A/N: First of all, to anyone who read my story "Bleak Birth", go and read the review that RKQS12 left for it. You'll have a laugh – I nearly fell out of my chair!
To everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I love you all and you deserve to be showered with gifts. But I'm a poor student so instead you get this chapter. That's something, isn't it? I appreciated hearing what you guys wanted to read about – except EvilDonut, who suggested that I assassinate King Berillan! I'll just pretend I didn't read that, shall I? Besides, I've already decided on which characters are going to die…
To Hire a Spy
Abhorsen and Cassiel were wearing their best blue surcoats when they entered the palace. A servant immediately took them down one winding hall and then another, before finally throwing open the doors of what was apparently a conference room. Five people rose from their places around the table, and Abhorsen bowed shortly.
"We're here," he said, rather unnecessarily. This was urgent business, and the quicker they got introductions over with the better. "Cassiel, this is King Berillan. You've met him once before."
The boy shook the King's hand politely. "Hello, sir."
"It's been a long time ago," smiled the King.
"Prince Dantalion you know, and Acting Clayr Princess Penemue."
The blond woman inclined her head. "We danced at my wedding," she reminded the boy. "Well met, Abhorsen-in-Waiting."
Abhorsen paused in his introductions, and shot the woman a curious look, but the Acting Clayr merely gave him a bland smile that reminded him eerily of Tirelle. "This is Ghidreth, the Wallmaker," he continued, and Cassiel shook her hand as well. "And that is… er…" Abhorsen blinked in confusion as he stared at a person he had never seen before in his life.
"My assistant Nehima," Ghidreth put in helpfully, eyes twinkling at his consternation.
The petite blonde woman walked right up to Abhorsen and seized his hand in a surprisingly strong grip. She wore a Wallmaker's brown leather vest over her blue dress.
"A pleasure, Master Nehima," Abhorsen managed to say without wincing at his crushed fingers.
"Likewise," the blonde Wallmaker said stiffly. The necromancer felt a flash of confusion – was she foreign royalty or something? Was that why she acted as if the entire world was filled with insipid wretches who deserved to be trembling at her feet?
Abhorsen turned to Ghidreth for clarification. "Your assistant?" he repeated. "What happened to Felio?"
"He is back at the Wall," the old woman said with a casual wave of her hand. "Felio and Nehima share duties now."
The seven people sat down around the table, and Abhorsen poured himself a glass of water. In his haste, some of it splashed onto his hand. "We came as quickly as we could," he said, adjusting his sword so that he could sit more comfortably. "So, any idea who stole the plans?"
Ghidreth shook her head. "We do not know. We have not received any demands for ransom, nor heard any mention of it since the event itself."
"We have our suspicions," the King said quietly. "Remember the assassination attempts four years ago, by a group calling themselves the Freemen?"
Abhorsen nearly spat out a mouthful of water. "You think that they are behind it?" he asked between explosive coughs. Cassiel pounded his back.
"It makes sense," said the Prince. "We believe that the group is still out there, biding their time and improving their plans since their last ones failed. If they had succeeded, you, I, and Farelle would be dead now."
Abhorsen had heard of the attempt on the little Princess' life when she had been just one year old. These Free Magic lunatics had to be stopped. "And why would the plans for the Great Stones be of any use to them?" Abhorsen asked.
The blonde Wallmaker, Nehima, spoke up loudly. "Well, it's logical, isn't it?" she said arrogantly. "The whole philosophy of the Freemen is to wipe out the Charter bloodlines, presumably to give their Free Magic more power. Breaking the Great Stones would obviously be just as effective as killing off one of the bloodlines." Abhorsen stared at the woman. She sure had a lot of nerve if she could say that in the presence of the King, the Crown Prince, the Acting Clayr, and himself. Most people got quite tongue-tied in their company.
"But is there a real danger?" Princess Penemue asked. "From the plans, could they somehow discover how to break the Stones?"
Everybody looked at Ghidreth, who nodded tiredly. "I'm afraid so," she sighed, "and you won't like the answer. The Stones can only be broken by the power of the Charter, which means either help from one of the Bright Shiners – which isn't likely – or blood spilt from the Royal Line, Lord Abhorsen, or Master Cassiel."
The company digested this information in silence.
"Okay," Abhorsen said finally. "We can't do anything about that. They have that information and they are going to act on it. We've built up our defences since the assassination attempts, though, haven't we?"
King Berillan nodded his grey head. "More protection spells and soldiers have been set around the palace, and Princess Merabel, my brother Orrofin, and his children in Ancelstierre are heavily guarded."
"And the wards on our House have been strengthened by the Wallmakers," acknowledged Abhorsen with a sigh. "I suppose we've done all that we can."
