Arrows of Revolution (Kingmakers Book 3)

by Honor Raconteur

  Riana did a quick head count and unless she was mistaken, there were twenty people crammed in here. Wasn’t there any other space they could use? So they didn’t have elbows in each other’s ribs?

  Over the cacophony of multiple voices all speaking at once, Edvard called out, “TROI!”

  The Master of Spies couldn’t have possibly heard him, but still somehow took notice that he had visitors, even though he was bent over a file on the opposite side of the room. He waved a hand of acknowledgement before getting up from the desk and weaving his way forward. It was not a quick trip, as he was constantly stopped every other step by people needing verification or asking a question.

  Riana watched as the Master of Spies took a glance at some piece of paper and immediately responded: “Re-do that.”

  “But it’s perfect!” the man protested. “A steamy love-letter to spice up his life.”

  “It’s too perfect, you bloody fool; if she were really writing that thing in a hurry there would be spelling mistakes, blotches of ink, that sort of thing. And don’t do that cliché of making one of the girls leave a lip print on it.” Troi moved on to the next, pointing at something on the page and commenting, “You can’t have him there, I have another spy coming out of there in a week, there’s too much overlap.”

  “Then where should he be, sir?" the young woman asked, rising from her chair.

  “Anywhere that the blue or green lines don’t intersect.” Troi moved on, grabbed the last person trying to catch his attention, and hauled him by the collar towards the door. “The woman you need to ask is standing right behind the king. Riana, what size are you?”

  “Size in what?” she asked, not sure how or why this information was needed, but positive they needed to know.

  “Dress and shoes, ma’am,” the tow-headed man responded with a duck of the head, smile brief but charming.

  “Twenty-six dress,” Riana informed him, moving more into the room as Edvard slid sideways to give her space, “nineteen wide shoe.”

  This information was immediately jotted down before the man gave her another duck of the head, this one of thanks, and then he scurried back to his desk.

  “We’re preparing a wardrobe for you to go along with your new persona,” Troi explained to her. “The clothes have to be exactly right and we’ll need to pre-order them now so that you’re in fashion by the time you arrive.”

  “Ah, I see.” And so she did. Riana would be in High Court after all. “Will this be difficult to arrange?”

  “Not at all, not with your partner. He buys clothes—both women’s and men’s—on a regular basis so he’ll know what to do. We have the right contacts to get what you need anyway even if he weren’t taking charge of this,” Troi said with satisfaction.

  To Riana, Edvard explained, “We actually employ spies and double agents all of the time in every corner of the world. A country has to in order to keep abreast of things. We have at this moment eighty-six spies—”

  “Ninety-two,” Troi corrected.

  Edvard gave him an exasperated look. “I told you I didn’t have the budget for more spies.”

  “It’s quite alright, Sire,” Troi assured him. “Half of them are fictional.”

  Riana blinked at him. “Fictional?”

  Leaning forward an inch, Troi gave her a wink and grin. “Fictional spies are actually the best kind, in a sense. You don’t have to pay them, worry about them double crossing you, or being caught and interrogated. They give the enemy all sorts of wrong information and lead them on a merry chase, which wastes the enemy’s resources. Even if they are eventually found out to be a lie, I still win, as they will have to go through considerable time and expense to figure out it is a lie.”

  “The beauty of it is,” Edvard picked up the explanation with the same sort of evil glee as Troi, “that it makes it look like we have a much more broad and comprehensive network of spies in Iysh than we actually do.”

  Troi nodded agreement. “Of course, the downside is I have over forty personalities to keep straight. None of my fictional spies can once be out of character, otherwise the whole charade falls apart. So I have to keep the details straight, even as I’m sending false information through them, or having them ‘move about’ with my actual spies. It does get a little confusing at times.”

  Riana tried to imagine keeping almost a hundred people straight in her mind, with all of their personalities and tasks, and a headache threatened to form at just the thought.

