The Spy in the Silver Palace (Empire of Talents Book 1)

by Jordan Rivet

  Mica retired to her room in the servants’ corridor at last. Every muscle in her body was sore from cycling through so many new impersonations, and she was looking forward to going to sleep early.

  But when she opened her door, Master Kiev was sitting on her bed.

  Chapter Eight

  “Good evening, Miss Graydier.”

  “Master Kiev! What are you doing here?”

  “I assured you I’d give you more information about your mission as soon as I had it,” Master Kiev said.

  “I was expecting a letter.” It was utterly surreal to see the Head of the Academy sitting in her tiny bedroom. A rush of excitement washed away Mica’s fatigue. At last she would find out why she’d been positioned here, why she’d been denied the future she had worked so hard to achieve.

  But Master Kiev wasn’t smiling.

  “I’m afraid this matter is too sensitive to put into writing. You’d best check for eavesdroppers before we begin.”

  “Yes, sir.” Mica quickly made sure the corridor was empty before pulling the stool out from under her bed and sitting at Master Kiev’s feet. For the first time, she noticed that his face was thin and drawn, and his neutral brown trousers and white shirt hung loosely on him, as if he’d lost weight.

  “Talents have been going missing,” Master Kiev began. “You know raiding parties from Obsidian have kidnapped and enslaved our people on occasion. In recent months, the number of missing Talents has increased dramatically.”

  The last of Mica’s excitement drained out of her, replaced by a queasy sense of dread. “My friend Danil . . .”

  Master Kiev bowed his head. “No one has seen Danil Fairson since the night before the Assignment Ceremony. It is likely he is with the others.”

  “In Obsidian?”

  “That is what we are trying to determine. The disappearances are not limited to coastal towns. I believe Obsidian agents are operating within the empire, possibly in Jewel Harbor itself.”

  Mica pressed her hands together between her knees. She had been so certain Danil would turn up, hopefully appearing on Sapphire’s doorstep with hat in hand. The middle of Amber Island was supposed to be safe from such dangers.

  “They’d risk reaching this far into the empire?”

  Master Kiev looked at the wall, as if he could see through it to the city beyond. “Talents along the coast are well aware of the danger, and they take precautions to avoid capture. The Obsidians may want to snatch less vigilant targets from deeper in the empire, including the capital.”

  “And then?” Mica lowered her voice, the thought almost too horrible to speak aloud. “Are they taking them to the slave camps?”

  “Our spies there are trying to ascertain that now,” Master Kiev said. “So far, they have not reported any noticeable increase in the number of Windfast citizens being held against their will in the Obsidian camps. We fear there is some new scheme afoot.”

  Mica noted the reminder of how important the Obsidian assignments were. She wondered if Tiber Warson was even now infiltrating one of the infamous work camps.

  “So why am I in Jewel Harbor?”

  “The majority of the recent disappearances have occurred in this region, including several in the city itself. An Obsidian Impersonator could easily go unnoticed here while preying on vulnerable Talents far from home.”

  “They’re using Impersonators?”

  “It seems likely,” Master Kiev said. “None of the abductions have involved signs of struggle. I don’t believe Talents are being hit over the head and dragged out of their homes. Foreign agents could be playing any number of roles to lure their targets away quietly.”

  Master Kiev rubbed his temple, and his hair shifted through different shades of gray. He must be very stressed to let his control slip like that. Unease roiled in Mica’s stomach at the worry on her old teacher’s face. The man was a legend. Nothing should faze him.

  “What are they doing with them?” Mica asked.

  “I wish I knew, Miss Graydier. The important thing is we must find their supply route and block it. They are smuggling the captive Talents away under our noses. We must figure out how. The fate of the empire depends on it.”

  She straightened her back. “What can I do to help?”

  “You must do as you were trained,” Master Kiev said. “Become invisible. Fulfill your duties as the princess’s Impersonator, and keep your eyes and ears open for information about the Talent disappearances. You will report directly to me.”