"Not all," the Wallmaker's assistant piped up impatiently. Abhorsen wasn't quite sure if he liked this confident young woman or not. "Don't you see that it's foolish to just sit and wait for them to attack you?" she was saying, her wildly-gesticulating hands threatening to knock over her water glass.
"Nehima…" Ghidreth said with a hint of warning, and the younger Wallmaker had the good grace to look abashed. For about two seconds.
On the contrary, King Berillan looked most amused. "Actually," he said, "Master Nehima has a good point." He leaned forward and gazed around the table. "What we need is a spy among our enemy, so that we can receive word of planned attacks in advance." For some reason, Dantalion and Penemue looked anxious at this.
"That really is a good idea," Abhorsen agreed sarcastically, "but where in the Kingdom are we to find someone to spy for us? And even if they were crazy enough to agree, how would they infiltrate the Freemen?"
In answer, the King nodded to his son, who got up from his chair. Prince Dantalion opened one of the doors into the conference room, and Abhorsen craned his neck as two men walked in. One was old and sported an enormous moustache. The other was young with sandy hair. Both of the men bowed to the King before approaching the table, but they did not sit.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said King Berillan, "This is Sir Halban, one of my most trusted advisors –" the moustached man inclined his head politely, "– and this is the young Freeman who attempted to kill Princess Farelle four years ago."
Abhorsen stared at the assassin, then stared at the King. Was he insane? Judging from everyone's expressions, he wasn't the only one asking that question. Dantalion looked like he was seconds away from drawing his sword and running the would-be assassin through, and an ashen-faced Penemue had her hand on her husband's arm.
"Alocas has agreed to turn spy for us," King Berillan continued, ignoring the complete change of atmosphere in the room. He paused and looked about him vaguely. "Are there any objections?"
Everyone started talking at once. Apparently there were many objections. Order was only restored when Sir Halban seized the water pitcher and threw it across the room, shattering it against the wall.
"Thank you," said the King. "I will hear all of your opinions – one at a time, please."
The Prince pushed himself to his feet. "I would like everyone to know that I was against this decision from the start," he announced. Abhorsen rather thought so; he would have been quite worried if Dantalion supported the appointment of his daughter's would-be killer.
"I have something to say as well," spoke up Penemue. The blond woman's face was drawn and pale. She stood, and took a deep breath to brace herself. "I recently had a vision concerning this, and my mother and sisters caught glimpses of the same vision. We conferred together, and realized that we were seeing two possible futures – what will happen if we send Alocas back to the Freemen, and what will happen if we do not."
"What are these visions?" Nehima demanded.
Penemue shrugged helplessly. "The first shows a man in blue, standing alone before a burning body. The other shows a man in red, also before a burning body." She hesitated, then continued. "I do not know which choice leads to which end, but either way somebody will die."
The room was so silent that Abhorsen could hear Ghidreth's breathing from across the table.
Berillan cleared his throat. "Penemue informed Dantalion and I of this," he explained to everyone else. "We concluded that the red and blue suggest the two Charter bloodlines."
Abhorsen lowered his head, thinking hard. Following this logic, the man in red would be either Berillan or Dantalion, and the man in blue was either himself or a grown-up Cassiel. The question was, who were they burning?
"Could you… try again?" Sir Halban asked. He tightly held the arm of the assassin, who looked like he was about to faint. "I'm not quite sure how the Sight works," the old knight carried on, "but perhaps you could try and see if you can identify these men."
Penemue obediently closed her eyes. Her face tightened, and she murmured, "Shadows… shadows… fire and death…" The woman shuddered, and Dantalion leaped to his feet to support her. The Acting Clayr shook her head weakly. "I'm sorry. I could not See who they were. Neither could the rest of my family. The visions were too brief."
The King set down his glass of water with an air of finality. "As we do not know for sure what will happen, I suggest we try not to dwell upon Penemue's vision. Wondering which choice to make on the basis of so much uncertainty will only lead us further into doubt. I put it to you to decide our course of action. The question still remains: Do we send Alocas to the Freemen as our spy?"
Ghidreth was first to speak. "Do you have good reason to trust him, your Majesty?" she asked.
"I have spoken with Alocas many times," replied King Berillan. "I believe him to be reformed."
The Wallmaker inclined her head. "Then I will trust your judgment."
Abhorsen did not know quite what to think. Berillan was one of the shrewdest people he knew, and he had never before doubted the older man's convictions, but this was another matter entirely. Besides, the King was over sixty now, and it was quite possible that his judgment had been fooled.
The Wallmaker Nehima was shaking her head. "No, no, no," she muttered. "No offence meant, your Majesty, but it's crazy to trust something this important to someone with such a questionable background. Besides, if we truly turned him, what's to keep the Freemen from turning him back to their side? Or perhaps he'll play double agent. There are simply too many uncertainties."
