The Midnight Spy

by Kiki Hamilton

  Shanks, however, was a master at disguise. She watched in amazement as he took the sap from an Olivante tree and rubbed it in his hair, turning his blond locks a startling shade of tobacco brown. He slicked his hair down and tied it behind his head, then motioned for her to come near and he did the same for her hair.

  Next, he took a branch from a Tombango bush and stripped the bark, rubbing the sinewy strips over several off his teeth. The dark brown gummy material clung to his teeth, giving them the appearance of being quite rotten. Coupled with a crumpled hat he dug out of his saddlebag and the limping slouch he affected, he was hardly recognizable as the tall, blond, stalwart young mercenary of whom Mosaba had been so fond.

  They had agreed that Sebande would remain behind at a distance; able to help if needed but not close enough to be associated with them. They secured the horses and slipped into town to mingle with the townspeople. It was a strange feeling to speak in her native tongue of Sartish and for a second, it was as if she’d gone back in time.

  “There it is.” She nodded toward the large statue centered in the roundabout in front of the castle. The large figure depicted a man mounted on a rearing horse, his sword raised above his head as though preparing to rush into battle. “Look at the way he’s holding his sword,” Nica whispered. “Does that look like he’s pointing it towards something to you?”

  Shanks strolled alongside her with his slouching, half-limping walk. “The only place that sword appears to be pointing is straight at Ravensfell,” he said in a casual tone.

  Nica nodded as her heart sunk. “That’s what I thought too.”

  They came to a stop in front of the statue, and read the inscription praising the efforts of Hu’ugenok, a warrior who had defeated an invading army seven centuries earlier.

  “Well, the quatrain says ‘above you’ll find a glorified knight’, and he’s a glorified knight.” She peered closer at the plaque. “It says the fight occurred two days before the New Year so that would fit ‘near year’s end he returns to fight’.”

  “Yes, but what about the ‘returns’ part? He’s not returning. He’s carved in stone.” Shanks said. “What’s the next line?”

  “’His sword held high will be your guide’.” Nica looked up at the statue. “Follow to where power divides,” she mused. “His sword points to the Ravensfell. Do you think it means the disruptive power of Mosaba? He has certainly divided Jarisa and Sartis. They used to be allies.”

  Shanks shook his head and cast an appraising glance at the huge castle before them. “I don’t know. Could there be something in the castle?”

  Nica looked over at the familiar building. She searched her memory, trying to think of anything that made sense with the quatrain.

  “There you are.”

  Nica jumped as the sharp voice cut through the air.

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  Panic lit through her veins like a wildfire and Nica clutched blindly at Shanks’ arm as she jerked around. It was Lady Angeline. She would know that voice anywhere.

  The large woman was crossing the circle like a ship cutting a wake through a harbor, all the smaller vessels scurrying to get out of her way. To Nica’s immense relief Lady Angeline was focused on another girl who now wore an expression like a rabbit caught in a snare. Nica didn’t wait to listen to the tirade she knew was sure to follow. She shoved Shanks and motioned for him to move. She wasn’t going to take a chance that Lady Angeline might recognize her.

  They slipped into the flow of people moving past the statue and drew nearer to the entrance to the castle. An idea was blossoming in her head.

  “Should we go in?” she whispered to Shanks. “I know my way around well enough, we could probably cover a lot of the castle and remain unseen. Maybe we’ll see something that makes sense.”

  He gave her a big smile, showing all of his rotten teeth. “If you weren’t dressed as a boy, I’d kiss you right here,” he whispered. He glanced over his shoulder and gave some sign with his hand, motioning toward Sebande who stood on the fringes of the circle, watching them.

  “What did you tell him?” Nica asked curiously.

  “That we were going in and to look for us within two hours.”

  “You said all that with one hand motion?”

  Shanks grinned down at her. “We’ve had lots of practice sneaking into places we shouldn’t be.” Nica couldn’t help but smile back, wondering at the stories that Shanks and Sebande could tell.