  “That doesn’t include our enemy’s spies,” Troi continued, reading her face with ease. “And they have more spies than I do.”

  The headache arrived and Riana rubbed a hand to her temple. “Of course. Them too.”

  “Although they’ve become almost friends at this point, so it’s hard to remember they’re enemies.”

  Edvard gave him a flat look. “Friends? How so?”

  “But, Sire,” Troi joked with a serious face, “they are so considerate and give me such wonderful information on a consistent basis, how else should I think of them except as friends?”

  Several of the staff nearby laughed at this joke, bobbing their heads in agreement, although their hands never stopped moving as they worked. Riana, after a double-take (she had never seen Troi relaxed enough to joke before) grinned at him. “Truly?”

  “Not all spies are good spies,” Troi informed her. “The more terrible ones give me far more information than they should. I’ve actually turned a few of them into double agents without their realizing. Spies on another’s payroll are the best kind.”

  Riana almost felt sorry for those particular spies. She pitied anyone that caught Troi’s professional attention.

  “Let’s head next door, there’s room to talk there,” Troi suggested.

  Grateful for this suggestion—hearing Troi had been difficult in that cluttered room—she stepped backwards into the hallway to give the men room to come out. Troi truly did mean right next door, as he led them into a room that was smaller in size, with only a table, chairs, and one bookcase crammed with bound reports. There was a map here, too, not as cluttered with pins and string, but obviously well used.

  Taking a seat at random, Riana sat on the edge of her chair in anticipation.

  “I’ve decided to base you out of Senn,” Troi informed her, taking the chair at the head of the table. “Senn is very friendly toward us, so they’ll go along with your false identity, and it will explain any gaps in your etiquette or education. Senn is considered to be ‘backwater’ after all.”

  That made sense to her and Riana nodded.

  “You’ll actually start in Senn, as we need to lay down a trail for you, in case anyone decides to investigate. You’ll stay there for a day or two, exploring the place and getting to know it, before you travel on to the palace. Your partner, Zigzag, will meet you in Senn and take you in. I was going to have the two of you pretend to be lovers—”

  Edvard coughed around a laugh. “Are you serious? Ash would hit the roof.”

  “Which is why I wanted to do it,” Troi admitted with a perfectly straight face, setting the other two to laughing, “but in reality it wouldn’t work out well. Riana would be snubbed if she was just a nobleman’s lover, and wouldn’t have the access to the right people, wasting our efforts. So instead you’re Zigzag’s third cousin, someone he’s been tasked to introduce to Court.”

  Troi’s logic was irrefutable, of course, but Riana had a wistful moment where she wished it wasn’t so. Just because it was fun tweaking Ash’s nose. “Can we pretend otherwise at first?”

  Edvard burst out laughing. “I won’t tell him if you don’t! But please only tell him when I’m in the room, I do not want to miss his reaction.”

  “I won’t,” she promised him with a wink. “So I’m a minor noblewoman of Senn?”

  “You are,” Troi answered, smile approving. “And your accent is coming along nicely. Keep practicing that. I haven’t come up with a good name for you yet, as it must be something that wou
ld be recorded in Senn as a noblewoman’s family, but we should have that wrinkle solved by the end of the week. Now, let’s discuss the finer details, shall we?”

  Chapter Six

  “Broden!”

  It was a rare thing indeed for Tierone to be calling out to him. Broden stopped dead and then did a quick side-step off the street to avoid being run over. The Dahlian King caught up in three long strides with a look of abject relief on his face. “Glad I caught you. You weren’t at the morning meeting.”

  “Minor emergency,” Broden explained. “Someone left a candle burning in a place they should no’ have, and it did a mite of damage.”

  “Ah. I suppose, considering the cramped conditions, that it’s a miracle that doesn’t happen more often.” Tierone looked about the very crowded tent-city of newcomers that were camped just inside the main wall and grimaced. “And beyond grateful that our sheriff is a wizard that can snuff fire out quickly. Ye gods but that would have been disastrous if it had gotten out of control.”

