by B N Miles
"You'll never come into your own if you don't rely on your crew more than you do," Apelles continued. "That's the point of having one. You're not the center of your own story, Sam, your crew is. Trust them more. For example, right now. Why are you on watch for the fifth night in the row? Do you plan to sleep anytime soon, or are you going to collapse on yourself? Or perhaps you'll sleep when you're unable to conjure magic?"
Sam thumped his head on the back of the tree. "You're right, I know you are...I just...It feels like if I don't do it, something will go wrong."
"That's called having a control problem," Apelles said. "When you feel out of control, you get anxious?"
"I suppose," Sam said.
"I imagine many things have been out of control in your life, Sam. For a very long time. And the only way you can feel safe is if you feel like you can control the things that happen around you. But I'll let you in on a little secret: nothing can be truly controlled, nothing except yourself. All you can do is trust the system or the people you work with. Do your best. And lead others to the best of your ability so they can do their best as well."
Thank you, Father. He wanted to snap at Apelles, but he bit his tongue. It was just the sleep deprivation.
"Let go of the control, Sam. People look up to you, they'll do right by you."
The control he had over his mouth didn't last long. He did snap at the spymaster that time. "Why do you care?"
Apelles closed his mouth and his jaw ticked. For a few tense breaths, he didn't say a word.
Does he care? Does he really?
Apelles took a long, deep breath and said, "Because we need you."
"Me?" Spirits, why?!
"Yes, you," Apelles said. "There's far more going on than you know, that you're allowed to know...at least at this point in your career. The sort of information..."
Sam had never seen Apelles look anything less than irritated, but the spymaster was actually worrying at his lip. What in all hells was going on?
"The information I'm about to give you does not leave this spot. You are not to tell your little girlfriends. You're not to tell your roommate. You're not to tell anybody. Because unlike the documents the thief stole, if this gets out, the country will actually be in danger. I shouldn't tell you this, and really, I could find myself quite discharged from the Varin service. So not a word. Promise me, swear it on your gods."
Sam's eyes widened, and suddenly he felt a lot more stressed about the words poised to come out of Apelles' mouth. Against his better judgement, Sam swallowed thickly and said, "I swear on every god that has ever existed."
Apelles studied Sam, his eyes so piercing and unnerving that Sam had to look away from them. Whatever Apelles saw, it was enough for him to continue.
"Do you know about the Creation Codex?" Apelles asked.
"No," Sam said. It didn't sound familiar whatsoever; he hadn't read a book or heard anybody say the phrase.
"Good. You're not supposed to. You're still a civilian in the eyes of the law, and civilians aren't usually privy to level twenty classification."
Sam's heart knocked painfully against his chest.
"Which is why I'm not going to tell you," Apelles said.
"Wha—"
"If you find out on your own..." The spymaster stood up and dusted his trousers. "Well, then I guess you're simply clever. But as for me, it's not coming from my lips. I gave you the name, so you figure out the rest. The only thing I can tell you is that the Codex is the 'cipher' you were talking about when last we spoke."
"But I don't understand." Sam bolted to his feet. Apelles couldn't leave it at that.
"And, again, that means the government is doing its job. This is a question of national security."
"You've got to give me more than that to go on!" Sam huffed. Apelles was being ridiculous. Nobody was around to hear them, and if Sam was going to help catch the thief, it helped to know what in the bloody hell the man was after.
"Alright, I suppose one more crumb won't hurt." Apelles crossed his arms. "The Creation Codex is not in the administrative building. I'm not going to tell you where it is, just know it's not in the building you've been watching."
Apelles was mad, he had to be. "You had me watching a decoy building? Why?!"
"Actually, I didn't tell you to watch this building. You chose to do that. I just told you to watch for the thief."
He was a cheeky old bugger, wasn't he?
The corner of Apelles' mouth quirked slightly. That was a smile. Sam had no idea Apelles knew how to do that.