  “We should cut around by the stables and go in through a back door near the kitchens,” Nica said. “Nobody watches that entrance and we can take the back halls without drawing any attention.”

  They went around the side of the castle past the grand entrance. The stables were busy with soldiers coming and going as darkness fell. Nica remembered seeing Jacoby here in this very spot, bloodied and shackled. She shuddered at the memory. What would she have done had she known the truth that day? What could she have done?

  No one paid them any heed as they walked toward the castle and slipped in the back door. Nica heaved a sigh of relief when the door closed behind them and they were safely hidden in the dimness of the corridor.

  “Where should we go?” she whispered.

  “Mosaba’s study seems the most likely spot,” Shanks replied. “If there’s anything of value, it would probably be there, don’t you agree?”

  Nica nodded. “Except I don’t even know what we’re looking for.”

  “Tell me the verse again.”

  “Above you’ll find a glorified knight

  Near year’s end he returns to fight

  His sword held high will be your guide

  Follow to where power divides.”

  “So, we’ll look for something where power divides.” Shanks grinned at her. “Should be simple.”

  Nica rolled her eyes and started down the corridor. They wound through the familiar hallways, taking the servant’s stairs up to the fifth floor where Mosaba’s study was located. A well-lit corridor led to the room. Nica motioned for Shanks to stop as they neared and cautiously peered around the corner. Two soldiers stood talking at the far end of the passageway.

  “The door is probably locked,” Nica whispered to Shanks, who stood close behind, looking over her head.

  “I can pick a lock—” he replied in a calculating voice— “if I have enough time.”

  “Should I try and distract the guards?” Nica asked.

  “No, it’s too dangerous. We need to try and stay out of sight if we can. Let’s just wait a minute and see if they move on.”

  Nica drew her head back and leaned against the cool stone wall, rubbing the rough texture with her fingers. Was Mosaba was still in the Ortawn? Or had he followed their trail to Jarisa?

  “All right, they’re gone,” Shanks whispered after a few moments. “You wait here and I’ll go pick the lock. If somebody comes I’ll bluff my way out of it.” He looked into her face. “You stay here. If it looks like it’s going wrong, run as fast as you can out of here and get back to Sebande. Agreed?”

  Nica hesitated then nodded her head. There was no sense arguing with him. If he got caught, she’d decide at that time whether to run or to stay and help. “Good luck,” she whispered as he slipped around the corner and ran on tiptoes to the large set of double doors that led to Mosaba’s office.

  Shanks knelt before the big iron handles. It looked to Nica like he pulled something from behind his head as he worked on the lock. It took less than a minute before he reached up and opened the door. With a quick glance over his shoulder the other way, he motioned for Nica to join him.

  She took a deep breath and darted around the corner, racing toward him. She slipped in through the barely open door. Shanks followed her and carefully pushed the door closed behind them, securing the latch again with a quiet click.

  “All right, so far so good.” He stood with his hands on his hips and looked around the room. “Where do we start?”

  Several
of the tables in the large room were covered with documents and maps, as though Mosaba had been considering every possible place something, or someone, could be hidden. Nica shivered from the cool air pouring in through the partially opened windows. They divided the room with Shanks starting on Mosaba’s desk as Nica worked her way through the bookcases and cabinets.

  The going was slow and they worked silently for more than an hour. Occasionally Nica heard Shanks mutter, “I didn’t know Mosaba had a trading relationship with him.” And then later, “Macaferson is employed by Mosaba?”

  She found little in the bookcases that seemed of interest. The killing devices in the cabinets repelled her and she didn’t spend much time looking at their grisly points and blades. Nica was beginning to feel discouraged. She moved over to the table where Mosaba kept his maps and thumbed through the stack.

  The corner of an elaborate star chart caught her eye and on a whim she pulled it to the top. She loved tracking the movement of the stars and knew every constellation in the sky. She had secretly hoped to study with Becknah and learn to divine the secrets the celestial bodies held.

