Tsar Wars: Agents of ISIS, Book 1 Read online

  “But it doesn’t matter. You’re not going there.”

  “If I’m not familiar with my own home world, I could be tripped up and have my cover blown. Why don’t we say I’m from Ortanj? I was just there two years ago. I know all the best spots.” She smiled as a memory came to her mind. “And one or two not-so-good, too. And I can do the accent really well.”

  The young dvoryanka’s glare would have frozen nitrogen. “Do you think you’re in charge of this assignment?”

  “Who’s the one risking her life to save the Velikaya Knyaghinya while you sit calmly in your cozy little castle?”

  “That’s not—”

  “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

  Hasina’s nostrils flared. “That’s irrelevant. We each have a job to do.”

  “Humor me,” Eva said. “Why don’t you like me?”

  Hasina paused, and Eva could see the calculation in her eyes as she was deciding how much truth to tell. “I think you’re a self-centered prima donna more interested in her own pleasure than the fate of the Empire. You’re untested, undisciplined, insubordinate and don’t take this mission seriously, and I have severe doubts about placing the Knyaghinya’s welfare in your hands.”

  Eva smiled at her. “Good. I like a gal who can speak her mind. Actually, I think you’ve read me pretty well, except for that bit about not taking it seriously. My parents died serving the Empire. While secret-agenting wasn’t my dream like Judah, I have to respect what they died for or else the whole thing was for nothing. I can’t accept that. I have to go through with this to validate them.”

  Eva’s smile broadened. “Now it’s my turn. I think you’re a woman consumed by jealousy because you wanted this assignment and you’re sure you could do it, but your daddy passed you over in favor of an ‘untested, undisciplined, insubordinate prima donna’ because he thinks you’re too valuable to him working in his office. You resent me because I got the job you wanted.”

  From the stunned look on Hasina’s face, Eva knew she’d scored a bull’s-eye. Probably not too many people had spoken that candidly to the woman before. Pressing her advantage, she clapped her hands and said, “Nu, now that we each know who we’re dealing with, let’s get down to business. We were discussing my cover identity ….”

  * * *

  The Tsar Gregoriy Spaceport outside Moscow was the largest and busiest commercial spaceport in the Empire. Since it serviced humanity’s capital there would likely be hundreds of ships docked there at any given moment, with dozens more waiting in orbit for a landing spot as soon as one became available. It extended for many kilometers, so sprawling that a person standing at the center of the vast landing field wouldn’t be able to see the perimeters—even if all those ships weren’t blocking the view. And the port was in a perpetual state of expansion, constantly adding new landing sites as the Empire expanded at a geometric rate.

  Such a gigantic facility required a massive infrastructure to keep it working smoothly. Unprotected humans could not simply stroll out across the field; even maintenance teams rode about in armored trams and wore protective gear. Passengers and baggage traveled through mechanized underground tubeways that whisked them to the safe harbor of the terminals. With the new spaceship engines being ultra-quiet, the silence on this vast field resembled that of a graveyard—a graveyard with rows of enormous headstones.

  Hasina’s ship landed, and she and Eva went directly from the terminal to a hotel. During the voyage to Earth, the two women had reached a truce of sorts: Hasina was less condescending and Eva was less confrontational. Tensions still bubbled beneath the surface, but they never erupted into open hostility.

  Hasina had arranged for one of the court’s finest couturiers to be waiting for them at the hotel. They’d sent Eva’s measurements ahead before they’d left Turtello, and a complete ensemble of clothing was waiting for them. Eva tried every piece on and last-minute adjustments were made. The clothes were all beautiful and well made, but deliberately slightly out of style, as might befit a minor boyarynya from a far corner of the Empire.

  Eva delighted in trying out one gorgeous dress after another, while Hasina eyed her coolly. “You’ll be presentable,” she announced at last.

  “I’m always presentable,” Eva said absently, admiring her image in a full-length mirror. “I look good no matter what I’m wearing—or not wearing, as the case may be.”

  Eva’s new wardrobe was packed carefully and, first thing the next morning, Hasina escorted Eva to the Grand Galactic Palace. This stately building with its breathtaking yellow and white façade, had been built up as additions to the previous Grand Kremlin Palace right by St. Vasiliy’s Cathedral, and was an ostentatious display of wealth and power.

