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18

CONSPIRACIES

Supper was quiet. Aly ate at her worktable, reading over reports and making notes. She was sweating as she burned the reports she had condensed when Fesgao knocked on her door and looked in. “We're gathering,” he told her.

Aly nodded and collected her papers that the other leaders might use. In the meeting room, she saw that everyone was present but Dove.

“Perhaps we should begin?” she asked Ulasim. “I think at the moment Dove wants to be with the duchess.”

“No doubt you are right,” Ulasim agreed. Quedanga closed the door as Ysul woke their security spells.

Aly had just finished passing out the reports when a knock sounded on the door.

“She came after all,” Quedanga murmured, surprised, as she opened it.

In walked Dove, followed by Winnamine and Nuritin. The conspirators started to their feet, all but Ulasim, who measured the two haggard women with his eyes. In this room he was the raka general, who stood at attention for no one.

“I thought it was time,” Dove told him, a mulish set to her mouth. “Past time.”

“The rebellion—if that's what you are about, I want to be part of it,” said Winnamine, her voice quavering. “I've known—my lord and I knew—there was something going on, but we let it go. We did not much care for our laws and hoped that a good fright would lead to better government. You were all so careful that we could not see how anyone might discover you. And . . . I want to help.”

“As do I,” said Nuritin, folding her arms over her chest. “There are others, just as appalled by this child murder as we are. Others who can bring arms and finances and fighters to this cause. In fact, one of them is at my house in town.”

Ulasim looked from Dove to the two older women. “You see me in a delicate position.”

“You're going to have to trust my judgment at some point,” Dove reminded him. “I think that now would be a good time. I won't be a puppet, Ulasim. If I rule, I rule.

Ochobu poked Nawat with a finger. “Give the Lady Nuritin your chair,” she ordered. To Nuritin she said, “Who is this guest?”

“I have sent Jesi for him. She knows to be careful,” replied Nuritin, lowering herself into her chair.

Ulasim gestured for the duchess to take Aly's seat as Dove assumed her usual place.

“We just let them in?” demanded Quedanga. “And when members of their families die, what is to keep them from running to the monarchs with all they know?”

“Members of this family have died,” snapped Nuritin. Quedanga looked down.

“If we were going to go to the Crown, we would have done it long before this,” said Winnamine, her voice tired. “While we still could walk away from you with our own skins intact. No one will believe we were ignorant of your activities all this time.”

“We'd like to avoid a bloodbath,” Aly told Quedanga. “So unsightly, and it will give entirely the wrong impression to any greedy foreigners who are watching us. That means coming to terms with some luarin.”

“You think the great lords will give up their lands and titles to the raka?” asked Nuritin.

“They will have to give up some of their lands,” replied Fesgao. “But let us face it, many of the raka families who held those titles originally are long dead. Unless a luarin has been cruel to his or her people, or has supported the Rittevons and all they did, we must be ready to negotiate.”

“How can we trust your allies?” demanded Quedanga. “Those luarin you plot with? Any of them could be an agent of the Crown simply waiting for you to pose a real threat before he reports you—or she reports you.”

Aly cleared her throat. “With regard to the main members of their group, I can vouch for their loyalty,” she said modestly. “I've had them watched.” With normal spies she would have waited for them to observe their quarry for months before she could say with near-certainty that they were loyal to their fellow conspirators. With the darkings able to follow those who met in the Teak Sitting Room, she was certain that none of them was in communication with the Crown. Not only had her small allies watched the heads of those families, but they had inspected their desks, their wardrobes, and even their diaries.

“They could have hidden something from you,” argued Quedanga.

Aly shook her head. “You must trust me.”

“What good might you do us?” Ulasim asked the duchess and Lady Nuritin. “You are formidable allies in your own persons, but we need fighters, and weapons, and horses. We need ships, and crews. We need money.”

“All of which we have,” said the duchess.

“What if your warriors choose not to obey your wishes?” Chenaol asked, curious rather than hostile. “What if they report you to our new rulers?”

“Remind them of Topabaw's fate, and that of two commanders of the King's Watch,” said Dove. “Remind them that Imajane and Rubinyan are less than loyal to those who serve them.”

