Tortall, Page 2

  At night no one in the cheap drinking houses will blink if you put down a coin for a bowl of soup or pay a lad to fetch you one from a better food seller. While you nurse your meal, all around you will talk. So will those who see you every day. Shopkeepers and their folk are often glad of a listening ear. Servants wanting a rest will ask for the day’s news. Ask the right questions of such folk and you have informants soon enough.

  Talk and Informants

  Know the accent and the words that go with your disguise. If your guise comes from Frasrlund, don’t talk as if you come from Port Caynn. The two don’t sound the same. Don’t claim to be a Bazhir if you can’t speak their tongue well.

  Best of all, talk as little as you can. Being in the Shadow Service of spies, you know all manner of secret things. You can’t get in trouble when you hold your tongue. Good listeners live longer and learn a great deal. True, it’s hard to keep quiet when you know more than the folk you’re with! Keep quiet anyway.

  No one expects a woman busy at her chores to pay attention to what’s being said around her. Never mind if a man’s mother and sisters show they heard everything while they stitched or kneaded. He’ll still think a woman saves all her thought for work. You’re a far better spy mopping the floor than clanking with daggers.

  In Carthak and the west beyond Maren, there is no better informant than a slave. No one notices them. They may go anywhere and look into anything if they are careful. Disguised as a slave, you may ask questions that would be suspicious coming from others. Everyone believes a slave is stupid, even given evidence he is not.

  At court, listen to how folk talk to Their Majesties and to each other. Nobles shower royalty with compliments, asking after the princes and princesses and praising Their Majesties on the fine work they do for the kingdom. Then listen to the way your quarry speaks of Their Majesties to their friends. I will wager you a month’s allowance that they do not speak of Their Majesties and Their Highnesses in nearly the same way as when they are facing them.

  This is true of most folk who want to keep their positions, and their heads. We listen to servants and to nobles alike. Then we decide what is simply malice and what is danger to the realm.

  Folk will always try to make themselves look wise or clever to a newcomer or a pretty girl. They will pretend to be important by giving away secrets if a spy asks the right questions. Rascals will tell you all manner of fine things to get you to give them kisses and more. There’s many a fellow who will try to bed a lass who appears interested as she gets him to talk. And mind yourself carefully, as any woman spy must. The least of us can make a slip of our own in the arms of a lover. Best not to take one.

  There will be times when you will hear things that you don’t like. Things offensive to Their Majesties, who are your godsparents, to your ma or da, or to your friends. Ignore the offense if you wish to enter the Shadow Service. Should you ever give away to strangers that you’ve been eavesdropping, I shall be forced to drop you from my roll of young spies. A good one never shows that she’s heard anything. Talk it over with me, if you like. I’m your spymaster, after all. But you can’t be losing your temper over what you hear, or you’ll never be good at this.

  Suspicious Folk

  You have the Sight. It shows you when someone is lying, but don’t rely on it. Learn the signs of a liar. Does that person blink or look away as he talks? He’s lying. Even folk who don’t know what they’re looking at sense it when people are being dodgy. The twitch at the corner of the mouth and a look-away glance serve as alarm bells. That’s why it’s important for you to meet someone’s gaze, unless you play the servant and need to look down.

  Another giveaway is too many protests that the speaker is dishing out the truth. The saying “the truth speaks for itself” means just that. Folk who tell the truth don’t think they must keep repeating it. It’s the truth—it’s obvious. Only liars tell it over and over, trying to hammer their lie into others’ minds.

  I’ll say it until your ears turn blue. Silence is better than talk. If you don’t listen, you can’t hear the little breaks in the voice that could mean a lie, a sorrow, or something left out. If you don’t listen, you won’t hear those few words from the quiet folk who know more than all the braggarts.