The smile vanished so quickly that it could have been an illusion, and Apelles was his stony self once more. Where was the Codex? Where was Sam supposed to be looking? Apelles didn't expect him to actually catch the man, that was obvious. But he could do it, he could help protect the Codex, protect the country, if only Apelles would let him.
"Do you know why I'm so good at my job, Sam?"
Because you're cryptic and crazy. Sam shook his head.
"It's because I do not simply watch my targets. I become the targets. When I meditate, I pretend that I am the quarry. I try to understand how they think, how they feel. I've meditated on our thief, and I think he keeps breaking into the building to find something. A document, a clue, a key, that can point him to where the Codex may be. That is why I haven't told you to stop watching the decoy building. He needs to be caught while he's trying to find the key, not when he has it already."
"Oh," Sam said dumbly. It was a lot to take in. "But what does this Codex do? Why is it so important?"
"I told you," Apelles said, "that's need to know. And you definitely don't need to know. What you do need is rest. So how about you take the night off and I'll take your shift."
Sam wanted to shout 'aha! I knew it! You are the thief! You're just trying to get me to go to my room so you can steal the clue!' But...Apelles hadn't yelled for help when Sam's crew ambushed him, though he could have. He didn't hurt them, though he could have. He certainly didn't kill them, though he could have. And although Apelles had a severe demeanor in class, Sam could see hints of something soft about him, something Apelles didn't let anybody else see, except for Sam.
"All right," Sam said. Trust. That's what he would have for this man.
"Good lad, off you go. Sleep well, and don't let me catch you on watch tonight. I'll handle it."
Sam nodded and his entire body suddenly felt quite heavy. Used up, like a filthy, shapeless rag. He turned and walked away, dragging his feet without meaning to. His anxious mind didn't conjure horrid images of Apelles betraying him, he didn't see his slaughtered countrymen in his mind's eye. All he saw in his head was his bed. Warm, soft, safe, sleep.
Sam threw a quiet 'thank you' over his shoulder.
"Oh and Sam," Apelles called. Sam turned just enough to glance at his teacher.
"Let Rosin take watch tomorrow night. I noticed she hasn't taken many shifts at all compared to Mattie and Drina. She's more capable than you think."
Sam pursed lips and nodded before he turned and walked away. Sleep.
On his way back to the dorm, Sam spotted a figure moving through the trees. He stopped and watched until his tired eyes recognized the shape of a woman strolling in the shallows of the forest.
After a moment, the candlelight from one of the windows hit her face, and his shoulder sagged. It was just June. Her hair was wet, like she'd just bathed. Why was she taking a stroll at night, in autumn, with wet hair? That couldn't be comfortable. The Widow Baker used to have a score of fits when one of the kids slipped out with wet hair if there was even a hint of chill in the air.
Not only was it chilly, but the school was on lockdown. Why did she make it a point to sneak past the guards? Maybe this had something to do with Delcan. Spirits knew he was never up to any good.
Gods be good, this wasn't his business. Sleep. Bed. That was his business.
His feet wouldn't move, though, and the thought of just leaving her be didn't feel right. He'd watch her for a
moment, just in case she was up to mischief.
Sam's eyes tracked her movements as she moved deeper into the forest. She walked as if she knew exactly where she was going.
Sam wrapped his shadows around him and followed her.
There was no clear path where she walked, so he had no idea how she knew exactly where she was going but she seemed to regardless. She walked, and walked, and walked, and he followed her even though his eyes were hot and heavy, his brain trying to talk him into taking a short break. Just to rest his eyes, that's all. June suddenly stopped and Sam pulled up short. She looked left, right, behind her, then slowly turned her head forward before kneeling down. Her little hand gripped onto a rock. It was neither big nor small, nor did it look unique in any way.
She lifted it, reached out with her other hand, and then lifted something to her face. Then whatever she was holding disappeared into the cavern of her mouth. What in the hells?