  Hasina led her through security, where it seems she was a well-known figure, and through a maze of hallways that even Eva, with her good sense of direction, quickly got lost in. They went to a suite of rooms bigger than some of the theaters Eva had played, where Hasina introduced her to a handsome woman who looked to be in her late forties.

  “Your Ladyship,” Hasina said, “may I present to you Lady Ilona Farik from Ortanj. Ilona, this is Lady Elena Voslenko, chamberlain of the imperial household.”

  Eva did a proper court curtsy. “Honored to meet you, Your Ladyship,” she said demurely.

  Lady Elena was tall, with slight touches of gray in her hair, but few lines on her face despite the responsibilities of her office. “Hello, Ilona,” she said. Her words were casual, but her voice still had a touch of reserved crispness to it. “Hasina has told me just a little about you, but her judgment was always sound and I’ll trust her opinion. You want to serve Her Highness?”

  “If Your Ladyship finds me worthy of that honor.”

  “Thank you for bringing her here,” Lady Elena told Hasina. “You can leave her with me.”

  Hasina gave a small nod and left.

  “Sit down, Ilona,” Elena said, pointing to one of the elegant chairs in the room. Eva did as she was told, and Lady Elena sat facing her. “Hasina has only given me the barest facts about you. Your father is a boyarin, I understand.”

  “A minor one, Your Ladyship, and only newly ennobled.”

  “You’re a little older than most of the girls I get here.”

  “My father thought we might gain some status if I served a tour as freilina.”

  “He was right,” Lady Elena said. She stared off into space over Eva’s head for a moment. “Ortanj, Ortanj…I was there once, oh, about ten or fifteen years ago. I don’t remember too much about it, I’m afraid, but I do recall one fountain, very ornate—”

  “You’re probably thinking of Alisha Fountain. It was built about fifty years ago by the graf at that time to commemorate the death of his beloved wife.”

  “I remember a lot of cherubs—”

  “Oh yes,” Eva said dryly. “Cherubs, angels, birds, thick columns covered with stone ivy, curlicues and quotes from sappy love poems everywhere you look. Most Ortanji are embarrassed by it, but it’s been in so many travel brochures that it’s now a tourist attraction. It brings in rublei, so no one’s going to tear it down, no matter how much they want to.”

  Lady Elena delicately arched an eyebrow. “You certainly believe in speaking your mind, don’t you?”

  “It’s my mind, Your Ladyship. If I don’t speak it, who will?”

  There were tiny twitches of a smile at the corners of Elena’s mouth. “This could be a very interesting tour,” she said. Rising, she continued, “Come with me. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the girls.”

  Eva fell in behind her ladyship, who led her down another maze of corridors. “Did Hasina tell you that the Velikaya Knyaghinya will be traveling to various places now, to see different parts of the Empire? You won’t even have time to settle in before you have to leave.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Eva said. “This way I won’t have to unpack and pack again.”

  “Very practical,” Lady Elena said with a nod.

>   They wound through more confusing corridors. “This is the residential portion of the palace,” Lady Elena explained. “You’ll be working here almost exclusively. There are other people to tend to the Knyaghinya’s needs elsewhere in the palace. Do you know what a freilina does?”

  “Sits around and looks pretty?” Eva said in a tone designed to let the chamberlain know she was joking.

  “Looking pretty is optional, although there are minimum dress and grooming standards. As for sitting around, that can only happen in your off-hours, which is never. You keep the Velikaya Knyaghinya’s schedule, making sure she wakes, eats, bathes, and sleeps when she’s supposed to. You put away what she takes out and pick up what she drops; this is the woman who will soon have all the problems of the Empire on her shoulders—she doesn’t need to concern herself with whether her dirty socks ended up in the hamper. You fetch things that need fetching and deliver things that need delivering. You herd her without appearing to herd her. You’re a companion and confidante. If she asks for something, you provide it … which will never happen, because you’ll anticipate all her needs and see to them before she feels the need to ask. You will be a mind-reader, a prophet and a miracle-worker. And if you do your job well, she won’t even know you’re there, any more than she notices she’s breathing. And above all else, you will never—even under torture—tell anyone outside the palace what has gone on here. Think you can do that?”

