Captives of the Curse, page 9
part #3 of The Kyona Chronicles Series
“Dunno what I can do to help, but I will if I can.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” said Jo with a smile. “But I don’t know much about these people, and if you’ve been stuck in Mundsen’s service for a while, I’m guessing you know more than they suspect you do.”
Jack grinned. “You’re not wrong.”
“So I’ll see you there?”
“You can count on me!” Jack assured him.
Jo thanked him solemnly, trying not to smile at the boy’s enthusiasm. He watched Jack disappear back through the ornate gates, feeling his spirits lift at this opportunity to try his hand at a bit of espionage.
He would prove himself to Raldo and the gang and show these Balenans what he was made of at the same time.
Chapter Eight
When he found himself back before the same gates that evening, he wasn’t so sure. He felt absolutely ridiculous in the formal garb he had been all but forced into by another messenger sent by the Kyonan ambassador. The stiff fabric was unbearably stifling in the humid air, and he didn’t like the way it restricted his movements. He noticed that his arms were still bare. It hadn’t escaped him that while Balenans might wear long sleeves, every Kyonan he had so far seen in Nohl was dressed in clothes that exposed the telltale tattoos on their forearms.
Good. Let them see and be reminded that he was the one Kyonan in the country who didn’t carry a mark of any kind. He would have to trade on the uncertainty surrounding his status if he was going to successfully weasel out any inside information.
But still, he no longer felt any sense of confidence that he would be able to play the part and still be himself. He already felt like a stranger. He would just have to think of it as wearing a costume, he supposed, try to convince himself that there was no loss of dignity in putting on an act.
He didn’t feel very convinced.
While he dithered outside the gates, other guests had been passing through, no one sparing a glance for him. He didn’t take much note of them himself, distracted by the intimidating scene before him. The gates were thrown wide, but they somehow still managed to look forbidding rather than welcoming. The path through the gardens to the manor house was brightly lit by blazing torches at regular intervals, and lanterns hung prettily on poles throughout the gardens.
“Ah, I see you have arrived,” said a haughty voice. Jo turned to see the ambassador approaching. “I am glad to see that you retain enough sense of respect to await me before entering.”
Jo opened his mouth to retort that he had done no such thing, but he realized that he would hardly save face by admitting that he had been hanging back reluctantly because he felt intimidated. He settled instead for surly silence.
A slight movement behind Mundsen caught Jo’s attention, and his eyes flicked behind the willowy man to catch a small grin directed at him. He returned it with the ghost of a wink, and Jack’s face quickly resumed a neutral expression. Jo noted that Jack had also been dressed formally, in an official outfit not dissimilar to Jo’s own. Mundsen’s attire was far more elaborate, and he made an awkward stiff rustling noise when he moved. He looked like a pompous idiot, Jo thought with savage satisfaction. He supposed he could at least be grateful that he hadn’t been expected to wear whatever that was.
He followed Mundsen through the gates and up the path, forcing himself to walk alongside the oily man rather than fall behind with Jack. The route from the gate was marked by torches. The lights veered off the main path leading to the front door of the manor house to guide guests down a smaller path culminating in large glass double doors that swung wide to display a ballroom beyond.
There was a small bottleneck at the entrance, as a Balenan servant announced the names of the arriving guests to the room at large. His expression was so serious and his tone so formal that Jo had to bite back a laugh. The whole thing was utterly ridiculous. When the small Kyonan contingent reached the front of the queue, the man waved them through without a word, his expression sour. Mundsen looked like he had smelled something foul, but Jo was pleased to avoid being made more a spectacle than he already was.
The overall effect of the ballroom was dazzling. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, lit with hundreds of candles, and the sparkling light danced over everything. Swaths of colored material were draped in graceful curves from the roof beams, framing archways and snaking their way down pillars. There were no flowers, but lush green foliage sprouted from unlikely places, giving the whole room a tropical feel. Tables lined the edges of the space, laden with countless types of food generously interspersed with large bowls of punch. Jo wondered fleetingly if this was what a court ball would look like in Kynton. He had no way of knowing.
