The Midnight Spy

by Kiki Hamilton

  “I can’t go see him?”

  “No.” Becknah shook his head. “Neither of us can go. It’s possible we’re being watched.” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was within earshot. “We can’t take the chance that the Devil of Sartis learns of his location, for if he captures your father again he will surely torture him to death.”

  Jaaniyah cringed at the man’s words. “Why do you think he spared him?”

  “Mosaba must believe your father has important information, or else he would have simply killed him. I’m sure he never dreamed that Jacoby could escape.” Becknah covered Jaaniyah’s slim hand with his own. “The healer will know how to improve the king’s health enough so he can travel. It should only be a matter of weeks before we can bring him home.”

  Sweeping his long robe to the side, he slid into the chair next to Jaaniyah. “I’ve discussed the situation at length with Eisle Heathron. We are in agreement that we need to make Mosaba think the king is back safe within the fortifications of the palace. We don’t want him looking for your father in a place where we can’t defend him.”

  “But how will you do that?” Jaaniyah whispered.

  “We’re going to pretend to sneak one of Heathron’s soldiers in tonight, masquerading as the wounded king. He’ll be wrapped in bloody blankets and carried on a sling. We’re hoping that word will leak out to Mosaba that the king has returned to the palace, though no one will actually be occupying the royal suite. We’ll keep the doors guarded though, so people believe the king is in his chambers. Eventually, we’ll announce his presence and the fact that he will remain in seclusion to heal.”

  Jaaniyah nodded. Her mind rushed ahead to the possibilities. Her father lived. Relief swept through her like a summer breeze.

  “You’ll be informed when the imposter has been delivered so you can be seen going in and out of your father’s chambers. You, I and Heathron will be the only ones who are allowed access.”

  “What about Thistlewaite?” Jaaniyah asked. “Won’t people be expecting the healer to be here if the king is really here?”

  Becknah’s brow creased in a frown. “Of course, Thistlewaite will need to be seen.” He drummed his ringed fingers on the table. “I’ll need to give it more thought.” He rose from the chair.

  “Becknah,” Jaaniyah said. “Do you know how my father escaped from Mosaba?”

  The old man looked down, his grey eyes steady on her. “He had help, you can be sure of that. We’ll learn more of the details with the arrival of one of our spies.”

  Her voice lightened. “Is Jonn Shanks coming?”

  “So I’ve been informed.” The old man pulled his robes close. With a short bow, he strode away.

  “JAANI.”

  The word was just a whisper but Jaaniyah’s eyes flew open. She fought the clinging web of sleep, trying to sort through her confusion. The room was dark, with only a sliver of light from the moon casting a narrow path across the floor. A dark figure knelt beside her bed. She sat up with a jerk and pushed herself away from the shadowy form, letting out a shriek of terror.

  “Jaaniyah, it’s me,” he whispered, reaching out a hand to calm her.

  She drew a deep breath. “Jonn?”

  “Yes.”

  “Jonn.” She scrambled on her hands and knees closer to him. “How did you get in here? Have you seen my father? How bad is he?”

  He put a finger to his lips. “Shhhh. He’s alive. I won’t lie to you—he’s badly injured and has been mistreated, but Thistlewaite is with him. If we can keep him sheltered for a few weeks the healer says he’ll have a good chance for recovery.”

  “Oh, thank the Ancients,” she whispered. She squinted through the shadows, trying to see his face. “Was it you? Did you get him out?”

  “I had help,” Shanks said. “That’s what I need to talk to you about.”

  “A reward? Do they want a reward for their bravery? I will gladly pay.” Jaaniyah clutched at his arm. “How much?”

  “It’s not about a reward. It’s something else. I need to show you… something.” Shanks’ voice sounded hesitant.

  A wave of foreboding washed over her. “What is it?”

  “I can’t tell you. I have to show you. We need to go now, while the castle sleeps.”

  Jaaniyah hesitated. Could this be a trap? She clutched the blankets close to her chest and sat back. She couldn’t think of any place that he could possibly need her to go to in the dead of night. She searched the shadowed angles of his face for an answer as she contemplated his request. She trusted Jonn Shanks, Jaaniyah reminded herself. More important, her father trusted Shanks. “Where?”

