Spycraft Academy

by B N Miles

  "If those third-years weren't talking out of their asses to begin with," Drina muttered.

  Fletch looked at Sam. "Regardless, shouldn't you go to the faculty and tell them what you saw?"

  Sam crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Fat chance of that."

  "What? Why?!" Fletch's expression pinched into something unfamiliar. Annoyance, maybe, or perhaps even anger. He didn't understand the repercussions of giving away sought-after information, and how could he? If Sam had to guess, Fletch had never been in a position where he could be beaten bloody for his troubles.

  "The tongue of a corpse doesn't wag," Sam said.

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "You've never heard that one?" Mattie said, her tone bordering on venomous. "It means that a dead man can't talk. As in, if Sam goes to Loredena and tells her what he saw, and if she tells Mode, then Apelles will be detained. If he has an alibi that's good enough to eliminate him as a suspect, then his first stop will be Sam's bed in the dead of night. He'll slit his throat, then he'll leave with the cipher in tow. Because, you see, if he stayed and left Sam alive, then Sam would be tailing him the whole time. If he left and kept Sam alive, then Sam would be the only person alive who has seen him move. When Sam graduates, if they meet again, even if he's covered from head to toe, Sam will know who it is."

  Mattie crossed her arms and leaned back as well, mirroring Sam's stance. "The minute Sam opens his mouth he becomes a loose end."

  "Look, I get it," Drina said, "But this isn't the slums of Roslav. Sam, you'll be protected, nobody is going to just leave you to the wolves here."

  "Can you guarantee that, Drina?" Sam held her obsidian gaze in his, not allowing her to escape. He needed her to understand how serious this could get, he needed her to understand why all of them had to keep their mouths shut.

  Drina's jaw ticked, but she didn't say anything. That's because she couldn't, because there was no guarantee that her promise of safety was true. It was only an assumption, and one did not gamble a life on assumption.

  "That is why all of us are going to keep silent on this. And I mean it." He leveled his gaze on Fletch, then Rosin. The table was silent for some long moments, but Rosin finally broke it.

  "Well, we have to do something, at least. If any of this is true, it means somebody swiped the key to bringing the entire military, and the country, to its knees. Meera would win the war, and the Varin population will be slaughtered by the thousands. Autocracy has no room for acclimation, and it has no tolerance for resistance."

  Sam didn’t want to get involved in this at all, but he already was, and Rosin was right in any case. If what the third-years said was true, it meant Sam's inaction, small as his role was in this hypothetical military espionage, could be the deciding factor on whether Apelles got his information to the Meeran government or not, and whether Meera would subsequently be able to crack the coded messages that circulated in the Varin empire.

  "We'll investigate on our own," Sam said after a moment.

  "Are you mad?" Fletch scoffed.

  "I didn't say you had to be involved. You elected to stay out of the crew, remember? You're not expected to help. You're just expected to keep this a secret. It's nothing Mattie and I haven't done before."

  Drina looked like she wanted to refuse for a moment, but then she relaxed and smirked. "Yeah, alright. Spying on people is cake. Do I get to be infiltration? I've been wanting to see whether Apelles is really as prickly as he acts."

  "No." Sam leveled a stare at her. He hoped his unwillingness to allow any of them to put themselves in harm's way was clear in his eyes. "If there's any infiltration, I'll be the one to do it. You three just make sure I don't get killed or caught in the process."

  "That's not fair." Drina crossed her arms. "And who made you captain of this ship, anyway?"

  "I did," Sam said. "Because I'm the one with the good ideas. I'm the one who I don't mind sacrificing if it comes down to it, and I'm the one who's going to make sure you don't do anything to get yourself or anybody else killed."

  Mattie knew the drill, and Rosin didn't seem to have any qualms with it, but Drina's sharp smirk was indicative of her unwillingness to hand over her trust freely. He supposed he didn't blame her.

  "Alright, love," she purred, threading her fingers and resting her chin on her knuckles. "Let's see what you've got, then. You fuck up, you're fired."

