by Jordan Rivet
“The emperor isn’t exactly pretty,” Mica muttered, slightly louder than she intended.
“Of course not, Micathea. Pay attention. People want their male leaders to be strong and stern and forbidding. I didn’t make the rules.”
After stepping out to avert the crisis, Jessamyn turned more vigorously than ever to dancing and matchmaking and party planning. She arranged romantic rendezvous with three different lords, and each left the trysts looking a little starry-eyed, though none would say exactly what he had or hadn’t done with the princess. Mica was finally coming to understand the purpose of all this frivolity. It gave the nobles something to whisper about besides Jessamyn’s efficient shutdown of a potentially disastrous military action.
Even so, no one could ignore what had happened on the cruise. Many nobles hired extra Shield bodyguards and Muscles to look out for them. Being surrounded by half a dozen extra retainers would no longer be worth the inconvenience eventually, but the Talents did good business in the meantime.
Mica herself slipped into the guises of various nobles and their servants to find out what people were talking about behind closed doors, flitting from face to face faster than ever before. Her primary aim was to figure out if one of the nobles had specifically been targeted during the harbor cruise attack, or if something had been stolen. They still didn’t know what their attackers had been trying to accomplish—and if they had succeeded. If the primary goal had indeed been to provoke a war, the perpetrators would likely try again.
Jessamyn wanted Mica to unravel the mystery of the attack, but that left her with little time to investigate the problem closest to her heart: Danil’s disappearance. The longer he was gone, the less likely it became that he was alive. She still hadn’t been able to search the warehouse district where screaming had been heard—screaming the City Watch had been so quick to dismiss.
Mica feared the missing Talents would be forgotten. Sapphire hadn’t written her any more letters, and it had been far too long since she’d heard from Master Kiev. She felt blinded without more information or instructions, and she became more and more convinced that Master Kiev himself had been taken.
She became so convinced, in fact, that she experienced a real shock when she stopped by Peet’s place one morning and Master Kiev himself was sitting in the small flat, eating sugared almonds with the young Blur.
“Master Kiev! What are you doing here?”
“Good afternoon, Micathea. Would you care for a sugared almond?”
Mica gaped at him. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“Why is that?”
“I haven’t heard from you in weeks!”
“That is the nature of our work,” Master Kiev said, his deep voice calm. “Some Impersonators spend years as sleeper agents, simply going about their lives until they are needed. You’ve only been here for a few months.”
“But so much has happened.” Mica pulled up a stool and accepted the tin of almonds Peet handed her. “Did you get my report about the harbor cruise?”
“Alas, that is why I am here. I am meeting with my contacts in the city in an effort to get to the bottom of this.” Master Kiev rubbed a hand over his face, which looked thinner than ever. “We believe the Obsidian King ordered the attack to stir up conflict, though we are not yet sure why. I may need to pay a visit to his court myself.”
“You’re going to Obsidian?” Mica exchanged glances with Peet, who was drumming his fingers on his knobby knees. “But what about the missing Talents?”
Master Kiev sighed heavily. “I must focus on the larger threat right now.”
“But—”
“It gives me no pleasure to neglect the investigation into the disappearances,” Master Kiev said. “But there are forces at play that could endanger every Talent in the empire, not only those currently missing.”
Mica stared at him, the sugared almonds forgotten in her hand. She understood why Master Kiev and Jessamyn wanted to focus on a potential Obsidian threat, but they had been her primary hopes for Danil and the others. They cared about the Talents, commoners though they were, and they had taken steps to tackle the problem. But if they focused their political influence and network of spies on uncovering Obsidian conspirators, who was left to search for the Talents? Weren’t they the ones who were so convinced the kidnappers were not Obsidian?
“I must go,” Master Kiev said, joints popping as he stood. “My ship leaves in a few hours, and I have more people to see.”
“Sir,” Mica said. “I want to keep looking for the Talents.”