  Sure, Eva thought. It’s like a good dance routine, where every step and every movement looks effortless and spontaneous, no matter how hard you have to rehearse it. “Sounds like a wonderful challenge,” she said aloud.

  “That it will be,” Elena said. She opened the door to another well-appointed room. “Ladies, gather around and meet the latest member of your team.”

  There were four young women in court gowns seated around the room. Despite what Eva had just been told, they looked decidedly unbusy. All four women stood up quickly when they saw Lady Elena, and made brief curtsies to her. Elena nodded in response and led Eva over to one of the girls. “Lien-Hua,” she said to the most senior-looking girl, who might have been Eva’s age or perhaps a year or so younger, “this is Lady Ilona Farik, who comes to us all the way from Ortanj. Ilona, Lien-Hua is in charge of this detail. I’ll leave the rest of the introductions to her.”

  As she turned to go, she leaned over to Eva and whispered, “I agree with you. That fountain is hideous!”

  The women maintained a respectful silence until the door had shut firmly behind Elena. Then they looked with scorn over at Eva. “I’ve never heard of you,” one of the other girls said accusingly.

  “Don’t let that make you feel ignorant,” Eva said with a cheery, innocuous smile. “I’m sure there must be plenty of people who’ve never heard of you, either.”

  The girls turned to Lien-Hua. “Why did she saddle us with her?” one of the girls said.

  “A detail is traditionally four ladies,” whined another.

  Lien-Hua didn’t look any happier than the others, but spoke a little more discreetly. “She must have her reasons. It’s not against the law or anything.” She turned to address Eva for the first time. “I’m Lady Wong Lien-Hua. You take orders from me. Understand?”

  “Perfectly.”

  Lien-Hua introduced her to the other three girls, and Eva forgot their names as soon as she heard them. It was clear from their faces and the intelligence—or lack thereof—behind their eyes that they were three women with but one brain amongst them. Barely. Forever afterward, Eva thought of the group as Lien-Hua and the Three Shicksehs.

  “She’ll only get in our way,” said Shickseh Number One, talking about Eva as though she weren’t there.

  “She doesn’t know what she’s doing,” said Shickseh Number Two.

  “We’re leaving for Languor tomorrow,” said Shickseh Number Three. “How are we supposed to train her in just one day?”

  “We’ll cope, I’m sure,” Lien-Hua said. “Ilona, just sit or stand in a corner and stay out of the way. We’ll take care of everything.”

  “Aye aye, Your Ladyship,” Eva said, saluting smartly. “If I may ask, where is Her Highness now?”

  “No you may not ask,” said Shickseh Number Two (or was it Number One?) with a snooty tone.

  “At lessons,” Lien-Hua said curtly. She looked at her wristcom. “And speaking of which, they’re almost over. Take your stations, ladies. Ilona, just stand back next to the curtains. If we’re lucky, she won’t even notice you.”

  The girls may have been vacuum-brained, but they had their routines down pat. They moved to positions around the room and waited. Barely a minute later, a large door opened and the Velikaya Knyaghinya swept in.

  Natalia Ilyinishna Sokolova, grand-niece to Tsar Vasiliy and heir-apparent to the throne of the greatest empire in human history, was a rather plain-looking fourteen-year-old girl. She was barely taller than Eva and somewhat thin, just starting to develop a young girl’s figure. Her brown hair—by tradition, never cut—was wrapped in a long braid and worn atop her head like a crown, the signature look of royalty. She also had the saddest eyes Eva had ever seen—eyes that knew the weight of responsibilities to come.

  The Velikaya Knyaghinya looked exactly like the thousands of pictures and news clips Eva had seen of her over the years, a face familiar to everyone throughout the Empire. And yet, as Eva watched, there was something not right, something she couldn’t reconcile with the image of the young woman in the news, some subtle difference that sent alarm bells jangling in her mind.

  “I hate math!” Knyaghinya Natalia exclaimed petulantly. “I don’t see why they force me to take it. When I’m tsaritsa, I’ll have advisers to do that stuff for me.”