  Mica glanced around her little servant’s room, which didn’t have so much as a window. Her eyes fell on the bell that kept her jumping at Jessamyn’s every whim. “Wouldn’t it be better for me to be posted out in the city, where I’d have more freedom to move around?”

  “Why do you think I assigned you here?” Master Kiev asked, adopting his old teacher voice.

  “It doesn’t seem like the best place to watch out for Obsidian infiltrators, unless . . . you think someone in the palace is involved?”

  “The Silver Palace is a hub for the powerful. There has been suspiciously little outcry over the disappearances, and reports about the abductions are being suppressed. Someone of great influence must be helping to smuggle the Talents out of Jewel Harbor.”

  “An imposter?”

  “Or a traitor. We mustn’t discount the possibility that the Obsidian King has found a way to buy the loyalty of one of our own.”

  “I understand.” Mica thought of Danil, who had left his humble home in remote Dwindlemire and traveled all the way across the empire to study at Redbridge. He’d often come home to stay with her family on high days because his own was too far away. He deserved better than to be betrayed by some greedy and powerful noble. She clenched her hands into fists. “I’ll find them.”

  “Focus on gathering information for now,” Master Kiev said. “Do not take action without my approval.”

  Mica schooled her features to stillness, even though she wanted to object. She couldn’t stand back and let more Talents be taken. But she had trained to be a spy, not a soldier, and information was a powerful weapon.

  Master Kiev raised an eyebrow, as if he sensed her resistance. “Micathea?”

  She sighed. “Yes, Master Kiev. I will listen and report, as you taught me.”

  “Good. I have great confidence in you. When the position opened by the princess’s side, I couldn’t think of a better student to send here.”

  Mica looked up at her old teacher. He seemed so out of place in her tiny palace bedroom, with his bulk and his carefully nondescript garb. “Master Kiev, you don’t just work for the Academy, do you?”

  He met her eyes, his expression betraying nothing. “Let us say that the Masters of the Academy do far more than train professional body doubles and dole out job assignments.”

  “And imperial spies are needed at home as well as abroad?”

  “Something along those lines. We prefer to be discreet about the details.” Master Kiev patted his pockets, as if searching for something. “Remember, we have no idea what form these kidnappers may take, whether they are Obsidian Impersonators or traitors to the empire. Pay special attention to anyone asking questions about Talents.”

  Lord Caleb’s face flashed before her at once. He had done nothing but ask her about her Talent. He had shown interest in her, unlike every other member of the nobility. And he had been at the Academy when Danil went missing.

  She sighed, heart sinking. “I may have a lead.”

  She pushed away the disappointment at perhaps losing one of the first people to treat her as a friend here. It was more important to find her real friend and rescue him from whoever had stolen him away in the middle of the night.

  Master Kiev stood, groaning as his knees popped, and withdrew a slip of paper from his pocket. “I must go. I have other . . . former students to visit this evening.” He handed her the paper and folded her fingers around it with his callused hands. “Here is the address of a Blur messenger. Peet will ta
ke your findings directly to me without charge.”

  Mica studied the paper, which was written in one of the codes taught at the Academy. When she looked up again, Master Kiev had transformed into a red-faced woman with meaty hands and flaxen hair. He produced a cook’s apron from a pocket and tied it around his waist.

  “You must be careful, Micathea,” he said in his own deep voice. “It is easy for a young person to get lost in a city such as this. Our enemies are taking advantage of that fact. And remember that anyone you meet could well be an Impersonator.”

  “Yes, sir. We’ll find them.”

  Mica closed the door behind Master Kiev, feeling the weight of the responsibility he’d given her. She may find the palace overwhelming, but Master Kiev had chosen her for this assignment, and she intended to live up to his confidence in her. If she proved she could handle this task, maybe she would get sent somewhere else next, even if it was another domestic role.

