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

by Annie Douglass Lima

  The professor dropped to his hands and knees, a necessary precaution not only because of how steeply the floor rose, but because the low ceiling was only a couple of feet above the top of the slope. He crawled carefully up the carpet, then lay on his stomach with his face just above the hole in the center. Anya did the same, peering eagerly into the opening.

  The golden throne stood directly below her, a long way down. It was empty, as was the rest of the room. She had a perfect view of nearly everything down there, from the arched entryway along the red carpet to the throne platform and the semicircle of curtains behind it. Beyond the curtains, Anya was surprised to see rows of chairs, rising in tiers like the seating in a small auditorium. Large double doors were set in the wall behind them.

  “Do people actually sit back there?” she whispered, puzzled.

  “Sometimes,” the professor told her in a low voice. “When King Jaymin wanted to address a group, he would often do it down in the throne room. The throne platform isn’t a solid piece; there’s an ingenious set of levers and wheels in the back that allow the top of it to rotate, throne and all. So it can be turned to face the other way, and the curtain stands are easily moveable to be repositioned behind it.”

  “So it’s really like two rooms in one.” Anya was intrigued. She wondered if Dannel had been listening to her conversation with the regent from back among the seats yesterday.

  In any case, she thought, peering down from her vantage point, this will certainly be a perfect place for spying. Remembering the echoes from the ceiling the evening before, she was sure she would be able to hear everything anyone said down there. It was disappointing that Rampus was out at the moment. But still, it was exciting to lie here and look into the room where she had stood last night, not guessing that there was a hole in the ceiling far above the reach of the lamplight. And it was fun to think of Regent Rampus having conversations with people down below, never suspecting someone he couldn’t see might be listening.

  The professor rose to his hands and knees again and beckoned for Anya to follow as he backed down the carpeted slope and then out of the room in his stockinged feet. After he had pulled the door shut and the two of them had put their shoes back on, he shot her a warning glance as he handed her one of the candles. “Remember,” he cautioned, “someday when Prince Jaymin sits as king on that throne, his life may depend on your ability to keep a secret. As you saw, it would be easy for some enemy not only to spy on him, but to drop something down that hole. A brick, a sword, a vat of boiling oil – something that could end his life as easily as that.” The professor paused, frowning. “Come to think of it,” he added, almost to himself, “I should probably talk to him about getting a lock installed on the closet door, just in case.”

  Anya had stopped in her tracks too, seized by a sudden thought. “We could kill Regent Rampus that way!” she exclaimed. “Just by dropping something on his head sometime when he’s sitting there!”

  The professor, who had already started back down the narrow hall, turned to face her. His expression was not pleased or impressed, as she had expected, but surprised and disappointed.

  “Anya!” he scolded, his voice full of disapproval. “What a terrible thing to say! A young child like you, contemplating murder? You’re suggesting we lower ourselves to the level of those who attacked Alasia, killing unsuspecting people who are in no position to defend themselves?”

  “But – but he’s an enemy,” Anya protested, caught off guard by his reaction. “And his people did it to our people first.”

  “Is that what you’ve been taught? That it’s all right to do wrong as long as someone else has done it first?” He frowned sternly down at her. “Besides, killing Regent Rampus wouldn’t bring about Malorn’s defeat or Alasia’s freedom. Prince Korram would just appoint a new regent and keep right on doing what he’s doing. No; there are better ways to help our kingdom. Like discovering the regent’s plans so that Tonnis can tell his anonymous friend, who might have a way to use the information to help Prince Jaymin.” The professor lowered his bushy eyebrows and fixed Anya with his sharp gaze. “So use this room for your eavesdropping, if you can do it carefully, but not for dropping of any other sort. And no more staining your conscience with thoughts of murder. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” Anya promised contritely. Well, I thought it was a good idea. Oh, well. She could help Alasia in other ways, as the professor had said.

  But as she followed him back up the stairs, she thought ruefully that she wouldn’t have anything useful for Tonnis to tell his friend when he went to the market, assuming the friend showed up this time. Well, perhaps next week. She would try to come here at least once a day, and Regent Rampus was bound to return to the throne room soon.

  Anya couldn’t help but grin at the thought. Now I’ll be able to do some real spying!

  Chapter 13

  Anya spent the next morning helping Bronin in and around the stable: mucking out stalls, bringing the horses fresh hay and water, and saddling and unsaddling them for soldiers who rode in and out on various errands. When one of the privates finally brought back the cart in which she knew Tonnis had ridden to the market, Anya ran over to the clinic to ask if his friend had been there.

  Tonnis was in the back room with Eleya, unpacking bundles of herbs. He looked up from his basket and brightened when she burst through the doorway.

  “Anya! I’m glad you came by. I thought you’d want to know that my friend was back and safe, not that I had much to tell him this time. And I have a message for you.”

  “For me?” Anya couldn’t think of anyone outside the palace who would know both her and Tonnis. “Who is it from, your friend?”

  “No, someone else entirely.” Tonnis smiled. “A young man by the name of Arvalon.”

  Anya gasped. “Arvalon, my brother? He’s here in Almar? What did he say?”