  Sam quirked an eyebrow. Fired? He'd like to see her try.

  He'd done his job well for years. He might have blundered a couple of times, but that was to be expected. He hadn't gotten anybody maimed, killed, or imprisoned yet, and he wasn't about to start today.

  Sam scanned Drina from her smirking face to her curled knuckles. If she tried to fire him, he'd make her take it back. He could, too. He was stronger by far, and she was much too cocky for her own good. Judging from the furious blush she had the other day when he gave her a taste of her own medicine, it wouldn't take much to get her to retract her statement.

  "And I suppose you'd be point, then?" Sam asked. He should have been more offended at the challenge, but something about her challenges made them exciting to partake in. He relished it.

  "I suppose I would." Drina shrugged.

  "Alright. Let's see you try and fire me, love. It should be fun."

  He smirked at her, his imagination running wild in the gutter, and it must have shown on his face because her own smirk slowly fell away.

  "Well, since Sam's in charge at the moment." Mattie pushed her empty plate toward Sam. "He can start on his duties early today."

  Rosin grinned and pushed her dishes toward Sam. The eye contact he held with Drina was broken and he wordlessly gathered the dishes. Unfortunately, Mattie had always been too clever and exacting. Years ago, when they first took on a third crew member, Sam had become the de facto commander of their runs. Mattie had decided that since his job was to take care of them, it extended to home life as well.

  He eventually parsed out the chores to the whole crew so they'd have equal work, but for about a year, Mattie had slyly poked and prodded him into doing all of the cooking, cleaning, and washing in such a way that he thought it was his idea. To keep him humble, she told him later.

  Sam reached for Drina's dishes and for a moment, he thought she'd be stubborn and insist on doing it herself, but she just smiled and gave him her plate. Fletch was still working on his meal, which was just as well. Technically, Sam didn't have to do anything for the man, but he would out of common decency.

  He stood up with an armload of plates, bowls, and cups, heading directly for the long metal wash bin near the serving line. He was halfway there when somebody rammed his shoulder. Every piece of food ware went clattering to the floor. When Sam looked up to see who'd bumped him, the back of Delcan's tall blonde head was moving away, four of his crew members walking and laughing with him.

  Sam clenched his teeth and bent to pick up the spilled dishes. It was good they were wooden, at least. Delcan must have some form of short-term memory loss if he didn't remember what Sam had done only yesterday. He cut the blonde off from his power source and was able to replicate a polarity of his talent. Sure, Sam still didn't know what happened or how, but he had done it, and if he were Delcan, he would be wary of somebody who could do that.

  As he reached for a spilled dish, his hand ran into somebody else's. He looked up and met a pair of dark brown eyes. A woman. No, the third girl in Delcan's group, the one that hadn't been there when Sam and Mattie got cornered. He didn't say anything, he was far too caught up in why she was helping him.

  "Prin!" Somebody called.

  She startled and handed the plate to Sam, muttering a quick apology before dashing off.

  Sam watched her trot to Delcan's group. The blonde man was scowling at her and instead of ducking her head, she breezed right past him with her chin held high as if he weren't there at all. Delcan's scowl deepened, but he didn't retaliate from the blatant show of disregard.

  That girl, Prin,
helped Sam pick up a dish, she apologized, and she walked apart from her crew. Delcan clearly didn't want to alienate her by tossing her back in line, which meant she was valuable enough to the crew that she had special leeway despite Delcan's irritation at her actions.

  Sam didn't know whether to be suspicious of her or impressed by her brazen actions. Delcan caught Sam staring at the back of Prin's head and the blonde gave Sam a dirty scowl before abruptly spinning on his heel and marching away, his simpering sycophants trailing after him.

  12

  "And don't forget to put the stoppers on the vials when you're done. Wouldn't want anybody passing out from the fumes!"

  Franklin, the poisons master, chuckled as if he'd told himself a private joke. He dove into the pockets of his billowing black robe and pulled out a red-tinted vial, holding it up for the class to see. "Now, whoever brews the most accurate poison in the timeliest manner will win this little beauty. Don't get too excited, the administration would have a fit if I willy-nilly gave toxic brews to first years. This is an anti-toxin. It combats the very poison you'll be working on today. Quite useful!"

