In the Enemy's Service (Annals of Alasia Book 2)

by Annie Douglass Lima

  “And you must miss them. A little girl of your tender years, dragged from her home and forced to labor all day long for cruel strangers. Surely you must long to be back with them. Would you like to go home, little Anya?”

  Anya froze, scarcely able to believe her ears. Home? Was he actually offering to let her go home? Oh, but surely he couldn’t be. There must be some catch. It was too good to be true.

  “Well?” the regent demanded, staring at her. Captain Almanian and Lieutenant Dwiller were watching her too, all three men waiting for her response.

  Anya licked her dry lips, her heart pounding. “Yes, sir,” she managed, barely above a whisper. “Yes, I’d like to go home very much.”

  Rampus nodded slowly, smiling a humorless smile. “I thought so. Well, child, in return for doing me a particular service, I’m prepared to let you go.”

  He really means it. He’s really going to let me leave. Anya could hardly believe it. When? How fast could she perform this service and get out of there? She would work all night if that was what it took. She was ready to start right now. “Yes, sir?” she breathed.

  “You will serve me for one month. At the end of that time, if your service has been satisfactory, you will be free to go.”

  Her heart sank. One month. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Freedom was a whole month away.

  But a month isn’t that bad, she reminded herself. I could be here for years and years otherwise. Yes, a month was doable. She had been in the palace for more than half that long already, after all. One more month would be all right if she had freedom to look forward to at the end.

  The regent was still watching her closely. “You like that idea, do you?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.” She nodded earnestly. “Thank you, sir. What kind of work is it I’ll need to do?”

  The regent chuckled, and the sound made Anya feel suddenly cold inside. Something about this arrangement wasn’t right. Why would he ask her to do something in return for her freedom? He could just order her to do whatever he wanted anyway. What was this all about?

  “You are going to perform a very important job for me, child,” the regent told her, leaning down from the throne he had no right to be sitting in. “I’m aware that there must be many people in this palace who don’t want me here; people who hate Malorn, who hate me. I heard about the recent attempted uprising. You know about that too, I assume?”

  “Yes, sir,” she admitted.

  “And you heard about it before it happened, perhaps?”

  Anya hesitated again. But what harm could it do to admit it now? The people involved were already dead anyway. “Yes, sir,” she told him.

  “Just as I thought. What I want you to do for the next month is to keep your ears open for rumors of any more such trouble. Plots against my life, escape attempts, secret communication with Malorn’s enemies, news of the missing prince, rebellion of any sort – find out whatever you can, and come and tell me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver coin. “I will be grateful for your assistance, and as you’ll soon learn, my gratitude is a valuable thing. In fact, I’ll even pay you for each piece of information you bring, assuming of course that it turns out to be true. Very generous of me, don’t you agree? Your freedom in a month and plenty of money along the way to take home to your parents later. What do you say?”

  Anya’s head was spinning. She felt like a mouse that she had once seen cornered by her uncle’s cat. The little rodent had darted this way and that, desperate for a chance to escape, but in the end the cat had pounced and its life had ended with one pitiful squeak. I’m like that helpless mouse, she thought, not knowing which way to run, while the cat on the throne watches in amusement.

  I could say no. But that would make him instantly suspicious. What kind of person would pass up an opportunity to make easy money and gain her freedom? Only someone loyal to what the regent had referred to as Malorn’s enemies. And then Rampus would probably have her killed, or keep her here as a slave for the rest of her life after all.

  But I can’t betray Tonnis or say anything that might possibly help them find Prince Jaymin. I can’t. Anya knew that for certain. No matter how much she wanted to go home, there were some things she would never do.

  Which left her with only one choice. To say she would help, but not do it. Bring the regent false information, perhaps. It would be dangerous, but she couldn’t think of an alternative. Anya took a deep breath and looked up at the man on the throne.

  “I think I can do that, sir,” she told him earnestly, looking him right in the eye. “I’ll try my best.” Another lie, but what choice did she have?

  The regent smiled again, cracking his knuckles one by one, and Anya tried not to shudder at the sound. “Excellent. Excellent. From now on, you’re reassigned. Instead of spending all your time in the clinic, you’re to divide your working hours amongst the cleaning crew, the kitchen, the stable workers, and anyone else you can find who needs a hand. Make time to be around as many people as possible. Be careful not to let them think you’re paying attention to their conversations, of course. You’re just an innocent little girl doing as she’s told. You can act that part, can’t you?”

  That’s what I’ve been doing all along. “I think so, sir,” Anya managed, her mouth dry. “I haven’t had much experience in acting, but I’ll try.”

  “Good.” Unexpectedly, the regent tossed Anya the coin, which took her by surprise, almost hitting her in the face before she managed to catch it. “This is, shall we say, a little signing bonus. A foretaste of much more to come, I hope. Just think: you could leave here in a month quite a rich little girl.” His expression changed to one much more sinister. “Of course, if you should ever try to deceive me, or if I should find out that you’re withholding information from me, the results would be different. Quite different.” He looked Anya in the eye, and she forced herself to look back steadily, although her insides felt quivery with fear. “Do you understand me, child?”