  “Not much. He asked if you’re all right and said to bring you greetings from him and from your father, who is apparently still in Malorn.”

  “How did Anya’s brother know that you knew her?” Eleya asked, busily sorting the new herbs into jars. Anya had been wondering the same thing.

  “We apparently have a mutual friend,” Tonnis explained. “Karniel, one of the merchants I buy from regularly. His shop is next door to one owned by a man named Porlim.”

  Anya nodded, understanding now. “Porlim is one of my father’s business partners. He helps sell Father’s goods, and sometimes Arvalon helps out in his shop.”

  “Yes; your brother has apparently been working with him for the last few days,” Tonnis told her, setting the last bundle of dried leaves on the counter and tucking the empty basket back into its spot in the cupboard.

  “I wonder why Arvalon is back in Alasia without Father,” Anya murmured, puzzled. She leaned her elbows on the counter and rested her chin in her hands, frowning. “He’s never made the trip by himself before.” Could it have anything to do with Father’s involvement in the Invasion?

  “Your brother wanted you to come and see him sometime,” Tonnis told her. “He said he’ll probably be working with Porlim in the market nearly every day for the next couple of weeks at least. I told him you’re not allowed to leave the palace, and he seemed very disappointed.” Tonnis frowned worriedly. “I said we’d try to come up with some way to get you out there if we could, but honestly, I can’t imagine how.”

  Neither could Anya. Sneaking away was out of the question; she had been watching unsuccessfully for an opportunity to do exactly that ever since she had come. The only possibility that came to mind was to beg one of the Malornians to let her accompany Tonnis sometime, but she didn’t think they would be likely to say yes. Well, it was something to keep thinking about. Maybe she would come up with an idea eventually.

  After lunch Anya decided to try the secret room again. She had seen several soldiers heading purposefully down the hallway that she now knew led to the throne room, and she hoped that meant they were scheduled to be o
n duty in there while Regent Rampus held court in the afternoon.

  Just outside the dining hall was a storage closet where cleaning supplies were kept. As soon as she had finished eating, Anya went directly there, making her steps brisk and her expression businesslike, as though she were carrying out an assignment. Several people passed her as she climbed the stairs with the broom and dustpan she had taken, but nobody stopped her or asked where she was going.

  The sixth-floor hallway was deserted, and Anya breathed a sigh of relief. She opened the third doorway on the left and went straight over to the far wall. It was dim in the windowless room, and even though she knew approximately where the hidden closet was, she had to run her fingers carefully over the wall, peering at it with her face only inches away, before she found the nearly invisible seam. Using the thin edge of the dustpan as Professor Dreytin had, she pried the door open with difficulty and set her cleaning supplies inside.

  Following the professor’s suggestion, she had left her candle in a corner of the closet yesterday. Feeling around in the dark interior, Anya found it and hurried back out into the corridor, where she stood on tiptoe to light it from a torch mounted on the wall. Shielding the little flame carefully with one hand, she remembered to pull the door closed behind her and then shut herself into the closet.

  It was eerie standing alone in the dusty little space with the light of her candle throwing shadows on the walls all around her. Anya crouched down and felt about her feet with her free hand until she found the flat ring-shaped handle of the trapdoor lying flush with the floor. If she hadn’t been deliberately looking for it, she would probably not have noticed it there.

  Blackness yawned before her as she peered down into the open square. I’m not afraid of the dark, Anya reminded herself firmly as she lowered herself in, clutching the candle protectively, feeling for the steps with her feet.

  Once she was on the stairway, the gloom beyond the reach of the light seemed vast, out of proportion with the narrow passage and low ceiling. On either side the walls squeezed close, the flickering light and shadows emphasizing every bump and dent in their huge rough stones. When she looked up, the ceiling loomed just a few inches above, visible for only a little way behind and ahead before it dissolved into darkness. The candle was her ally, its friendly little flame holding that darkness at bay, giving her the confidence to keep going.

  Steep stairs. Narrow hallway. Sharp corners and low ceilings. More stairs. More hallway. Anya was thankful that there was only one way to go. She had never been good at remembering directions, but at least there were no extra doorways or forks or chances to get lost. She only had to follow the passage.

  When at last she came to the dead end, she placed the candle carefully in the little recessed shelf the professor had shown her. She pulled off her shoes and left them below the shelf, then ran her hands over the wall to the right until she found the tiny hole. Sticking her index finger in, she was surprised to feel a hollow space that allowed her to bend her finger, making it easy to pull the door open. It was much lighter than she had expected, swinging easily toward her.

  The moment it was open, she knew she was in luck. In addition to the light emanating from the room beyond, she could hear voices. Dropping to her hands and knees, Anya crawled softly up the carpeted hill and lay on her belly, peering into the circular opening at the top of the slope.

  Regent Rampus was sitting on the throne directly below. Instinctively, Anya drew back, afraid that he would look up and see her. But no, she reminded herself, it was dark up at the top of the ceiling. The lamplight didn’t reach this far. The architect had designed it that way on purpose. She stuck her head over the edge again to find out who else was in the room.

