Spycraft Academy

by B N Miles

  “You’re right. He runs himself ragged like this all the time. I just didn’t realize how much he was doing it this time around.”

  Sam didn’t say anything because she was right. This wasn’t the first time he’d put himself into a slumber coma.

  “You can’t keep doing this, Sam.” Rosin sat on the bed beside him and brushed his hair from his face. “Your body can’t handle this much stress. It just won’t do it.”

  “Yeah, you can't keep waiting around all night for the thief to show up, go to class, practice fencing, and have a fuck party every night.”

  “Drina!” Rosin gasped.

  “What? I’m just calling it how it is.”

  Sam let himself sink into the bed, content for Rosin to fuss over him and the other two to figure everything out for now. He was tapping out for the next twenty-four hours.

  Suddenly, his eyes went wide and he bolted into a sitting position. “The fencing tournament is tomorrow!”

  Drina scoffed and folded her arms. “You think you’ll be able to walk to the arena?”

  “I’m fine.” Sam tossed his blankets away and swung his legs around. It must have been the adrenaline or something, because his body was ready to move, he was ready to keep going.

  “Like hell you are,” Mattie said.

  Okay, he wasn’t fine, exactly. “Yeah, alright, you’re absolutely, unequivocally correct. I can’t keep doing this, and I wouldn’t have had to in the first place if the thief would just make his damn move already. So how about this: let’s force his hand. The lead we have right now is June, more accurately, Delcan. We were gonna break into Duncan's room once, why not actually do it this time? If he's involved in something nefarious and he's got June doing his dirty work, he'll have evidence in his room.”

  “That's…not a bad idea, actually,” Mattie said.

  “Well, do you feel better? Did staying out today help?” Rosin asked.

  “Yeah, like I said, I feel fine.” And he did. He felt totally normal now, as if he hadn’t gone two weeks straight without even a minimal amount of rest. The girls were right, though. He couldn't do this once every six months and then just pass out for a full day. That wasn't productive. He wanted his strength and focus back.

  “We still have the poison dart,” Sam said. “We could stick him while he's in the shower, and that'll give us enough time to look through his room thoroughly. Once we find out what he's up to, we can stop him prematurely, and I can get some regular sleep.”

  “Alright, let’s do it tonight, then,” Drina said.

  “He doesn’t feel good!” Rosin’s voice turned into a high-pitched, aggressive snarl and Sam’s eyebrows rose. Drina and Mattie looked just as surprised.

  “I mean…” Rosin curled in on herself, “can’t this wait until he’s had more sleep?”

  “No way.” Sam stood up and the stone floor chilled his bare feet. “Let’s get this over with.

  “Okay, but Sam—”

  He looked at Rosin.

  “You’ve really got to let us take more of these night shifts. You wouldn't feel so tired if you just let us help you.”

  He sighed. She was right. They were all right, damn them. “Yeah, that's what Apelles said. It just doesn't feel right letting you guys do this when I should be the one doing it. What if one of you got hurt? I couldn’t live with that.

  Mattie huffed. “You're so arrogant sometimes. You don't think that we can handle the exact same job that you've been doing? We're grown women, Samson Croft. You think we’d be in this school if we weren’t capable?

  Sam smiled softly at her. “I know you can do it, Mattie, but it just doesn't feel right. I can't explain it, but it just feels like something that I have to do.”

  “Well, not anymore!” Drina chirped. “Majority rules. We're helping. And if you try and stop us, I guess you'll just be sitting out with us at night. And then two of us will be tired instead of one, which is wasteful. So…don’t do that.”

  Sam gave in rather easily. It would be nice to let somebody handle it sometimes. It would be nice to rest and not feel like he was going to pass out during class or studying for a test after hours. Apelles was right: Sam had to let go of his control. He had to trust his crew. Otherwise, why were they his crew to begin with?

  “Alright, fine,” he said.

  “Great. Not that we were asking for your permission,” Drina said. Mattie rolled her eyes and nudged the tray toward Sam.

  “So, what's the plan with Delcan?” Mattie asked.

