Spycraft Academy

by B N Miles

  The walk itself was surreal, every step closer pushing him toward something great. If he wasn't throwing Mattie sly smirks, he was imagining himself as Tosher, one of the great Roslavian heroes that he loved so much as a boy. Tosher was once a farmer's son who had risen to greatness and slain Morkaks, the beast of Meera, with only a kitchen knife and his sharp wits.

  Most of his favorite heroes had slain champions of Meera, the country to the west of the Varin Empire. They'd been at war with Meera for almost a hundred years with only short breaks of peace every now and again. These respites, brokered by concords and marriage alliances, were inevitably ruined when a new ruler succeeded their late parent. And it all started when a power-hungry Meeran king decided to claim his 'right' to the Varin throne through his mother's distant relations.

  When the first fighting started, the battles were vicious and bloody. Sam had heard that only one in five men came back from war in those days. Now, they didn't have full-scale pitch battles; they had become too costly and too many men were dying. Instead, they used cold-wolf tactics. Spies and assassins won battles now, not warriors, which is why the school was as prestigious as it was—the government invested a lot of specs in their weapons of war.

  Sam might not have had an education like most people in the school, but everybody knew about the Long War. And now he was going to be part of it.

  They finally arrived at the school. A huge archway served as the front gate, a long rampart running above it. Sam craned his neck as he passed underneath, his heart beating to the rhythm of unabashed joy. He was here. His eyes roamed from the ceiling of the archway to the open campus, 'wow' being the only coherent thought bouncing through his mind. The green grass glistened, neatly cut and parting only for the white and grey cobblestone walkways. A few large trees dotted the quad, positioned over curved iron benches and sleek wooden tables. Sam wasn't paying attention to where he was going, which is why he almost ran into the person in front of him when the group halted.

  "Alright, listen carefully!" Lebert shouted.

  Sam's eyes found his recruiter standing on a wooden table to boost his height far above the group. Synjon and a woman stood to either side of him. The massive double doors of the castle loomed right behind them, the surrounding buildings and walkways filling up with students who walked by without a glance.

  "You will be taken to your dorms in just a few minutes, and from there you'll have some time to get comfortable before you're summoned again."

  He clasped the woman on the shoulder. "This is Gyna, she'll be taking over from here. I don't want to receive any reports about misconduct, so do behave yourselves."

  Gyna turned without fanfare and shouted for them to follow her, and they moved forward like a lumbering herd. Her loud voice echoed off the stones as she spoke. Sam tried to pay attention, but he kept getting distracted by the wonders around him. “All of the buildings you see in the quad are classrooms. Since you're first years, you won't have the pleasure of seeing the inside of them unless you get past the first semester."

  Sam thought they'd go through the huge double doors, but instead, Gyna took a left and led them past. The group was mostly silent, probably taking everything in more than abiding by Lebert's earlier instructions to keep their heads down and stay quiet.

  They filed through a side door tucked into a corner of the quad before filtering into a large entry hall. From there, they were taken to see the first-year classroom hall, which was attached to the stairwell of the meditation tower. They passed the mess hall and the second-year hallway, then they exited into a courtyard.

  "This is the first-year dorm space. The courtyard is yours, and that building is where you'll be living for the next year of your life." She pointed to the far end of the courtyard where a huge grey building stood, perfectly square and utilitarian. No decorations or embellishments. It almost looked like the jailhouse in the capital.

  "Once you get inside, you'll see your names on your dorm rooms. Dorm mates are non-negotiable outside of extreme circumstances, so I suggest you learn to get along. We've matched you up well, so I don't expect any issues out of you."

  She folded her arms and went quiet. The rest of them were equally as silent, waiting on instructions. Sam tried not to bounce on the balls of his feet; his nervous energy made it uncomfortable to stand still.

  Gyna pursed her lips and made a shooing motion, "Well, go on, find your rooms. The bell will summon you for orientation."

  Slowly, the group slipped past her toward the dorms. Sam took a deep breath and shouldered his pack before glancing down at Mattie. "You ready?"

  Her expression was severe and concentrated. "Yeah. C'mon."

