Perhaps its rulers needed something to keep them busy.

The next morning the slave matcher summoned all those who had not found other homes as yet. Most were the less skilled workers-hostlers, lower-ranking footmen and maids, slaves whom the carpenter and the smith would not need in the north, and Aly. After the family's friends and well-wishers had made their selections, over forty slaves remained.

"How does this work?" Aly whispered to the boy who carried messages for the house as they lined up before the matcher. "I never heard of it before."

The boy wasn't surprised. Everyone knew Aly was fresh-caught out of Tortall.

They never thought to wonder how she spoke Kyprish, the language of the islands, so well. "He looks at ya," he whispered. "He's got the magical Gift and all.

He's looked at the owners that hire through 'im, too, so he can match folks that go good together. Not that we'll have much luck, us not having skills. 'Less he sees a talent. Sometimes they can, the Gifted matchers, anyways."

Ulasim led them into the grand hall. People had come and gone over the last day to remove paintings, tapestries, and candelabra for sale. All that remained were the tables and chairs. They would be carried off in the morning.

Ulasim lined the slaves against the wall, his brown eyes alert for any sign of misbehavior. The matcher stood next to chairs occupied by Duke Mequen and d.u.c.h.ess Winnamine, waiting. He was a plump black man in typical raka garb: a wraparound jacket and sarong, both made of serviceable tan linen. He shaved his head but grew a tuft of beard, which he stroked as he talked to the Balitangs.

Now Mequen nodded to him. The slave matcher started at the far end of the line.

Aly watched from under her lashes. After he had bathed each slave in the pale orange fire of his magical Gift, the matcher conferred with Mequen and Winnamine. Slowly he worked his way through the slaves until he was closer to Aly. She measured his Gift. He was powerful enough to notice her magical Sight.

Doubtless he would try to do something with her because of it.

She had the Sight from her father, but its force was her mother's legacy; magic ran strong in Alanna's family. George used his Sight to tell when he was being lied to or when someone held out on him. Sometimes he could also recognize one who would be his friend or his enemy. It was different for Aly. Her sight enabled her to see immediately whether the person she looked at had magic or G.o.dhood; whether that person was ill, pregnant, or lying. It also revealed the presence of poison in water or food. All she had to do was concentrate on how she wished to see something. Her power made it possible for her to clearly discern the tiniest of details, things invisible to the normal eye, or to see far into the distance. A new master might value it for as long as she stayed with him or her. Aly was unimpressed by her skill. She would have preferred to have the all-purpose Gift wielded by her mother and her brother Thom.

The matcher had come to Aly's neighbor. She closed her eyes against the glare of his Gift as the man weighed the young slave. Finished, he addressed Mequen and Winnamine. "I'll keep him with the others, see if he can be trained. I'll send your percentage of his final sale when it's made."

"Very well," Winnamine said. "We've heard good things about your training school."

"It's to my advantage to treat them well," the matcher replied. "It always pays off." The messenger left. Finally the matcher came to Aly. "Look up into my eyes, girl," he said, his melodic voice kind. "This won't hurt."

Aly met his gaze. The slightest hint of orange fire grew around his hands. Then the matcher hiccuped. "What?" he began to say.

Something changed. Inside his round frame Aly saw another body, compact, lean, wiry. Under his face lay another: square, the strong chin covered in a short beard, a brief nose broad at the tip, sparkling dark eyes, and short hair. This wasnot an internal aspect of the matcher; this was something else.

Well, well, Aly thought, amazed. I have a G.o.d.

Gold light spread from the matcher's body, flaring out around him like a sun.

The Balitangs stepped back, shielding their eyes against the light with their hands. Vast, bell-like tones that sounded vaguely like speech rang out, the effect so powerful that Mequen and Winnamine dropped to their knees.

Aly felt no urge to kneel, nor did that light hurt her eyes as it did those of her owners. She gazed at the being who had come to occupy the matcher's body and leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest.

"h.e.l.lo, there." A crisp, light voice, not the matcher's, came from the man's lips. "I apologize that we weren't able to meet earlier. I hope your journey here wasn't too harrowing."

"It was delightful," Aly said with her best nice-girl smile. "All lovely and serene, like sleeping on lilies, only without the bees in my nose. You spoke to me in my dream."

"I did," the G.o.d said, averting his eyes in a falsely modest way. "You'll get more. I don't want you to get homesick."

"But that's sothoughtful, "Aly said innocently. "I'd thank you, but I just don't have the words. Until I find some, you might tell me just who you are supposed to be. Won't that be lovely?"

"Dear, you're being deliberately obtuse," the G.o.d inside the matcher teased.

"You know a G.o.d when you see one. You may call me Kyprioth."

Aly thought swiftly. She didn't recognize the G.o.d's name, which didn't necessarily mean anything. G.o.ds' names and importance varied from country to country. "Why would I want to call you anything, sir?" she asked, still in her character of a sweet young girl.

"Because I might be of use to you. In fact, I already have been." Kyprioth reached into the matcher's jacket and pulled out a tiny ball of light. "You sent a prayer to my sister, the Great G.o.ddess, in the matter of who would purchase you. I intercepted it, since I took care of that little matter myself. You may have the prayer back."

