The Spy Princess

by Sherwood Smith

  “I believe I know where to get some.” Bren turned away, scowling.

  I joined him—but first, the two of us went deep into the garden to see if any fruit remained. We devoured what we found, saving some for Peitar, then hurried to Riveredge. The gatehouse was wrecked, but there were no bodies; someone had, at least, said the words of Disappearance over them. I wondered who had fought, who had joined the looters, and who had fled, like Father’s valet. And I wondered if anyone had yet Disappeared the dead of Miraleste.

  After everything that had happened, I was stunned to find the village almost the same. Things from Selenna House were proudly displayed on porches and in windows—here a silver candlestick, there part of a tapestry. I spotted a bedraggled girl with one of my old dolls.

  Bren found his brothers at the village stable. Sure enough, the looters had gotten most of our horses. He wheedled them out of three older mounts, plus a basket of stale biscuits, cheese, and grapes. It was Derek’s name that did the trick. Bren lied and said that Derek expected us to report back.

  “You’ll tell him what we did, won’t you, Bren?” Tim asked, his face earnest and proud. “You’ll tell him that the horses are from us, and we won’t sell ’em to nobles.”

  “Sure I will.” Bren gave a convincing grin. “Very first thing I say.”

  • • •

  WE RODE FOR Miraleste. I could see from Peitar’s profile that he felt as terrible as I did about Father’s death. Bren was restless and broody, constantly fingering the reins.

  Eventually he burst out, “So you’re the Prince of Selenna now?”

  “No,” said Peitar. “Nothing changes until one swears the oath of allegiance before the throne. Titles are granted by the crown.”

  “Then you can’t fix anything here.”

  “No one would listen to me. We saw that already, didn’t we?”

  “Maybe things will be better in Miraleste now.” Bren looked hopeful. “Derek’s sure to have them organized, like he did before.”

  “Maybe. I hope so.” Peitar turned my way, smiling. “Lilah, I expect that book you’ve been writing is going to be the most notorious memoir since the Esalan brothers’ Our Provident Careers.”

  I could see he was trying to cheer me up. And yes, it was true that I’d witnessed most of the important events so far—but that was because they were my fault. If only I hadn’t stuck my nose into that stupid passage!

  “Esalan brothers?” Bren asked. “Who are they?”

  “Old thieves,” I said morosely. “Peitar used to tell me their stories.”

  “They were sons of a baron, impoverished through unfair circumstances,” my brother explained. “Long ago, in a time like this—with a great divide between those of rank and everyone else. The brothers lived double lives, robbing the wealthy of Miraleste and, once they were truly successful, doing good for the needy. They used daring and imagination and never killed anyone.”

  “Then the crown prince joined their gang,” I put in, trying to shake off my dark mood. “Only they didn’t know it.”

  “The old queen died, and the prince was to be crowned, and the celebration was to be the brothers’ biggest caper.” Peitar’s voice quickened. “The day arrived, and so did the brothers. But when they saw the new king, they were amazed and swore off stealing.”

  “The royal pardon helped,” I added.

  Peitar smiled. “And the crown prince had learned most of their secrets. But he did promise that whoever overtaxed their people might just get a visit from the brothers—on the king’s command. And so they retired honorably and wrote up their memoir. Our mother read it to me when I was small.”

  “How come I’ve never heard of them?” Bren asked.

  “Because the nobles have chosen to rewrite the part of history when ‘Esalan justice’ was slang for justice outside the law.”

  “‘Esalan justice’ . . .” Bren snapped his fingers. “Slam justice! Is that where it came from?”

  Peitar nodded. “Soon after we first met, I told Derek about the Esalans, and he asked for more about them on every visit.”

  “But he never told us.”

  “Probably because they were nobles themselves.”

  “How about another story?” Bren asked.

  So Peitar whiled away the long ride with their adventures, finishing when we camped alongside a stream that night. As I listened, I realized that Derek had woven that sense of humor and camaraderie through his own tales—and hearing about the brothers in Peitar’s voice made me feel a bit better.

