Masques (Sianim #1)(9)

Mercenaries of Sianim were some of the finest fighters in the world. With the only other military school at Jetaine, which had the minor drawback of allowing no foreign males entrance within its walls. Sianim had little competition. In addition to training its own mercenary troops, Sianim also trained fighters for various kingdoms and principalities for a healthy fee. The elite guard for most of the rulers were Sianim-trained.

Because politics and war go hand in hand, Sianim also had a spy network that would have amazed an outsider. It was run by a slender, short, academician - several decades past his first youth but by no means ancient. It was to his small office tucked away in the rabbit warren of the government building that Aralorn went, after stabling Sheen.

She slipped through the worn door without knocking, for if the Spymaster had wanted privacy the door would have been locked. She closed the door, sat on a ratty-looking chair and waited patiently for Ren to acknowledge her.

He was reading aloud from a collection of poems by Thyre. Thyre wasn't one of her favorites; he reached too hard for his rhyme. Usually she fished a book from Ren's impressive library and read until he decided to question her, but today she just sat quietly listening. Since Thyre was notoriously long-winded, she had plenty of time to rest.

When Ren finished she was dozing peacefully, but she was edgy enough that the soft sound the book made as Ren stuffed it into one of the many bookcases made her jump. He offered her a glass he filled from the bottle on his desk.

Aralorn accepted it, but sipped cautiously. Bottles on Ren's desk could contain anything from water to Wyth, a liquor more affectionately known as Dragonslayer. This time it was fehlta juice, only a mildly alcoholic drink, but she set it down on a rickety table anyway. She had the rueful feeling that it would be a long time before she would take anything that could cloud her thoughts.

When Ren finally spoke he sounded almost nervous to her sensitive ears. "I trust that everything went smoothly as usual, hmm? Got in, got out, came here."

"Yes. I - " He cut her off before she could speak.

"Did you talk to him about the assassination attempt?" Ren sat down on the three-legged stool behind his desk.

"No, the - "

"Good," he said breaking in once again before she could continue. "I would hate to have him upset with us, or think that we were spying on him - although I doubt that he would mind. I'm sure he would have understood that we gather information whenever we can. I trust that you were either able to put a halt to the assassins or discovered that the rumor I sent you to investigate was just a rumor."

That he was babbling didn't bother her; he always talked like that. He once told her that it distracted people, and they said things that they wouldn't normally have said - just to get him to shut up. She used the technique herself upon occasion and found it effective.

What did bother her was that he wasn't listening. Usually he listened carefully to everything she said and then quizzed her for hours about what she'd heard and seen. It just wasn't like him to gloss over anything or stop anyone from speaking. He never, not ever, interrupted. The bright, black, beady eyes shifted restlessly ... as if he were embarrassed. She had never seen him embarrassed before, so it look her a while to identify the emotion that brought a red tinge to his face. Ren was ashamed that he had sent her to spy on the ae'Magi - the same Ren who had sent her to spy on his own brother!

None of her disquiet showed on her face; she'd been a spy too long to display her emotions unless she wanted to. She didn't want to heed the intuition that was hinting that something was awry. She wanted to give her report with no more than the usual lies. (Not even Ren knew that she could alter her shape. Shapeshifters were not wholeheartedly approved, even when you found someone who actually believed in them.)

She wanted to ignore the insistent disquiet, but she couldn't. While he talked she carefully edited what she was going to tell him, waiting with apparent good humor as he drifted from topic to topic until he got around to asking her about her mission.

Aralorn gave him a brief description of her method of entry; incorrect, of course. Someday Ren would find out just how poor she was at picking locks and would be deeply disappointed. She rattled on at length about the various heads of stale at the gatherings the ae'Magi had held - obligingly going into as much detail as she could when Ren requested it. Evidently, he was only upset about her spying on the ae'Magi. She hedged when he asked her about Myr, saying only that she'd seen him talk with the Magician, but hadn't been near enough to hear what was said. Time enough to inform Ren of the young king's interesting talent after she found out what was making the Spymaster act so far out of character.

To distract him from Myr, Aralorn continued to the main reason for her mission and said with some caution, "I couldn't gather any information on the assassination attempt. If there is one, it doesn't originate from within the castle. I did get the impression that if there is such an attempt, the ae'Magi would be perfectly capable of handling it without need for our aid."

She paused, to give herself time to choose just the right words. "I left early, I know. But, I felt so uncomfortable." What an understatement! "I thought that I had better get out before he figured out who I was and took offense. He is very powerful as well as popular. If it were widely known that Sianim spied upon the ae'Magi, half of the world would be angry at us."

"Ah, yes, I quite understand." Ren nodded and picked up another book - his habitual method of dismissal.