  Nica ran her fingers over the parchment, tracing the familiar shapes. Her eyes stopped halfway across the page to stare in surprise at a figure shown there. She glanced at the edges of the map, looking for the name of the artist, for this map included Glandar, the missing thirteenth sign of the zodiac. Few history books or star charts ever acknowledged this constellation and it remained somewhat of a mystery.

  She traced the thirteen stars that made up the shape of the knight who waited with sword in hand for the Fire Horse to appear on the horizon. Her fingertip traced the lines between the stars when she froze and leaned down to peer closer at the drawing.

  Suddenly, the silence was broken by a mumble of voices nearby.

  Someone was coming.

  Nica’s gaze shot past Shanks, who still stood at Mosaba’s desk, to the private entrance that led to and from Mosaba’s study through a back door.

  “I don’t care what his excuse is, I want to see him now,” A nearby voice practically shouted.

  Mosaba was here.

  At the sound, Shanks jerked his head up, recognizing the peril they were in. He sprinted around the desk toward her. Nica took a deep breath and scanned the room. She was skilled at hiding from Mosaba on her own, but to hide two of them? It would be impossible in this room.

  “And bring me more wine,” Mosaba shouted. Footsteps sounded on the private entry stairs and Nica knew there were only seconds before the man would be in the room with them. Not enough time to get to the door. They had to get out of here.

  Her eyes darted to the window. It was their only chance. She dropped the star map and flew towards the wall, pushing the leaded glass pane open further. Shanks was right on her heels.

  She grasped the edge of the glass and jumped up on the sill, stepping hurriedly out onto the thin ledge. The height took her breath away and she raised her eyes, fixing her gaze on a point of light in the distance. She edged along the stone perch, trying to make room for Shanks. He inched onto the small stone shelf, his larger boots hanging over the edge, his back pressed to the wall.

  “Hold on to me,” he whispered, “and I’ll hold onto the glass.”

  Nica nodded. With shaking fingers she bunched the side of his jacket and clutched the fabric. She just needed a minute to steady herself and she’d be fine. But they didn’t have a minute.

  “Rodjers, where is Shannan? I want his report,” Mosaba yelled. The proximity of his voice made it clear he was now in the room.

  Nica worked her way slowly along the ledge, moving away from the open window. Shanks moved with her, sliding his feet slowly along the stones.

  “Keep going,” Shanks said softly, “you’re doing great.”

  “Why in the name of Lucede is that window open?” Mosaba yelled. “It’s freezing in here!”

  hey stood with their arms spread for balance, plastered against the wall, barely daring to breathe. She could not be captured. Nica glanced down at the walkway far below and for a moment thought the unthinkable. She would jump, just like Y’ong Toobu, to escape from Mosaba.

  The hinges groaned as the window was yanked closed. Nica released her breath and immediately her knees began to shake. She was out of practice.

  “All right?” Shanks whispered, looking over at her.

  She nodded and forced a shaky grin. With cautious steps she began to work her way over to the parapet. She slid her hands between the cutouts in the stone and pulled herself up and onto the balcony. Together she and Shanks snuck through the shadows, avoiding the patrol on the upper walkway, and slipped into a shadowy corner between the walls of the castle.

  “That was close,” Nica whispered.

  “For a minute there I thought I was going to have to duel with Mosaba in his own castle.” Shanks let out a relieved chuckle as he put his arm around Nica’s back and pulled her close. “Maybe we should try again later.”

  Nica lifted her head. “Do you have a death wish?”

  “No. I just—”

  She put her fingers against his lips. “It doesn’t’ matter. We don’t have to come back.”

  “Why? Did you find something?”

  Nica gave a quick excited nod. “We’re in the wrong spot.” At Shanks’ frown she explained. “The poem isn’t talking about the statue in front of Ravensfell. It’s talking about Glandar, the golden knight—the thirteenth constellation.” She pointed up to the sky. “You can only see Glandar in Sartis in December. Look where his sword is pointed.”