  If someone joins your group who’s jolly and friendly, always has coin to buy others food or a drink, or friends who can find just the right weapon, spell, or horse in a pinch? The kind of lad or lass that you just want to trust and confide your secrets to? Get rid of him. Like as not, that’s the one hired by your enemies. That one will get inside your group and turn you all in to the magistrate once they’ve gathered—or planted—enough evidence to put a noose around your necks.

  If you’re asked to join a conspiracy that’s run by someone like this? Run. That conspiracy is set up by a spymaster to be used against his enemies, sometimes to build a conspiracy where none existed before. To prove a king has enemies in order that his magistrates may lay down harsh laws or put a popular noble’s head on the chopping block. False conspiracies can be used to justify higher taxes and civil wars.

  And again, keep your eye on those quiet ones who are overlooked by the rest. They see more than they tell, and they think more than they talk. You want them for your friends, in case they’ve noticed something you haven’t. You don’t want them asking questions about you.

  Danger—Magic

  Essence spells are the main things we spies must worry about. We carry our essences everywhere, in our skin, hair, and nails. All we touch picks up some of our essence. The longer we touch things, the more essence we place on them. This is also true if our feelings are on the boil, if we’re ill, or if we’re hurt—anything that makes us sweat. This is why spies and Provost’s Guards alike value things like clothing someone has worn. Mages can use that clothing to draw the essence out and work a spell. Wear the silk gloves and stockings I gave you—they will hold your essence inside them. If you don’t have them about you, pick items up with a bit of cloth. Leave nothing behind. If you can’t take something with your essence on it, burn the thing or sink it in deep water. That will carry your essence away. Luckily essence mages are rare, but there’s no use in taking chances.

  Magic draws magic. Wear no charms or amulets unless they’ve been given to you by a god. If that happens, mages will notice you have it and try to find you by tracking it, but it’s to be hoped the god will help look after you.

  Sneaking

  Before you enter a room, look at the doorsill (or windowsills if you go that way). Suspicious folk often place a line of chalk or flour where someone might step or place a hand, to reveal that someone has entered the room. Do not disturb it. Check the doorframe for hairs placed across the crack or splinters of wood stuck inside it. (Canny folk who know the game may use two or three splinters of wood.) Put these things back just where you found them when you leave. Use them in your own rooms, on door- and windowsills. Such precautions can gain a spy hours’ or days’ worth of time to escape pursuers.

  Check also for places to hide. Look behind curtains and tapestries for nooks, window embrasures, and balconies. Don’t hide beneath a desk. Oftentimes when folk come into a room, one of them will sit there. Find a second way out, and a third. If you have no rope and might need to leave through a window, see if you can readily cut or tear curtains or tapestries to provide yourself with one. Remember the servants’ stair in a castle, a costly house, or an expensive inn. Remember the city’s rooftops. Southern cities, with their flat roofs, are a spy’s dream. Remember castle privies, which empty into the moats. The smell is not so pleasant, nor the feel, but better that than torture and death.

  In a chase, always keep in mind, folk seldom look up. You are better off in a tree or on a roof than in a shed or behind a woodpile. Fools say that if you run up or down the waters of a stream, hounds cannot track you. This is claptrap. Hounds, particularly good ones, can catch your scent above water. You’re better off on stone or finding a river or lake you can swim. If
you’re in a thick wood, get into the boughs and go from tree to tree. Scent rises, a mage once told me. A hound may track you to a tree, but if you are ten or twenty trees away, he cannot follow.

  Stop as soon as you are able and wait. Your pursuers may return to where they lost you to cast about again. Many a runaway has been caught when he came down from his tree too soon.

  Speaking of hounds, if you enter the grounds of house or temple, bring a treat for them. If you like dogs, and I know you do, dose your treat with a sleep potion instead of poison. Most shops that sell to dog owners carry potions to keep a dog in slumber when his thrashing might put a wound or broken bone in danger. If you work with one who dislikes dogs, remind him there’s more than one god that likes them and will take it poorly if he uses poison. Worse, at least in Tortall, there’s the Wildmage. She’s not as reasonable as most gods.