Everywhere Jo looked guests, men and women alike, were dressed in colors as vibrant as the jungle that surrounded Nohl. The men wore starched outfits that looked as uncomfortable as Jo’s, but the women were the real attraction. Jo didn’t know much about formal attire in Kyona, but he was sure that he hadn’t seen anyone in the castle at Kynton wearing dresses such as the women here wore. The skirts were full, the sheer fabric floating gracefully in the languid air, but the arms and shoulders were left bare, and everywhere he looked the candlelight glinted off the warm tone of their skin.
And no one was more stunningly attired than Lady Wrendal. Jo’s eyes picked her out immediately in spite of himself. To be fair, she was hard to miss in a crimson gown, set off beautifully by the palm fronds erupting from the alcove where she stood, surrounded by admiring young men.
It would have presented an appealing picture if not for the drably dressed Kyonan slaves ringing the edges of the room, standing ready to attend to their masters’ every whim. Jo’s expression hardened. No, as far as he was concerned, there was nothing to admire in this lavish scene.
But still…his eyes strayed back to the heavily laden tables. Since he was here, he may as well enjoy the food. The argument over his attire had taken so long that there had been no time to eat before he came, and his stomach was rumbling.
He took a step toward the delicacies, but Mundsen’s hiss pulled him up short.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Jo raised his eyebrows at the other man. “Are we not allowed to eat? Surely the food is for the guests.”
“Yes, the guests,” spat Mundsen. “Which you are not.”
“Then what am I?” asked Jo with a hint of amusement.
“You’re…you’re impertinent is what you are,” said the ambassador sternly.
Jo laughed humorlessly. “That’s not an answer.” He smiled condescendingly at the official’s angry expression. “You really don’t know what to do with me, do you? What kind of a deal did you have with Filip, anyway? What could possibly make you prefer being the scum of Balenan society over being free in Kyona?”
“I am free here,” Mundsen hissed. “And you should show some respect to our king.”
“Our former king,” corrected Jonan. “And believe me, he’s former in every sense of the word.” He looked with interest at Mundsen’s conflicted countenance. The man clearly wanted to rip into Jonan, but all the uncertainties of the situation held him back. “I was there when the usurper was overthrown, you know. I saw Filip die. I’d tell you how he was killed, but I don’t think you’d believe me.”
Jo could see the vein throbbing in Mundsen’s temple, and he couldn’t quite restrain a smile. It was satisfying to bait the despicable snake. He knew he was supposed to be diplomatic tonight, but no part of his plans included lending legitimacy to this traitorous excuse for an ambassador.
“You could try me,” came another voice. “I might believe you.” Mundsen’s instant change in expression from enraged to obsequious was enough to identify the speaker, but Jo turned to look at Lord Wrendal anyway.
“I really don’t think you would, My Lord,” he said demurely. “It was quite a spectacle.”
“I assume the new claimant disposed of his predecessor,” prompted Lord Wrendal.
“No, he didn’t actually,” said Jonan. “He was saved the necessity by the timely arrival of his allies.”
“Allies?” repeated Mundsen, sounding uneasy.
“Oh yes,” said Jo serenely. “The new king wasn’t operating alone. He has powerful allies. Very powerful.”
A look passed between the ambassador and the nobleman, and it wasn’t just Mundsen who looked uneasy now.
“But here I am chattering away as if you needed my information,” said Jo. “Two such well-connected men as you, I’m sure there’s nothing I can tell you that you don’t already know. I can only imagine that you have eyes and ears everywhere.” He watched Lord Wrendal’s face and was pleased to see that his words had found their mark. It was clear that the nobleman was used to being the best-informed person in the room, and even more clear that he didn’t like being one step behind.
Neither man spoke, and Jo continued on, quite at his ease. “You put on quite a party, My Lord. I was just going to help myself to some refreshments.”
