The evening meal was already over and kitchen workers were busy clearing tables and scraping leftover food into a bucket to be fed to the pigs in the pen out back. “You’re too late for supper,” Phenniel scolded when he saw Anya lingering in the doorway. “You’ll have to wait till breakfast.” But when his back was turned, Thessa scooped the last slice of cold chicken pie from a pan and plopped it messily into Anya’s hands before shooing her out the door.
The pie devoured and her hands licked clean, Anya stood in the clinic with Eleya, Tonnis, and Wennish, watching through the window as more and more soldiers poured through the palace gates. The regent had left in his fancy carriage, but soldiers kept marching in, disappearing through the palace doors until Anya didn’t see how any more could possibly fit inside.
Wennish was depressed. “There’s going to be another slaughter,” he told them glumly. “It will be like the Invasion all over again, but worse. We have to do something.”
“Like what?” Eleya inquired. “We’re open to ideas.”
“I don’t know.” Wennish leaned his forehead tiredly against the cold glass and rubbed his chest, where Anya knew his wound still ached. “What’s left of our army is going to be completely wiped out tonight. Alasia will be finished. This is the end.”
He sighed, looking more discouraged than Anya had ever seen him. “Later when the fighting starts I’m going to go out and join in,” he announced quietly. “I don’t have a sword, but I’ll take one of those surgical knives from the drawer in the back. It’s the least I can do. I’d rather die with our prince and the last of our military than spend the rest of my life as a prisoner here knowing there’s no hope for change.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Tonnis told him sternly. “Eleya and I haven’t worked so hard to keep you alive just to have you throw that life away. Besides, you never know what will happen. Our people may still have a few tricks up their sleeves.”
“And Prince Jaymin may not even be with the army tonight,” Eleya pointed out. “The wisest thing for him to do would be to stay somewhere safe and wait for news of their victory before venturing out in public.”
Assuming he hasn’t already been killed in Drall, Anya thought. But even if Prince Jaymin survived, with his army wiped out it would be nearly impossible for him ever to reclaim his kingdom.
The night was clear, with plenty of starlight illumining the courtyard along with the torches. Dozens of soldiers in red and black stood at intervals along the walls, around the barracks, and beside the stable; and hundreds more marched past the clinic windows in orderly columns, patrolling the grounds in case the entrance to the secret tunnel was hidden somewhere outside. Anya couldn’t even imagine how crowded the inside of the palace must be. She knew most of the Alasians had been locked in their rooms for the night. Only the clinic had been left unlocked, those who worked in it having been warned to prepare to receive casualties at any moment.
“We might as well get some sleep while we can,” Tonnis suggested finally. “Whatever’s going to happen may not be for hours yet, and then we’ll face it better if we’re rested.”
Reluctantly, Anya followed them up the stairs and let Eleya tuck her into her sofa bed.
“Get some sleep,” her friend reminded her. “Don’t stay up worrying. It won’t help anyone.”
But it was a long time before Anya finally nodded off, and then she kept dreaming she heard the sounds of fighting outside in the courtyard. Each time she would awaken with a start, sitting up with the blankets clutched to her chest, staring into the darkness and listening. But each time she heard nothing. Once she even got up and crept downstairs to peer out the windows, but the view outside was almost exactly the same as the night before. A nearly full moon hung low over the palace battlements, and uniformed Malornians were standing and marching around the courtyard in the moonlight. But there was no sign of any Alasian soldiers, no hint that anything unusual had happened or was about to happen. Tonnis had set out the supplies they might need in the back room: rolls of bandages, jars of herbs, needles and thread for sewing up wounds. Everything was ready for the battle they were expecting. But where was the battle? Biting a thumbnail in confusion, Anya tiptoed back up the stairs and crawled into bed again.