  Sam took her hand and they followed the group into the building. After passing the dorm's stone threshold, he immediately found himself in a sizable common area. A merry fire crackled at the far end of the room and impossibly long couches were positioned strategically around the wide hearth.

  "Wow,” Mattie breathed. He agreed.

  The entire stone floor was covered in plush wine-colored carpet, the walls littered with soft banners, furs, animal skulls, plaques, and old weapons, filling the entire room with stories of people long gone from its halls.

  It was a bit overwhelming to be in such a fine room with fifty other people milling around in him. By the fine trousers and skirts they were all wearing, the lot of them looked wealthy, but thankfully nobody was paying attention to Sam and Mattie.

  "Hey."

  Sam startled at the voice at his shoulder and whipped his head around to find a young man grinning at him. He had a crooked smile, deep brown eyes, and long ropes of thick black hair tied at the nape of his neck. Sam looked at the man's shoes. They were muddy, but the buckle on them shone through the filth in a few spots. Another noble.

  He glanced unsurely at Mattie, who looked just as confused as him.

  "You're Samson Croft?"

  Sam nodded slowly, wary of where this was going. How did he know?

  "Ah," Sam said.

  "Yes, well, superb. Fletcher Rorex, at your service, but you're welcome to call me Fletch." He gave Sam a flourishing bow and Sam wasn't sure whether he should turn away or bow back. Mattie gave Sam a mildly scathing look as if he'd done something wrong, and then he realized that he was just staring at Fletch without saying a word.

  "Uh, nice to meet you."

  "Indeed." Fletch straightened and tossed his hair over his shoulder. "I saw your name on your cabin in the ship, and then just now on my dorm door. It seems we're to be roommates."

  "Oh, alright. Well, that's ah . . . good news?" Sam mentally kicked himself in the ass. He didn't realize they'd been on the boat together. He was usually observant enough to recognize a face he'd been traveling with for weeks. Sam could forgive himself such a careless mistake in this instance; his world had been flipped upside down, he hadn't been paying attention to the people around him. Still, he was not making a good impression on his apparent roommate... his noble roommate.

  Fletch's eyes darted between Sam and Mattie for a moment before he clasped his hands and gave them a big, friendly grin. "I can see I'll have my work cut out for me."

  "Pardon?"

  "I'll not be living with somebody who can't carry on a conversation in polite company. We'll be working on that, you and I."

  Sam's face was suddenly warm. He didn't know whether to be insulted or thankful that the man wasn't completely turned off by his lack of grace.

  "Um. Right, well, this is Mattisan." Sam gestured to her and to his surprise, she gave Fletch a once over, smiled, then curtsied . . . correctly.

  "Mattie, if you please."

  "Oh, aren't you delightful!" Fletch sidled right up to her. "Tell me, Mattie, is Sam your beau? I couldn't help but notice how close you two seemed to be on the trip here."

  Sam swallowed and looked to Mattie for an answer to Fletch's rather good question. What were they? Was he her beau, were they courting, or were they just best friends who'd fooled around a bit under
a blanket?

  "Um." Mattie pulled at a lock of auburn hair and didn't look directly at Sam. "I suppose?"

  Fletch laughed and patted Mattie on the shoulder. "Well, no matter. I'm sure you'll have a more confident answer soon enough."

  After a few friendly words, Fletch excused himself and meandered away to look for a snack. When he was gone, Mattie met Sam's eyes met and an embarrassed smile tugged at his mouth. She returned the grin.

  "So . . ." Mattie slid closer to him.

  "So." He couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

  "Do you wanna go sit down while we wait for the summons?" She had this mischievous little grin on her face, leaving the unanswered question hanging in the air for him to grab. Part of him wanted to, but another part of him wanted to play along to whatever game she was thinking of, just to see where it would go.

  "Sure." Sam stuck his hands in his pocket and her grin twitched a little wider. Mattie grabbed his hand and tugged him along with her to an empty love seat. He collapsed on it with a content sigh and she threw her legs over his lap, one dainty ankle crossed over the other. They sat in silence after that, letting the cacophony of chatter wash over them. The silence wasn't comfortable. It was tense with something unnamable crackling in the air between them.