Berillan looked next at Dantalion, who frowned. "You know my feelings in this," he said firmly. "They are unchanged."
His wife, on the other hand, shook her head. "I cannot decide," she admitted helplessly. "Knowing that each way will lead to grief… I'm sorry, but I cannot."
The King turned to his advisor. "Sir Halban?"
The moustached knight glanced at the young man at his side. "Your Majesty," he said hesitantly, "I watched this man being tortured. I saw him broken, and I helped do it. Without a doubt those Free Magic filth have ways to find out things that are crueller than ours. If we send him back, it's only a matter of time before he tells them what we're planning – whether or not he gives up the information voluntarily. He knows far too much. The safest route would be to execute him immediately. His crime against the Royal family alone merits such a punishment."
"I do not like execution, Sir Halban," Berillan answered grimly.
The old knight did not give up. "Lock him in the dungeons, then," he persisted. "Do anything – only keep him out of their hands."
The King turned to look at Abhorsen next, who weighed his words carefully. "I have my doubts," he admitted with a wry smile, "But I'm willing to take the chance if you are."
"Three votes for, three against, and one undecided," King Berillan summed up. He turned to the one person seated at the table who had not spoken yet. "Master Cassiel," he said. "What do you think?"
Abhorsen watched as his son started at being directly addressed, then looked at the assassin. The sandy-haired man stared back at the boy, pleading with his eyes for his life. He looked scared to death, and so far had done nothing much except stare at the ground to avoid hostile eye contact from nearly everybody. Finally, Cassiel nodded once. "I will obey my King," he said simply.
"Diplomatic answer," chuckled Berillan. "Very well. Sir Halban, make sure that Master Alocas is given everything he requires for his journey."
The knight bowed and pulled the spy after him by the arm. As soon as the two men had left the room, Prince Dantalion sprang to his feet. "I feel like going for a little walk," he announced in a casual tone that fooled nobody at all. "Lord Abhorsen, would you care to join me?"
"Delighted!" exclaimed Abhorsen, and they strolled out into the hall, ignoring the knowing looks that Berillan, Ghidreth, and Penemue were shooting at them.
Halban and the spy hadn't gotten far, and it took only a few seconds of running to catch up. Dantalion placed one hand on the young man's shoulder with an iron grip, and turned a hard glance upon the old knight. "Sir Halban," he said politely, "I'd like to have a word with our new spy, if I may." The older man nodded, and Dantalion tugged the spy into the nearest room, which turned out to be a gallery. Abhorsen followed them inside and shut the door.
Without even a word of introduction, the Prince shoved the younger man roughly against the wall, causing a painting to crash to the ground. Abhorsen was mildly surprised. Usually Dantalion was so controlled, but he supposed that the silent people were the ones to watch out for. When they snapped, they really snapped.
"Now you listen to me, you… you Freeman," Prince Dantalion snarled into the young man's frightened face. "If I hear the faintest rumour that you've turned against us, if I even think that you're betraying our side, then I won't hesitate to end your miserable little life. Do you understand me?"
The spy, Alocas, nodded fearfully, and turned his eyes to Abhorsen as if seeking help against this apparent madman.
Dantalion noticed. "Lord Abhorsen is a friend of mine," he continued in a deadly tone of voice. "He would almost certainly jump at the chance to help me squeeze the life out of you. Isn't that right, Lord Abhorsen?"
The necromancer was rather surprised at being addressed, but managed to chirp, "Oh, I'd enjoy nothing more, my Prince." The spy blanched.
"And," Dantalion continued, impaling Alocas with a ferocious glare, "he knows Death like no other man alive."
Abhorsen took a step forward, getting into the swing of things. "That's right," he affirmed merrily. "You think that pain ends after you die? Think again, boy. I could make your Death a living hell if I so wished." He ended with a cheery smile; this intimidation stuff could be quite fun.
The poor spy was trembling uncontrollably, and Abhorsen and Dantalion nodded to each other: he wouldn't be giving them any trouble. Abhorsen opened the door with a bow and the Prince roughly pushed the terrified man into the corridor, where an alarmed-looking Sir Halban was waiting.
As the old knight led the terrified spy away, Abhorsen turned to the Prince. "Now all we have to do is wait," he observed.
Dantalion made a face. "I hate waiting," he growled. "And to think, we're getting all of our information through that snivelling little turncoat."
"It really is a big risk," admitted Abhorsen. "But then, what would be the fun without it?"
They turned and headed back to the conference room, shoulders shaking in silent laughter.
A/N: You know, I'm starting to feel kinda sorry for Alocas, poor kid. And in the next chapter we'll see how his return to the Freemen goes – I really wouldn't want to be in his shoes. So who will it be: the man in blue, or the man in red? You'll find out in, oh, seven chapters or so! I'm evil, I know.