  It would have been. They still had people straggling in, and others moving up from the southern edge of Estole in preparation for what was coming. Between Estole’s Old Wall and the New Wall (as people coined them) there was a veritable forest of tents and lean-tos. As it was they had lost one tent completely and even now Kirsty was helping to build a place so the family would not be imposing on relatives for more than a few days.

  “Ye need me, lad?”

  Tierone needed a second to switch mental tracks. “Yes, I certainly did. First, where’s Ashlynn?”

  “Ah, that? She be working on the wall with Ash and the others any spare second she has. Lass has me playing sheriff while she works her magic.”

  “Of course,” Tierone responded with perfect understanding, “I should have realized that. Let’s walk toward the wall, then, as I’ll need to speak to her about this as well.”

  Broden led the way, keeping pace with the man beside him. He was slightly surprised that Tierone was still here, as the man had been making noises last night about needing to return to Dahl; so whatever had happened in the morning meeting must have been serious to delay him.

  “Troi reported this morning that there’s been an unusual amount of shipping traffic coming out of Kremser, all with indications that they’re heading north.”

  Blinking at him, Broden objected, “North? North where, lad?”

  “Not sure. That’s what caught my attention. I finally managed to get a shipping manifest for one and it only had Windcross listed as a stopping point,” Tierone answered meaningfully.

  That did not spell good news to his mind. It was an extremely long trip through the Western Sea, up around the Land Northward, and south again. If a ship was going that direction, they would certainly be heading to more than one destination. Windcross alone was not worth the journey. It smacked of ulterior motives. “What be the cargo?”

  “Confidential information.”

  “This really do no’ bode well,” Broden growled.

  Tierone grimaced. “You’re telling me. We threw around several ideas this morning but we’re really not sure. Troi can’t get anyone close enough to verify what’s on there. Are they supplies for the army? Troops? Something totally different that we don’t have the right information to predict?”

  “Would no’ an army need to bring supplies with them on the march? Surely trying to get supplies from the ocean be too much of a jaunt to be feasible,” Broden objected, absently dodging a wagon that had random things protruding out the side.

  “I would think so.” Tierone gave a shrug. “It could be that they’re up to something else entirely. We’re just so war-oriented right now we can’t think of what. But this is where Troi had a flash of genius, and hence why I hunted you down. Broden, didn’t you mention before that you have contacts with the pirates?”

  “Aye, lad, that I do,” Broden agreed slowly, not quite sure where Tierone was going with this.

  “How good are your contacts?” Tierone pressed. “Can you get them to raid those ships for us, report what’s on them?”

  The light dawned. “Lad, they be more than willing to do that. Information for information is a game I’ve played more times than I can tell. If they know afore when ships be coming up, they can lay in a pretty ambush and be set for the winter storms.”

  Tierone nodded, satisfied. “Then I need you to go up and broker a deal with the pirates. Even if there’s nothing on those ships for us to worry about, it’ll help put Iysh in tighter financial straits, so it’s a win-win situation for us no matter what the outcome is.”

  All of that was true enough. Broden just saw one problem with the idea. “Lad, I be willing enough to go, as it be land I know well, but ye do realize that Ashlynn will never agree to me going off into pirate land by me lonesome.”

  “She can’t leave now,” Tierone disagreed confidently. “She’s working on a wall, and she’s sheriff here; she doesn’t have the freedom to travel to the other end of the continent with you.”

  Broden eyed him sideways. For all that the man claimed the lass as a sister, he did not seem to know her very well in some ways. “Tell ye what, lad. If ye can convince her to stay, I will take someone else with me.”

  “Of course,” Tierone assured him hastily, “I never intended you to go in by yourself. I’ll talk to her and convince her to stay.”

  It was better for him to go along, Broden could see that. “Let’s find the lass and speak to her, then.”