  And then, it was broken by a husky female voice behind the couch. Sam startled for the second time and, honestly, what was with these people and sneaking up on him?

  "Mattisan?"

  "Mattie, yeah."

  "Mattie. Right. I'm Drina. Looks like we're sleeping together."

  Sam craned his neck and found himself staring at a rather beautiful girl with a decidedly large chest and a salacious smirk. She spared him a passing glance and Sam could feel the spit gathering in his mouth as she sashayed around the back of the couch, her black curls bouncing against the swell of her heart-shaped backside. There was another girl following her, but he only noticed her after he tore his eyes away from Drina.

  And Mattie caught him.

  Sam blinked owlishly at her and she quirked an eyebrow at him. Other than that, she didn't give any indication that she was offended by his accidental staring.

  Drina took a seat on the opposing couch and crossed her legs, and thank the spirits she was wearing trousers instead of one of those dresses with the slits in the side that the noble girls seemed to favor.

  "So, it looks like you've nabbed one of the only boys here." Again, Drina gave him a glance, but it was fleeting and casual enough to be disappointing.

  "I estimated a three to one ratio," Drina continued. "Then again, boys make shit spies, so I'm not surprised. I suppose that means us girls are just going to have to get creative with where we find our entertainment."

  She gave Mattie a very pointed look, her smirk spreading into a cocksure grin. If Sam didn't know better, he'd think that girl was openly flirting with Mattie. She wasn't, was she? He looked at the redhead to study her reaction. She still had her legs tossed casually over his lap and her answering smile was bright and friendly. She wasn't blushing or laughing nervously or anything. Drina was probably just being friendly and Sam was just tired from the boat ride.

  It dawned on him that she just said he’d be a shit spy. While it was true that most of the Varin Shadow Knights were women, that didn't mean that men were inherently bad at it.

  "You're right." Sam smiled. He could spin this into something smooth while maintaining his dignity, surely. "Boys do make shit spies. That's why they recruit men."

  Drina and the other girl laughed. Even Mattie giggled. Sam felt quite proud of himself for that one.

  "Maybe so," Drina said after her laughter died. She was looking at Sam fully now, not just a passing glance. Her eyes were tilted up at the corners, and they were so dark that they were almost black. When she pinned him with her gaze, he had a distinct feeling that he was going to be eaten. "But I think even men make shit spies. I bet you can get information out of them much easier than you can a woman. In fact, I would put money on it. Ten specs."

  Sam was hovering between a smile and a frown, as if his face didn't know what to do when his brain was screaming at him to shut up. Surely, she was kidding. That was a lot of money to put down on a bet.

  "Ooh," the girl beside her leaned in. "I'll raise that bet to twenty."

  Drina looked at Mattie then, who'd been sitting quietly and just watching them. "How about it, Red?"

  Mattie shook her head and folded her hands between her legs.

  Drina lifted an eyebrow at Sam, and he almost told her 'no bet,' but then she smiled and put her palms on the couch, leaning forward just enough so that her generous cleavage peeked from the curve of her shirt.

  "What's the matter?" She twisted a lock of hair around her finger and kept looking at him like that. Like she was going to ride him into the ground. Or break him. Maybe both. "You don't think you're right?"

  "What?" Sam lost track of what they were talking about for a moment, but then he remembered. "I, ah, I don't have twenty . . . on me."

  She bit her lip and giggled. "Well, my mother always told me that not all exchanges need to be monetary."

  Sex. She was talking about sex.

  "Okay," he breathed.

  "Okay," she echoed, "how about instead of twenty specs, you come to my room and let me do whatever I want to you."

  "Yes." In his mind's eye, she and Mattie were on the bed with him.

  "HA!"

  Sam frowned and leaned back as her smoky eyes widened and her dimpled little smirk turned into open-mouth laughter. Her entire body language changed, no longer crossing her legs and aiming her cleavage at him but cackling as she leaned back against the couch, her legs wide open like an arrogant pirate.

  The girl with her held a hand over her mouth, probably to keep herself from laughing as well. Mattie was hiding her face and laughing madly with the other girl. He didn't even know what . . . oh.