“You might also want to mention those dead persons who have appeared with the word spy on their clothing recently,” Aly murmured. “And those who will be found tomorrow, and the day after. I think we'll have the Windward District fairly well cleared by then.” She gazed at them under her lashes. Everyone had turned to look at her. She added, “After that, we'll start on the rest of Rajmuat. District by district, that's the best way to handle these things.”

“And only think, she is on our side,” Fesgao said at last.

Nuritin smiled frostily at Aly. “Or we need simply to remind such would-be traitors that the Crown will not believe they were innocent while their fellows conspired.”

Aly grinned. “That will work, too.”

Someone rapped on the door in the rebels' signal. Aly went to open it, to find Guchol outside. “Lady Nuritin's secretary, Jesi, is here with two priests of the Black God.”

Aly looked back at Nuritin, who nodded regally. “Bring them,” she ordered.

“Here?” asked Guchol, startled. “But . . .” One look at Aly's raised eyebrow changed her mind. “Right away, Duani.” Guchol trotted off down the hall.

“Duani?” Aly heard Nuritin ask. Aly remained in the doorway, listening to the talk as she watched the hall.

“She is our spymaster,” Ulasim explained. “Her people call her that.”

“And how did a maid from Tortall become a spymaster?” demanded Nuritin, outraged.

Aly flapped her hand for silence as people came down the hall, Jesi in the lead. She nodded when she saw Aly, and stood aside to let the priests go ahead. When they walked into the room, Imgehai Qeshi put back her hood, revealing her pale luarin face lit by amber eyes. With a nod to Winnamine and Nuritin, she leaned against the wall as Aly locked the door. The other priest looked around the room from the shadow of his hood, then pushed it back. Aly recognized the eagle nose and short-cropped gray hair of Duke Nomru. Some of the raka murmured in surprise.

You sly thing! Aly thought, beaming at Nuritin with approval. All the realm's soldiers and spies are hunting for him, and you've had him tucked away in your vacant town house! She bowed to Nuritin to show her appreciation.

Winnamine and Dove stood to kiss the renegade duke on the cheek. Nomru's eyes swept the room, lingering on some faces, then settling on Ulasim. The raka met the duke's gaze with one of equal strength. Ulasim would make sure these people, normally luarin masters, would learn right away who was in charge here.

After a moment the duke asked Ulasim, “May I join you?” Ulasim nodded.

Secret stretched a long neck up from its place in Aly's bead necklace to whisper to her.

“Excuse me,” Aly said. She went into her workroom for privacy, locking her door behind her. Taking off her necklace, she held it in her hands as it reshaped itself into her two darkings. “Say that again?”

They conferred. Finally Trick said, “Servants took food to house of mages inside Gray Palace walls, took food to guards on watch. A man of Rittevon Lancers comes to say fresh guards come soon, but guards eat now because mess is closed. Guards eat. Dark come. Guards start to fall. They try to breathe, but breath not come. Their faces swell. They lay down, no breath coming. They stop trying to breathe.”

“How do you know?” asked Aly, her mind ticking away. “All the guards? They're all dead?”

“Peony go to mage house, after Grosbeak run away,” explained Trick. “Peony not want to go with Grosbeak, and we think darking should watch mage house. Darkings know mages. They stir things up. Peony stays at mage house.”

“Oh, dear,” Aly said ruefully. “I didn't even try to find Peony.”

Trick and Secret shook their heads. “Darkings here to work. Aly can't do everything,” Trick said. “We think of some.”

“No, I do not remember everything. And I should have taken you more seriously,” she admitted.

“Darkings learn,” Trick said with pride. “Peony check all guards outside mage house. All dead. Peony go inside mage house. Five mages there and families. All dead.”

Aly felt her bowels tighten. Were the new rulers mad? “What else?” she asked.

“Wagons coming to mage house,” Secret continued. “Men packing up dead mages, dead guards. Rubinyan send them. He say, give the dead to meat-eating fish. He wants no one but trusted guards to know what happened to them.”

Aly shuddered. It was a fate she would not wish on anyone. “What are the king and queen doing now?” Aly wanted to know. “Are they, I don't know, slumbering the sleep of those without cares?”

Both darkings shook their heads.

“Imajane screaming and throwing things at Rubinyan,” replied Secret. “Bottles, brushes, mirrors. She says Rubin-yan . . .” It cocked its head as if listening. “She says he is tumbling a lady?”

