The Spy Princess

by Sherwood Smith

  “Lilah Selenna,” Uncle Darian said, stripping all the etiquette out of the introduction—which was actually rather a relief. “Innon Tasenja.”

  Their name, like ours, was the same as their holding. That meant a very old family.

  “Come along,” my uncle said to the two fathers. “We have much to discuss. Let them get acquainted.” Peitar trailed behind, one hand surreptitiously resting against the wall every time he had to put weight on the bad leg.

  I sat down on the fine sofa and busied my hands with smoothing out my skirts. What my uncle had done to Peitar filled me with rage. But I had to hide that! Here was my future, standing three paces away.

  Then Innon spoke. “You aren’t one, either.”

  That was an ordinary voice, not a snobbish drawl.

  I stared. Despite the embroidered silk coat and the ruby shoe-fastenings, he looked just like an ordinary boy—as I must have looked like an ordinary girl, instead of a simpering courtier, while I was watching my brother struggle behind Uncle Darian and Father.

  “A what?” I asked.

  “A Court doll.”

  “Fheg!”

  “How do you feel about romance?” he asked, his pale brows rising.

  “Phoogh!” I exclaimed even more heartily.

  Innon put his hands to his forehead as though about to faint. “And here my father’s spent the entire ride south trying to force a lot of love poetry into my head so I could spout it at you. Hoo, what stuff!” He held his nose. “‘Your lips, my love, are sweeter than blossoms in the spring. . . .’”

  I made gagging noises, and Innon’s light brown eyes were crescent moons of mirth. “Does anybody really like that muck?” I demanded.

  Innon made a who knows? face. “My father said Mother was right fond of that one when they were courting. And I’m very sure that Thiannah Ferrad would lap it up as well. Until the king told my father that you and I were supposed to get hobbled, our parents had been forcing us on each other, hoping, I guess, to round out the estates someday.” He looked skeptical. “And here I thought girls hadn’t a thought in their heads beside gabbling about romance, and who’s in fashion and who’s out, all the day long.”

  I retorted promptly, “And I thought boys hadn’t a thought in their heads beside gabbling about their stupid sword-fighting lessons and who’s stronger, and hoola loola loo.”

  “Well, the only girls I’ve ever met are like that. I spend all my time in our wood when they come visiting.” Then he brightened. “That’s why I was so glad when you made that face after the king shut the door.”

  I laughed. “Whew! Well, I roamed our garden, until I met . . .” I stopped.

  “Met?” Innon asked.

  “Well, some village boys and girls,” I said hastily. “They have great games.”

  “No one plays games in Tasenja.” Innon sighed. “Everyone works. It’s this drought, and the king won’t let us have mages.”

  “We had a mage just a couple of years ago, to renew the cleaning frames and the heating spells for the baths and the fire sticks for the stoves and hearths. But that was only at Selenna House. I don’t understand why we don’t have them fix the village near us.”

  Innon flung himself down on the other end of the couch and tapped one of his fancy blackweave shoes. “It’s the king,” he said. “Doesn’t like mages because one of ’em spoke out against his taxes.”

  “Everybody complains about taxes.”

  “Not to the king’s face.” Innon leaned forward. “My mother said this mage is real powerful. That is, he’s old and as rickety as a bad fence, but he’s been around since Sartor was free, and he knows enough magic that the king kicked him out, saying if he crossed the border without invitation, it would be his last move. And there’s been no welcome for any mage since.”

  “I didn’t think you could do anything with magic besides fix glowglobes and fire sticks and cast spells on water barrels and buckets to keep the water pure.”

  “Well, with the bad kind of magic, the kind they use in Norsunder, you can do anything. My father says the king is convinced this mage is just as dangerous.”

  “So that’s why our mage had guards. Father said it was to protect her, but I thought mages were good at protecting themselves.”

