five

A secret passage!

I dashed outside to the fountain. Now it was my turn to check over my shoulder. But if I wanted to find out what was going on, I’d have to take the risk.

Peitar had fiddled with the little cherub with the harp. I patted the cold marble face, then pressed, poked, and tweaked its little round nose. Something gave slightly.

When I tweaked more firmly, one of the shallow pools moved silently beneath the central statue, sending ripples through the water. A wedge-shaped gap opened, just large enough to slip through. I had to see where it went.

I clambered down the stairway, and when I trod on the seventh step, the marble rumbled, closing over my head, leaving me in cool darkness.

My eyes adjusted as I descended. Cleverly placed slits in the fountain let in air and a dusty, bluish light. I reached a floor of hard-packed dirt and looked around. I was in a small circular room lined with a jumble of chests and dully gleaming carved objects.

A treasure room? A second treasure room—we had one in the house, but it was empty. I could explore later. Right now I was more interested in where Peitar had gone.

There were passages on either side, and from one came the rise and fall of voices. I followed the sound, walking down an incline. Something moist brushed my face—tree roots. Then the tunnel turned sharply—light glowed on the rough walls—and the voices were clearer.

“. . . from where?” That was Derek!

“Yes,” Peitar said. “No one pays attention to the rag pile.”

“Then she suspected us. How did we slip up?”

They were talking about me!

Peitar said, “Lilah came up with her plans for investigating the village on her own. She had no ideas about revolution. I’m sure of it.”

“She did show surprise last night, but I have been lied to before.” Derek sounded tired.

“Well, I’ve put her off again.” Peitar sighed. “Just now. So, to business. Why have you moved up the date for your uprising?”

“My uprising,” Derek repeated, sounding displeased. “You keep quoting the wisdom of the greats. Wasn’t it your favorite, Adamas Dei of the Black Sword, who said, ‘A ruler can only govern by the consent of the governed—’”

“‘—and when the interests of the governed are replaced by the ruler’s own interests, that ruler has become a tyrant.’ Yes,” my brother replied calmly. “But right after that he said, ‘This is why education is a necessity, so that the governed may enlighten the ruler.’ He never advocated violent overthrow. Derek, I will help, as I promised. But I will tell you again and again, until the very end, that I think violence is the wrong approach.”

“I see no other solution. The nobles will not give up their privileges without bloodshed. To think otherwise is to dream, safe in this big house—ah, Peitar, don’t give me that look! We both know that your father’s valet spies on you, and there are your own tensions with the king. But you’ve never starved, or been forced to sleep out in the winter cold, or felt the desperation that drives people to murder just to feed their families!”

“We’ve been over this ground before,” Peitar said. “Has something new occurred?”

“Two reports from the capital. From the palace, as it happens. Neither of these contacts knows the other, but their reports came on the same day—and concerned the same events.”

“About my family’s trip to Miraleste?”

“Yes,” Derek answered. “One overheard a command to the city captain for garrison space for incoming regiments next month. The other intercepted a written command to one of Irad’s minor moons—”

“Moons?” Peitar sounded like he was smiling.

“Tasenja was the name.”

Tasenja? I didn’t know any Tasenjas, but many nobles didn’t bring their children to court until they were Peitar’s age.

“Ah,” Peitar said. “A northern family, not powerful, but dedicated, and wealthy. Go on.”

“He was ordered to produce his son for a betrothal.”

Peitar’s voice dropped; I could barely hear him, so I crept closer. “A betrothal? How does this relate to the uprising?”

“Because there’s apparently to be a big military review as part of the festivities,” Derek said. “Don’t you see? It’s an excuse to cram Miraleste with warriors, who can squash any signs of unrest.”

“I . . . see. Yes, I think you are right. My uncle would certainly never exert himself for a series of social events. He hates balls and parties even worse than I. So, what must I do?”

“First, find out if your fox-faced little sister likes the prospect of a big party—”

I snorted. Then remembered I wasn’t even supposed to be hearing the conversation.

“Fox is right.” Peitar laughed. “And I believe she just flushed a pair of rabbits.”

I backed hastily out of the tunnel, used to Peitar’s inability to maneuver. But I had forgotten about Derek. Strong hands clamped down on my shoulders, and he marched me to where Peitar sat in a low chair, his bad leg extended before him. A single candle on a small carved table lit his rueful smile.

Peitar said, “You know what would have happened to you if you’d been a spy?”

My temper flared. “You and your ‘safety’! Being so condescending and making me more curious with every word! It’s your fault, not mine, that you’re so easy to follow! And what crime did I commit anyway, besides the terrible offense of being young? Which you were when you met Derek.”