Lord Wrendal’s jaw worked for a moment as he held in whatever barb he wanted to deliver. But he mastered himself and stepped aside, gesturing toward the food with a movement that was more grudging than gracious.
As Jo walked away, he heard Lord Wrendal mutter to the ambassador, “You seem to no longer be the most reliable source of information on the state of Kyona, ambassador.”
Jo couldn’t resist a small smile at Mundsen’s sputtering protest, but he kept walking. Toppling the ambassador from his position wasn’t his chief objective, but it would be a welcome side effect.
“That was amazing!” whispered an eager voice at Jo’s side. He stopped in surprise, looking down. Jack had obviously taken advantage of his master’s distraction to sidle after Jo. He smiled at the boy.
“Thanks.”
“I didn’t follow all of it,” Jack admitted. “But I could tell you really made them sweat, and that’s enough for me.”
Jo grinned. “Makes a nice change, doesn’t it?”
“Sure does,” Jack agreed earnestly. He shot a quick look around the room. “A lot of ’em aren’t too happy that you’re here, in the middle of their world.”
Looking around himself, Jo saw that Jack was right. Lots of faces were turned toward him, their expressions ranging from surprise, right through disgust, and all the way to offense.
“You better be careful,” Jack was continuing. “But don’t worry,” he added quickly. “We’ve got your back.”
“We?” Jo asked with a frown, his attention quickly back on the boy. “What do you mean?”
Jack grinned, his words fading to a whisper as he drew back against the wall with the other slaves. “Word spread pretty quick about what you did yesterday.”
“Jack,” said Jo warningly, but Jack was already gone. Jo looked around uneasily, wondering what Jack had done and how much trouble it might get the boy into.
His attention was caught by Mundsen, standing alone and looking very sour. Jo scanned the room quickly and saw Lord Wrendal striding purposefully away from the ambassador. With a longing glance toward the food, Jo began to weave his way across the room, trying to keep the nobleman in sight without obviously following him. He figured that Lord Wrendal’s choice of companions with whom to debrief his new discovery would be telling. Jonan wanted to know who among the courtiers he should be most interested in watching.
His way was hampered by a flurry of activity that accompanied the music that had suddenly started up. Jo hadn’t even noticed the musicians waiting in one corner of the room, but it appeared that this event was to include dancing. Most of the other young people looked excited, and Jonan couldn’t help but notice that Lady Wrendal was positively swamped with young men seeking her hand. He rolled his eyes. How easily impressed these fools were.
He had lost Lord Wrendal for a moment, but he spotted him entering an alcove across the room from where his daughter was accepting the hand of a young nobleman for the first dance. Jo sidled around the edge of the ballroom. It was difficult to be surreptitious when everyone he passed shot him venomous looks, but at least he was given a wide berth.
There was more lush foliage arranged tastefully at the edges of the alcove where Lord Wrendal now stood, greeting two other men who looked to be of his own age and rank. Jo thought that if he could get close enough, he would be able to lurk unseen within hearing range. The question was how to look natural just standing there, without it being obvious to others in the room that he was eavesdropping.
He saw a slave passing with a tray of goblets. A drink in his hand would make him blend in better, but it felt most uncomfortable to be served by his exploited countrymen. He sighed. Part of the game, he supposed.
“Hey,” he hailed the young man as he passed. “Mind if I grab one? Which one didn’t you spit into?”
The server turned shocked and fearful eyes on Jonan, but as soon as he saw who it was, his expression relaxed. “They’re all safe, s’far as I know,” he said with a grin.
“Thanks,” said Jonan, grinning back as he took a goblet. “I owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me nothing,” said the slave seriously before melting away into the crowd again.
Jonan was still pondering his words when he reached the spot he had been aiming for, but Lord Wrendal’s domineering voice soon drove other thoughts from his mind.
“Yes, that’s what I said. He specifically called them powerful allies.”