  He pocketed the vial and smiled at the class. "Now, everybody turn to page seventy. You may begin."

  Sam jumped right into the assignment. He liked poisons class, and he was surprisingly good at it. Any work he had to do with his hands was much easier than the work that called for patience, such as languages, mathematics, meditation, and the like. The instructors for the more hands-on courses also seemed to be genuinely more pleasant than the others. Like Franklin, who was easily Sam's favorite teacher.

  He measured out a teaspoon of crushed elderberry and poured it into the mortar, checking his textbook to make sure he'd read the next step correctly. Things could go very wrong if one didn't follow a poison recipe exactly. Two shakes of a solution rather than three could mean the difference between temporary paralysis and permanent blindness.

  Rosin was sitting to his left, Mattie to his right, and Drina next to Mattie at their long lab table. Ever since Drina's challenge at breakfast, Sam decided to make a point to outdo her in everything. It seemed she was of the same mind, because she made sure her book blocked his view of what she was doing and she kept throwing furtive glances and suggestive little smiles his way.

  Sam was feeling bold about his chances against her, and when he focused on the task at hand, the situation with the thief melted away. He measured out his base ingredients, singing a tune in his head; the one that Mattie kept humming to herself. His hands and his mind got lost in the work.

  Minutes later, after he drained the crushed hemlock into his modulated cylinder, Rosin cleared her throat and he glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

  "So, I hate to be nosey—"

  "But you're going to be," he said with a half-smile. Her eyes widened and her jaw went slack before she ducked her head.

  "Sorry." She sounded truly contrite, and it took Sam all of a second to realize that she didn't catch on to his jibe like he expected.

  "No, no, it was a joke."

  When she still looked startled and confused, Sam frowned. Did she not know what a joke was or something?

  "You know..." He put his mortar down, "poking fun?"

  "I know the definition of a joke, I just...what's the punchline?"

  What an odd girl. Sam turned his body fully to her and studied her face, looking for a sign that she was messing with him.

  "I was just teasing you, Rosin. What's on your mind?"

  "Oh!" She laughed loudly and drew the eyes of the people working at the table in front of them, then she promptly shut her mouth and pulled her long silvery hair over her shoulder, casting her eyes to the floor. "I'm sorry. I'm a bit...out of practice. With people, I mean. Sometimes it's like I've forgotten the basic rules of communication."

  "That's okay. You didn’t offend me or anything, if that's what you're worried about." And she did look quite worried. Sam wanted to ask her if she lived in the middle of nowhere or something, but he didn't want to insult or embarrass her further. They'd get to know each other more soon, and then the tales of their past would eventually surface in an organic way.

  Sam liked her, she was whip-smart and easy going. He would say she was beautiful as well, but considering he had Mattie and, he supposed, Drina as well, he didn't want to be disloyal to them...or just Mattie...he really didn't know what their arrangement was. Eventually, when they weren't eyeballs-deep in schoolwork and shady teachers stealing things from the headmaster, they would all have to sit down and have a nice, long chat.

  "It's, well, it's not 'on my mind,' a-a-nd you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but I noticed that...and now I'm thinking about it and it's...it's really none of my business...s-so never mind."

  "Well Rosin, you're blushing like mad and you seem nervous, so now I have to know what it is."

  "No, really, you'll either think I'm stupid or rude. And I don't want you to think either, so no."

  She was so tense. He wasn't the sort to get angry or think less of people unless they antagonized him, and she certainly wasn't doing that. Maybe if he made himself sound ridiculous, she'd be more willing to open up. Or maybe he just needed to show her that he wasn't as high-strung as she assumed.

  Sam shrugged and turned back to his work. "Alright, but you wouldn't sound stupid, just to let you know. It's clear to anyone that you're incredibly smart, so anything you think is stupid may just be ignorance. And, you know, you can't cure ignorance without learning what it is you need to know."