  “It’s not far. Get dressed. Cover your head so you’ll be harder to recognize.” Shanks pushed off the bed and stood up. “I’ll wait outside the door.”

  Jaaniyah watched his dark silhouette slide out the door and took a deep breath to still her heart. She considered what her father would do in this moment. Making up her mind, she threw the bedcovers to the side and slid out of bed.

  The stones were cold against her feet, hastening her dash to the armoire. She pulled a long, hooded cape from the depths of the closet and tugged the garment around her shoulders, grateful for its warmth against the chill night air. With the oversized hood covering her head she pushed her feet into a pair of soft leather shoes and hurried to the door.

  “I’m ready,” she whispered.

  Shanks emerged from the shadows. “Follow me.”

  They wound through the corridors amid the dimmed torches, sticking close to the shadows. Shanks took her through back hallways and down stairwells she hadn’t traveled since she was a child. She followed his broad back wondering how he’d come to know the castle so well.

  As they moved lower within the building, they passed an occasional guard. Shanks identified himself in a low voice as they approached, before a warning could be called out. The guards all knew him and none stopped them to question his purpose.

  Jaaniyah could feel their curious eyes on her shrouded figure as she moved through the hallways behind Shanks like a ghost and wondered who they thought she was.

  It was a good ten minutes of walking before Shanks paused at a stalwart door with a big iron lock hanging loose at the handle.

  “Where are we?” she whispered. They were in a part of the castle she didn’t recognize. She fought the ribbon of fear that threaded its way up her throat threatening to choke her.

  “We’re in a little-used part of the prison,” Shanks said as he pushed the plank door open with his shoulder.

  “The prison?” Jaaniyah echoed. She took a deep breath of the damp, fetid air and immediately regretted it. A note of panic crept into her voice. “Why are we here?”

  “The person that helped rescue your father is here. You need to thank them personally.” The door swung inward with a low groan. Steps led down into a long hallway that stretched away, lit by torches hung upon the walls. Shanks moved forward through the door.

  Jaaniyah balked.

  “Why couldn’t you bring this person to me?” she asked. “Why are you holding them in prison? Have they done something criminal?”

  Jonn Shanks looked at her. “We’re almost there, M’lady.” He reached out his hand. “Jaani,” he added softly, “trust me.”

  Even in the dim light Jaaniyah could see the beseeching look in his eyes. Her heart gave a thump for a different reason. Jonn Shanks was not like the others in her father’s band of warriors. She often found herself watching him, his easy smile, the friendly camaraderie he had with the others. Though young, more than once she’d heard the chambermaids talking of the women he’d courted and it’d been with a jealous twinge that she’d realized she wasn’t immune to his charms either.

  Jaaniyah reached forward and slid her hand into his. She welcomed the warmth and security that his fingers offered. She gave a nod and followed him down the steps.

  Their footsteps echoed with a hollow sound as he led her down the long hallway and around
a turn in the passageway. Up ahead a guard stood before a cell. Warned by their footsteps he was looking their way, expecting them.

  “Sebande.” Shanks nodded at the guard. “Thank you.” He peered through the bars in the door into the dark shadows of the cell. “All is well?”

  The guard’s eyes flitted from Shanks to Jaaniyah’s shrouded face then back to Shanks again. Jaaniyah wondered at the look in his eyes. Curiosity? Caution? Fear?

  “She’s alive,” Sebande said.

  She? A woman had helped save her father? Jaaniyah peered into the cell. Who could this be, that would risk her life for another?

  “Sebande,” Shanks said, “I need you to guard the entrance. No one, I repeat, no one can be allowed down here. De’preche?”

  Sebande nodded.

  “Thank you, my friend. I know you’re tired. We won’t be long and then you’ll get the rest you need.” With a nod and a hesitant bow toward Jaaniyah, Sebande moved away, his boots tapping down the corridor the way they had just come.

  “Jonn…”

  Shanks held up his palm to stop her. “Wait for just a second.” He reached forward, slid the bolt free and pulled the barred door open. Jaaniyah stepped back to allow him room to enter the cell.