  Eva immediately spoke up. “And how will you know they’re not lying if you can’t check it for yourself?”

  The air in the room dropped ten degrees. The Three Shicksehs looked as though someone had knocked over an entire cabinet full of priceless imperial porcelain. Lien-Hua’s eyes flashed cold fury as she turned toward Eva. The Velikaya Knyaghinya looked over at Eva, seeing her for the first time. “Who are you?” she asked in stiff, formal tones.

  Lien-Hua tried to step in front of Eva, transposing herself between the Velikaya Knyaghinya and the upstart. “Your Highness, I—”

  But Eva was not the sort to hide herself away demurely. She stepped forward, brushing Lien-Hua lightly aside, and made a full formal curtsy. “If it please Your Highness, I am Lady Ilona Farik, always at your service.”

  The Velikaya Knyaghinya said nothing, but looked Eva up and down as though measuring her for a casket. The silence in the room dragged on for seconds that felt like hours. Finally the Knyaghinya turned toward a chair and walked over to it. The entire incident with Eva was forgotten. “I’m hungry,” she said as she sat down.

  Shickseh Number Three (or was it Number One?) was immediately at her side with a plate of small sandwiches at the ready. The Velikaya Knyaghinya reached over and chose one without even looking at it, leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes and began nibbling.

  As a skilled dancer, Eva’s eyes were keenly aware of body movement, of how a person walked, stood and sat. As she watched the Velikaya Knyaghinya walk across the room and sit down, Eva realized this was what had triggered her mental alarms. Though the Velikaya Knyaghinya’s moves were almost perfectly natural, they were just the tiniest bit off.

  She’s got an artificial right leg, Eva thought. How interesting.

  With that observation, her mental alarms went silent again. There was nothing sinister or menacing here, just a new fact to be incorporated into her database. Whatever medical condition had led to this development, the Palace had chosen not to reveal it to the general public. It was something Eva would have to account for in protecting the girl, nothing more.

  As soon as she could do so without attracting attention, Lien-Hua pulled Eva over to one side for a private chat. “You will speak only when spoken to, is that clear?”

&n
bsp; “I was spoken to,” Eva said calmly. “She made her remark about math to the room in general. I merely responded to it.”

  Her calm demeanor only infuriated the other girl more. “You stay out of our way,” she said through clenched teeth. “We know what we’re doing. We’ve been at this for four months now.” She paused for a moment. “I’ll put you on laundry detail. That should keep you out of our hair. I’ll have one of my girls show you to the Velikaya Knyaghinya’s bedroom. You can pick up any dirty clothes and take them to the laundry, bring back the clean ones and put them away. They must be stored neatly, with no wrinkles. Tomorrow we leave on our little excursion, so we’ll expect your help packing. Do you think you can manage all that?”

  Standing on one foot, Eva thought, but merely nodded.

  From then on, Eva felt more like Cinderella at the mercy of the evil stepsisters. While the other girls looked down on her as an interloper, they kept finding more and more work to pile on her shoulders—thereby leaving themselves more leisure time for eating and gossiping. Of course, the chores they assigned her were all back-stage work; she only caught fleeting glimpses of the Velikaya Knyaghinya from time to time. Still, this back-stage work was so much simpler than it was in show business that Eva never felt overburdened.

  The morning the Velikaya Knyaghinya was to depart, Lady Elena came to give the team a pep talk. She would not be going on the trip because she had too many duties back in the palace, but said she was confident her girls would make her proud of them and take care of the Velikaya Knyaghinya perfectly. Eva wondered how confident she’d be if she knew how smoothly the team was functioning so far.

  Lady Elena then introduced them all to Col. Groenwald, the leader of the ISIS team sent to guard the Velikaya Knyaghinya on her journey. He was a tall man, fifty-ish, with a rigorous expression and posture to match. Eva was immediately relieved that she hadn’t been assigned to his detail; Groenwald had probably long ago memorized the entire ISIS rule book and thought it covered every eventuality. Wettig had certainly been right about a lack of imagination handicapping ISIS; if Eva had been subject to this man’s orders, she’d never be able to do anything.