“Ah,” Aly replied. “It means he is making love with a lady. If Imajane is throwing things, she believes he is in love with some other woman. Is she still throwing things?”

“She has nothing to throw unless she picks up chair,” said Trick. “Uh-oh.”

“She picked up chair,” Secret explained.

Shaking her head, Aly returned to the meeting room, interrupting an intense discussion of numbers of household men-at-arms. She waited for a lull in the conversation, then announced, “I have some interesting news.” She looked at Ulasim, who nodded for her to speak. “Someone—I suspect Imajane—has poisoned the court mages. Either a natural poison was used, one no one would notice in food, or they didn't look at their supper properly.”

They stared at her. Nomru was the first to speak. “My dear young woman, not even Imajane is so mad. For that matter, how can you possibly know this?”

“She has means that we do not,” Chenaol told him.

Aly knew Chenaol probably thought the god had told her. That was good enough for the time being.

“Imajane would certainly be that mad if she were getting rid of evidence,” said Nuritin. “Everyone knows the storm that sank the Rittevon was no accident. The Rittevons have been wary of mages since that cabal that worked for Carthak was uncovered fifty years ago and since Oron's mage killed his father. And the Crown does have a reputation for doing away with their tools, once used.”

“Rubinyan is no Rittevon,” Imgehai Qeshi remarked.

“Rubinyan didn't know,” Aly told her. “She ordered their deaths without consulting him. He is quite upset.”

“And so he should be!” Nomru said. “Letting a woman decide a matter of state . . .”

He looked down at the strong brown hand that gripped one of his arms, then up into Fesgao's eyes. “Perhaps we have not made ourselves entirely clear,” Fesgao told him mildly. “We are not in this to put another luarin man on the throne. We are here to reclaim our homeland and set a proper queen of our own blood to rule.”

Nomru took a breath, as if to argue, then halted, and released it. “I confess, we have done poorly with our charge,” he admitted reluctantly. He looked at Dove. “Of course. The one who is twice royal.” He fell silent, then nodded. “I am an old dog, but I believe I am still able to learn. Dovasary might do very well for us all.”

 

The next day callers returned to visit the duchess. That night Duke Nomru moved secretly into Balitang House. One or two or three at a time the luarin conspirators, starting with the Fonfalas, learned they had new allies, people who were not prepared to allow them to take over. It took little to persuade most, particularly because Aly urged the duchess, Nuritin, and Dove to let them know what had happened to the court mages, their families, and the men set to guard them. The luarin conspirators could work it out for themselves that Imajane had done all this to cover up some dreadful act like regicide.

Two days after Matfrid Fonfala visited his grieving daughter, Trick told Aly that the Fonfala estates on Malubesang, next to the Nomru lands, had risen against the Crown. They were led not by servant and slave rebels, but by Winnamine's brothers. That same day word came from Malubesang of the discovery of the royal governor's body, hanging from the cliffs that overlooked Fajurat Bay.

When a twentieth Crown spy turned up dead, courtesy of Boulaj and Junai working from Aly's lists, Rubinyan and Imajane instituted a twilight curfew throughout Rajmuat. Even with the curfew, neither spies nor the night patrolmen themselves were safe from the rebels. From her sources Aly cheerfully reported growing unease in the warehouses commandeered for use as barracks and in the barracks proper for the army. The men complained that death in battle was expected; simply disappearing from the street was not.

Two nights after the curfew began, the chief conspirators, including Duke Nomru, the priestess Imgehai Qeshi, Winnamine, and Nuritin, met outside at Aly and Nawat's suggestion. Certainly it was stifling indoors; the garden was cooler by far. Urged by Nawat, the miniature kudarung came out to meet the four luarin, who were charmed and awed. No kudarung had come voluntarily to Rajmuat in over two centuries. Aly thought better of the stern Nomru when she saw how gently he handled a small piebald foal that tried to eat the trim on his tunic.

The curfew gongs were ringing when the southeast horizon flared orange. Aly pointed it out to her companions as a big explosion thudded in their ears. Nomru started to his feet, the ladies and then the raka beside him. Over the southeastern wall of the house the orange glow expanded. Where the white light-veils and the multicolored sparks shifted over the sky, the orange glow kept its place on the horizon. Soon they heard the now-familiar clang of the city's alarm bells.