The next time she awoke, it was no longer completely dark, and Anya could hear the rhythmic tread of hundreds of marching feet outside. She jumped up and raced downstairs, still wearing yesterday’s clothes that she had slept in so as to be ready for anything. Wennish, who was standing at the front window, moved aside to make room as she ran up. The two of them watched in puzzled silence as a steady stream of Malornian soldiers flowed out of the palace gates in the predawn dimness. A group of officers were standing to one side in a little knot, engaged in animated discussion. Though Anya couldn’t hear their words from here, it was obvious from their gestures and expressions that they were just as puzzled as she was.
So the battle hadn’t happened. Anya couldn’t imagine why not, but she was relieved. Now if only Prince Jaymin hadn’t been captured yet, Alasia might still have a chance. They would probably find out soon.
“He knew,” Wennish murmured from beside her. “Somehow he knew.”
Anya glanced up at him. “Who knew what?”
“Prince Jaymin. He knew that the enemy had found out about his plans, so he changed them. If Rampus has people like that Dannel character to spy for him, our prince probably does too. Someone must have told him that the Malornians were lying in wait to ambush his men, so he didn’t send them after all.”
Anya frowned, startled at the thought. It had never occurred to her that she and Tonnis might not be Prince Jaymin’s only source of information. Who else could there possibly be? Could one of Rampus’s soldiers secretly be in contact with the prince, sending him news about what his enemies were up to? A Malornian on Alasia’s side. It was an exciting but puzzling thought.
“I’m going back to bed,” Wennish sighed, rubbing his chest again. “I’ve been up most of the night waiting to see what would happen, and I’m exhausted. Don’t wake me for breakfast, all right?”
“All right.” Anya knew that although Wennish’s injuries were much better than they had been a few weeks ago, he was a long way from regaining full health, and Tonnis was always reminding the wounded guard that he needed plenty of rest.
But Anya was sure she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep at this point, so after Wennish had retreated to his room and shut the door, she puttered about, returning the supplies Tonnis had left out to their proper places and trying to plan what she would do that day. Probably she should try to go to the secret room right after breakfast again and wait to find out if Prince Jaymin had been captured. In the meantime, she trotted upstairs to change out of her wrinkly dress and tackle her sleep-mussed hair with her borrowed hairbrush so that she would be ready for whatever the day might bring.
The sound of the front door opening startled her, and Anya hurried downstairs again, wondering who was coming in so early. She was just in time to see Lieutenant Dwiller marching through the front room, a steaming mug in his hand and a scowl on his face. He looked exhausted, probably from staying up all night worrying about where and when the enemy would appear, like Wennish.
“Where’s the doctor?” he demanded, pushing past Anya into the back room and peering around in the dim light.
“He isn’t up yet, sir,” Anya told him nervously. Dwiller always intimidated her. “It’s still early. Is there anything I can help you with?”
He took a sip from his mug, and Anya could smell the aroma of strong black coffee. “I want some of that herb he gave me once. The one that helps with stress.” He took another sip and set the mug down on the counter, muttering something under his breath about the “swill that passes for coffee in Alasia.”
Anya furrowed her brow. “Do you remember what the herb was called?”
Dwiller shrugged in irritation. “Something like ‘pelarium’.”
Anya bent to open the cup
boards, peering doubtfully at the little jars on the dark shelves. Tonnis kept everything organized alphabetically, so she found the ‘P’ section and pulled out the four jars lined up there, holding them up to the light from the window to check the labels. “Parsley, pennywort, peppermint… could it be pelargonium?”
“That was it.” The lieutenant took another sip of coffee. “You’d better brew up a big batch. Regent Rampus just arrived, and every soldier in the palace is going to need some when the regent finds out what happened last night. Or what didn’t happen. And that they still haven’t caught that missing prince.”
Stifling a triumphant smile, Anya examined the jar of pelargonium, which, like many herbal medicines, seemed to consist of dry crumbled leaves. There were no instructions on the label, and she knew there were dozens of different ways of preparing herbs. “Just a moment, sir,” she told the lieutenant, opening a drawer to find the book Eleya sometimes referred to when mixing concoctions. It was like a big cookbook for medicines. Lighting one of the hanging lamps from a glowing coal left in the fireplace, Anya quickly searched the table of contents until she found pelargonium. Turning the stiff parchment pages to the right spot, she saw a colorful painting of a pink and red flower with long petals and bright green branching leaves.