“Surely he must mean Valoria,” said another voice, naming the country immediately to Kyona’s east. Jo didn’t recognize the speaker, but he could only assume that it was another nobleman.
“Perhaps.” Lord Wrendal didn’t sound convinced. “Although it would be the first I heard of such an alliance. Only a short time ago we heard reports that Valoria was marching on Kyona in war, but that seems to have fizzled out.”
“Fizzled out?” said a third voice skeptically. “Wars don’t fizzle out. Why would Valoria withdraw so suddenly? Surely if Kyona had just had a coup, it would be the ideal time to press their advantage and attack. It’s what I would do. Especially if the new king is as green as rumors say.”
“You don’t have to convince me, General,” came Lord Wrendal’s voice. “If I had my way, King Siloam would have your forces preparing for an annexation right now, while the moment is ripe. They say that Kyona has the most fertile fields in the North Lands.”
“That may still be an option,” said the General thoughtfully. “A brand new king, apparently unknown prior to his sudden appearance? The window of time during which he is vulnerable to being destabilized will be considerable.”
Jonan stiffened. If these men thought that Kyona was as easily subjugated as the defenseless children they had stolen from their homes and pressed into service, they would find themselves mistaken. But he had no desire for them to find out the hard way. War was the last thing Kyona—or Cal—needed right now.
“You may be right,” said Lord Wrendal. “And I am sure your troops are up to the task. But we all know King Siloam is not likely to put himself to so much trouble.” The nobleman’s tone was dry. “He lacks the vision.” There was a moment of silence, then Lord Wrendal continued. “There may be other ways to capitalize on this new Kyonan ruler,” he said. “Other ways to secure his allegiance and cooperation.”
“The diplomatic option,” came the second voice, with a hint of amusement. “Your specialty, of course.”
“I only say that it may be possible,” returned Lord Wrendal shortly. “If he is as young as they say, it shouldn’t be too hard to maneuver him. He’ll be locked into ongoing exchange before he knows what he’s agreed to.”
Jo felt his anger mixing with unease. He was sure these men were underestimating Calinnae, but at the same time they weren’t wrong that Cal had no experience with the kind of games they were very practiced at playing. If only he could warn his friend.
“If you mean what I think you mean,” said the other speaker, definitely amused now, “would you not have to sacrifice your present plans?”
“I’m sure that I don’t know what you mean, Lord Grentan,” said Lord Wrendal stiffly, and his companion let the matter drop.
“What of our problems closer to home, Wrendal?” asked the general. “If there’s any possibility of trouble from outside our borders, I don’t like having so many of my soldiers committed to this ongoing annoyance from your resistance.”
“Hardly my resistance,” said Lord Wrendal, sounding irritated.
“You are the Overseer, are you not? Surely you can bring them into line. They’re absurdly problematic for a group of half-starved jungle dwellers. I’ve lost two dozen men to them in the last month alone.”
“They’re as big a nuisance to me as they are to you, General,” returned Lord Wrendal tartly. “Our hunters are struggling to feed the labor camps. Half the jungle is too dangerous for them to hunt in now. And I can’t even send slaves to do any foraging, because the cursed resistance will liberate any slaves who set foot in the jungle, killing their minders in the process.”
“Most regrettable,” said Lord Grentan, and Jonan thought he sounded smug at being the only one in the conversation who wasn’t being personally bested by the slave resistance.
Lord Wrendal gave an irritated grunt. “I should be asking you for news, General. I thought you told me not three days ago that you had identified a cell of resistance rabble, and expected to apprehend them within days.”
Jonan leaned involuntarily toward the three men, his ears straining.
The general acknowledged it with a frustrated huff. “We did. They infiltrated the camp of new arrivals, of that I am certain. There were half a dozen of them, and my men assured me they had them cornered.”
“Well?”
“They took to the river, apparently. Downstream from the camp.”
“Hm.” Lord Wrendal sounded disappointed. “That is unfortunate.”