Nomru frowned. “That looks like it comes from the naval shipyards,” he said.

Aly sighed happily. “It does. My little ones do such wonderful work.”

“Their Majesties will start executing people over deeds like this,” Nomru warned.

“They would do it sooner or later in any case,” replied Ulasim. “They must, to show they have control. They will find it is not so easy to kill rebels here. And while they search for people to execute, they will force those who did not want to choose between them and the rebels to pick a side.”

Aly pointed upward. The multicolored points of light scattered across the sky blazed more strongly than ever. “So nice to know our work is appreciated,” she remarked.

The next morning, when she went to her workroom, her pack was already there, freshly washed and wearing clothes that did not smell of blazebalm.

“Very good work last night, my lambs,” she told them as she flung herself into her chair and laced her fingers on her stomach. “Very inspiring. What is left?”

Jimarn unfurled a small, deadly smile. “Very little. No wonder it's a death sentence for a raka to possess blazebalm. It's very useful stuff.”

“What next, Duani?” Olkey wanted to know. “We have ideas for our recruits, of course, but do you have anything special in mind?”

Aly tugged an earlobe. She would have loved to get to work inside the palace, but the raka there were too easily trapped. For the time being she named four people in the city as targets. All were the prince's cronies, placed in high offices when he became regent. It was even more galling that the lone raka among them was in charge of the Crown prisons on Gempang and Kypriang, where the prisoners were also mostly raka. If he felt anything for them, he had yet to show it.

“You might advise these four that it's a mistake to support the current government,” she said. “They should be allowed to live. But they should remember they cannot hide from us. Indulge your imaginations. Be mindful of their children. Many times children grow up to make different choices than did their parents. Jimarn, you might want to visit the Crown warehouses on Josefa Street. They are packed with grain. Wouldn't it be nice to hide it someplace so we can share it with those in need this winter? Do as you like with the empty warehouses.”

“Duani, remind me to stay on your good side,” Hiraos commented, shaking his head. “You really know how to hold a grudge.”

And she makes it painful,” Guchol remarked soberly.

Aly waved goodbye and watched them go. Their tasks would keep them occupied for a few days. By then she ought to have some ideas for the palace in general, and the Gray Palace in particular. The darkings had already mentioned that their noisemaking and item-throwing had increased the tension of all who lived there.

As soon as the pack was gone, Trick told Aly that Imajane was sending Lady Edunata home to her family covered in bruises. The morning after Edunata left, Imajane woke to find that two more ladies-in-waiting had left her service in the night. They did not want to risk Imajane's jealousy.

That same day Rubinyan brought Varwick Jimajen, his oldest son by his first marriage, to court from his home estates. Aly passed on to the conspirators that Rubinyan confided to Varwick his fear that he could not control his queen. It worried him that she had ordered the deaths of the mages without consulting him. He rightly asked himself what other orders she might give.

Nawat expanded the work of the crows. They had already put a stop to the Crown's attempts to communicate with the outer Isles by winged messenger. The only reliable ways to get news or give instructions were through messengers on the ground or by mage. Since the queen trusted what her new mages told her no more than she had the old mages, the newcomers were a jumpy crew. Nawat then made sure that it was not safe for a noble or soldier on the open palace grounds. When Imajane tried to do a day's hunting just outside the walls, Nawat and his friends mobbed the falcons, driving the royal party back to the Gray Palace.

Seventeen days after Dunevon's death, Kioka raced into Aly's workroom. “I just came from the docks!” she announced, panting. “You won't believe it! They posted it on the docks while their messengers delivered the letters to the palace. They're calling their ambassadors home!”

Aly drummed her fingers until Kioka caught her breath. “I would share your joy more quickly if I understood what to be joyful about,” she said gently.

“I'm sorry, Duani. It's the Tortallans, and the Carthakis. They say their mages discovered the storm that sank King Dunevon's ship was magical, and they traced the magic back to the Gray Palace. They say they will not trade with king-slayers! Every Tortallan and Carthaki ship in port is weighing anchor, even if they don't have cargo. Even if they're half unloaded! Olkey says the Tyrans are debating cutting their trade with the Isles, though he isn't sure they'll do it. Tyrans are less choosy about where they get money.”

