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

by Jordan Rivet

  Mica nodded, thinking of how risky it was for Caleb to never know when he would suddenly have too much of a good thing. Not that she was supposed to be thinking about Caleb.

  “Those potions are still safer than enabling true impersonation, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “So you don’t buy Mimic blood at all?”

  “Oh, I can still use it,” Quinn said. “It’s especially helpful in cosmetics and the like. I can brew potions that’ll change someone’s eye color or complexion without them having to control anything. Mind you, that can go horribly wrong if the mix isn’t perfect.”

  Mica had a brief vision of someone’s skin sagging like her old woman impersonation. She shuddered.

  “Why do you ask?” Quinn leaned forward, the candlelight flickering in her dark eyes. “Are you interested in selling?”

  “No, it’s not that.” Mica hesitated. Now that Master Kiev and the princess were occupied with Obsidian, the investigation was up to her. Quinn had been a useful source so far. Mica hoped she could trust her.

  “Have you heard about the Talents going missing?” she said at last. “I thought it could have something to do with their blood.”

  Quinn sat back, frowning slightly, and Mica worried she’d offended her. She hurried to clarify. “I’m sure no upstanding potioner—”

  Quinn raised a hand, cutting her off. “I’d be careful about asking too many questions.”

  “What? Why?”

  “This is a big city but a small island.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Quinn’s sharp gaze darted around the rooftop. “I mean you’re not the first person to ask around about the Talent disappearances.” She raised her glass to her lips and spoke into it. “See that man by the bar, talking to the lady?”

  Mica glanced over discreetly. The man was red-faced and round, with mousy brown hair plastered onto a sweaty forehead. He was laughing loudly with a full-lipped woman wearing a corset to buoy her ample figure.

  “What about him?”

  “He’s on the City Watch. I hear they get hostile when people show too much interest in missing Talents.”

  “I’ve heard about the City Watch telling people to keep quiet too,” Mica said, remembering what the Muscle oarsman had said about a Watchman intimidating his friend into not mentioning the warehouse by the docks. “They’re involved somehow.”

  “Look, I’d leave it alone if I were you,” Quinn said. “It’s not worth getting into trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  Quinn didn’t answer. She poured them each another glass, but Mica felt the atmosphere between them chilling. She feared she’d lost Quinn as a source entirely.

  Then she remembered the vial in her pocket. She pulled out the unmarked bottle and passed it over the table.

  “I don’t suppose you know which potioners use bottles like this, do you? This one didn’t have a label.”

  Quinn studied the vial in the candlelight.

  “These are common,” she said. “You can find this size and shape in half the shops on Potioners Alley.” She pulled the stopper and sniffed carefully. Her eyes widened at whatever the residual smell told her. “That was a pretty nasty potion, though. Where did you get this?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Like I said, you could find hundreds of bottles like it. They make them right here in Jewel Harbor. Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

  “You’ve already helped me a lot,” Mica said. She could now be fairly certain the Obsidian barge captain had purchased his poisons right here in the city. If only she knew whose money he had used.

  The rooftop bar was becoming crowded, and Mica and Quinn had to lean in closer to hear each other talk. They moved on to safer topics, mostly speaking about their families back home. Quinn’s parents had been salt miners back on Talon, though both had passed away since she moved to Jewel Harbor to make her fortune. Mica didn’t go into detail about her own background, employing the vague method of small talk that had actually been taught in classes at the Academy. It was amazing how long you could carry on a conversation without saying anything at all.

  Clouds had begun to gather overhead, further obscuring the stars. The air had a heavy, expectant feeling that signaled an approaching rainstorm. Mica occasionally lifted her tumbler to her lips, but she didn’t drink any more chilled wine, feeling a sense of expectation that had little to do with the weather.

  She kept an eye on the City Watchman over by the bar. When he finally drained his glass and waved to the barman to pay his tab, she stood.

  “Thank you for the drink, Quinn, but I’d better get going.”

  “Sure. Looks like it’ll rain soon anyway.” Quinn reached for Mica’s abandoned drink, apparently intent on unwinding that evening regardless of the weather or company. “Good luck with the little cyclone up at the palace. And look out for yourself. Seriously, you don’t want the wrong people to hear you asking questions.”

  “I appreciate the warning.” Mica grinned. “They won’t even know it was me.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Mica followed the City Watchman and the corseted lady down the rickety staircase through the tenement building. She paused on a landing to unfasten her skirt and sling it over her shoulder alongside the package of potions. She assumed her mischievous lad face before continuing down the stairs.

  She followed the pair at a distance, adopting the loose saunter of a young man with one too many drinks in his belly. It was late, and the crowds in the street were thinning. Mica was afraid the watchman would simply take his companion home to bed, until they cut through a shadowy alley and the lady shed her corset and skirt. Her sagging bosom became rippling muscle, and the full lips receded, adding definition to a lantern jaw. The Impersonator shrugged on a uniform jacket, and by the time the pair emerged from the alley, the woman had transformed into a second member of the City Watch.

  Mica quickly checked her own features, making sure they were nothing like her real appearance or the city-woman face she’d worn in the bar. Fellow Mimics tended to be good at spotting impersonations. With luck, those men wouldn’t see her at all tonight.