“You’re right. Ah, I did slip up that time, didn’t I?” His tone was bitter, aimed not at me but at himself.

My anger vanished. “It’s all right. I followed you on purpose. And I made sure no one followed me. Or saw me, since I’m supposed to be sick.”

Peitar rubbed his eyes. “If only I could get down the garden entrance! This fountain one is far too open.”

Derek was silent during this exchange, elbows on knees, gaze unwavering.

He said, “Peitar, you’re just going to have to use the garden, however long it takes you. As for Lilah . . .” He paused.

The pause lengthened into a silence. I finally dared another glance, to see Derek staring at the candle like the flame was in another world. “Black wool and ambition.” He clapped his hands on his knees. “You remind me of an adventurous kid I met on my travels.”

“Kid?”

“Her word for everybody under adult age. My point is, people of any age must choose freedom for themselves and cooperate in their own government! People of any age have worthy skills as well as loyalties.”

Kid, I thought. I like that!

Peitar asked slowly, “Cooperate in their own government with no example of how to go about it? Derek—”

Derek waved his hand. “Never mind! We’ll discuss it another time. What I’m trying to say is, I learned never to underestimate kids.”

Peitar grimaced faintly. I could tell he hated the idea of kids in revolutions.

“I think we ought to figure her in our plans—and it might just help.” Derek turned to me. Now I understood why Bren, Deon, and the others so admired him. “Lilah. Do you want to be part of changing life for the better for everyone? Even if it might mean giving up your high rank and all your fine things?”

“Yes! Who cares about fancy dresses and going to court? I sure don’t!”

“Are you going to tell Bren and the others who you are?”

I thought about what the village kids had said about nobles—especially the Selenna family. “No.”

“Good. Probably safest. But be careful. Bren has a very sharp eye, and he finds things out. It’s why I put him at the garrison. Peitar, I’ll do my best to be back within a week. There are some questions I must answer for myself.”

He rose from his chair and left, swift and silent.

I snuffed the candle and followed Peitar through the room under the fountain to the other tunnel, which was longer, mossier, and danker.

When we reached the end, we found Derek climbing stone steps carved so steeply into the rough wall that they were almost a ladder. He pushed at something, and greenish light shafted down as he hoisted himself out. My brother slowly and painfully negotiated the first few steps, then handed his crutch up and continued climbing, his breathing harsh. As soon as Peitar was in reach, Derek gripped his hand.

Derek strained to haul him out. I can’t do that, I thought. I’m not even strong enough to pull up someone my own size, much less Peitar. How am I really going to help?

“Lilah.” Peitar’s voice was hoarse. “Quick.”

I lost no time in scrambling up the ladder. Derek had already disappeared. As soon as I was out, Peitar used his crutch to lever something that closed with a muffled thump: a trapdoor. “Learn this place,” he murmured.

We were inside a circle of tangled, thorny shrubbery. The trapdoor was hidden by the moss and ferns beside a distinctively shaped stone. Tucked under the stone was a twine handle to pull open the door.

“Hoo,” I breathed, as he struggled to his feet. “I love this!”

“Now for the brambles,” he warned. I pushed ahead, holding aside the worst branches. The shrubbery seemed solid when I looked back, and within a few paces I recognized where we were in the garden.

“We’ll part here. I’ll go the front way. If you have occasion to use this tunnel again, never use the same route to and from it.”

“Are all the servants spies, besides Father’s valet? Not Lizana, I know,” I asked, looking around carefully.

“All Father’s personal servants share his views,” my brother said. “I don’t know that I’d call them spies. But if they see something they know he wouldn’t like, they would consider it their duty to report it, and I find I cannot quarrel with that in theory, however much I regret it in practice.”

I sighed. Typical Peitar, always thinking of everyone else first.

“Lizana isn’t certain about one or two of the new kitchen help. The few servants left from Mother’s day will turn a blind eye to anything they see us doing, if they possibly can. But listen—I can’t put any of them at risk by revealing anything about Derek or his plans. Lizana . . . is different.”

“Why?”

“If she wants to tell you, she will.” He gave me an apologetic look. “It’s her business to tell, not mine. You should know she’s to be trusted. Also, she and Derek are old friends. She introduced us, in fact.”

Peitar headed slowly down the path. I took a shortcut through the trees and scrambled up to my room, my skirts as usual doing their best to hinder me.

Once inside, I was impatient to write up what I’d heard. But, remembering Derek’s and Peitar’s warnings, I tiptoed to the door to make certain I was safe—and everything winkled out of my head when I saw Lizana’s worried face as she bustled downstairs.