  “Nica,” Shanks said softly. He reached up for a torch and took a tentative step into the room, holding the light high. “Nica, it’s Shanks.”

  Jaaniyah peered curiously over his shoulder. So far the dark lump in the corner hadn’t moved or given any indication that it was even alive. Unsure of what to expect, Jaaniyah stood poised to run.

  Shanks placed the torch in a holder on the wall and moved to stand in the center of the cell. He held his hands out from his sides as if in surrender. “I need to explain.”

  Jaaniyah’s brow etched down into a frown. There was a note in Shanks’ voice that she had never heard before.

  “Can you stand?” he said. “I want you to meet someone.”

  Jaaniyah took a step back in alarm. She was not going to walk into that jail cell under any condition. What game was Shanks playing at?

  “We want to thank you for saving the king.”

  “THIS IS THE BLOODY THANKS I GET?” The shrouded figure flew out of the corner and launched itself at Shanks’ head. “BEING LOCKED IN A FILTHY PRISON CELL?” Shanks dodged her fists and put his arms up to protect his head.

  Jaaniyah stepped back, shocked at the Sartish words pouring out of the prisoner.

  “I risked my life for you! And you’re nothing more than a bloody spy.”

  Fast as a cat, Shanks reached out and wrapped his arms around the prisoner’s upper body, pinning her flailing arms to her side.

  “Stop it…you’re not going to...” she wriggled and strained, trying to break free. The heel of her boot connected hard with his shin.

  Shanks released her with a grunt of pain and took a wary step back.

  The prisoner jerked away and hurried to the wall, her chest heaving with anger and exertion. Her hood had flown back in their struggle and now lay flat against her back. The blond highlights in her hair shone in the light of the torch as she glared daggers at Shanks.

  From the hallway, Jaaniyah moved forward, craning her neck to see where the wild creature had run after attacking Shanks. Jaaniyah sucked in her breath with a loud gasp as she laid eyes on the girl who stood in the corner with fists clenched and a snarl on her face, ready to attack again.

  “Asa Sabra,” Jaaniyah whispered. The world started spinning out of control. She staggered against the door and reached out blindly to catch herself.

  The girl in the cell had Jaaniyah’s face. They were identical.

  As Jaaniyah banged into the door, Nica jerked around.

  Shanks relaxed his defensive position. He stepped toward Jaaniyah and slid an arm around her waist to support her, pulling her into the cell. With a gentle hand, he reached up and slid her hood back.

  “Nica,” he said, “I’d like you to meet your sister, Jaaniyah Jacoby.”

  he silence that fell within the room was so brittle it seemed a sharp word would shatter the air around them into a million shards like pieces of glass. The fight drained out of Nica as she stared at the girl who stood next to Shanks. She had an eerie sensation of being outside her own body and looking back.

  What had Shanks said? Sister?

  The girl looked as though she, too, were having problems with her hearing. She stared at Nica with her mouth agape. It was like looking in a mirror. The same grey eyes. The same long, blond-brown hair. The same straight nose.

  “Jonn,” Jaaniyah finally choked out. “What is the meaning of this? My sister died as an infant.”

  Shanks removed his arm from Jaaniyah’s waist and took a step closer to Nica centering himself between the two of them. “Was your sister a twin?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was faint.

  “And how did she die?”

  “I…I only know the stories I’ve been told,” Jaaniyah stammered. “She drowned in the river when we were very young. It was during the Feast Day celebrations and we were under the care of a nanny.”

  “I’d say the nanny couldn’t be trusted,” Shanks said calmly. “Because the two of you are identical. You have to be sisters.”

  Jaaniyah narrowed her eyes at Nica. “Who are you?”

  Nica forced herself to hold a level gaze even though the other girl exuded a haughty air that was intimidating. “Madanica Santos.”

  “Santos?” Jaaniyah repeated the name in disbelief. “Are you related to that barbarian, Mosaba Santos?”

  Nica lifted her chin a notch. “He is my father.”

  Jaaniyah jerked her head toward Shanks. “You dare to bring Mosaba’s daughter here?”