June put the rock back down and walked the way she came, breezing past Sam's shadowed form. Whatever she was up to, it had to do with Delcan, surely. Maybe not, though. Sam couldn't think of a single thing that Delcan would need that had anything to do with eating from the ground. Maybe she was picking mushrooms from the forest and eating them before going to bed? That seemed extreme. Why would she need to do that?
Sam had never seen June out alone. It was almost uncomfortable to see her without Delcan. The blonde had to have ordered June to do this. Whatever 'this' was.
He followed her through the forest and back toward the school, through one of the many open alleyways, and then into an empty corridor. She knew the guard rotation, then. She made her way to the first-year dormitories and when she slipped inside of the building, Sam simply stood in the shadows, trying to piece everything together. Nothing made sense, though. The only plausible thing Sam could think was that she ate a mushroom with the intention of intoxicating herself.
But hallucinogenic effects would last well past the first class tomorrow. He was pretty sure, anyway. The addicts on Hookman's Square were often drunk on their poisons for half a day. It was only seven hours until dawn.
The question was: Should he look closer or just keep his nose out of it?
21
The next day, early in the morning, he walked to Hilda's class with the girls. He didn't join in their conversation, his mind far away. On June, what Apelles had said, all of it. Sam hadn't told his crew anything yet; he could barely wrap his own head around it.
He knew something needed to be done about June, but what?
Hilda greeted them as she usually did every morning, calling them all heathens before declaring the morning a glorious one to draw blood. The only person who had gotten their name back in class so far was Delcan. Sam was determined to earn his as well. He wondered what Hilda would think if she knew Delcan was coercing girls into eating things in the forest. The blonde was obviously Hilda's favorite and he relished in her attention. Brown-nose.
Hilda clapped her hands and shouted, "You will be fighting with swords some more, but this time, I'm going to put you with a partner you like instead of somebody you want to kill. The purpose of this exercise is to form closer bonds with your battle party...no, your... teammates. Yes, teammates. Hurting each other is just as important as caring for each other! So get your scrawny asses to the roster and find your partner."
At least with the sleep Apelles allotted Sam the night before, he felt rested and ready to try his hand at sword work again. He got in line with everybody else and when he made it to the front, he saw his name next to Rosin's of all people. Strange. He liked her, of course, but Rosin wasn't exactly his height, build, or weight. If he were in a sword fight with her, he'd knock her down too easily despite being awful with the long blade. He would probably hurt her.
Then again, when has Hilda ever been worried about somebody getting hurt? It seemed like most of the time she actively sought it.
Sam picked his sword from the rack, the one with his name on it that was apparently going to be his for the rest of the semester, if not his entire time in the Academy. He picked a spot in the sandy arena and waited for Rosin. She clutched her sword to her chest like it was a stuffed animal and gave him a slow smile when she scampered to him.
"So," Sam said, swinging his sword around. "Ready to lose?"
She gave him a big smile he couldn't quite read, unsheathed her sword, and they began. Ten minutes later, Sam was regretting ever doubting Rosin. Small and delicate and shy as she was, she'd disarmed him three times and cut him twice. Apparently, Rosin knew how to sword fight. He would have never guessed. She didn't seem the sort to swipe at a bug much less slash somebody.
"So I've got to ask." Sam was already working up a sweat. He lifted his sword and blocked her attack. The blades clanged off of each other. Rosin's expression was flat and concentrated like she was tuning him out, but he knew she was listening. She was always listening and unlike him, good at multitasking. "Where did you learn to fight? No offense or anything, but..."
He took two steps back and held his hand up for a quick timeout. "But you don't seem like the type to want to sword fight."
Rosin stuck the tip of her sword into the sand and gave him a happy smile. "It was never an option for me. Every noble family puts their children through sword fighting—girls and boys.
"Ah. See, I had suspicions that you were a lady. Glad to know I've got good instincts."