  "Ah, fuck," Drina said. Her laugher calmed into a quiet snigger. "See? You'd already be dead by now. I could have taken you to my room and thrown you out the spirits-damned window if I wanted to."

  "That doesn't count." Sam folded his arms and frowned at her. He should have put two and two together—if Drina was rooming with Mattie, that meant they'd get along, presumably because they were similar in personality. "You're a student," he said. "If you were a mark, I wouldn't go with you."

  "Ah." Drina held up a slender finger. "But what if I weren't a mark? What if I were a Meeran agent posing as a student? You would have never known." She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. "You still don't know."

  Sam pursed his lips. She was right, but he wasn't about to tell her that. Always appear more competent, knowledgeable, or stronger than you actually were—one of the top rules of surviving in the city.

  "For what it's worth," she said, "I didn't have twenty specs either. Hell, I don't have any specs." She shrugged, her expression full of smug victory. "Anyway. If that didn't prove my point, allow me to demonstrate." She turned to the slender girl beside her. "Alright Nubia, lady's choice. Pick a victim."

  The other girl—Nubia—perked up and started scanning the room, her full lips quirking in thought. She smiled at something and the rest of them looked. Sam's eyes darted around the generous group standing by the refreshment table. There were a couple of men, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out which one she was aiming for. Nubia was petite and sweet-looking, and Sam had observed plenty of instances where the smaller women actively sought out the bigger men regardless of the man's face or character.

  The biggest man in the group was talking to a girl already. He was bigger than Sam in terms of height and bulk, but not by a great amount. His hair was dark blonde and artfully tousled, his chin dimpled and his teeth straight.

  "Good choice." Drina patted Nubia on the knee. "The prettiest ones are the dumbest ones, you know. They never think twice about somebody talking to them out of the blue. They're used to it. Now, behold the floundering incompetence of the perspec
tive male spy."

  Drina tossed her hair, crossed her legs again, and then looked at the man. Her body language flowed back into something too dark and alluring to resist, so convincing that it was as if another person had taken control of her body.

  Sam ran his eyes over her when she wasn't looking. She looked so different from Mattie, but just as tempting. He shouldn't be thinking that way, though. He shouldn't be thinking about any girl like that, not after Mattie had finally opened up to him, not after he'd gotten a hint of something he'd dreamed about for years. But the way her dark eyes drank him in was intoxicating, like he was someone she would have given her soul to have. Even if it was fake, even if she was just trying to prove a point, he couldn't help but let his mind wonder 'what if.'

  He looked at Mattie, but she was totally engrossed in the show. Maybe she just didn't notice how much he'd been looking at Drina. Hopefully. He wouldn't do it again; he'd just been caught off guard. No woman had ever looked at him like that before, not even Mattie. Or maybe she had and he just never noticed.

  The blonde man looked away from the girl he was talking to in order to sip his drink, but then his eyes hitched on Drina and his goblet froze halfway to his lips. Sam could see Drina's inviting smile from where he was sitting and it was a helpful reminder that, no, really, the small spark of want he felt from her was utterly false. The evidence slapped a bit of sense into him, and Sam was able to remove himself from the situation and look at Drina's work objectively. Despite tripping him up earlier, there was the issue of the bet. Sam may not have any money to put down on it, but the call of a challenge warmed his blood and he wanted, very badly, to answer the call.

  The blonde man's drink finally unfroze long enough for him to take a gulp, put his goblet on the drink table, and then walk away from his conversation without excusing himself. The girl he'd been conversing with was left talking to the air.

  That was . . . incredibly rude.

  Sam observed the blonde as he sauntered toward their group. His disregard of the first girl was indicative of either arrogance or a flighty mind. Given that the school only accepted the keenest minds, the former was more likely. That was further evidenced by his puffed chest, straight shoulders, and high chin. Arrogant and completely unconcerned with failure. The brash grin taking up half his face made him look eager, though the slow speed of his walk indicated that he was attempting to look smooth and unrushed. So, he was self-centered enough to ignore the first girl without considering her feelings and confident enough in his looks that despite being very eager to talk to Drina, he wasn't worried about rejection.