  Innon shook his head. “She was an exception. The people at court complained, so the king permitted one to visit just the palace and the homes of nobles. I don’t know what’ll happen when the last fire stick won’t light or the last cleaning frame won’t take the dirt out of clothes. We’ll be all right, because we have servants. But what will the common folk do?”

  “Well, maybe they won’t have to worry about that,” I said. My heart thumped.

  Innon’s eyes rounded. “How?”

  I hesitated. So far, Innon was the opposite of what I’d expected—just as I’d turned out to be the opposite of what Bren had expected. Maybe I’d been unfair about court kids myself.

  I leaned toward him and whispered, “Revolution.”

  “What?” Innon stared in surprise.

  “If I tell you more, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

  He shook his head. “No one I’d want to tell! My father would either not believe me, or he’d feel it his duty to go to the king.”

  “The other boys here?”

  “Army-mad.” Innon grimaced. His face was so round and good-humored that his expression made me want to laugh. “Just like you said. They don’t care about anyone else—more’n half of ’em come from holdings where the people are starving, or nearly. They just want to be good enough in the competitions to catch the king’s eye and get promoted to the officers’ training up at Obrin. That’s why they’re here.”

  “You don’t want any of that?” I asked, testing.

  Innon said, “Don’t want to kill anybody. Oh, if the Norsundrians really do come, sure. Except I won’t be any good at it. I’m slow, and judging from my father, I’ll always be slow. Slow and short doesn’t make much of an officer.” From his expression he didn’t seem to care. “’Sides, I prefer figuring.”

  “Figuring? What’s that?”

  “Numbers.” Innon twiddled his fingers. “Less messy than people. You always know where you are, with numbers. And you can find out where things will be. I love numbers!”

  “Well, maybe you can help,” I said. I was doubtful, but I tried to be encouraging. “I mean about the numbers. Derek must need some of that.”

  “Derek?”

  Here was the moment.

  Should I trust him? From what he said, most of the court kids were exactly the way I thought they were. And I knew that some of the Riveredge kids would have hated me if they’d found out about my disguise. But Innon was different, that much was clear.

  I wondered if this was what Bren had felt like when he recruited me.

  “Be quiet and listen.” I began to tell him more, leaving out Bren and Deon’s names, when we were interrupted by a whirring sound from the wall beside the fireplace.

  Innon blanched. I fell silent as a panel slid smoothly behind the panel next to it, leaving an open gap in the wall.

  ten

  I held my breath—and Peitar stepped out.

  “I could have been one of Uncle Darian’s people.” Though his voice was soft, it was very serious. “The fathers are discussing settlements with the king, and sent me off. I thought I would test this passage and check on you two. I’m glad I did.”

  “But Peitar, Innon is one of us!”

  “I don’t know that I’m any revolutionary,” Innon said, looking uncomfortable. “But I do know there are problems. A lot of problems, is what my parents say, when we’re at home.”

  “I wouldn’t call myself a revolutionary, either,” Peitar said. “But that’s for later.” He turned to me. “Lilah, we’ll
have to talk about how to recruit people. You need to be more careful.”

  “I was,” I protested, trying to keep my voice low. “I can’t imagine Uncle Darian in that secret passage, spying on us. I bet he doesn’t even know about it!” In answer, Peitar pointed to the door.

  Innon lightfooted over and crouched down. He peered under the bottom of the door, then straightened up and shook his head.

  Peitar smiled his approval and leaned against the hidden doorway. “Who do you think taught Mother to be so good at detecting passages? He and Mother didn’t use them for spying, though—they used them to escape our grandfather. Uncle Darian thinks the palace is safe with his guards everywhere, the servants silent and obedient, and the nobles loyal. Let’s not give him reason to be suspicious, all right?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but continued. “This used to be Mother’s favorite sitting room in summer. It was once the heralds’ secret chamber, which is why there’s a passage. Entrance is through the old archive room—which has always been an archive room—beside the fireplace, like here. You can see and hear through holes in the carving.” He indicated the panels. “Heard you talking about Derek.”