Pelargonium: used to counter stress, anxiety, and poor circulation read the caption. Below the picture were the preparation instructions:
Place two small spoonfuls of dried, crushed leaves in a cup. Fill with boiling water and let steep for five minutes. Strain out leaves before drinking.
“That’s easy,” she muttered to herself, pulling the kettle out of the cupboard. “I’ll have this ready for you in just a few minutes, sir.” And Tonnis and Eleya will be proud of me for figuring it out all by myself and for letting them get a little more sleep, she added silently.
When she turned to fill the kettle at the pump, she saw that the lieutenant was frowning. “Are you sure you know what to do?”
“Yes, sir; it’s simple. The instructions are right here.”
“But I thought you couldn’t read.”
Anya froze. For an instant the two of them simply stared at each other. Her mind raced to think up some excuse, some lie, anything that would explain what she had been doing. But nothing came to mind, and she knew her eyes had gone wide with fear.
“You’ve been lying to us, haven’t you,” the lieutenant accused.
Anya, clutching the kettle to her chest, said nothing. Dwiller drained the last of his coffee and thumped the cup down on the counter, taking a step toward her. “Why did you lie about that?”
Instinctively, Anya backed away, but he took another step, and then another. She fought down the urge to panic. What can I do? What can I say? But there was nothing to do and nowhere to escape. She knew Wennish would come bursting out of his room if she yelled for help, but he was weak and unarmed, and Dwiller had a sword. The guard would probably only get himself killed, as would Tonnis or Eleya if they tried to stand up to the unforgiving lieutenant. I won’t call out, Anya decided, scared but determined. I won’t put my friends in danger. They can’t help me anyway.
Her back was against the examining table now, and Dwiller reached out and seized her by the arm. “Come with me, girl. We’re going to go have a little talk with the regent.”
“No,” Anya gasped, breathless with fear. “Please, sir, please, no – I didn’t mean to – I just–”
His other hand flew out and struck her across the side of the face. “Shut up and come with me.”
Tears sprang to Anya’s eyes from the stinging force of the blow as the lieutenant wrenched the kettle out of her hand and dragged her through the back room and then the front room and then out the front door.
Anya wasn’t wearing her coat, and the icy morning air hit her like another blow as she was jerked outside. The courtyard was still full of soldiers, most lined up and waiting for their turn to march back out of the gates. Purposefully, Dwiller wove his way between them with her in tow. She could see the fancy carriage that Rampus used standing near the stable, Bronin and another groom busily unhitching the horses. Bronin looked up and watched with concern as Anya and Dwiller passed.
“Hurry up,” the officer ordered, giving her arm a rough jerk. Anya slipped and stumbled on the frosty paving stones, half-running to keep up.
What can I say to the regent? she wondered worriedly. What will he do to me? Eleya had been right. Anya’s lies had finally caught up with her.
It was a relief to be out of the cold when Dwiller dragged her through the large front door of the palace. But her fear was growing with every step. The regent was probably already in a bad mood, after not having wiped out the Alasian army last night or killed the prince as he had hoped. This would be the worst possible time for him to find out that she had lied to him.
The private on duty in the waiting room was leaning tiredly against a wall and sipping from his own cup of coffee. He set it quickly down on the arm of a chair and snapped to attention when the two of them entered.
“I need to see the regent,” Dwiller barked.
The soldier’s gaze took in the lieutenant’s grim expression and Anya’s frightened one, and he nodded. “Just a moment, sir.” He disappeared behind the thick curtain.
Anya tried to compose herself, tried to plan what she could say in her own defense, but she couldn’t think of anything except how angry Rampus would surely be. What was going to happen to her?
“Go ahead, sir,” the private said, reappearing, and pulled the edge of the curtain aside for them. Dwiller nodded and shoved Anya through, gripping her shoulder with painfully strong fingers.