  “Well,” Sam said, “he takes a shower around the eighth hour every night. After that, he usually hangs around with his crew in one of their rooms. They never go to his room for some reason. I don't think they like to be in his space, or maybe he doesn't like them in his space, and probably for good reason if he's doing something with June.

  “I can go in the shower,” Drina said. Sam opened his mouth to tell her no way.

  But she held up her hands. “I’m being serious this time. Look, if Sam goes in the shower, he's going to freak out. There’s probably going to be a fight after that, and there's no telling if you'd actually win, especially right now. Mattie, if you or Rosin go in, he's going to be suspicious, but if I go in, he may just think that he charmed me into it.”

  She had a valid point. But the idea of a naked Delcan putting his eyes all over her, thinking of her in the way that Sam thought of her, raised the hairs on the back of his neck and made him hate the blonde man just a little bit more. Drina must have read his mind, or maybe his expression was just that obvious.

  “Seriously, I'll be fine. It's not like I'm going to fuck him.”

  “What if he takes it the wrong way and puts his hands all over you? What are you going to do then, scream?”

  “By the spirits’ tits, Sam! Scream? Really? I’ll stab him with the dart, obviously. If you think I can't fend off an idiot like that, if you think I haven’t done it dozens of times before, then you’re a dolt and I’m insulted.”

  Sam didn’t reply. Was this their first fight? Probably, he was quietly fuming on the inside. Drina was making sense; everything she said was right, and it was a smart plan, but he just…really, really didn’t like it. Let go of the control, trust your crew.

  “Fine, Drina.” Sam crossed his arms and looked pointedly at the wall. “I trust you to handle yourself. But if you need us, we will be right there. You need to only yell for us and we will be there in seconds.”

  Drina’s scowl softened and she chewed the inside of her cheek before dropping her own defensive stance. She reached up slowly and Sam didn’t pull away when she cupped his jaw with a gentle touch.

  “I know you’ll be there, Sam. I trust you to be there for me when I need you, just like you can trust me to be there for you. Remember, I promised you. I don’t break my promises.”

  An hour later, they were inside of Delcan’s room. He wasn’t there. Drina had been prepared to stab him with a dart in the shower, she and Sam had a legitimate argument over it, yet it looked like it was for naught. Just to make sure Delcan wouldn’t pop in unexpectedly, Sam kept them all under a shadow cloak while they ransacked the place.

  It was a mess anyway. Sam doubted that the blonde would notice that it was in disarray when it already looked as if a tornado swept through the place.

  Half an hour into the search and they finally found something under Delcan’s mattress. A small stack of letters from June. Love letters.

  It didn’t make sense. Was Delcan able to talk her into doing something because she was in love with him? Were these coded messages?

  Sam gave the lot of them to Mattie and Drina so they could analyze them while he and Rosin continued to search. An hour later, Mattie sighed and tossed the letter she was reading on the floor.

  “I really don't think Delcan is doing anything,” she said. “I ran through all of the regular ciphers we know and nothing looks like it’s in code. Honestly, he just seems like a regular twenty-year-old man. There's nothing in the letters abou
t foreigners or signals or anything. Just notes from a love-sick, and deeply confused, girl. We can’t find any potions or weapons. There's nothing, Sam.”

  “Maybe June was just taking a walk and ate something off the floor because she's crazy. I mean, writing love letters to Delcan, I wouldn’t doubt it,” Drina said.

  “Maybe,” Sam muttered.

  He didn’t believe it, though. Something was off. Why did June lift that specific rock, how did she seem to know exactly where she was going in the dead of night? His gut was telling him that there was something here that he was missing. But what?

  His intuition had rarely failed him, but this wasn't making any logical sense. Maybe his sleep deprivation was getting in the way and his gut instincts weren't as dependable as usual.

  Rosin put a gentle hand on Sam’s shoulder. “C’mon. I think we’ve looked through everything. The tourney is tomorrow, you need a proper rest.”

  24

  Sam was almost done with breakfast when his plate was picked up and flung across the room. Sam blinked at the spot his food once was and slowly looked up to find Delcan towering over him, his face twisted into an ugly snarl.

