He's been trained. "My lord, you talk in riddles, I swear!"
"Very well," he said agreeably, leaning against a corner post. "You look like a girl who knows her riddles. I understand your name is Aly Homewood, and I know you were once a slave." He pointed to the faint scar around Aly’s neck, the mark of a slave collar. "Today you're Lady Dovasary Balitang's maid. Your accent..." He cocked his head, studying her with interest. "Tortall, southeastern coast."
"I come from there, my lord," she admitted meekly. She kept her eyes down to hide her growing delight. Somehow Taybur Sibigat had recognized her for a player of the spies' game, but he didn't seem interested in exposing her. She had to try to convince him that he was wrong, but it was lovely to meet someone who spoke the language she had learned in the cradle, the give-and-take between those who sought information. Glancing around the room from the corners of her eyes, she saw that most of the servants watched them warily but without alarm. She even saw liking on some of those faces. This man wasn't as feared as the regents or Topabaw, then.
He tugged on his ringless earlobe. "I'm trying to narrow it down—you're not a Carthaki agent," he murmured, thinking aloud. "They have a, a special whiff about them, don't you agree? A well-polished one. They do unctuous better even than a courtier. Tyrans are a slippery lot. Usually they just ooze around corners. It comes of living in a swamp. But you..." He tipped his head from side to side. "The Whisper Man of Tortall. Are you one of his, or have you sold your services elsewhere?"
It would have taken much more than her father's nickname to make Aly twitch. She began to shake her head and continued to shake it as he asked if she served the Marenite, Yamani, Gallan, or Tusaine spy networks.
"You must believe me, I'm just a servant, my lord, just a servant, and I know naught of spying or whispering or anything like that!" she babbled. I’m just a poor girl from Tortall, making my way in the world!" She glanced up at him from under her brows. "If you suspect me so, why haven't you arrested me or given me over to Topabaw?" she demanded. It was a risky point to make when she was supposed to be terrified out of her wits. She simply could not resist needling him a little in return.
He shrugged. "I wont do the mans work for him. Besides, Topabaw has notified me, through the prince regent, that my assistance and advice are unwelcome."
Hmm, thought Aly, I smell rivalry here. When two powerful men dislike each other, things can slip through the cracks between them.
"Besides," Taybur continued, “I'm sure you'll get to know him soon enough."
Too late, Aly thought, thinking of the purse of coins she had stowed in the Balitang luggage. Inside she grinned broadly. She hadn't realized how much she had yearned for someone who could meet her at her own level. She would be even more careful knowing that Taybur Sibigat had an eye on her. Unlike Topabaw, Sibigat did not hear only what he wished to hear. It would be much more fun to outwit someone who knew what he was doing. She'd only have to worry that the regents might give Taybur Sibigat the spymaster's job if she brought about Topabaw's fall.
Taybur leaned down until his lips were close enough to her ear that the feel of his breath raised goose bumps on her skin. "Whatever game you play at here—and let's just assume you denied it with great vigor and go about our day—please, understand. All I care about is the safety of the king. Conduct whatever games you wish on these palace grounds with my blessing. Topabaw can use the exercise. But sniff around His Majesty, and suddenly I won't like you anymore."
Oh, dear, Aly thought guiltily. He thinks I'm just a regular spy. He doesn't know what the raka are up to, or if he does, he doesn't think it will come to anything.
"You frighten me, my lord," she whispered, keeping her eyes on the ground.
"I told you to call me Tay—"
Whatever else
"Very well," he said agreeably, leaning against a corner post. "You look like a girl who knows her riddles. I understand your name is Aly Homewood, and I know you were once a slave." He pointed to the faint scar around Aly’s neck, the mark of a slave collar. "Today you're Lady Dovasary Balitang's maid. Your accent..." He cocked his head, studying her with interest. "Tortall, southeastern coast."
"I come from there, my lord," she admitted meekly. She kept her eyes down to hide her growing delight. Somehow Taybur Sibigat had recognized her for a player of the spies' game, but he didn't seem interested in exposing her. She had to try to convince him that he was wrong, but it was lovely to meet someone who spoke the language she had learned in the cradle, the give-and-take between those who sought information. Glancing around the room from the corners of her eyes, she saw that most of the servants watched them warily but without alarm. She even saw liking on some of those faces. This man wasn't as feared as the regents or Topabaw, then.
He tugged on his ringless earlobe. "I'm trying to narrow it down—you're not a Carthaki agent," he murmured, thinking aloud. "They have a, a special whiff about them, don't you agree? A well-polished one. They do unctuous better even than a courtier. Tyrans are a slippery lot. Usually they just ooze around corners. It comes of living in a swamp. But you..." He tipped his head from side to side. "The Whisper Man of Tortall. Are you one of his, or have you sold your services elsewhere?"
It would have taken much more than her father's nickname to make Aly twitch. She began to shake her head and continued to shake it as he asked if she served the Marenite, Yamani, Gallan, or Tusaine spy networks.
"You must believe me, I'm just a servant, my lord, just a servant, and I know naught of spying or whispering or anything like that!" she babbled. I’m just a poor girl from Tortall, making my way in the world!" She glanced up at him from under her brows. "If you suspect me so, why haven't you arrested me or given me over to Topabaw?" she demanded. It was a risky point to make when she was supposed to be terrified out of her wits. She simply could not resist needling him a little in return.
He shrugged. "I wont do the mans work for him. Besides, Topabaw has notified me, through the prince regent, that my assistance and advice are unwelcome."
Hmm, thought Aly, I smell rivalry here. When two powerful men dislike each other, things can slip through the cracks between them.
"Besides," Taybur continued, “I'm sure you'll get to know him soon enough."
Too late, Aly thought, thinking of the purse of coins she had stowed in the Balitang luggage. Inside she grinned broadly. She hadn't realized how much she had yearned for someone who could meet her at her own level. She would be even more careful knowing that Taybur Sibigat had an eye on her. Unlike Topabaw, Sibigat did not hear only what he wished to hear. It would be much more fun to outwit someone who knew what he was doing. She'd only have to worry that the regents might give Taybur Sibigat the spymaster's job if she brought about Topabaw's fall.
Taybur leaned down until his lips were close enough to her ear that the feel of his breath raised goose bumps on her skin. "Whatever game you play at here—and let's just assume you denied it with great vigor and go about our day—please, understand. All I care about is the safety of the king. Conduct whatever games you wish on these palace grounds with my blessing. Topabaw can use the exercise. But sniff around His Majesty, and suddenly I won't like you anymore."
Oh, dear, Aly thought guiltily. He thinks I'm just a regular spy. He doesn't know what the raka are up to, or if he does, he doesn't think it will come to anything.
"You frighten me, my lord," she whispered, keeping her eyes on the ground.
"I told you to call me Tay—"
Whatever else
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