  She had always thought of spies as people who went into enemy territory, but with her assignment, the Academy Masters had secured a pair of eyes in the chambers of Emperor Styl’s own daughter. Mica wondered how much the emperor and the princess even knew about their activities. She was glad the Masters were looking out for the missing Talents, even though their rulers were consumed only with the affairs of the powerful.

  Interesting though Master Kiev’s spy network was, as Mica fell into bed, she thought mostly of Danil and her family back in Stonefoss. They were potential targets of these kidnappers too. She had to get to the bottom of the Talent disappearances before she lost anyone else.

  She already knew where to start.

  Chapter Nine

  Investigating Lord Caleb’s interest in Talents turned out to be more difficult than Mica anticipated. Now that she had learned a few noble impersonations, Jessamyn sent her on ever more elaborate missions. She attended a tea party as Lady Amanta (of the long black hair) and let slip a few carefully constructed rumors about who was invited to the princess’s next private dinner party. She walked in the conservatory with dough-faced Lord Dolan in the guise of Lady Lorna to make young Lord Fritz jealous. She put on Lord Fritz’s boyish good looks and blond hair to listen in on the gossip between Ladies Elana and Wendel—it was indeed about the latest in wool-based fashion—and reported back to the princess about every detail.

  “Are you certain Elana said her dress for the next ball was indigo?”

  “An indigo skirt, with a pearl bodice.”

  “Pearl-colored fabric, or pearls on the bodice?”

  “Uh . . .”

  “And if there are pearls on the bodice, who is the supplier?”

  “She didn’t say, Princess.”

  “Must I think of everything myself? Run along to Elana’s quarters. If you look like anyone except Lady Ingrid, she’s sure to invite you in for tea. Now where is Brin? We must rethink my gown for tomorrow night.”

  Mica raced off to find something to wear to tea, kicking herself for not pressing for more information. It was tricky to know which details would be most important to the princess in the midst of trying to keep all the nobles and their connections to each other straight. There was hardly any time left for her own enquiries.

  While Mica sipped tea with the ladies and strolled arm in arm with the nobles, she studied the handmaids, menservants, Shield guards, and advisors who accompanied them. In the long run, posing as trusted servants would likely yield more useful information than impersonating the nobles themselves. It seemed less essential to get those impressions right, though, as the nobles tended to look right through their attendants. They didn’t guard their words as much as they should around their perceived inferiors, especially in a place where anyone could have been replaced with an Impersonator. Still, Mica had to treat everything she heard with skepticism because many nobles used their own Impersonators to get out of unsavory tasks.

  “Wasn’t Lord Nobu acting strange at Lady Velvet’s luncheon,” she heard the hawkish Lady Ingrid say as she strolled around the ballroom promenade with Lady Bellina and Mica—who was impersonating Ingrid’s big-eyed maid—before a dance lesson. “I thought I must be talking to his Mimic. It’s difficult to tell with that fellow.”

  “I’m sure he’s just worried about the news from Dwindlemire,” said Lady Bellina. “I hear there’s unrest near his family’s estate.”

  Lady Ingrid snorted. “They are overly dramatic in Dwindlemire. He should try owning property in Talon.”

  “He has a right to worry about his home.”

  “A lord of Nobu’s stature ought to keep his composure better than that. It had to have been the Mimic.”

  Lady Bellina twirled a finger through a golden curl and didn’t argue. Ingrid was among the most influential and assertive ladies at court, and people rarely stood up to her for long. She was from Talon, a rocky island located almost within shouting distance of the Obsidian coast, whose citizens were known for being tough. Of course, Bellina herself could have been an Impersonator too. Mica knew there must be tricks to work out which nobles were acting as themselves—yet another layer of information she had to keep straight.

  She wrote down the exchange about Nobu’s recent worries in Academy code and sent it to Master Kiev anyway, unsure which little tidbit would help. She doubted a whisper about unrest on faraway Dwindlemire would help him identify whoever was abducting Talents right from the capital, but she couldn’t keep back any details. If the Obsidian King had sent agents into the Silver Palace itself, she could leave no possibility unexplored.