Aly stopped drumming her fingers. She hadn't expected this. Tortall and Carthak had just put the Isles under a trading ban until the king's murderers were caught. With a bad harvest and national unrest draining the royal treasury, this was a heavy blow. How would the monarchs cope? They would have to find someone to take the blame. A pity that Imajane had been so quick to kill the mages, but Aly supposed the princess had decided she couldn't be certain that the mages would keep quiet about who had issued their orders.

Would the Crown try to hold the Tortallan and Carthaki ambassadors here in Rajmuat? Aly hoped so, but surely Rubinyan and Imajane wouldn't be that stupid. If they did try, they could expect the Tortallan and Carthaki navies within the week.

“It's good, right?” Kioka asked, brushing her hair back from her eyes.

Aly sighed. “Think how distressed Their Majesties must be,” she said. “And shouldn't the people know our two richest, most powerful neighbors have stopped trading with us?”

“Got it,” said Kioka. She raced from the room, squeezing past Nawat.

Aly raised her eyebrows. “You left me to sleep the rest of the night alone,” she said.

Nawat grinned. “I was helping to steal soldiers who couldn't keep up.”

“What do you do with them?” she asked, curious. “I haven't heard of bodies being found.”

“Nor will you,” Nawat informed her, sitting on a corner of the worktable. “They were still alive when we gave them to my warriors at the edge of the jungle.” He picked up Aly's hand and laced his fingers with hers. “My warriors will be able to say they last saw the missing soldiers alive, when the troops went on a visit to the jungle.”

Aly walked her free fingers over their entwined hands. “But why would Crown soldiers visit the jungle?”

“They didn't think they would at first,” Nawat admitted. “So my warriors show them the beauties of the deep jungle. They take away all the things the soldiers have of the civilized world, such as clothes and weapons and armor, so the soldiers will appreciate the jungle with their entire bodies. But my warriors have seen jungle before, so they get bored and leave. The soldiers stay longer.”

“Like the tax collectors,” Aly whispered, awed by the beauty of what he described. “Take away all they have and leave them to survive the jungle. If you're questioned under truthspell, you can say they were alive when you left them. And the only way they could survive naked out there . . .” Nawat was shaking his head. Aly nodded. “I take it you don't leave them near any trails.”

“They are there to appreciate the jungle that has been untouched by humans,” Nawat told her, a teacher to a student who did not quite understand.

Aly sighed. “I am limp with envy,” she told him. “Simply limp.”

Nawat raised the hand still entwined with his and kissed it. “I knew you would be.” He got to his feet.

“You're leaving?” Aly asked, dismayed.

Nawat bent down and kissed her thoroughly enough to make her limp again. “I am bored with nobles and soldiers who hide,” he explained. “The flock that watches the palace will keep them busy. I thought the city flock and I could play for a time. But I will come back.” He cupped her cheek in one hand. “I promised myself that I would not let any day go here when I did not see you once, and not just for kisses.” He tweaked her earlobe and left her there among her reports.

She propped her chin on her hands. There was a great deal to be said for having a former crow as a lover, she decided. They kissed as if they meant it to last. They kissed as if you were the only one they had ever kissed or would ever want to kiss. And this one . . . there were no two ways about it. He was a man.

“I won't be able to push him around anymore,” she observed aloud.

“You have work,” Trick reminded her. “Do not let kissing distract you.”

“I don't, not for more than a moment or two,” Aly replied. She glanced at the darkings. “You know, my mother always told me you had to seize the bright moments, because you never know when they will come again.” She smiled dreamily. “The older I get, the smarter she seems.”

“Rubinyan visits Sevmire,” Trick told her. “Sevmire is drunk.”

Aly glanced out her window. “It's barely noon.”

“Rubinyan is very unhappy,” Trick added. “Rubinyan knocked Sevmire down.”

“Well, the man's drunk when he's supposed to be on duty,” Aly remarked. She looked at them, sitting up a little straighter. “I suppose you could say the same of me.”

“You are happy,” Secret told her. “That is nice. You don't have many nice times.”

Aly smiled. “I believe that is changing. Is Rubinyan going to get rid of Sevmire?” She wasn't sure she wanted that, not now, when Sevmire was doing such a terrible job.