  Eight soldiers once more stood at attention by the pillars. On the strip of red carpet facing the throne stood Captain Almanian, along with another man. A scared-looking man with his wrists tied behind his back and two more soldiers gripping him firmly by the arms. It was Lieutenant Talifus.

  “These are serious charges against you, Talifus,” Regent Rampus was growling from his seat on the golden throne. Anya wondered if he had left off the word “lieutenant” on purpose as an insult. “Can you give me a single reason why I shouldn’t have you executed?”

  “My lord, I gave up everything for you,” Talifus protested. “Surely you haven’t forgotten that I made it possible for your people to get into the palace in the first place.”

  “A service that left us in your debt. A debt which was cancelled when you attempted to have one of my officers killed. Which leaves no doubt about where your loyalties truly lie.”

  “My loyalties lie with you, Regent,” Talifus assured him anxiously. “I’m completely loyal to you. Really. And to you, Captain,” he added, turning to Almanian. “I know we’ve had our differences, and I’ve made a few mistakes, but the incident with the poison was all a misunderstanding. No one ever proved that I was trying to kill you. I was framed; it wasn’t my fault!”

  “Enough of your excuses,” the regent snapped. “No one believes them anyway. I’ve already declared you guilty; the only question is, is there any good reason to keep you around anymore?”

  Talifus glanced this way and that as though hoping for help from someone in the room. “Sir,” he tried again, and there was a note of desperation in his voice now. “I know more about the palace and those who work here than anyone else alive. I know what rooms are what, where everything is, the systems King Jaymin used to keep the whole place running smoothly.” His voice gained confidence as he developed his idea. “Sir, I am a storehouse of useful information for you. Anything you need to know about the palace – and really, about Alasia itself – I can tell you. Having me killed would be wasting an incredibly valuable resource.”

  But does he know about this room? Anya wondered from above. That would definitely be useful to Rampus. She hoped that Professor Dreytin was right and the captain had never been told of the room’s existence. Otherwise, she would run the risk of being discovered every time she came here.

  There was silence down below for a moment. Anya wondered if Rampus were actually considering Talifus’s words or just giving the traitor time to get more nervous.

  “Very well,” the regent conceded finally, and from above, Anya thought she saw Talifus sag with relief. “You do have a point. But I hope you don’t think you’re going to get your former position as a lieutenant back. You’re even more deserving of demotion than that insubordinate Lasden.” There was hatred in his voice, and Anya wondered in surprise what Lasden could have done back in Malorn to make Regent Rampus so angry. Had he refused to come back and fight in Alasia? The regent had mentioned demotion. She hoped Lasden hadn’t actually been demoted, as he had feared.

  “You are hereby permanently disqualified from Malornian military service of any sort,” Rampus continued, “and sentenced to an indefinite stay in the dungeon. I will send for you when I require information from you. As long as you continue to prove yourself useful, you may continue to live. Unless I grow tired of you, of course.”

  “I understand, sir.” Talifus sounded relieved, though not entirely happy. “You won’t regret this.”

  “I hope not, for your sake.” Rampus made a shooing motion with one hand. “Take him away.” The guards turned Talifus around and marched him out of the room.

  “Now,” the regent continued when Talifus had gone, “where’s that little girl? I want a report from her next.”

  “I believe I saw Anya on her way upstairs to sweep, sir,” the captain replied. “I’ll have someone fetch her.” He turned and gestured to one of the soldiers, who strode toward the curtain.

  Anya’s eyes widened. They were going to come looking for her! She had better hurry and get out of the secret passage and back to where she could actually be found before they grew suspicious. Quickly, she scooted down the slope and out of the room, hastily jamming her feet into her shoes again. Seizing the candle with one hand and shielding its flame with the other, sh
e scurried back down the passage in the direction from which she had come.

  What will happen if the soldiers can’t find me? The question echoed through her mind in time to the patter of her footsteps as she hurried up one flight of stairs, along the next narrow hallway, and up the second flight. She wasn’t worried that they would discover where she was, but surely they would ask suspicious questions when she finally did show up. What could she tell them? If only I can get back out and start sweeping before they come to the sixth floor. How long would it take them to climb five flights of steps, stopping to check each floor for her along the way? Probably longer than it would take her to get out of here and back into the open. Probably.

  At last she mounted the final steps and felt above her head for the trapdoor. It was awkward clambering through it with the lighted candle in hand, and the candle fell over and went out just as she hoisted herself into the closet. Thankful it had stayed lit this long, Anya closed the trapdoor as quietly as she could and listened to the darkness. Nothing. She pushed open the closet door and peeked out. Still nothing. The door of the little conference room was closed, just as she had left it. Father would be proud of me for remembering to shut the door behind myself, she thought. Hastily, she took up the broom and dustpan, pushed the hidden door closed, and stopped to listen one more time before venturing out into the hallway.

  Relieved to find the area deserted, Anya decided to go down a few floors. It would be better not to let people see her lingering in this area. She had just started sweeping the steps leading down from the fourth floor to the third when a soldier rounded a corner and caught sight of her. “Anya! There you are. Regent Rampus has sent for you.”