  Stay clear of chickens and geese. Both are noisy and, as you know all too well, geese will attack. Think how red your face will be when you must tell your spymaster you were driven off by geese.

  Wear dark clothes and soft shoes when you search a sleeping house. Darken your skin. Step on stone or rugs where you can. Take care at each joining of corridors to listen for movement. Retreat before you go ahead if you are in doubt. Remember a spy’s first task, to go unseen and unheard.

  Protecting Yourself

  Get in the habit of making your room secure, preparing it for your safety. Arrange your weapons so that they are between you and the windows and the doors. Start with blades beneath your pillow and your bed. Don’t forget to add any weapons that came with the room. If there are weapons on the walls, make sure right off if you can pull them from the walls and out of any sheaths they may have. Even if it’s dull as ditch water, a blade can be used as a club.

  Be sure you can reach all of your weapons easily in the dark. When traveling, try to get a room that grants escape through a window. To make a room safer, move any heavy furniture to block the door, even if you must use your bed. Pile things before the window so any who enter there will make enough noise to wake you.

  If you are offered a room with no window, consider sleeping in the stables. If your mask is that of a beggar, stable or barn is the only place you will be allowed to sleep anyway.

  Never take wine or anything that will make you sleep soundly in a place that is not Pirate’s Swoop.

  Wherever you are, make it a habit to spot the things you can use as weapons. Indoors you have furniture, metalware, stoneware, and hangings to throw over an attacker’s head. Outdoors stones are almost always at hand. On town streets, the sticks used to prop awnings can serve as staffs. If a gang comes after you, is there a cartload of vegetables or barrels you can push into its way? Herds of animals and folk on horseback are good distractions. Ropes can entangle pursuers or be used to tie them up.

  In a marketplace, if you sense you are followed, find a seller of bright-polished silver or brassware, or a seller of well-polished swords and daggers. Angle the polished metal so that, in appearing to admire it, you will see what is over your shoulder reflected in the blade. Does someone eye you? Does someone too quickly pretend to be looking over a seller’s goods? Did someone duck into a shop? Walk on a way and check behind you again to see if that person is still there.

  To lose a follower, know that every shop, stable, eating house, guard station, temple, warehouse, and tavern has more than one door. Enter there, duck down through the crowd, and escape through the back way. Tell the muscle lads who guard the tavern, the Provost’s Guards on watch, or any clutch of brave sailors that a pursuer has frightened you, and point him out. Or, if you are working, tuck yourself into a back-alley doorway with blade in hand, single out a likely-looking pursuer, let him go by just a little bit, get your arm around his neck, tickle his ribs with the blade, and ask what he means by dogging you. Do not pop out right off if you don’t see him when you expect to. Listen. He might be breathing just on the other side of your doorframe.

  If you are in a place for more than a day, I expect you to know the best spots to dodge pursuit, eye anyone suspicious, and get information on them.

  Fighting

  Don’t ever let your poor old da hear of you trying to fight straight up with a knight, a soldier, even an ordinary tavern brawler, or I’ll be forced to disown you. Fighting is not a spy’s job. We listen. We read documents. We code and break code. We run. We collect and pass on information. We need to be alive to do that. When we fight, unless it’s to escape, we betray our duty to our spymasters.

  So. If you’re cornered by a big muscly fellow with a grin on his face, you throw dirt, perfume, or vinegar in his eyes and you run.

  Of course, it’s not always so easy.

  Remember the main targets on an enemy. Eye. Throat. Manhood, unless you deal with a woman. She won’t like a blow there, either. If you wear boots or shoes with heels, strike the foot. The arch is best, but those tiny toes break well, too. And then, when your foe is on his knees? Kick him down and run. It doesn’t matter if you can beat him to a pulp right then or no. An injured spy—and you’ll get hurt in a fight—is no good to anyone, so no fighting more than you must!