“Sevmire promise not to drink,” Trick told her. It straightened, then quivered. In a flash it joined with Secret to become a two-stranded necklace again. Aly was putting them on when Boulaj poked her head into the workroom.

“Our ladies have received an invitation,” she told Aly. “The new queen invites us to a late breakfast tomorrow morning. She wishes to consult with ‘certain valued friends' about the coronation ceremonies.”

“Oh, splendid,” replied Aly, reaching for reports. “Has she said how they will pay for those ceremonies?”

“Not in the invitation,” Boulaj said with a shrug. “Is the treasury really so low?”

Aly nodded. “They have to keep the armies and navy happy, which is to say, paid. There's not much left over. They're discussing an invitation to the merchants and the nobles to contribute to the ceremonies as a proof of loyalty. I'm sure everyone will be delighted to hear they must beggar themselves to confirm the new king and queen.”

“No doubt,” Boulaj replied. “Anyway, Lady Dove asks if you will come with us.”

“I wouldn't miss it for the world,” Aly assured Boulaj.

The conspirators, particularly the luarin ones, were not as eager as Aly. That afternoon, they protested when the duchess told them about the invitation.

“I don't like it,” Lehart Obemaek declared. “Bringing so many of our ladies together at the palace—what if they mean to hold them, to ensure the lords' obedience? Because it's not just you and Nuritin and Dovasary, Winna. My wife and daughter have been invited.”

“As have Rosamma and I,” said Countess Tomang.

“Lehart, I have never thought you overburdened with sense.” Baron Engan looked dry and frail, but he did not sound it. “But even you must perceive that they dare not offend us—and there are far more of us in the outlying estates, who won't be meeting with Imajane. They need us if they mean to survive.”

“If you please, my lord Obemaek,” Aly said politely. “My palace sources say that His Majesty—”

“Faugh!” interrupted Nuritin.

Aly bowed to her. “His Majesty keeps Her Majesty under constant watch. She is the uncertain element. He has told his people they must bring her orders to him. He also understands that his power base is shaky. For the present he grips the reins. My sources tell me nothing sinister is planned for tomorrow morning.”

“I find it hard to have faith in intelligence garnered by a young woman, and a foreigner at that,” Genore Tomang announced with a sniff. Matters between her and the Balitangs were stiff, Sarai's insult still raw, but the Tomangs were still willing members of the conspiracy. They had been heavily taxed for the third year in a row as one of the wealthiest families in the Isles.

“I could make myself up as a raka man, if that will appease you, my lady,” Aly offered. “I think it would be a waste of my time, but I live to serve in any small way that I can.”

Even Duke Nomru's mouth twitched at that. “Stop it, Genore,” he told the countess. “Have you forgotten this young foreigner brought about the fall of Topabaw?”

“So we are told,” said the countess.

“So we know,” Ulasim said flatly.

“So I know,” Dove added, soft-voiced.

Her comment brought silence. Many of the luarin conspirators still were not quite sure what to do about their future queen, though Nomru, Engan, and Qeshi addressed her as an equal, as did Winnamine and Nuritin.

Aly sat back as Quedanga began to pass on what her people had gathered. Aly did not want to tell the luarin conspirators that Imajane and Rubinyan had taken to walking in the gardens at night, out of earshot of her darkings and well away from any of the raka spies. It could be something as basic as Rubinyan wanting to calm his excitable wife and to reinforce their affection after the problem of Lady Edunata. They could also be deliberately discussing plans someplace where it would be hard for a spy to hide, and where it would mean death for the mage who put a listening spell there. Aly could not be sure.

In any case, Aly wanted their party to be ready for everything. The breakfast with Imajane was to be held in the Jade Pavilion. Breaking out of the main palace enclosure in an emergency would be easy enough. Some of Fesgao's people would enter the grounds in the morning, driving wagons of foodstuffs through the Gate of Carts. Dorilize and Pembery would remain at home, allowing warriors Jimarn and Junai to play at being ladies' maids. They had the crows to interfere if the rulers planned treachery. And Fesgao would come, disguised as a footman, bearing a small gift for the new queen from the Balitangs. He knew where the Haiming Tunnel was, the secret exit from the palace that had allowed Dove's forebears to escape with their lives. The rebels hoped those precautions would be enough to keep Dove safe.

