—and ran straight into Maté.
“You,” she gasped.
He grabbed her by the arm. “Come with me. Hurry.”
Before she could ask how he knew where to find her, Maté pulled her into a narrow passage between two houses. They fled down a series of steps to the next ring of streets. Above the thrumming in her ears, Anna heard the clatter of boots on stones. Maté drew her close. “Quick and silent now,” he murmured in her ear. “Can you do it?”
She nodded.
They hurried through a maze of passageways, through an even narrower tunnel that opened into a square crowded with chickens and goats. Opposite them was a wooden gate—locked, of course. Maté pried loose several slats, and they squeezed into another, larger courtyard.
High walls surrounded them, an expanse of pale brown brick darkened by moss. Several windows opened onto the courtyard, all shuttered against the sunlight, except for one high overhead. The ground here was dark and hard-packed. Matted grass and a few stubborn flowers grew in the corners. A spicy scent filled the air, mixed with the faint smell of rotting garbage from an unseen heap.
Maté made a quick circuit, pausing at each door and gate. At length he nodded, as though satisfied. Anna leaned against the closest wall, trembling. “What next?” she said softly. “Can you find our way home from here?”
“Not yet.”
His voice sounded odd to her ear—strained and unhappy. She was about to ask if something was wrong—something more than pirates and kidnapping and a heart-stopping flight through Iglazi’s back alleys—when Maté turned around. His eyes were flat, his expression so closed it frightened her.
“It’s time,” he said, “that you told me the truth.”
CHAPTER 5
From far away came the rumble of street traffic, the hum of voices drifting upward from the marketplace, but here in this secluded courtyard, Anna had the impression that a veil of silence had fallen over them, much like the spells she had used the night before. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered.
“Don’t lie to me, Anna. You know what I mean.”
Like a soldier delivering a report, Maté listed all the times Anna had met with Brun over the three months before their mission began. He noted that half those private conferences had taken place late at night, and though most of the staff believed Brun had merely summoned Anna for the usual reasons, he doubted the man would suddenly take to using rooms sealed against spies. He had not bothered before, after all.
“You used that same spell last night,” Maté said. “Curious, or not so curious a coincidence. You’ve spent so many hours closeted with those new tutors Lord Brun hired. And let us not forget the couriers.”
What couriers?
Maté grinned at her expression, but it wasn’t a happy grin. “I confess I hadn’t noticed them at first. Hêr Lord Brun has so many friends throughout the Empire, after all, and everyone knows he likes to collect any and all news about Court and politics. It wasn’t until I heard the stable hands gossiping about those midnight visitors, the ones escorted directly to our lord’s private chambers, that I wondered.”
“But Lord Brun—”
“—is a secretive man. I know. I served him ten years before you ever did, Anna. But too many things strike me as peculiar. Why did he insist on this idiotic game, with you pretending to be Vrou Iljana? And why aren’t we allowed to approach the Emperor’s own people in Eddalyon? He claims the Emperor doesn’t want his affairs to become public, but if our lord acts in Marius’s name, why don’t we have proper documents in case of any misunderstanding? Why his secrecy, Anna? Why yours?”
For a moment she couldn’t answer. Lord Brun had given such a reasonable explanation for the secrecy. Or so she thought at the time.
“We must talk,” she said softly. “We’ll go back to our rooms and—”
“No. We talk here. Now.”
She flinched at his tone. “It’s not safe here, Maté.”
Not with Koszenmarc and his gang hunting them. Maté must have understood because he nodded. “Very well. I know a decent wine shop. We can sit quietly until things calm down.”
She took his offered hand and hoped this wine shop was not very far away. All her panic had evaporated, leaving her weak-kneed. To her relief, Maté set a much slower pace as they retraced their steps to the public streets. A few more turns brought them into a small sunny square on the edge of the hill. There was a weaver’s shop, a candlemaker, and in the far corner, marked by a wooden placard, the wine shop. All of the signs in this neighborhood were written in Eddalyon’s native script. Once more she had the sense of entering a secret, alien world, hidden within the larger one she knew.
“Do you come here often?” Anna murmured.
“Once or twice. Stavros serves me the occasional bit of news along with a good meal.”
The wine shop owner leaned against his doorway and watched them approach. Like most men in the islands, he wore dark blue trousers tied with a bright sash and an undyed cotton shirt. His grease-spotted apron did not inspire Anna’s confidence, but his hands looked scrubbed, and he wore a patterned rag over his braided hair.
“We want soup, wine, and bread,” Maté said. “We’re hungry, my friend.”
Stavros heaved himself upright with a grunt. If he wondered about a noblewoman coming here with one of her minions, he made no comment. “I’ve new cheese,” he said. “The bread isn’t so fresh at this time of day, but the soup makes up for it. My Phaidre’s best.”
“I believe you,” Maté said. “Tell your Phaidre to make the portions big ones. My lady is starved and I’m not far behind.”
He led Anna into the shop, to a large table next to the windows. Anna glanced around, taking in the dusty floors, the windows smudged with grease and smoke. Two old men occupied a table near the door, smoking pipes. Off in one corner, several men and women crouched over a game with cards and markers. For the most part, they spoke the island language—Kybris, it was called—with a few Veraenen words here and there. None of them acknowledged her presence.
The wine shop’s owner vanished down the passageway and soon returned with mugs, plates, and a jug of wine. Off he shuffled again, this time coming back with the promised bread and soup, along with a jug of plain water. Maté tossed him several coins. The man caught them in one meaty hand and retreated to his post by the door.
Maté poured wine into their mugs, then cut several slices of bread and cheese. “Eat first. You look as though you might faint otherwise, my lady.”
Anna nibbled at the bread, then tasted the soup, which was chilled and peppery, thickened with bits of a red, fleshy fruit. Both soup and bread were far better than she had expected, given the appearance of the shop’s floors and windows. She had become too particular over the years, apparently. Or perhaps she had taken on too much of her role in this game that she and Maté played.
She ate slowly, finishing off the soup, then nibbling slices of bread and cheese, interspersed with sips of the wine, which turned out to be excellent. Once the shopkeeper had cleared away their dishes, Maté refilled their mugs, then leaned over the table. “Now we talk.”
She glanced around the room, uncertain.
“Are you afraid of breaking a trust?” he said.
“I’m not certain