  Practice running.

  Other Tender Spots

  Should an enemy seize you and fail to let go:

  Grip a finger—any will do, but the little finger is best—and bend it back. Your captor should scream in pain and release you before you break it. If he doesn’t free you, break it. He’ll release you. Run.

  See the pale half-moon—the Mother’s Mark—at the base of most people’s fingernails? Take your thumbnail (this is why mine are my thickest and strongest nails) and thrust it into your foe’s Mother’s Mark until your captor screams in pain and releases you. Run.

  Seize your captor’s hand, and bend it forward on his wrist as far as it will go. Grip it in that position so he cannot free himself. You can force him to his knees in this manner. Make him swear—before you cripple the arm for life—on his soul, by Mithros, not to chase you. If he breaks that oath, he’ll have worse problems in this world than catching you. Run.

  Seize your foe’s arm. Twist it behind his back. Grip the elbow and thrust it up along his back toward his neck. This puts hard pressure on his wrist, if you still hold it, and his elbow. If you push hard, you can break the arm. Finish as I suggest for the move above. Run.

  If you are at court, the pretty Yamani fans newly come into fashion serve as weapons. Folded, they make a fine jabbing stick. There is a special Yamani fan made of razor-sharp steel, but you need special training in its use. Also, they are made only in the Yamani Islands. I think a certain young lady will have to be very good at her work if she would like her da to get her one for Midwinter!

  Don’t forget the pins that hold a lady’s veils and hair in place, or brooch pins. They can be very discouraging to a foe. There’s little room in a gown’s tight-fitting sleeves for blades, though Her Majesty says that new fashions are leaning to a wider sleeve.

  Your ma would be happy to teach you some of what she knows, if you were to ask. It’s a different way of fighting than a spy’s, but she’s learned some wicked tricks in her travels. Give her a chance.

  One More Thing

  Gather it all, young spy,

  but tell it only to your spymaster.

  No one else. Secrets are power.

  They’re the only coin that matters,

  so let us hoard ours!

  April 23, 459 H.E.

  Personal report of agent apprentice Birdsong

  Concerning the events of April 21, 459 H.E.

  In the city of Pearlmouth, Tortall

  At noon on the 21st of April, I was informed by my father the Whisper Man that I was to have the chance to watch a trade of money for information in a private room at a public house in this city. (I have been ordered not to write down the name or the street of the meeting place.) I put on the brown dress, white apron, and cap of a maidservant and wore it under a cloak. Then I followed the Whisper Ma
n from the inn where we lodged to the public house at six of the clock, three hours in advance of the meeting.

  The Whisper Man bought a room on the same floor as the one in which our true meeting was to take place. Once there, the Whisper Man ordered a meal and a bottle of wine. When these things came, he ordered the servants not to disturb us and locked our door. He then opened the window. We had already inspected the building. The outside stonework is very old, with many gaps to serve as hand- and toeholds. We used them to climb to the room where the Whisper Man was to meet his informants. The shutters were open, so we entered it easily.

  There was a main room with a table, four chairs, hearth (there was no fire in the hearth, the day being mild), and a small bedchamber. The opening to the bedroom was covered by a tapestry that reached from near the ceiling to the floor. I hid myself behind it, standing back far enough that my shoes did not show.

  While I waited, the Whisper Man sat at the table and wrote in his records book in code. He could hear if I fidgeted or sat to ease my aching ankles or sighed or cursed because I had to stand for so long or moved to sit on the bed. I did none of these things. I told him that I am ready to go into the field and I swore I was going to prove I was right. My biggest dream is to be a field agent! Instead of fussing, I relaxed and let my mind rest, even though my ankles and knees did ache quite fiercely.

  The clock struck nine, the hour for the meet, yet the agent code-named Rushpipe did not come. I began to think wickedly of various tortures from my books that I might use on him in the name of my ankles. At last I heard the innkeeper’s keys, and then the opening of the door.