“Your duty as an Imperial Impersonator—”
“I meant in my own time,” Mica said quickly. “I won’t disobey orders.”
Master Kiev studied her in that guarded way of his, and she did her best to hide her apprehension. She didn’t want to be alone in this task. But she remembered what she and Sapphire used to say. “Don’t fall apart, or at least make it look like you’re not.” She met his gaze without fear.
“Please. We can’t abandon them.”
“Very well,” he said at last. “I hope you learn something, but take care for your own safety. I don’t want you putting yourself in dangerous situations.”
“I’ll be invisible, just like you taught me.”
Master Kiev nodded. Then he popped the last of the almonds into his mouth and turned to the door, assuming a pale, pinched face she had never seen before.
“It may be some time before you hear from me again. Continue sending your reports to Redbridge. May you thrive, Micathea.”
“May you thrive, Master Kiev.”
It wasn’t until Mica was almost back to the palace that she realized she had forgotten to tell Master Kiev about Lord Caleb’s mysterious abilities. She had seen little of Caleb since that night on the boat, though that hadn’t stopped her from mulling over what he had told her—and thinking about him in general. She considered trying to catch Master Kiev before he departed the city to discuss it, but Jessamyn ordered her to the gardens to play a racquetball tournament in her place. By the time the final match ended, it was too late.
Dealing with the fallout from the harbor cruise kept her busier than ever, but Mica seized her chance to make progress on her own investigation when Jessamyn sent her to Magic Q to pick up a new batch of potions. The princess had exhausted her supply faster than usual after so many late nights spent entertaining.
“Ask Quinn if she recognizes that vial of potion the Obsidian boat captain was carrying,” Jessamyn said. “It’s one of our only clues.”
“I’ll see what she can tell me.” Mica pocketed the vial, already thinking about the other questions the potioner might be able to answer.
“Run along now.” Jessamyn flapped her hands impatiently. “I won’t need you again today.”
Mica paused at the tapestry leading to the servants’ corridor. “What are you doing tonight?”
“I don’t have to give you my entire schedule.” Jessamyn rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Some people can be so presumptuous.”
Mica didn’t bother to argue. She changed out of the dress she’d worn to a luncheon as Lady Elana in record time, her excitement building. It was still a few hours before dark, meaning she’d have the entire evening off. She hadn’t had such a good opportunity to pursue her own investigation since she arrived in Jewel Harbor. She intended to make the most of it.
Soon Mica was hurrying out of the palace, wearing a brown Mimic’s skirt over trousers, a white blouse, and the city-woman face she had donned the first time she met Magic Q: black-coffee hair, thick freckles, confident stride.
On her way to the potioner’s, she stopped at a shop Banner had recommended to purchase a pair of knives that could be worn beneath a skirt or a sleeve. She never wanted to find herself armed only with broken glass again.
The knives she selected were exquisite. The blades, forged from the lightest steel she’d ever felt, were no longer than her hands, with curved, leather-wrapped handles that would be easy to gr
ip for a quick slash. She knew better than to get into an extended fight if she could help it. She needed weapons that would get her out of a tough spot just long enough for her to disappear. At the urging of the shopkeeper, she chose sheaths made from buttery leather that could be attached to her leg or arm. The blades would lie flush against her skin, barely noticeable until she needed them.
The purchase total came to more money than Mica had spent in the rest of her life combined. She was paid quite well for her job as Jessamyn’s Impersonator, but she’d barely had time to spend any of her salary. She had certainly never expected to own such fine weapons. Her brothers would be jealous.
As she counted the glittering Windfast marks into the shopkeeper’s hand, she thought about what her brothers might be up to. Aden and Emir were nearing the age when they would be considered for commission as officers. Aden fully intended to rise as far as he could through the military ranks. He had a knack for leadership, and the members of his company looked up to him in much the same way that his younger siblings always had. Emir was a quieter sort, and Mica couldn’t picture him commanding a battalion. She wondered what it would be like for him to work in Jewel Harbor as a civilian, carrying messages alongside Peet and the other city Blurs. She wouldn’t mind having family closer. Of course, Wills and Rees would get into as much trouble as a couple of young men with impervious skin could if they ever came to the big city. They were better off with the discipline the army provided.