  “Yes, sir,” she whispered, trying to look innocent.

  “Good. You’re dismissed.”

  Anya’s knees felt weak as she turned away from him and the two silent officers, retreating back down the red carpet and through the curtain, beyond which the soldiers were still standing at attention. She hardly dared to breathe until she had passed through the waiting room and was hurrying down the hallway out of their sight. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she felt jumpy, as though she were being watched. At one point she spun around, certain that somebody was coming after her to drag her back to the regent, but there were only flickering shadows in the torch-lit hallway behind her.

  It was a relief to step out into the icy moonlight, chilly wind and all. The lights in the clinic windows glowed comfortingly from across the courtyard, and Anya hurried toward the relative safety their warmth promised.

  “You’re playing a dangerous game, you know,” murmured a quiet voice in her ear.

  Anya was so startled she shrieked out loud before she could stop herself, nearly jumping out of her skin as she spun around to see who had spoken. A Malornian soldier stood beside her where she was certain there had been no one a moment before.

  “Ohh,” she gasped, clutching at her chest with both hands, where it felt as though her heart were trying to force its way out. “You scared me!”

  The man chuckled, and goosebumps erupted all over her at the sound. He reminded her of the regent. Laughing, but dangerous. “Yes, I know, Anya,” he told her, a smile in his voice. “You should be scared, though not of me. At least not at the moment.”

  “How do you know my name?” she demanded. He couldn’t be one of Almanian’s men; she was sure she had never met him before. He must have arrived that afternoon with Rampus, but she didn’t recognize him as one of those who had been standing in the throne room. So how could he know who she was?

  “Oh, I know quite a bit about you.” He took hold of her elbow. “Come with me a moment.”

  “No!” Anya jerked away.
“Leave me alone.” Should she run for the clinic? But he could follow her easily enough, and without a key, she couldn’t lock him out.

  “Don’t be silly. I told you, you have nothing to fear from me right now. You should be more afraid of anyone overhearing our conversation.” He wrapped his hand around her elbow again and pulled her toward the stable.

  “You had better be careful,” he warned her in a low voice, as soon as they were standing in the near darkness behind the building. “You’re a good little actress. I’m impressed. But the regent won’t be if he ever finds out.”

  “What are you talking about?” Anya gasped. She yanked her arm out of his grasp, but her back was against the stable wall now and he stood in front of her. There was nowhere to run. Like the mouse.

  “You’re only eight years old? You can’t read? You don’t go to school? Your father is a full Malornian?” The soldier chuckled again. “That’s quite a background you’ve built up for yourself. Lucky for you the regent doesn’t know that you’re Karro’s daughter.”

  “How do you know my father’s name?” Anya exclaimed, shocked. “And what does the regent know about him?” That letter in Almanian’s office. Was that what this was about?

  “And how do you know what I told the regent just now?” she added suspiciously.

  The soldier laughed softly. “I was in there while you were talking to him, though I didn’t expect you to see me. And there are apparently a few things that you don’t know about your own father. Let’s just say that he played a crucial role in the last month’s events. He’ll go down in Malornian history for that, though the Alasians won’t see him in quite the same light when they find out. But that’s all right; the winners write the history books, after all.”

  Anya stared at him in the dimness, her mind in a whirl. “What are you talking about? Tell me what you’re talking about.”

  The man ignored her demand. “And your best lie was that you have no experience as an actress. I recognize talent when I see it, Anya. And you definitely have both experience and talent. Trust me, I should know.” He laughed again, this time with real humor, though Anya didn’t get the joke. “But as I said, you had better be careful. It’s a dangerous game when you play against Regent Rampus. An extremely dangerous game, and I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone but the best. The very best.” That laugh again.

  Anya stared at him, her mind so full of questions that she didn’t know what to ask first. “Who are you, anyway?”

  The soldier saluted. “Private Dannel, at your service. Or… am I?” His voice held a mocking tone, and then abruptly Anya realized that the darkness where he had stood an instant before was empty. She was alone behind the stable with her unanswered questions and the pounding of her own heart.

  Chapter 12

  Anya spent the next morning in the palace kitchen helping to wash the breakfast dishes and peeling potatoes and carrots for lunch. Though she overheard plenty of conversations, none seemed to be about anything important, and she was relieved that she wouldn’t even be tempted to report them to Regent Rampus.

  While she worked, she thought over what Private Dannel had told her last night, trying to figure out what he might have meant. If only she had had a chance to ask him more questions. Like what kind of role her father could possibly have played in the Invasion. He was a merchant, after all, not a soldier. As far as Anya knew, he had never had anything to do with either the Malornian or the Alasian military or government. He bought goods in Alasia and took them to Malorn to sell, and vice versa. That was all. Wasn’t it?

  Last night she had sat up late with Eleya and Tonnis and Wennish, discussing the assignment Regent Rampus had given her and the hints Dannel had dropped. Anya had decided that it was finally time to tell her friends what little she knew in the hope that they could help her figure it out. But the three adults had been as puzzled as she was, though they tried to come up with ideas.