Aly frowned at him, forgetting her impersonation. She looked at the strong, wiry hand inside the matcher's well-padded one. "You did what?"

Kyprioth smiled. It looked extremely odd under the matcher's unmoving features.

"I made certain that you would go to the Balitangs and no one else. I fixed your seeming so that no one else would bid on you."

Aly scowled at him. "Do you mean I got my nose broken, my eyebrow scarred, and the rest of me all battered fornothing ?"

"The eyebrow scar is quite dashing," Kyprioth told her earnestly. "I'll fix your nose if you like."

Aly covered her nose with a protective hand. "No. I got this nose the hard way, and I'm keeping it."

"Well, keep this, too," the G.o.d said, thrusting the light-ball at her. "Use it to appeal to the G.o.ddess another time."

Aly reached out and took the ball. It oozed into her skin like water into sand and vanished. She rubbed the spot, looking the G.o.d over. "What have you done to them?" she asked curiously, nodding to the kneeling duke and d.u.c.h.ess.

"They're talking to a Great G.o.d," Kyprioth a.s.sured her. "Not me-they wouldn't listen to me-but to my brother. They can't see or hear us, if that's what you're worried about. He's telling them that they are beloved of destiny and are meant for great things in this world. They are to be wise and accept their banishment, for their time of greatness will come."

Aly raised an eyebrow at him as she mentally listed the other Great G.o.ds that this one might be. "Won't Mithros mind that you borrowed his seeming?" she wanted to know. "All the legendsI've ever heard say he objects to it.

Strenuously."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," Kyprioth said blithely. "I happen to know he's dealing with the start of a war on the other side of the world just now.

Both sides are invoking him, of course-silly mortals. Don't you want to know what his seeming is telling them about you?"

"Not interested," Aly replied, smiling at the G.o.d with easy good humor. "I have plans."

"Very like your father, manner and all," Kyprioth informed her with a pleased smile. "I can't believe he hasn't the wit to put you to some proper work."

"You talk like you know him," Aly remarked. This was starting to get interesting.

"He and I have done quite a bit of business together."

"He never mentioned you," Aly said. "At our house, we usually share what G.o.ds are monkeying about with us today."

"Of course he never mentionedme, " Kyprioth answered. "What sane man wants the people around him to know he's favored of a trickster? They might suspect that my favor causes certain interesting events in their lives, don't you think? Your father knows there's no point in mentioning something he can't change."

"I'll tell him you said so," replied Aly, her mind in a whirl. Her father would definitely have to explainthis to her. She couldn't wait.

"Actually, you won't," said Kyprioth. His speech was clear, crisp, and fast, a promise of amus.e.m.e.nt in every inflection. It was the kind of voice that talked people into doing mad stunts. It made Aly very wary of him. "At least, not right away," he amended. "I have a small wager for you first. Play this out for me, and I'll deposit you at the cove at Pirate's Swoop. I'm the local sea G.o.d, among other things."

Aly raised an eyebrow. "Why should I dance to some trickster's tune?"

Kyprioth chuckled, a rich, warm sound. "Oh, my dear, I'm notsome trickster," he informed her. "I'mthe Trickster. Kyprioth is the name I have here in the Copper Isles, in addition to rule over our seas. Don't you even want to hear my wager?"

He leaned close to Aly and whispered, "It's made to order for a girl with your skills."

Aly shrugged, hiding her sudden interest behind a mask of boredom. "I suppose I won't be rid of you until you tell me, so talk away."

"It's simple," he a.s.sured her. "Keep the children of this family alive through the end of summer. Do that, and I'll send you home as the G.o.ds travel. You'll be here one moment and there the next."

"And if I can't? If I lose?" Aly wanted to know.

"You'll serve me for an entire year," Kyprioth replied. "If you're still alive.

I can't make any promises. If things go really badly, you might be killed by accident."

Aly twiddled her thumbs, pretending to ignore him. She wanted him to raise the stakes.

Kyprioth sighed. "I'll convince your father to let you be a field agent. I'm a G.o.d-I can do that."

"You can't force him," Aly said. She spoke from long experience with her father.

"No. But he'll pay attention if I tell him how good you are on your own," he explained. "I have a feeling you have a real knack for this. And I'll grant him a boon as well."

"I'm a slave," Aly reminded him. "These people won't listen to me."

"They will now." Kyprioth beamed at Aly. "That's why I needed my brother's seeming. He's telling the duke and d.u.c.h.ess that he's chosen you, someone their enemies will overlook, as his messenger. That they will come to no harm if they listen to your advice. Sooner or later, of course, you'll have to prove to them you're worth listening to, but I'm sure you'll have plenty of chances for that.

Have we a wager?"

Aly considered it, rubbing her hand over her short-cropped hair. From her true dream she knew Mother had already gone north for the summer's fighting, and making things right with her had been the only reason Aly was prepared to rush home. On one hand, the wager meant she would have to follow the Balitangs into exile. On the other hand, what better way to prove to Da that she could manage the work? Even if he wouldn't let her spy, he might attach her to the king or queen as a sort of bodyguard, to keep an eye on things. He'd know her ability if Aly showed him that she was able to keep a family in one piece when they were out of favor with a notoriously unstable king.