  • • •

  THE FIRST THING we noticed when we rode through the unguarded city gates was the stench.

  “Ugh,” Bren exclaimed. “Did they burn all the wands, too?” The Wand Guild was definitely not using their magic to get rid of horse and animal droppings.

  “Maybe the guilds have disbanded,” Peitar said.

  Most of the houses that remained bore signs related to Derek’s cause. The first inn we saw, the Three Princes, was now Freedom Alehouse. Everywhere we looked, people had scrawled their opinions on walls and fences.

  Nearly all were against my uncle. We passed one that said:

  DIAMAGAN

  DIRTY HANDS

  Next to it, in larger letters:

  EAT AT THE RED RAVEN— NO NOBLES ALLOWED!

  Merchants worked on repairing their shops. The streets were filled with people with nothing to do. Many of the noble houses had been burned to the ground, and others were in ruins.

  At the royal stables, we were confronted by a man dressed in the red smock of the bricklayers’ guild. “Where you goin’ with them nags?”

  “We have business with Derek,” I replied.

  He spat on the ground. “Everyone has business with Derek. If you leave them nags, they’re mine. If you want ’em back, it’s six golders apiece.” Six! Before, you could buy a horse for two.

  “What if we haven’t any money?” Peitar said.

  “That’s your lookout. I got a business to run, and fodder isn’t cheap.”

  “We’ll keep the horses by us.”

  “Hah!” was the derisive answer. “Some free advice—don’t let go o’ them bridles, and don’t turn your back on anyone.”

  “Thank you.”

  The man gave him an odd look, and I gulped. Peitar’s manners—noble manners—were not acceptable anymore, that was for certain. But nothing happened as we rode toward the damaged but still standing royal pavilion.

  We helped Peitar dismount, then Bren said, “I’ll stay with the horses. Don’t worry,” he added in a hard voice. “They’ll be here when you return. And so will I.” To me, he whispered, “Find out where Deon is, will you?”

  I nodded and followed my brother inside, where bodies lay all over—not dead, but drunk, judging from the stink. Someone had found the royal wine cellar.

  The throne room had been stripped of its furnishings and ancient flags. Voices came from the old treaty library, where we discovered Derek with a few people his age, and . . .

  “Innon!” I exclaimed thankfully. “I did see you! You’re safe!”

  Derek’s expression changed from tense to surprised to relieved. “Peitar.” He said it like he hadn’t expected to see us alive again. His next words shocked my wits right out of me: “Peitar, Darian Irad escaped.”

  I think my brother wasn’t sorry, but he didn’t show it. “That’s not surprising.”

  “You don’t think he’ll leave the kingdom?” Peitar shook his head. “It’s been a nightmare. The treasury is completely empty. I don’t know if Irad arranged it, or if looters got it all—but I have nothing. I can’t do anything. Innon and I have been sitting here trying to figure out some ways to manage. . . .” He sighed. “Truth is, we don’t even know where to begin.”

 
Derek and Innon? Where were all the experienced adults? Dead, if they were nobles—or in hiding. There were only three others in the room, and they were all Derek’s age.

  Innon gave me a weary smile. It was clear he had been working a long time. The slate in his hand was scribbled over, his grubby clothes covered in chalk dust. The room was stuffy and smelled of sweat.

  Derek flicked us a quick smile, then turned back to Peitar. “I hope you aren’t hungry.”

  “We have three biscuits left. Glad to share.” He didn’t mention that they were hard as rocks.

  Derek waved away the offer. “Our main threat is going to be Dirty Hands.”

  “Yes. His own sense of duty will bring him back,” Peitar warned. “Unless you were able to deal with his army at Obrin. . . .”