  I groaned. Softly. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Be careful.” Peitar turned to Innon. “Glad you’re sympathetic.”

  Innon grinned. “If the kingdom is going to get better, I’m all for it, but I think I have some questions.”

  “Naturally you do.” Peitar pushed himself upright. “We’ll take a walk in the garden after dinner.” He looked over at me. “A few quick things. We are in new rooms this time, a sign of royal favor. Or royal importance. We might not have any private moments after I leave, so I’ll tell you now that there’s a passage in your room, in the back of the wardrobe—but beware, it goes to the small study in the king’s rooms. Innon, you’re down at the end of the guest suites?”

  “Oh, please, is there a secret passage in our rooms?”

  “If you’re in the suite with the green wall hangings, walnut furnishings, carvings like leaves, yes. Goes to the library.”

  Innon was delighted. “Secret passages! There are only two at Tasenja. Easy to figure where they are, if you know how houses are made, but the catches stump me.”

  “That’s the part I like best.” Peitar smiled. “I’d better take my own advice and be gone. By now they ought to be finishing up the legalities, and I’m supposed to be in my room, changing for dinner.” He stepped back, and the panel whirred softly shut.

  “Interesting fellow, your brother,” Innon said.

  There was just enough discovery in his tone to make me suspicious. “I suppose the other boys say rotten stuff about him behind his back? He can’t help that leg of his.”

  Innon said, “Never really heard much about his leg, just that he’s got a sharp tongue. Surprised me, because Father said he’s a dreamer. Others don’t think him worth interest because he’s never been at Obrin, or even in the training salle here.” He canted a glance toward me, then said, “Mind if I ask what happened?”

  I told him. “And Uncle Darian throws Peitar’s crutch in the fire, and makes a lot of noise about how anyone can have the strength of will to overcome a minor annoyance like a broken bone if he just sets his mind to it. I’m sure it’s easy for him. He’s good at everything he does, or so everyone at court says. But of course they let him win at horseracing and mock duels and the rest of that footle, or else he’ll execute ’em.”

  “No, it’s true. He really is one of the best. You haven’t seen. I have.”

  “I still don’t see why he has to treat my brother that way.”

  “Well, if the gossip my grandfather told me is true, when King Darian was our age, the old king used to have him beaten every single time he lost. Grandpa says he even had broken bones once or twice. Of course, they set ’em. But still. He used to do the same thing to King Darian’s father—your grandfather—when he was young.”

  “Nobody ever told me that.”

  Innon made a face. “Grandpa told me these old stories. I can stop now, if you want.”

  Though I felt sick inside, I said, “Better tell me everything. All I know is that my grandfather died when my uncle and mother were young, and that something was wrong with him.”

  “Nobody ever talked about it in the old days. Everyone was afraid of the old king except the prince, and the two of them argued all the time about gambling and drinking parties, until he was thrown during a horse race. Afterward, he wasn’t quite right—he did whatever the king told him to, including having kids so there’d be a new heir. He got worse and worse, and then he died. King Darian became the heir when he was not quite nine—”

  “When Mother was seven,” I whispered.

  “—and the old king started in on him. That’s what Grandpa says, and he was at court.” Innon leaned forward. “One of my cousins—he’s a lot older—said that when they were boys, after sword practice, they all used the garrison baths. Your uncle—he was the prince then—was all covered with scars.” I shuddered. “If Grandpa had been like that, I would’ve run away and joined a caravan as a horse-tender, crown or no crown.”

  We had a moment’s warning—the sound of footsteps beyond the door—and Uncle Darian came in alone.

  My heart clattered against my ribs as Innon lifted his nose in the air and bowed.

  “Well?” Uncle Darian said.

  Innon drawled, “We find one another’s company most agreeable.”

  “Yes, Uncle,” I managed. My voice squeaked.

  “Then we’ll make the announcement now, and we’ll give you a fine party next month. The entire court will be there, and you’ll have plenty of new gowns, Lilah.”

