Spy's Honor

9

“He’s not in the prison,” said Janto.

He sat with Iolo and Sirali in a forest clearing beneath the meager light of the orange Soldier moon, pooling his information with theirs and finding it depressingly scanty.

“Maybe there’s another prison,” said Sirali.

“Could be,” said Janto. “But he’s not in the one beneath the palace.”

“Right, and the war’s going well from a Kjallan perspective,” said Sirali. “Augustan’s men were crowing about the progress they’d made.”

Everyone was silent. That was not good news.

“I think Ral-Vaddis is dead,” said Janto.

“You can’t give up yet,” said Iolo.

“We give our spies a poison pill. They’re to use it if they’re captured, so they don’t give up their informants when they’re tortured. I think he must have used it. Otherwise he’d have given up Sirali.”

Sirali hugged her knees to her chest.

“And this mystery bit of information he said he had, what he thought might win the war,” said Janto. “I can’t imagine what that could have been. I don’t think it exists.”

“It does exist,” said Iolo. “If Ral-Vaddis is dead, you have to find that intelligence.”

“I don’t know how,” said Janto. “Ral-Vaddis was a trained spy. I’m a prince and a diplomat. I know many things, but not how to do what he did. I’m trying, but Ral-Vaddis did his best, and I think it got him killed.”

“You have shroud magic, same as Ral-Vaddis had,” pointed out Iolo. “In Mosar’s hour of need, we all do our best, even if it isn’t what we were trained to do.”

Away in the woods, a woman screamed.

Janto turned in the direction of the sound. He called telepathically to Sashi, who came running and scrambled onto his shoulder. “What was that?”

“There’s nothing you can do,” said Iolo.

“Why?” said Janto. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Micah,” said Sirali. “The slave overseer.”

“What do you mean? Who’s screaming?”

The woman’s voice cried out in the Mosari language, “Stop! Let go!”

Janto leapt to his feet. That was one of his people being threatened. What harm could there be in at least seeing what was going on? Here was a situation where maybe he could do some good—not like this endless stream of failures in searching for Ral-Vaddis and phantoms of war intelligence that didn’t exist, or if they did, that he would never find. “I’m going.” He flung a shroud over himself and ran in the direction of the voice.

Ahead, a distant light shone through the trees. He followed it, panting from exertion. The trees ended abruptly at a clearing where he found a building identical to the men’s slave house with warm, yellow light shining through the windows. In front of the building, two figures struggled. The larger figure was a man—Micah, the slave overseer?—and the smaller figure was a woman, trying to escape his grip. Any sapskull could see what was afoot.

Micah was a huge Mosari man, well-muscled and intimidating. Janto wished he could fight him invisibly, since he had no weapon and the man outweighed him. But that wasn’t an option. He didn’t intend murder, only intervention, and if Micah reported an invisible attacker to his Kjallan masters, invisibility wards would go up all around the vicinity.

Sashi, on his shoulder, bared wicked teeth. He may be big, su-kali. But he will be slow.

Let’s hope so, su-kali.

Together we will kill him, said the ferret.

No killing, insisted Janto. We will hurt him a little.

He released his shroud, leaving Sashi invisible, and stepped into the moonlight. “Let her go.”

“Vagabond’s breath,” Micah swore, gripping the woman’s arm as she tried to pry his fingers off it. “Who are you?”

Janto didn’t answer.

Micah peered at him. “You’re not one of mine, are you? But you can’t be anyone else’s. Get out of here.”

“Let her go,” repeated Janto. He was committed, but he realized now how big a risk he was taking. This was the overseer, who knew all the slaves by sight.

Micah leered at him. “The only reason I can think of that you haven’t left yet is that you want to watch.”

The woman he held prisoner stomped on his foot, hard. Micah yowled. She twisted out of his grip and took off running into the woods.

“Horse fucker!” roared Micah. He flung himself at Janto and flung him to the ground.

In his youth, Janto had been trained in unarmed combat, against his adolescent will. He’d been uncoordinated, gawky, his younger brother pinning him two bouts out of three. Now, for the first time in his life, he was glad of that training, because despite what Sashi had believed, Micah was not slow.

Janto aimed a knee at Micah’s groin. Micah shifted to block it, and Janto, taking advantage of his distraction, twisted out of his grip and punched him hard in the face. Then he felt a crushing pain as Micah’s fist connected with his jaw.

Kill! came Sashi’s battle cry, and through the telepathic link, Janto knew the ferret had sunk his teeth into Micah’s leg.

Micah yelled and grabbed at the animal, and Janto scrambled into the darkness beneath a tree. Sashi must have withdrawn too, because Micah was on his feet, cursing and looking around. Janto circled into the moonlight and charged him from behind. He managed to bowl over Micah and get in several good blows before Micah’s fist found him again, and pain exploded in the side of his head. He rolled into the shadows and called on his shroud. Hopefully he’d given the woman enough time to get away.

Sashi? he called.

The ferret scrambled up his shoulder from out of the darkness. Good fight, but we should have killed him.

While Micah lunged around, searching for him in the darkness, Janto hurried through the trees, back to Iolo and Sirali. When he spotted them, he extended his shroud to include them. “He does this regularly? Rapes the slave women?”

They stared at him, horrified, and he realized he presented a less-than-pretty picture: dirty and mussed, he probably had some blood on him and bruises forming.

“You attacked him,” Iolo accused.

Sirali looked awed.

“Just long enough for her to get away,” said Janto. “He’s half again my size, and I don’t carry a weapon.”

“Did he see you?” said Iolo.

“It’s better he should see me than not,” said Janto. “If the Kjallans become aware there’s a shroud mage in their midst, they’ll start placing invisibility wards.”

“You should not have done it, Your Highness,” said Iolo. “I said before, I don’t question your courage, but —”

“My judgment,” said Janto. “I know.”

“Right, and . . . of course it was the right thing,” stammered Sirali. “Micah does this to lots of women.”

Iolo turned on her. “But he’s got to find Ral-Vaddis! He’s got to find intelligence to help the war effort! He’s made an enemy of Micah, he’s aroused the man’s suspicions, and he might get caught. We don’t have any other