  “That was a mirage, thinking that I could send untrained farmers and laborers against the army. My leaders were successful against nobles who knew nothing of defense, or who were caught by surprise, but when it was time to march to Obrin, they started deserting in larger numbers. My captains came to me two days ago, saying that the volunteers I had left were making all kinds of excuses—so I had to send them home, too. Irad must be on his way to Obrin now. And we can’t do anything to stop him from coming back.” Derek looked away, then back at Peitar. “Your father?”

  “Dead.” My brother’s mouth tightened, making him look unsettlingly like our uncle. I wondered if he felt the same horrible jolt of memory.

  If anything, Derek seemed almost as upset. Then he straightened and clapped his hands on his knees. “Sideos. Farian. Linnah. I need to speak with Peitar. You know where we have to begin. Can you get started, each to recruit one person for a specific job? Just like the old days.”

  Linnah sent a glance Peitar’s way, more perplexed than angry. Then they were gone, and Peitar sat down, giving a grateful sigh.

  Innon sighed, too, as I joined him on the floor. “What happened after my uncle sent you out of the parlor?”

  “People were acting odd—servants carrying bundles of stuff, guards running, weapons out. Then Derek spotted me. He said that Deon had told him about me, but just as we began talking, everything started happening. He said to wait, and sent Lizana. She’d told my father to escape, and I hope he did—I hope he didn’t come back to search for me. I got rid of my toff clothes and mussed myself up. By then the mob was looking for courtiers to chase and kill.”

  I shuddered. “Bren said she was warning people. Do you know why? Did she go against the revolution?”

  “No. She acted on Derek’s orders. She told me one of the last arguments he and Peitar had was over the fact that all nobles weren’t evil—that some were good for their lands, and if they were all killed, everyone would suffer. I guess he changed his mind at the very end, because he made her a list of people to tip off.”

  “Did she get to them all?”

  “No.” Innon’s face was bleak. “And some refused. Said loyalty meant staying to help the king. So a lot of those died,” he finished in a flat, tired voice.

  I stopped asking questions, as they were only upsetting us both, and we turned our attention to Derek and Peitar.

  “. . . I should have remembered that his warriors were dedicated. They struck fast. There were a lot of volunteer guards around Irad—they enjoyed shouting things at him, throwing garbage. . . .”

  I said, “Did you let them torture him?”

  Derek didn’t meet my eyes. “No,” he admitted, as though he’d been weak. “I know I promised a good show, but first I wanted there to be a trial. I suspect only that kept their hands off him. They practiced their speeches while he sat there bound and gagged—”

  Peitar cut in. “You needn’t elaborate. Go on. So some of the royal guard rescued him.”

  “Yes. They were outnumbered, but my volunteers weren’t experienced. Irad’s raiders killed the ones who didn’t run, which is probably what’s going to happen to us when he returns. He got away in the one coach I’d managed to save. I’d saved it for you, actually, but you left too soon.” Derek smiled grimly. “You expected something like this, didn’t you?”

  “His guards are disciplined and loyal. And as you say, your people had passionate hatred but no unity. No one in authority that they will recognize, and no training.”

  “Yes, well, here’s something you didn’t foresee. Irad seems to have Bren’s cousin Deon.” When I gasped in surprise, Derek turned to me. “She was my best message runner and volunteered at the kitchen in trade for meals. She was sent by one of the cooks to clean the carriage, and I don’t think Irad’s guard knew she was in it when they seized it.”

  “Have you searched?” Peitar asked.

  “Yes. No sign of her.”

  “That means she’ll be borne off to wherever their camp lies and put to work fetching water and cooking. They’ll be low on servants.” He sighed. “His mood must be vile.”

  Derek cursed under his breath. “And he’ll return. That’s what I keep telling everyone, but they all think if they could beat him once, a second time will be easy. They don’t listen, Peitar, except if it’s something they want to do! Authority, you said. Everywhere I’m hailed as a hero, the author of freedom, but when I ask them to band together to fix a bridge or rebuild a house, everyone is busy looking for more nobles or bartering what they took. When all that is used up, where are we to get new goods?”