  “A merchant must have a lot of business contacts,” Wennish had suggested at one point. “Perhaps some of them have been paying him to bring them information. Didn’t you say he travels a lot? Maybe he’s a spy.”

  “No way,” Anya had protested indignantly. “Not my father. He’s not that kind of person.” She had paused a moment, an ache rising in her throat as she pictured her father. He loved travel and a good bargain and a well-seasoned steak, disliked rain and heavy traffic and being talked back to. She could almost hear him whistling a tune through his teeth as he drove the cart along a peaceful country road on the way to the next customer. He doesn’t have any secrets from Arvalon and me. Not any big ones, at least. She was nearly certain of it.

  “He’s not that kind of person,” she had repeated. “He loves both Malorn and Alasia. Besides, things like discovering that your father has a secret career as a spy only happen in stories.”

  Wennish had laughed bitterly. “Look around you, Anya. The whole Invasion and everything that’s taken place since are the sort of things that only happen in stories. Look at me. I’ve returned from the threshold of death, thanks to the three of you, and I’m the only one of my three hundred comrades on the palace guard who survived. And look at you. You were kidnapped, and now you’re a slave, and an enemy leader has asked you to spy for him. Those all sound like part of a story to me, but they’re our lives. Events none of us would have dreamed of a few weeks ago have happened. You’d better accept that strange things could be happening in your family too.”

  All the same, Anya just couldn’t believe that her father would ever have agreed to have a hand in anything as terrible as the Invasion. He was a good person. He would never have helped anyone kill the king and queen or take over the kingdom like this. Never.

  “Maybe he didn’t realize what he was doing,” Eleya had suggested. “Maybe someone paid him to deliver a message or provide information, and he didn’t know what it was for.”

  “Maybe,” Anya had agreed doubtfully. It made more sense than any other explanation, but she still thought it seemed unlikely.

  Now, surrounded by a growing pile of potato peelings and listening to the other kitchen workers talk about food and cooking techniques, Anya couldn’t stop thinking about Dannel’s words. If Prince Jaymin ever appeared and somehow freed Alasia, would her father be in trouble for whatever he had done?

  At lunch time, Anya filled a tray and slipped out to the clinic so she could eat with her friends. “How’s the spying going?” Wennish joked as she handed around bowls of soup and slices of bread from her tray.

  “It’s not. I wish I could spy on Regent Rampus instead.” Anya glanced up at Tonnis. “Then maybe I could find out more about what my father did, or at least something useful about the regent’s plans that you could tell your friend in the market tomorrow.”

  Wennish paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “Oh. Maybe you can.”

  “I don’t think so.” Anya dipped a corner of her bread into the broth and took a bite. “There are too many soldiers all around. Last night there were about eight in the room with him, plus the one who brought me in, plus two more in the waiting room, plus Almanian and Dwiller, plus that Private Dannel, wherever he was.”

  Wennish set his spoon back down in his bowl and sat up straighter. “No, listen. I think there is a way you can spy on Regent Rampus. At least if he’s in the throne room. Isn’t that where you said he is?”

  “It’s where he was last night. I don’t know if he’s in there today or not.”

  “If the regent is the kind of man he seems to be, he’ll probably be doing most of his business from poor King Jaymin’s throne,” Eleya observed. “But how’s the girl supposed to eavesdrop in there? I won’t have you telling her to do anything dangerous. It’ll be dangerous enough, her not giving him the information he wants.”

  Wennish pushed his bowl aside, his face intent. “Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this, but there’s supposed to be a secret room somewhere, where people can hide and listen to what goes on in the throne room.”

&nb
sp; “What?” Anya exclaimed, incredulous. Now she really felt as though she were living in an adventure story.

  “You’re making that up,” Tonnis accused. “I’ve been working in the palace nearly fifteen years, and I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “I have,” Wennish assured him. “All the guards knew about it, or at least we all discussed the rumor. Supposedly that’s why an extra security patrol was always assigned to the sixth floor whenever the king was meeting with anyone in the throne room. So nobody could sneak into the secret chamber and eavesdrop on his royal business.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Eleya objected. “The throne room is on the first floor. Nobody on the sixth floor could possibly overhear anything.”

  Wennish shrugged. “I never said the listening room had to be on the sixth floor. That could just be how you get to it.”

  “And the throne room has a really high ceiling,” Anya recalled. “I noticed last night that it goes way up in the middle. The top is probably at least at the fourth or fifth floor level.” She closed her eyes for a moment, envisioning a hidden room above the ceiling or on the other side of one of the walls. “So where exactly would I go to find this place?”

  Wennish shrugged apologetically. “I’ve never seen it myself, and I don’t actually know anyone who has. We were always assigned to patrol all across the whole sixth floor, probably so no one would figure out exactly where it was.”

  “So you don’t know for certain that it even exists,” Eleya pointed out. “It would be dangerous for Anya to just wander about looking for it. There are certain to be more soldiers than ever all around now that the regent is here.”

  “And if the room were that easy to find, people would have discovered it before now,” Wennish agreed ruefully.

  “Is there anyone in the palace who might know if the rumors are true?” Eleya asked him. “And exactly how to get to this room, assuming it does exist?”