Mica pushed down a wave of homesickness. It would be nice to have her brothers around, but she didn’t want them anywhere near Jewel Harbor while Talents were disappearing. She still had work to do.
She strapped the knives to her legs before leaving the shop. The next time she found herself with an enemy’s hands wrapped around her throat, she would be ready.
Daylight was fading fast by the time she arrived at Magic Q’s. She found Quinn in the front of the shop this time, taking inventory of her rows of shimmering red bottles.
“Hello again,” Mica said. “I’ve come for the same order.”
Quinn glanced at her, sharp eyes taking note of the face Mica wore.
“Still here, eh? You haven’t gotten tired of her drama?”
“The princess isn’t so bad,” Mica said.
“You must be tougher than I gave you credit for.” Quinn took the list Mica offered. “Anything new on here?”
“I don’t think so,” Mica said. “She wants a few extra bottles of that energy tonic.”
“Hmm, I hope I have enough left.” Quinn pursed her lips and looked closer at the inventory list in her hand. “I’ve been doing brisk business with that one.”
“Did Lord Ober end up ordering some from you?”
Quinn looked up sharply. “How did you know?”
“I told him about your skills.” Mica didn’t mention that Lord Ober himself wasn’t the one actually consuming the tonic. She still hadn’t breathed a word of Caleb’s secret to anyone.
“I guess I have you to thank for my good fortune then,” Quinn said. “He has become one of my best customers.”
“You make a good product,” Mica said. “That’s all on you.”
“Perhaps.” Quinn glanced at the window, where darkness was falling. “It’s almost closing time. Let me buy you that drink I mentioned to say thank you.”
“I’d like that.” Mica planned to explore the warehouse district tonight too, but she’d been hoping Quinn would be a good source of information on the potioner community. Maybe she’d even meet some of Quinn’s Talent suppliers. She grinned. “I could use a night off.”
“It’s settled then.”
Quinn tidied up a few papers in her workroom while Mica checked that the new potions were fully sealed and bundled them up to carry on her back. She’d have to be careful of the package this evening. She may be well paid, but these potions were still worth more money than she had in the world.
After locking up the shop, Quinn took Mica to a rooftop bar not far from Potioners Alley. Lanterns were beginning to come on all over the city, dulling the light of the stars. They climbed a rickety staircase through an overcrowded tenement building that was only a little nicer than the one where Peet lived. The large rooftop was filled with scuffed wooden furniture and illuminated by candles on the tables. Assorted patrons occupied about half the tables, chatting quietly over beers and chilled wine. The bar felt removed from the usual chaos of Jewel Harbor, and the sounds of the city were muted. Mica could almost imagine they were in a country pub if not for the view of the Silver Palace in the distance.
A group of men raised their glasses to Quinn as she passed their table. She didn’t acknowledge them with so much as a nod.
“Potioners,” she said to Mica. “Two years ago, they wouldn’t even make eye contact with me, the two-faced bastards.”
“Why not?”
“They don’t like anyone from outside the city. Thought I was some island yokel until I started making a name for myself.” Quinn jerked her head toward the far corner of the roof, hair swinging around her chin. “Grab us a table while I get the drinks.”
Mica chose a table near the low wall surrounding the rooftop, studying the group of potioners out of the corner of her eye. They wore well-cut clothes of quality linen and wool, too humble for the nobles in the palace but more expensive than anything her brothers would wear on leave. At least one of the potioners was a Talent, a Shield who was casually running his hand through the flame of the candle on their table. His impervious skin must come in handy when dealing with bubbling cauldrons.