  I curtseyed, proud of the way I did not show my utter disgust. My uncle looked faintly pleased, faintly relieved, and mostly bored. “Now, come along. You two will accompany me to dinner.”

  And so we followed my uncle to the formal dining room—the big one, not the little one where we sometimes went with Father and the king and one or two important adults, or our usual place, the royal schoolroom dining area.

  It was a pretty room, the ceiling carved rosewood, with embroidered silk hangings from Colend between the gold-framed portraits. The three crystal chandeliers sparkled with reflections from their lit candles, as did the goblets held high by the grown-ups as they wished us long life and happiness.

  At underage betrothals, mushy poetry and speeches weren’t considered appropriate, which was a relief. Innon and I, who were seated side by side at the far end of the long table from Uncle Darian, tried to outdo each other in snobbish manners. I don’t even know how it started. I was conscientiously lifting my punch glass, curling my pinky, and I caught his eye. Then he did it, too, but his pinky was much more curled—and the game was on.

  Father was so pleased he smiled at us. What a disgusting pair Innon and I made! Peitar’s eyes narrowed with skeptical humor, but the adults paid no attention, just kept talking and laughing in well-bred voices, as the painted eyes of past kings and queens looked down on us. Most of them had sat in this same room going through the same sort of ritual.

  After a very fine cake made up of alternating layers of pastry and custard, my uncle said that an impromptu dance had been arranged. This meant that nobody had to change into formal clothes. As it wasn’t the actual betrothal, Innon and I didn’t have to go; the fathers and my uncle did the honors for us.

  Peitar was six months shy of his official coming of age, so he didn’t have to go either. He waited until all the adults had filed out in order of rank to join us out on the terrace overlooking the moonlit lake.

  The wind had stopped, and the air was balmy. “We’ll have to dance next month, you know,” I said morosely to Innon. “Maybe we can make a game of it, like we just did in there.”

  “The food will be even better than tonight. They’ll m
ake a point of having all our favorites,” he answered.

  We heard Peitar’s uneven steps as he caught up, but Innon didn’t turn to stare, for which I was grateful. “Now we can talk,” Peitar whispered, as he leaned against the stone railing. “But keep your voices low.”

  I looked around, for the first time really aware of the guards patrolling the top walls at various levels, picked out against the sky by torchlight, the occasional glint on drawn weapons. We’d be easily identifiable, but what was more natural than the two Selenna toffs blabbing with the Tasenja heir who was to ally with their family?

  “This castle must look splendid from the water,” I said.

  “It does.” Peitar’s smile could be heard in his voice. “It’s also an effective reminder of who truly holds power.”

  “My father doesn’t,” Innon observed. “Not outside Tasenja.”

  “Your father is one of the most popular courtiers in the kingdom,” Peitar said, to our surprise. “If he backs the king’s new policies, they’ll have even more support.”

  “Your father didn’t look like he approved much of me,” I said.

  Innon snickered. “That’s just his court face. Truth is, there isn’t much he disapproves of, except maybe bad stewardship at home. And maybe the latest taxes.”

  “Your father’s life,” Peitar observed, “has been a long, pleasant series of mild gratifications, removing the need to see farther, to exert. Our father’s, on the other hand, has been a long series of thwarted ambitions, though to the outside eye it would seem they enjoy much the same sorts of advantages. It’s a difference in character.”

  I sighed. When Peitar talked like that, I had trouble understanding him, and I was afraid if I asked him to explain, he’d start in about politics. “Why don’t you tell him what he needs to know?” I suggested. “I think I’ll go in. It’s been a long day.”

  Peitar inclined his head. Innon made me a flourishing court bow. I curtseyed as if to a king and heard his laughter as I retreated inside the dining room. Servants were clearing the vast table, and they paused to bow. I waved awkwardly, wondering for the first time if some of those impassive faces hid revolutionaries.