The luarin conspirators left at last. Aly looked for signs of the darkings she had placed with them but found none. She didn't expect to. Some days they journeyed with their people to Balitang House, but they also spent much of the time exploring their new homes and reporting to Trick. They had understood when Aly told them to watch for spies in the conspirators' household as well as traitors among the nobles.

Dove waited in Aly's workroom, glancing at her maps. “I feel so useless,” Dove complained. “It seems like all anyone will let me do is look promising. All this important work is being done, and you won't even let me visit Dockmarket anymore.”

“I know, and I am sorry, but the risk is too great,” Aly told her. “It's a bad idea to remind Their New Majesties how popular you are, particularly since they can no longer use a marriage to Dunevon as a leash on you. Though if anything happens to Imajane, Rubinyan might come to your door with a gift of flowers.”

Dove grimaced. “I'd as soon sleep with a ribbon snake,” she told Aly. “Not that I think I'll be offered the marriage. We're nearly ready to move, aren't we?”

“Nearly, yes. As ready as anyone can be in a fix like this,” Aly said. “The night before the day of the solar eclipse. They might expect something the day of the eclipse, and certainly they expect trouble on their coronation day.”

“And while everyone else does something real, I get to be protected,” said Dove bitterly.

Aly put an arm around Dove's shoulders. “If all goes well, you'll have the hardest task,” she said quietly. “Bringing a country together. Making sure your reign isn't marked by bloodletting, which should be an agreeable change around here. It's a scary task, but you have good people to advise you—Her Grace, Lady Nuritin, Ulasim, Fesgao, Ochobu—”

Dove looked up at her. “Will I have you?”

Aly blinked at her. You should have expected this, her brain clamored, seeking a quick answer. You should have had your story all prepared. Lie, idiot, lie! Tell her you'll be there! You've lied millions of times, so do it now!

Dove pulled away from Aly's arm. “That's what I thought,” she said, and left the room.

Aly started to follow, and stopped. Catching up to Dove would only work if she were ready to lie, and she wasn't. She couldn't. Not about this. If she survived, and she wasn't entirely certain that she would, she had to go home. The daughter of Tortall's spymaster had no business so close to the Kyprin throne.

By late afternoon people were bringing news of the crows' latest rampage through the skies over Rajmuat. Aly listened to the reports with admiration and envy. Nawat and his friends had sprinkled Crown officials and soldiers with urine and dung. They attacked soldiers at the checkpoints as the men inspected carts and saddlebags, using their claws and beaks and, as a last insult, more dung. Any shop that carried the emblem of supplier to the Crown—something that was no longer a guarantee of more business—soon had a doorstep piled with crow dung, and no customers. The crows drove them away.

At supper she was picking at her food, thinking about information, when a very warm presence thumped onto the bench next to her. A man's hard thigh pressed hers. She looked up into Nawat's eyes.

“You forgot about me,” he told her, shaking his head. “My heart is broken forevermore.”

Startled, Aly pulled back, then recognized the twinkle in his deep-set eyes. “You're teasing me again,” she said, outraged. “And I could hardly forget you, with all the ruckus you stirred up today.”

“You are no longer the one who does all the tormenting,” Nawat informed her, reaching across her for a bowl of rice. She forgot what she was about to say in the brush of his arm against her breasts. Warmth flooded her veins. Nawat looked into her face and smiled as he slowly brought the rice bowl over to his plate. “I have learned to torment, too.”

You have indeed, she thought, tearing a piece of bread in half.

Others came to sit with them, applauding the latest behavior of the crows. Aly listened with a smile, shaking her head, without forgetting Nawat's warmth against her side.

She excused herself, her meal half-eaten, and clambered out from between Nawat and Junai. Nawat smiled up at her and continued his conversation with Chenaol.

Aly met with some of her spies and their recruits after supper, taking in the day's reports. The wider they spread their net, the more information she had to sift for nuggets of real worth. These nuggets were what she wrote out and handed to the other rebels in the house. Once the humans were gone, Trick and Secret passed on their most recent gleanings from the palace and the homes of the luarin conspirators.

This is why Da spends his days at a desk, Aly told herself as she worked. It's why he jumps at the chance to meet with an agent. Because sooner or later all you can do is review information and pass it on to those who will use it.

At least when I'm done for the day, I have Nawat, she thought. Suddenly the night ahead looked much brighter.