  Peitar rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know.”

  “And when Irad returns, it’s going to be me—and you—he comes after first.”

  “Yes. That’s the main reason I’m here.”

  “You’ll stay, then?”

  “I’ll stay.” He did not sound particularly happy, but he did sound decisive. “And we can test the truth of what I said in my letter. We should speak of making law that protects everyone, low and high.”

  Derek shook his head. “I hope you’re right.”

  “But you must not stay, Lilah,” my brother said. “I’m afraid it’s going to get worse before it gets better. There is one worry that would haunt me, and that is your safety. Promise me you’ll leave, now, for Mother’s refuge?” Mother’s refuge—he meant Delfina Valley, far away in the mountains down south!

  “But I want to help!” I protested.

  Derek gave me a serious look. “You can help best,” he said, “by going there.” By the way he spoke, I knew that Peitar had told him about Delfina Valley.

  “I appreciate your desire to help, Lilah,” my brother added. “But the situation here is beyond your experience.” When I was about to say that it was beyond Peitar’s experience as well, he added in a low voice, “And I don’t want you hurt by any more well-intentioned mistakes.”

  Or, put less nicely, I’d already landed us in prison once. He was afraid I might do it again. I knew he was right. And I had no stomach for fighting and killing. My throat hurt too much to speak, so I just nodded.

  Peitar looked relieved. “Good. And you, Innon, I wish you’d go with her.”

  Innon sat up, looking surprised.

  Derek gave him a pat on the shoulder. “I do, too. You’ve been a great help, but Peitar can take your place. If we settle Miraleste, we’ll send word to you both. And take Bren, would you? I don’t want any more of you kids disappearing.”

  I dreaded having to tell Bren about Deon.

  Innon turned to Peitar. “Where are you sending us?”

  “Lilah will show you. Down south.”

  “I hope you don’t mean anywhere near Diannah Wood!”

  “Through it, actually.”

  Innon grimaced. “You want to get rid of us permanently? People disappear there!”

  Peitar turned to me. “I won’t ask Innon to trust me. He doesn’t know me. But will you trust me, Lilah, when I tell you that you will be safe?”

  “All r
ight,” I said, surprised and very curious. “Then let’s go. I don’t know how long Bren can protect our horses.”

  Peitar smiled and touched my brow. “Go in safety, Lilah.”

  I did not look back as we walked away, but Innon did, and then he looked at me. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “You didn’t hug him. Are you mad at him?”

  I thought about that—how I used to climb on Peitar’s lap, until I learned that it hurt him. But nobody hugged at Selenna House. Lizana wasn’t allowed, Father didn’t think it was appropriate . . . the last hug I remembered getting was from my mother.

  And I wasn’t going to say that. “I’m not mad,” I said, as we reached the stable, where Bren was waiting. I gathered my courage and blurted out the bad news about Deon.

  To my surprise, he said, “Deon? She’ll be all right. She’ll think it’s an adventure . . . except if she gets put to work! Then she’ll be making up insult songs to sing for us when she does manage to escape.” He paused, then said doubtfully, “So are we really going to just . . . run away?”

  Innon pushed back his filthy hair and listened.

  “I still want to help,” I said. “I think the revolution’s made a mess of things. Peitar seems to want to fix it. I want to help him, but I don’t know how.”

  “It would worry him to find you anywhere in the city,” Innon said. “It’s been terrible, and reports are, it’s worse in the countryside. That’s why I didn’t try to go home.”

  “I know. It was . . . horrible at my house. But it seems cowardly to just leave Peitar to deal with it.”

  “And Derek. So let’s figure something out,” Bren said.

  “I tried,” Innon put in. “But there was too much to do, and everybody wanted to be in charge and not listen to anyone else.”

  “All right,” I said. “How about this. We keep our promise and go south. But we stay there just long enough to figure out a way—a good way—to help. One that won’t make Peitar worry.”

  “And Derek,” Bren put in.