  Tierone seemed glad to have backup along for this conversation and readily agreed. The two men fell into step with each other, dodging other pedestrians, making a beeline for the outer barrier through the city. “I do wonder if they’re going to be on schedule, since Ash and Riana intend to leave within the next two weeks.”

  Grunting, Broden agreed, “Aye, the wall will no’ be done by the time they leave, but no one wants to delay her going and it lead to trouble.”

  “I agreed with Troi’s timing and reasoning, I just wasn’t sure how it was going to affect building the barrier. Ash is our best builder but I’m not sure if the same applies as this is mostly magical construction? With very little physical.”

  Aside from the posts there to anchor the barrier with, there was nothing physical at all about it. The barrier was made to shuffle back and forth, only presenting a strong front when a physical force impacted against it. “It has no’ seemed to slow them down much, lad. I think we should be fine—”

  From some distance ahead several voices screamed out in pain and terror all at once. Broden’s heart skipped several beats, adrenaline shooting up his spine, as those sounds meant serious trouble. He did not even pause to swear, just broke out into a dead run, following his ears and running in the direction that people were retreating from. Tierone thundered alongside him, pushing hard to keep up. He was a strong man, not a runner, and it showed in the way his lungs strained.

  The physical wall around Estole blocked Broden’s view and he could not see what was happening until he breached the main gate. One of the guards recognized them and shouted out, “MAGICAL ASSASSINS!”

  This time, Broden did feel like swearing. They had not had an assassin in several weeks—mostly due to the poor traveling conditions the weather brought on, belike—and Broden had naively assumed that they had weathered the worst of it where that was concerned. Why he had, who knew?

  Tierone stopped dead, which was wise, as he had no means to fight a magical battle. He was one of those that couldn’t tolerate much magic at all without getting the hives from it. “I’ll summon help from the academy.”

  “Go!” Broden encouraged, already slinging his bow off his shoulder and arrows out of his quiver. His eyes darted about, trying to gain a sense of what was happening and where his partner was.

  Broden picked out four wizard assassins, all of them dodging or deflecting magical attacks shot at them. They were deadly in their craft and good, curse it. Facing them was Kirsty, Ashlynn, Gerrard and two wizard student
s, although their backs were to him so he was not quite sure which two. They looked to be middling teens, and having them in this battle made his blood run cold. They were far too young to be facing hardened assassins.

  Broden’s first duty, always, was Ashlynn. But he could not bear the thought of leaving the kids on their own. Gerrard was doing his level best to get to them, but he had an assassin out for his blood, and that was not happening any time soon.

  This was proving to be a perfectly terrible day.

  Making a split-second decision, Broden broke for the teenagers, firing as he ran, distracting the wizards. They stumbled, dodged, one even dropped flat on his face to avoid arrows in his chest. It bought Broden the time he needed to reach the students. As he sprinted across that open space, his skin crawled at the excessive exposure, but there was no other option. The land in front of Estole was nothing more than flatland and a few very gently rising hills. There was no cover to be had and hesitating was a sure way of getting killed.

  When he was almost upon them, Broden stopped paying strict attention to the wizards and bought a second to see which students they were. His heart sank when he realized that it was Violet and Jayla. They were good students but they hadn’t had nearly enough time in battle simulations or training to prepare them for this.

  Grabbing them by the shoulders, he spun them about and together, so that their shoulders overlapped. “Shield, both of ye!” he commanded roughly. “Do no’ think of attacking, leave that to me. Shield as yer lives depend on it!”

  They had already been shielding some, but also dropping it a little to fire off attack spells. After several lessons with him, they obeyed his voice in pure instinct, throwing up the strongest shields that they could muster.

  For the first time, Broden truly experienced being in a shield that was not a construct of either Ashlynn’s or Ash’s and he finally understood why being a partner for a wizard was such a personal thing. He felt like the air around him was statically charged, uncomfortably so, and moving an inch in any direction would send a jolt through him. His first instinct was to escape it but of course he could not. Gritting his teeth, he sought to ignore it, and instead focused on the fight.