The regent was perched on the throne as usual, Captain Almanian standing before him, the usual eight soldiers at attention by the pillars. All ten of them turned and watched as the lieutenant forced her down the narrow carpet toward the throne. Anya’s heart was pounding, her instincts telling her to scream and struggle, but she knew that would be futile. Instead she forced herself to walk calmly beside Dwiller, her head held high. She wouldn’t let anyone see how scared she was.
The red carpet had never seemed so long. A couple of yards from the end, the lieutenant released her with a shove that sent her sprawling in an undignified heap. Trembling, Anya rose to her feet, once again resisting the urge to run. There were too many soldiers in here. She would never make it out. No; if she were going to escape, it would have to be by her words and wits and acting ability. But her mind was still blank. What could she say?
“This had better be important,” Rampus warned, scowling at the lieutenant. “I’m busy right now.”
“It is, sir. I just caught this child in the act of reading,” Lieutenant Dwiller announced grimly, as though Anya had been committing a terrible crime. He waited while the impact of his words sank in.
“Reading,” Rampus repeated, scowling down at her now. “So you’ve been lying to us, have you, girl?”
Anya said nothing. There was nothing to say.
“You told me you didn’t know how to read; that you’ve never been to school,” Captain Almanian reminded her quietly. He didn’t sound angry; at least, not in the same way the regent had. He sounded more disappointed. As though she had betrayed him.
Anya swallowed. Tell the truth. She knew she had no other choice now. Maybe if she were honest with them, the Malornians would forgive her. Captain Almanian, at least, might give her a second chance. Regent Rampus didn’t seem like the type who gave second chances, but you never knew.
“I’m afraid I did lie about that, sir,” she admitted, looking up into the captain’s face. She made her eyes brim with tears in the hope that it would make them feel sorry for her. “I know I shouldn’t have, but I was scared. You saw me looking at the parchments on your desk my first evening here, and you sounded so angry I thought you might hurt me, so I pretended I couldn’t read. I didn’t want to be killed.” I still don’t. The tears, not entirely forced now, were spilling down her cheeks.
Rampus was still scowling. “There’s no excuse for deliberately deceiving me or my officers. I have little use for liars in my kingdom.”
This isn’t your kingdom. “I’m truly sorry, sir,” Anya pleaded, unable to control the quaver in her voice. “I know it was wrong of me. I promise I won’t lie any more. Just tell me how I can serve you; what I can do to make up for it. I’ll do anything you want.”
I sound like Talifus, pleading pathetically for my life, she thought, but she was too scared to care.
The regent chuckled a humorless chuckle that sent shivers up Anya’s spine. “Oh, you will make up for it, all right. You certainly will. I said I have little use for liars, not no use. Your death will serve as an example to others of what happens when someone tries to deceive me.”
Anya gasped. Her worst fear had been realized. “No! Oh, please, no! Please don’t kill me!” she begged. “Let me have one last chance!”
The regent smiled his cold smile down at her, unswayed. In desperation, Anya turned to Almanian, frightened tears streaming down her cheeks now. “Captain, please! Please! I saved your life, remember?”
The captain said nothing. He wouldn’t look at her. From behind, the lieutenant seized her arm again. “Shall I have her locked in the dungeon until we’re ready, sir?”
Before the regent could reply, there was a commotion from behind them. The lieutenant whirled around to see what it was, spinning Anya around with him in the process. The curtain across the entryway billowed, and a man in plain clothes pushed his way through and strode briskly down the strip of carpet toward them. “Regent Rampus!” he exclaimed breathlessly. His voice sounded familiar, though it took Anya a moment to recall who it belonged to.
As he drew closer, she recognized his face. Dannel. He looked excited but disheveled and exhausted, as though he had been up all night doing something strenuous.
“What’s the matter?” demanded the regent in alarm, half rising from his throne. “What’s happened?”
“Sorry to interrupt you, sir, but it’s urgent,” Dannel exclaimed. He glanced at Anya. “I have news that you may want to hear in private.”
In the Enemy's Service (Annals of Alasia Book 2) Page 26