She might never get another chance like this. Her father would be hard put to argue with a G.o.d's a.s.sessment, especially if that G.o.d was the Trickster. Aly grinned. Even Da couldn't refuse her if she did it. He was very good about admitting when he was wrong. "We have a wager, then, under those terms," she told Kyprioth. "But I'll need help."

The G.o.d grabbed her stubbly head in both hands and kissed her forehead. Aly yelped: the kiss sent something like a shock through her. "You'll get it,"

Kyprioth said. "On Lombyn." With that he was gone.

If you've a story, make sure it's a whole one, with details close to hand. It's the difference between a successful lie and getting caught.

-FromA Workbook for a Young Spy,written and ill.u.s.trated by Aly's father and given to her on her sixth birthday

3.

THE RAKA.

The Long Strait and the Azure Sea People out of favor with King Oron did not waste time in farewells. The king had slaughtered entire households, down to the last dog, once he decided he could not live with his fears. Two days after Aly entered into her wager with Kyprioth, the Balitangs loaded their belongings onto several cargo ships and prepared to set sail.

Only Prince Bronau came to see them off that humid morning. He kissed the d.u.c.h.ess on both cheeks, embraced the duke, and kissed Lady Saraiyu's hand. Aly barely glimpsed this. Her new charges, Petranne and Elsren, did not care for ships, or the early hour, or Aly herself. Their governess and nursemaids had gone to other households along with seventy-four other servants and slaves.

Winnamine a.s.signed their care to Aly as the reason they had kept her with them.

Neither the duke nor the d.u.c.h.ess had summoned her to discuss the visitation from the G.o.d they believed to be Mithros. Instead they hid their thoughts behind polite, distant faces and told Ulasim that Aly would mind the little ones.

Aly hung on to Petranne and Elsren as they jerked and shrieked in her grip. At last she gave up trying to hear. She read the adults' lips, as she'd been taught by her father.

"I'll try to get word of events to you as often as possible," Bronau a.s.sured the older Balitangs. "The king's none too healthy. Things could change suddenly if he pa.s.ses on. If Hazarin takes the throne, for instance."

"Don't speak of such things," Mequen told Bronau. "It could be taken for treason."

Winnamine rested a hand on the prince's arm. "Tryto be careful, Bronau."

The prince grinned, then walked down the gangplank as the crew prepared to cast off. The Balitangs waved farewell. Bronau stood on the edge of the dock, watching as the ship weighed anchor.

"Come on, you raka dogs, put your backs into it!" yelled the luarin captain to his sailors. "'Less you want a touch of the whip to smarten you!" It was how many luarin in Rajmuat who were not part of the Balitangs' circle addressed their raka slaves and servants. Aly thought it was a foolish way to talk to someone who might be inspired to throw one over the rail into a shark-infested sea, but she would be the first to admit she did not have a conqueror's heart.

She couldn't see who would profit by keeping the original owners of a country ground into the dirt.

Elsren broke out of Aly's hold and ran toward the rail. Still clinging to Petranne, Aly seized the boy by his shirt with her free hand and dragged him back. "I want Jafa!" wailed Elsren, tears running down his plump cheeks. Jafana had been his nursemaid. "I hate you!"

Aly sighed and wrapped an arm around him. "I know, and I'm sorry," she replied.

"In your shoes, I'd hate me, too, but we're stuck with one another." She looked at Petranne. Tears rolled down the little girl's cheeks. "Sometimes being a n.o.ble isn't much fun, is it?" she asked. Petranne shook her head.

Aly glanced at Mequen and Winnamine. They waited at the rail, none of their feelings on display as the ship drew out into the harbor. As Elsren calmed, Aly studied the city, not having seen it when she first arrived. Rajmuat was splendid, full of peaked gates and three-level temples, each with a spiked tower thrust into the sky. White or rose pink walls contrasted with the dark green of the trees that lined its streets. Homes also sported peaked roofs and intricately carved eaves, those on wealthy houses traced in gold or silver.

Something else reflected the sun, too, p.r.i.c.king Aly's eyes with swords of light.

She looked up. High above the city Stormwings circled like vultures over a carca.s.s. Aly shivered. These part-human, part-metal immortals feasted on the rage, fear, and death sp.a.w.ned by human combat. Their wings, each metal feather shaped precisely like a bird's, were the source of the bright flashes of sun on steel.

"They always know." Winnamine spoke quietly. "The Stormwings-they always know when unrest is starting. How can they tell?"

Mequen put an arm around her shoulders. "We don't know if they do, my dear," he replied. "Maybe they just know that it's a sure bet in Rajmuat. Therewill be fighting in the streets, if he doesn't appoint an heir soon, or if something happens to whomever he appoints. We're going to be well out of it."

"Wehope we're well out of it now," replied the d.u.c.h.ess.

Aly knew she had a point. Sometimes King Oron did recover from his fears.

Sometimes he didn't. Sometimes he got worse. If Kyprioth was dragging Aly into the Isles' affairs, they might well be growing.