"Well," she twirled her hair in her hands. "I'm from a minor noble family. Not really a lady. I mean, technically, but not really...if that makes sense? We're not a part of court anymore. We never really were to begin with, but my father had some bad luck with his tenants and we've been out of sorts for a few years. But...even without our full income, my family's always been able to afford fencing lessons. I never really wanted to do them, but my father told me he wanted all of his children to know how to defend themselves. So..." She shrugged.
Sam knew she was nobility or at least middle class because of her propriety. But to have it confirmed was a different thing. Considering this was the first time he was hearing of it, he could assume she didn't want anybody to know in the first place. Maybe out of embarrassment or shame for her father's situation. Noble families in Varin took great pride in being noble. They owed it to their history and heritage; the ancestors of the noble houses—great warriors, magicians, geniuses, and commanders—were the leaders who founded Varin to begin with. And although the people who descended from them weren't the ones who actually did the deeds, being related by blood was apparently just as good. Who was Rosin descended from?
"I'm sorry to hear your family's down on their luck," Sam said, picking up his sword and breaking the timeout.
She gave him a solemn little smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"It's lucky they have you as their daughter, Rosin. I'm sure that with your help, they'll be back on top in no time.
Rosin blushed, and he smiled a wicked smile before he lifted his sword and brought it down. He intended to take her off balance while she was distracted, but Rosin was quick and even as she smiled, she parried him.
For the next thirty minutes, Rosin kept beating Sam down into the sand. She'd gotten him good a few times with the hilt of her sword; he had welts and bruises all over his arms and his chest. After Hilda called time, Rosin took one look at her handiwork and flew into a fit of concern. She pressed her hands to her face and apologized profusely, asking him if he was alright and worrying over him like he was a baby.
Sam assured her everything was fine. She did a great job, and it was honestly an honor to battle her and see her skills. Now their crew was almost whole on the combat side of things. They had Drina and her daggers at close range, Sam and his long-range shadows. Mattie with her mid-range staff, and now Rosin with a mid-range blade. Now all they needed was a marksman.
Once Hilda excused them from class, Sam tried to tell the girls what he'd seen last night, what Apelles had said. But everywhere he turned, there were eyes
on him. The fourth and fifth years still patrolled the halls, switching out every hour or so in order to keep taking classes as well. They were ever-watching, even in the afternoon light.
Sam intended to tell the girls during lunch instead.
Just as they got to the mess hall. Delcan's crew shot in front of the doorway, blocking Sam and his crew from getting inside.
"Hey." Delcan was smiling, warm and kind. It was completely fake and utterly suspicious. When the semester first started Sam thought he was a nuisance, but at this point, just seeing Delcan's face made him angry.
"So..." Delcan said, inspecting his perfectly sculpted nails. "I don't know if you've heard, but there's a sword tournament coming up. It's just for first years, actually. They aren't going to make the announcement until next week, but Hilda told me about it, of course. And obviously, I'm going to join. What about you, Sam?"
Sam rolled his eyes and tried to move past the group, but Delcan's long arm shot out, blocking the door. Sam could duck under his arm, but that felt too much like running away.
"Come on, Sam," Delcan said with his fake grin. "I watched you and...what's her name, again? Rose? Anyway, you're getting okay with the sword. Quite impressive, really. I bet if you entered the tournament, you could win...until you faced me, that is. So, what do you say to settling our differences once and for all?
This was ridiculous. Sam was trying to catch a spy. He didn’t have time for whatever Delcan was up to.
"How about you, Drina?" Delcan flashed a grin at her, and it didn't look so fake anymore. "I hear you like to wager. How about you enter the tourney, try to get to the final round, and face off with me? And whoever wins, well..."
He didn't have to say anything else. The suggestive smile on his face was all Sam needed to understand exactly what he meant. His knuckles ached with the force of his clenched fist. He couldn't get another demerit, he couldn't punch Delcan. The worm was just trying to get a rise out of him, that was all.
Sam stuffed his temper down and pushed Delcan's arm from the door. The momentum jostled Delcan until he faced Sam rather than the girls.