  “You were in my room last night. I could smell your filthy stench all over my things.”

  Drina visibly stiffened, her hands wrapping tight around the fork in her hand. Delcan didn’t notice.

  “Why would I be in your room, of all places?” Sam asked calmly, subtly probing him to see what his reaction might be. Panic that Sam knew something, hopefully.

  Instead, Delcan threw his hands in the air, “I don’t bloody know! To steal my shit? To fuck with me?”

  “You’re assuming I did it,” Sam said as calmly as he could. “But where’s your proof?”

  “I saw you, you twat,” June muttered from behind Delcan. The blonde was so big and close to Sam that June was fully hidden behind his tense shoulders.

  “Oh,” Sam said nonchalantly. What was Delcan going to do, kill him in the mess hall? “Yes, well, I’m afraid that’s true, then.”

  Delcan reached over and snatched Sam by the collar, yanking him to his feet and pulling him so close that their noses almost touched.

  “What were you doing in my room?” He hissed.

  Sam pursed his lips. Delcan would be the one giving up information, not him. Sam would not show his hand.

  “You filthy, blighted worm.” Just as Delcan pulled his fist back, Sam brought his knees up and push-kicked the blonde in the groin. Delcan wheezed and grabbed himself between the legs, dropping Sam in the process. Then Delcan shouted as if he’d been stabbed. When he whirled around, grabbing at his shoulder, Sam could see that he had, in fact, been stabbed.

  Drina’s fork was buried in the meat of Delcan’s shoulder, wobbling with every movement he made. June stared at the fork with wide eyes, looked at Drina, and then dove at her.

  The mess hall went from peace to chaos in seconds. Sam was vaguely aware that the girls were going at each other while Rosin backed away, but most of his focus was diverted by Delcan when he tore the fork out and conjured a ball of fire into his palm. Then the screams started. The other students fell over each other, toppling chairs and pushing tables to get away from the fight.

  Sam was ready for it this time. Before Delcan could so much as twitch, Sam pulled the shadows cast by the fire and wrapped them around Delcan’s head like a shawl. The blonde howled with rage and the fire in his hands extinguished as he clawed at his face.

  There was no use. One could not grab a shadow; they could only guide it.

  There was a shriek, a crash, and then June went tumbling into Delcan, pressing her hands tight to her ears. Sam snapped his attention toward his crew. Mattie was squinting at June and holding her hand up. Nobody could hear the sounds she was forcing into the air, only June. Drina’s lip was bloody and swollen, and she looked frighteningly giddy with rage.

  The mess hall was quiet save for the furious noises Delcan and June were making. The rest of Delcan’s crew stood near, poised to leap into action, but they hadn’t moved yet. Some crew Delcan had there.

  Suddenly, the double doors burst open and Franklin stood in the portal, his shoulders hunched and his face red with barely-contained anger.

  “What is the meaning of this?!” He shouted it like somebody in the room would answer him.

  Sam only realized that he and his crew looked like the instigators when the poisons master pinned him with a hard, disappointed stare.

  Sam never thought that he would end up in Mode’s office. Not because he didn’t expect to get into trouble every now and again, but because the headmaster didn’t actually get involved with the students. Not even for discipline.

  However, this was apparently a special case, considering the use of magic was involved. Hilda’s warning on their first day echoed through Sam’s head as he stood before the enigmatic headmaster. He kept his head bent and his eyes on the ground.

  You will be expelled.

  Being this close to the red-eyed northerner was uncomfortable. Sam had the sensation of standing atop the gallows, being measured for the rope. Mode hadn’t said anything yet, he just stared at the lot of them and tapped his desk rhythmically.

  Another few minutes ticked by. June coughed delicately. Delcan shifted from one foot to the other. Drina sighed. Mattie and Sam were the only ones who didn’t make a sound. When Mode did finally speak, the hairs on the back of Sam’s neck prickled and he repressed a chill that shot through his body at the flat, icy voice of his headmaster.

  “I would ask what brought on such an extreme scuffle, but I frankly don’t care.”

