful smile.

Peitar said, “You know what would have happened to you if you'd been a spy?”

My temper flared. “You and your ‘safety'! Being
so
condescending and making me more curious with every word! It's your fault, not mine, that you're so easy to follow! And what crime did I commit anyway, besides the terrible offense of being young? Which
you
were when you met Derek.”

“You're right. Ah, I did slip up that time, didn't I?” His tone was bitter, aimed not at me but at himself.

My anger vanished. “It's all right. I followed you on purpose. And I made sure no one followed me. Or saw me, since I'm supposed to be sick.”

Peitar rubbed his eyes. “If only I could get down the garden entrance! This fountain one is far too open.”

Derek was silent during this exchange, elbows on knees, gaze unwavering.

He said, “Peitar, you're just going to have to use the garden, however long it takes you. As for Lilah . . .” He paused.

The pause lengthened into a silence. I finally dared another glance, to see Derek staring at the candle like the flame was in another world. “Black wool and ambition.” He clapped his hands on his knees. “You remind me of an adventurous kid I met on my travels.”

“Kid?”

“Her word for everybody under adult age. My point is, people of
any
age must choose freedom for themselves and cooperate in their own government! People of any age have worthy skills as well as loyalties.”

Kid
, I thought.
I like that!

Peitar asked slowly, “Cooperate in their own government with no example of how to go about it? Derek—”

Derek waved his hand. “Never mind! We'll discuss it another time. What I'm trying to say is, I learned never to underestimate kids.”

Peitar grimaced faintly. I could tell he hated the idea of kids in revolutions.

“I think we ought to figure her in our plans—and it might just help.” Derek turned to me. Now I understood why Bren, Deon, and the others so admired him. “Lilah. Do you want to be part of changing life for the better for everyone? Even if it might mean giving up your high rank and all your fine things?”

“Yes! Who cares about fancy dresses and going to court? I sure don't!”

“Are you going to tell Bren and the others who you are?”

I thought about what the village kids had said about nobles—especially the Selenna family. “No.”

“Good. Probably safest. But be careful. Bren has a very sharp eye, and he finds things out. It's why I put him at the garrison. Peitar, I'll do my best to be back within a week. There are some questions I must answer for myself.”

He rose from his chair and left, swift and silent.

I snuffed the candle and followed Peitar through the room under the fountain to the other tunnel, which was longer, mossier, and danker.

When we reached the end, we found Derek climbing stone steps carved so steeply into the rough wall that they were almost a ladder. He pushed at something, and greenish light shafted down as he hoisted himself out. My brother slowly and painfully negotiated the first few steps, then handed his crutch up and continued climbing, his breathing harsh. As soon as Peitar was in reach, Derek gripped his hand.

Derek strained to haul him out.
I can't do that,
I thought.
I'm not even strong enough to pull up someone my own size, much less Peitar. How am I really going to help?

“Lilah.” Peitar's voice was hoarse. “Quick.”

I lost no time in scrambling up the ladder. Derek had already disappeared. As soon as I was out, Peitar used his crutch to lever something that closed with a muffled thump: a trapdoor. “Learn this place,” he murmured.

We were inside a circle of tangled, thorny shrubbery. The trapdoor was hidden by the moss and ferns beside a distinctively shaped stone. Tucked under the stone was a twine handle to pull open the door.

“Hoo,” I breathed, as he struggled to his feet. “I
love
this!”

“Now for the brambles,” he warned. I pushed ahead, holding aside the worst branches. The shrubbery seemed solid when I looked back, and within a few paces I recognized where we were in the garden.

“We'll part here. I'll go the front way. If you have occasion to use this tunnel again, never use the same route to and from it.”

“Are all the servants spies, besides Father's valet? Not Lizana, I know,” I asked, looking around carefully.

“All Father's personal servants share his views,” my brother said. “I don't know that I'd call them spies. But if they see something they know he wouldn't like, they would consider it their duty to report it, and I find I cannot quarrel with that in theory, however much I regret it in practice.”

I sighed. Typical Peitar, always thinking of everyone else first.

“Lizana isn't certain about one or two of the new kitchen help. The few servants left from Mother's day will turn a blind eye to anything they see us doing, if they possibly can. But listen—I can't put any of them at risk by revealing anything about Derek or his plans. Lizana . . . is different.”

“Why?”

“If she wants to tell you, she will.” He gave me an apologetic look. “It's her business to tell, not mine. You should know she's to be trusted. Also, she and Derek are old friends. She introduced us, in fact.”

Peitar headed slowly down the path. I took a shortcut through the trees and scrambled up to my room, my skirts as usual doing their best to hinder me.

Once inside, I was impatient to write up what I'd heard. But, remembering Derek's and Peitar's warnings, I tiptoed to the door to make certain I was safe—and everything winkled out of my head when I saw Lizana's worried face as she bustled downstairs.