Quinn soon joined her, juggling a pitcher of chilled wine filled with slices of fruit and two heavy glass tumblers. The potioner poured a glass for each of them and raised hers.
“To striking good business!”
The chilled wine was sweet on Mica’s tongue, but she was careful to swallow only a tiny bit. She needed to be alert later tonight.
“How did you end up becoming a potioner?” she asked her companion. “You mentioned before that one took you in when you came to Jewel Harbor. Is that how you learned?”
“I could already do a few things before then,” Quinn said. “I’d learned the basic potions back home. I experimented a lot and came up with some new recipes I thought were pretty special. Wasn’t enough to make it in the big city.”
“You seem to be doing fine,” Mica said. Quinn had both the princess and one of the more powerful lords in the city as her dedicated customers.
“Now, yes, but it was difficult.” She ran a finger around the rim of her glass tumbler. “I was selling potions out of clay mugs from a cart at first. You have to be pretty desperate to buy a potion from a barefoot kid with a cart. But my concoctions worked well, and an older potioner heard about me. He was starting to think about retirement, and he needed an apprentice who could eventually take over his business. He’s the one who taught me to use Talent blood in my mixes.”
“Not every potioner does that?”
“Correct. It still makes some people queasy.”
Mica looked into her drink, the bloodred liquid shimmering in the candlelight. She certainly felt uncomfortable with the notion, even though both Quinn and Peet had assured her the Talents gave their blood voluntarily.
“Could you drink the blood of a Talent directly to get their ability?”
“No.” Quinn shuddered. “What a morbid suggestion.”
Mica blinked. “You’re the one who uses—never mind. The blood potions can make someone a Talent temporarily, right?”
“Sort of,” Quinn said. “A potion gives an extra burst of strength or speed or protection, but it doesn’t turn the person into a Talent. Once they use up the energy, for lack of a better word, it’s gone.”
“Does it drain the person?” Mica asked. “Like if someone uses a speed potion, do they wind up sick or exhausted afterwards?”
Quinn shook her head. “They’re feeding purely off the potion, so it shouldn’t affect them otherwise. Think about the p
rincess using all those energy potions. You don’t see her sleeping them off later, do you?”
“I guess not.” Mica frowned at the apple slices floating in her glass. It didn’t sound as though potions could fully explain Caleb’s uncontrollable bursts of Talent, whether he was drinking them intentionally or not.
“Is it possible to give a person more than one Talent-like ability at a time?”
Quinn tapped her fingers on her glass. “Maybe for a few seconds. No one has come up with one that works effectively for a sustained period of time. Imagine if you could make someone strong, fast, and impervious to injury all at once. They’d be unstoppable.”
Mica could imagine it all too well. Muscles, Blurs, and Shields had to work together on the battlefield, requiring strict discipline and devotion to a common goal. She could only imagine what would happen if a single soldier could use all three abilities—never mind if they could change their shape at the same time.
But what if someone had figured it out? What if someone was using the blood of the missing Talents to confer multiple abilities at once? They could create the most unstoppable army the world had ever seen. Mica took a huge gulp of her chilled wine, attempting to wash away the image of her brothers facing such an army. She choked as a piece of fruit caught in her throat. So much for staying alert.
“What about Mimics?” Mica said when she could breathe again. “Can a potion allow someone to impersonate?”
“That’s generally considered too dangerous,” Quinn said. “Just because someone swallows a potion doesn’t mean they can control their features or contort them safely.”
“Makes sense,” Mica said. “I went to school for that—and I was born with the ability.”
“Exactly.” Quinn grabbed the pitcher and topped up both of their glasses. “Shields, on the other hand, require no control whatsoever. That woman over there made her fortune selling Impervious Brew, which protects you even if you’re fast asleep.” She gestured toward a merry little lady with silver hair and spidery wrinkles around her eyes. “Speed and strength are somewhere in between. If you take one of those potions recklessly, you could hurt yourself or someone else.”