  Sam looked up in surprise. Mode was massaging his temples with his eyes closed.

  “The use of magic is expressly prohibited for first years for a reason,” he muttered, opening his eyes and eyeing them like specks of dirt. “I should expel the lot of you.”

  Even Drina knew better than to speak up and specify that she didn’t use magic, just a fork.

  “However,” Mode waved them off, “unlike my predecessor, I don’t like wasting valuable resources. I will let you off with a warning, but if this happens again, you will be escorted from the school grounds, kicking and screaming if need be.”

  He sighed and looked to the side, staring at the wall, or maybe one of the many pictures on it. A beautiful vessar, black as ink and unsettlingly large, was propped on a shelf directly behind the headmaster, surveying them with an uncannily intelligent consideration. Sam had never seen a vessar up close before. They were all but extinct in Varin, and for good reason. They were deadly, fearsome beasts. The one propped on the shelf like a lazy sandcat must have weighed over five hundred pounds. Sam was sure that if it unfurled itself, it would measure three times as long as Sam was, and Sam was just shy of six and a quarter feet. The vessar must have been a little over three hundred years old to be so large.

  Sam tried not to look at the thing, but it was as unsettling as the headmaster. Probably because it was far more deadly. Beautiful and regal but awful to behind. Its barrel chest housed a vast pit of venom. All it had to do was open its mouth and spit and Sam’s skin would melt away like wax.

  “Get out. Report to Hilda for your punishment.”

  Gladly. No forced apologies, no speeches about responsibility and following the rules, just ‘get out and don’t do it again.’ Mode might be ghoulish and unnerving, but Sam liked him very much in that moment.

  There was a chance that Mode might be testing them to see who scrambled away the fastest. They must have all been thinking along the same lines because none of them moved.

  “Now!” Mode snapped, suddenly swiveling his blood-stained gaze toward them.

  Sam flinched back involuntarily, but he didn’t waste another moment testing the man’s patience. Instead, he turned swiftly on his heel and strode as briskly as his legs would allow until he was safely out of the dragon’s lair. Literally. His headmaster had a bloody vessar hanging on his shelf like a scarf.

  If Mode’s po
wer wasn’t apparent before by reputation alone, the giant reptile hammered it in. Those things were not supposed to be pets.

  Sam exited the office behind Mattie, prepared to leg it back to the combat arena and resist the temptation to scream at Delcan for his stupidity. They were all lucky they didn’t get expelled. They didn’t even get demerits, but if Delcan did something so stupid again, they would all be paying the price.

  Before he got more than two steps into the corridor, he was yanked roughly to the side.

  “You and I need to talk,” Apelles’ familiar voice rumbled in his ear.

  Sam had time to give Drina and Mattie a reassuring nod before he was practically dragged away by the tall spymaster.

  Apelles stopped walking and spun Sam by his shoulders to face him when they were well away from Mode’s office.

  “What are you doing?” He hissed, his hands squeezing Sam’s shoulders like he meant to shake him.

  “I was defending myself,” Sam muttered, shrugging out of Apelles’ harsh grip.

  “Really? Because it seems like you’re getting distracted by pretty girls and childish rivalries. A good agent does not lose his head like that.”

  “What the hell do you know?” How dare Apelles lump Sam’s crew with Delcan and call them ‘pretty girls.’ They were his family, not dolls to be played with. He didn’t care if Apelles was a spymaster or not, Sam wouldn’t allow somebody to talk about his crew like that.

  “Stop that immediately,” Apelles snarled. “You are a man, not a bratty teenager, and I am not your father, I am your instructor. You will not speak to me in that tone.”

  Sam snapped his mouth shut and straightened his expression. Apelles was right, Sam had to remember where he was, who he was talking to, and who he was. Apelles was a spymaster. Sam was only a student.

  He took a calming breath and spoke in a measured tone, “Delcan attacked me for going into his room. I went into his room because I believe something is going on with him in connection to the thief. I saw June, his crew member, walking in the forest not that long ago. She lifted a rock and ate something from underneath it.”