  She reported everything she overheard to Jessamyn too, though she wasn’t sure why the princess needed all this information. She clearly enjoyed playing matchmaker with the younger nobles, but some schemes didn’t have anything to do with romantic pairings. For example, she had Mica impersonate Lord Dolan’s hired Shield and “accidentally” knock over one of Lady Euphia’s sleek-haired handmaidens without stopping to apologize. The encounter was rather satisfying for Mica, but what was it supposed to accomplish? She didn’t yet know enough about the inner workings of the imperial court to figure it out. With representatives of noble families from every one of the far-flung imperial islands gathered beneath the palace’s shining silver dome, all the relationships were rife with opportunities for offense.

  Mica sometimes felt as if she’d been tossed into the sea and she was barely keeping her head above water. It reminded her of her final years at school, when her lessons had become increasingly complex. She, Sapphire, and Danil had spent long hours studying together before exams. They used to meet on the assembly hall steps to practice their impersonations, performing for each other as if they were actors on a stage. Danil would play a game where he’d morph through increasingly ridiculous impersonations while Mica and Sapphire tried not to laugh. Mica always cracked first, and she’d be doubled over and wheezing by the time Sapphire gave in. Sometimes it was the sudden appearance of bright-pink hair that did it. Other times, he’d turn himself into one of their instructors and deliver a brilliant parody of an Academy lecture. In the end, he’d always turn back into their curly-haired, merry friend and grin bashfully while they laughed so hard their features slid out of shape. Danil’s utter determination to get Sapphire to laugh had been Mica’s first clue that there was something more between them than friendship.

  She wished she could share her worries for Danil with someone now, but Brin and the other two handmaids, Ruby and Alea, were just as busy following the princess’s orders as she was. The other maids tended to keep Mica at arm’s length anyway, as if they couldn’t fully trust someone who could change her face. Once, Mica overheard Alea telling Ruby that half of all Mimics were thieves while they washed the huge windows in the princess’s antechamber.

  “They can just walk away with anything they want, and they’ll never be caught,” she said. “It isn’t natural, what they do.”

  “I saw the last Mimic change her face once,” Ruby said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Gave me nightmar
es for a week.”

  “Aye,” Alea said. “That’s probably what she wanted.”

  “Or he,” Ruby said with a shiver. “We don’t even know what she really was.”

  Mica had slipped away without letting the women know she was there, but it made her less inclined to seek friendship with them. She hadn’t fully appreciated what it would be like to live among so many non-Talents. The abilities were rare enough that people could get the wrong idea about them. And in this world, physical strengths mattered far less than political influence.

  The Silver Palace nobles hardly paid attention to the Talents at all. Lady Amanta complained about how difficult it was to get a reliable Blur over a decadent meal of oysters and quail eggs, and Lord Fritz fretted about how a Muscle builder had failed to fix the satin curtains in his mother’s sitting room. If any of them knew about the disappearances, they weren’t nearly as concerned as they should be. Talents like Mica’s family had fought and died to keep the empire safe. They had toiled on the front lines while these nobles flitted among the begonias in the conservatory.

  Mica worried for her brothers and parents almost as much as she worried for Danil. The disappearances from the middle of the empire must mean Obsidian was growing bolder. And a bold enemy meant an increased risk of war. Mica assumed Master Kiev had deployed many spies in Jewel Harbor, but she couldn’t help hoping that she would be the one to uncover the Obsidian agents and put an end to their schemes. Her prime suspect, Lord Caleb, remained elusive. If he had ever taken Jessamyn up on her offer of tea, it was while Mica was out on another assignment. He rarely attended the dancing lessons, which Mica watched from the balcony whenever she could, and when he did, he arrived late and left early. Despite his initial overtures of friendship, he made no further efforts to get closer to Mica.