  Shanks returned her angry gaze unperturbed. “Jaani, your father wouldn’t be alive tonight if it weren’t for Nica’s help. It’s that simple.” He paused to let his words sink in. “And since Nica is clearly your sister, then you must realize that you have the same father. The only difference is that Nica has had the extreme misfortune to have been tortured by Mosaba all of these years.”

  Nica’s eyes flicked to Shanks. How did he know about Mosaba?

  Jaaniyah pointed at Nica. “Let me see your arm,” she commanded. “Then we’ll know for sure.”

  Nica blinked in surprise. How could this girl know of her mark?

  “Show me!”

  Though part of her wanted to refuse the order, Nica slid her left sleeve up and turned her wrist over to show a brown birthmark shaped like a star.

  An expression of amazement crossed Jaaniyah’s face. The other girl slid her own sleeve up and revealed an identical star shaped mark.

  “This birthmark follows my father’s lineage,” Jaaniyah said in a low voice. “It’s called the Star of Jarisa.”

  Shanks held his palms up. “I couldn’t tell either of you. You’d never have believed me. The only way you would both accept the truth was to meet—face to face.” He frowned at Nica. “I was going to talk to you about leaving Sartis when I returned, but apparently, you had plans that couldn’t wait.”

  Nica struggled to absorb the shocking revelation. She was a twin—stolen and raised by Mosaba. The idea was incredible, yet at the same time, explained so much: Mosaba’s dislike of her; the ever-present fear he wanted to hurt her; his insistence that she be sequestered within the walls of their castle. He hadn’t kept her locked up for her own safety as he’d led her to believe. It was so she wouldn’t be seen and recognized.

  Another thought crashed over her. She was from Jarisa, not Sartis. She was a Jacoby. It had been her own father whom she had helped save tonight. She remembered Shanks’ determined look as he had held her face between his hands. ‘You are doing the right thing. Never doubt that.’ She bit her lip hard to stop the tears threatening to fall.

  With unexpected suddenness, Nica’s legs gave out and she sat down on the floor with a thump. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, trying to regain her composure.

  “Nica?”
Shanks voice was gentle.

  She held her hand up to stop him. It was all too much. She couldn’t take anymore. Not another word. She remembered the strange look the Jarisan guard had given her when they’d handed over the wounded king. The man had seen her face within the shadows of her cloak and his behavior toward her had changed. Now she understood. He had thought she was Jaaniyah.

  The tension and exhaustion from the previous days were taking their toll and an odd shaking started in her legs and moved into her hands.

  “Jaaniyah.” Shanks seemed to understand what was happening. “We need to get Nica to your chambers and let her rest. We’ll need to hide her there for a few days until we figure out what to do next.”

  There was a long moment of silence as Jaaniyah stared down at Nica.

  “Do you trust her, Jonn?”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “Implicitly.” His look hardened. “You can’t even imagine what this girl has lived with all these years.”

  Jaaniyah took a step back. “Fine. How do we get her there?”

  Shanks moved to Nica’s side and put an arm around her back. “Can you walk?”

  “Yes, of course I can walk.” Nica pushed herself up from the floor and away from Shanks. But her legs continued to shake and she wondered if she really could walk out of the cell.

  “I’ll help you,” Shanks said quietly.

  “No thank you.” Nica jerked away. “No doubt you’ll sling me over your shoulder like a bag of flour, just like your oversized guard. My stomach still has bruises from his bony shoulder.”

  “Sebande carried you over his shoulder?” Shanks’ voice sounded strangled as he escorted both girls out of the cell and into the hallway.

  Nica glared at him. “You think that’s funny, do you?” Suddenly she straightened and took a threatening step towards him. “Where’s Toppen?”

  Shanks expression became guarded. “He escaped.”

  “From twenty guards? You’re lying, Shanks,” she snarled. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

  The muscle in Shanks’ jaw flexed as he contemplated her question. Finally he shrugged. “I don’t know if he’s dead or alive. When I sent you with Sebande, I let Toppen go. I didn’t want him with the king and I have no need for a Sartish wine apprentice.” Shanks’ nose curled in derision. “So I gave him his horse and told him to ride as though Lucede’s hounds were after him.” Shanks raised his eyebrows and gave her an insolent look. “You should thank me for saving his worthless life.”