  Shanks turned his gaze upward. “Northwest.”

  “Yes.” Nica nodded. “And what’s to the northwest?”

  “The Spires Mountains,” Shanks replied.

  “Exactly. And the beginning of the Great Divide.”

  THEIR ESCAPE FROM Sartis was without incident and after they crossed the sliver back into Jarisa they made good headway. One day after another passed as the three of them traveled north, moving closer and closer to the snow-capped peaks of The Spires. The rough-hewn craggy crests reminded her of a sleeping giant, poking crooked fingers into the gray sky.

  As the trail they followed gained in elevation, the heavy forest gave way to hillsides sparsely populated with craggy trees. The ground was peppered with rocky hills and cliffs that appeared to have been thrust toward the sky in a huge burst.

  THEY’D BEEN ON the road for almost two weeks when the weather suddenly changed. Clouds closed in on the mountain tops and the sky became a soft grey.

  “We must be close to the start of the Great Divide,” Shanks commented. “Did you know they say the Divide was created by a river? Legend says it was water that actually cut the canyon over the centuries.”

  “A river?” Nica said. “But Sartis is a desert. The canyon has been dry for centuries.”

  As they neared the highest part of the trail, beautiful white snowflakes began to drift down. Shanks gave Nica a grin that reminded her of a little boy receiving a favorite toy. She laughed at him, filled with an irrational happiness.

  The snow continued to fall as they climbed and they soon found themselves in a magical, ethereal world. Each step of their horse’s hooves caused the white powder to spray into the air in a cloud-like puff, their nostrils snorting out breaths of smoky air.

  The trail through the snow-covered forest was breathtaking in its beauty, a dramatic change from the dense greenery and foliage of the jungles of southern Jarisa. Huge ice-covered cliffs of jagged rock rose abruptly on each side of the trail. Crooked rows of trees, dressed in sparkling white frosting, survived at impossible angles among the cracks and fissures of the huge rock slabs. It was as if they’d entered another world—a magical, ancient world full of secret wonders.

  EIGHTEEN DAYS HAD passed since their departure from Berjerac. Darkness was settling around them like a blanket as they walked their horses along a steep ridge above a winding gorge. The path took a hard turn through the trees then began to rapidly d
escend.

  “Welcome to the Braaks’faa Valley,” Shanks said. “Be on the lookout for ghosts.”

  “We can already see their bones.” Sebande pointed to something ahead on the ground. Nica peered where he’d indicated and realized that what she thought were piles of rocks, were actually small piles of bones.

  “Are those human?” she asked.

  “Yes, and about the tenth pile I’ve seen so far,” Sebande said.

  Nica shuddered. She tried to recall what the verse from the Avedla had said about bones. Silently she recited the poem in her head.

  Where tallest mountains and valleys collide

  The ghosts of scattered bones reside

  The tears of Gods this space created

  It is here the answer has so long waited

  Certainly part of the verse was fulfilled in this spot, Nica thought. But what were the tears of Gods? She eyed the frozen river but could make no connection between the two. She gave a mental shrug. Maybe it would become clear as they went further.

  The piles of human bones, washed white with exposure to the elements, became more frequent the further they went. Nica searched the woods around them. So many dead. It was almost as if the air shivered with their ghosts.

  When they emerged through the trees into a wide open area Shanks reined his horse in.

  “Nic, look at that.”

  Nica urged her horse next to his. She caught her breath as she gazed where he was pointing. “It’s breathtaking.”

  Towering above them was a magnificent frozen waterfall. Gigantic icicles had formed in the shape of huge teardrops, as though the melting water had frozen in the instant just before the drop fell, suspending it forever.

  Sebande came up beside them and let out a low whistle. “Are those supposed to be tears of the Gods?”

  Nica’s mouth dropped open. The tears of Gods. She could think of nothing more appropriate than a waterfall. “Sebande,” she cried. “That’s it! This is where we’re supposed to be.”