  She went dead quiet. Sam didn't look directly at her again, instead choosing to continue brewing his potion. He could feel her staring at him, though.

  "Are you courting Mattie, or...?"

  His eyebrows shot up and when he glanced her, she ducked her head again, that guilty look plastered on her face once more.

  Sam grinned and her shoulders relaxed minutely.

  "What do you think?" He teased.

  "I'm not sure," she said in an honest, open tone, like what they were talking about was observable and objective. "It seems like it sometimes, the way you look at her, the way she looks at you. But then...you and Drina seem...familiar, I suppose. Romantically."

  Sam had to hide his smile. He really didn't think any of them were obvious. True, he stole glances at both of them when they weren't looking, but he didn't know they were doing the same. It made him feel good, like he was worth looking at. He'd never felt like that before and it was quite...well, it felt nice.

  "And the two of them, well..." Rosin nodded subtly over Sam's shoulder and he looked.

  The girls had their heads bent together, talking so quietly he couldn't hear them even when he strained to do so. Drina's smirking lips were moving, one of her hands twisting playfully in Mattie's red hair. Mattie was biting her lip to keep from smiling, her fingers skirting down Drina's arm as she whispered something back.

  He realized belatedly that Mattie was blocking their conversation.

  When they realized he was looking at them, they shared wicked smiles and batted their eyelashes at him. What were they up to?

  "Uh yeah...they're uh...close. We're all close. Very affectionate, you see."

  Rosin looked from the girls to him, then nodded very seriously. "Yeah, I get that. I hope you don't mind that I'm not, ah, as affectionate as you guys are. It's not that I don't enjoy a nice hug or anything, I just...well...I suppose I forget to do it?"

  "Ah, that's a shame. If you'd like to get better at it, I can help you practice." Sam teased her again, and that time she laughed.

  "Maybe I'll take you up on that one day, you'll just have to remind me at the appropriate intervals."

  Sam smiled back, encouraging her with silent reciprocation. His smile tightened as Rosin continued to talk happily, his focus only halfway on her while the other half was focused on the thing suddenly brushing against his leg. He stiffened while he smiled and nodded at Rosin, who was onto the topic of plays.

  It wasn't a thing
caressing his skin, really. More like a hint of weighty air. Warmer than the air around him, curling and rolling on his skin, slowly creeping ever northward. Like somebody was passing a hand nanometers against him. Then the air got heavier, almost buzzing. It twisted against his thigh, sighing along his skin. Gooseflesh raised all along his body.

  A second pinprick of air hummed at the nape of his neck and he clenched his teeth. It was too familiar to be mistaken for anything else but Mattie and her newfound brand of torture.

  The buzz rolled into his hair and he pressed his hips tightly to the table to hide the reaction he was having as the first, heavier touch crept under his smallclothes, tickling him at the very tip of his growing excitement. He closed his eyes for a moment to gather his concentration and the air thinned underneath his clothes like somebody was blowing a sharp breath against him.

  "What's the matter, Sam?" Mattie's voice was a dark whisper in his ear. "You look unfocused. Are you feeling well?"

  He smiled apologetically at Rosin and excused himself before turning his head stiffly to look at the two demons next to him. Neither of the girls was looking at him or each other. Instead, they seemed to be in deep concentration on their respective tasks.

  "I was thinking about something this morning," Mattie's voice purred into his ear and he watched her lips. They were moving, but barely.

  "I was thinking about when we were together. Do you remember? You were so deep inside of me, and you made me finish so many times. You did so much work, I was thinking about all of the ways I could make it up to you."

  He swallowed thickly when the vibrating heat encased his length, just enough to make him subtly press into it for more. If they were trying to get him to sneak into the bathroom during break, they were doing a good job. The question was how bad the consequences would be for being late.

  Truthfully, he didn't quite care at the moment

  "Maybe I can ride you? I could do it with my back to you, and Drina could use her tongue on the both of us. Or maybe we could both use our tongues on you. Would you like that, Sam?"