  She crept along behind them, keeping her stance loose despite her eagerness to finally uncover the truth. She didn’t know the city too well yet, but she recognized where they were heading: the warehouse district near the docks.

  They reached the convoluted warren of alleys and grim walls. Many of the warehouse buildings looked identical, and Mica had to pay close attention to the twists and turns so she could find her way back. Learning the route was no easy task. After one too many turns, she began to fear the watchmen were leading her in a circle. Her heart raced, and she struggled to maintain her impersonation. Had they figured out they were being followed?

  She saw precious few people apart from her quarry among the warehouses. The streets were as quiet as they ever got in Jewel Harbor. Most of the workers had long since gone home for the night, and dawn was still hours away. If she was seen, those watchmen may not believe her drunken lad impersonation this far from the nearest pub. Mica was about to switch her face again when she heard the first scream.

  The sound came from up ahead of the two watchmen, eerily muffled in the darkness. The mousy-haired man said something to his lantern-jawed companion, and they turned down a side street between a pair of hulking warehouses made of dull red brick. This had to be the place.

  The scream came again, louder this time. Anger simmered inside Mica at the sound, quickly approaching a boil. She peeked around the corner of the brick building, fists clenched to keep from drawing one of her new knives. Any light reflecting off the steel was sure to give her away. She stayed in the shadows as the pair halted in front of a warehouse door. Keys jangled faintly. The men glanced around to make sure they were alone before opening the door and going inside. Mica kept hidden until the lock clicked.

  As soon as they were gone, she emerged to survey the warehouse. It was one of
the larger ones on this street, connected to the smaller building next to it by a wooden walkway. The windows were boarded up, making it look abandoned. Mica circled around, checking the boarded-up windows for weak points, but the place was as secure as a seaside fortress in wartime. Someone definitely didn’t want anyone else to know what was going on inside.

  She studied the adjacent buildings, hoping she might find a way to the rooftops. Most were in shambles, except for the smaller building connected to the warehouse with a walkway. It was just as carefully boarded up as the larger one, but the walkway itself appeared to be open to the air.

  Another scream rang out, making Mica jump. How could no one have reported this place by now? Either the rest of the warehouses on this block were abandoned, or the corruption in the City Watch went even deeper than she thought.

  She considered the walkway connecting the redbrick warehouses for a moment more. Then she backtracked to a warehouse that wasn’t boarded up, a gray stone monstrosity situated next to the smaller of the two redbrick buildings. She climbed through a broken window and picked through the rubble and dust until she found a stairwell. A few minutes later, she emerged on the rooftop of the gray stone structure.

  Clouds hung low in the sky, obscuring the moon and making it difficult to see. The air felt damp and thick, as if the rainstorm was hovering directly over the city now, waiting for the right moment to break loose. Mica’s heart pounded as she looked over the edge of the roof at the smaller of the two boarded-up buildings. The gap between the roofs wasn’t too wide. She should be able to make it.

  “Here goes nothing.”

  She took a deep breath and jumped. The impact jarred her teeth, and the clatter of her feet on the rooftop sounded far too loud. She hurried across the expanse and crouched beneath the low border wall on the opposite side, hoping it would shield her from view of the tall redbrick building. Thankfully, the boarded-up windows meant she had a decent chance of not being seen.

  She crouched on the roof for a few tense minutes, listening to the noises rising from the two connected buildings. Voices murmured, too soft to make out. Scraping sounds came from the room directly under her feet, as if furniture was being moved. Every so often, she heard a faint scream from the larger building across the walkway. As far as Mica could tell, that was where most of the activity was taking place.

  Suddenly, the scraping noises beneath her stopped. Mica held her breath. A door creaked open, then slammed, and footsteps crossed the wooden walkway to the other warehouse. Another door opened and shut. Mica strained to hear the click of a lock, but it didn’t come. As far as she could tell, the doors leading to the walkway were not secured.

  It’s now or never.

  Leaving behind her package of potions, she climbed over the wall and slung herself down onto the walkway. She landed catlike on the boards and hurried to the door of the smaller warehouse. She pulled it open a crack, listening for movement inside. Nothing. She slipped inside and pulled the door shut behind her.

  The room was as empty as it sounded. The things she’d heard being moved were wooden boxes. Trails of grime and dust showed that some of the boxes had recently been pushed out of their original positions. Mica took a quick look inside a few, all too aware of the multiple doors leading in and out of this room. She moved carefully, leaving as little evidence as possible of her presence, as she filed away any clues. Adrenaline thundered through her, but she couldn’t help grinning. This was the kind of spy work she had expected to do after the Academy.

  The boxes contained an assortment of tools she wouldn’t be surprised to find in an apothecary: measuring cups, glass bottles of various shapes and sizes, scalpels and other knives suitable for chopping ingredients into tiny pieces.

  A few more bowls and pans, and this could be a kitchen supply room.

  Burlap sacks were piled in a corner, the smells wafting from them hinting at herbs and spices. Mica opened one, releasing the aroma of rosemary into the air. So far everything here supported her theory that someone was making potions. But one ingredient was still missing. One liquid ingredient.

  She listened at the doors surrounding the room full of boxes, but there didn’t seem to be much activity in this building. Most of the action must be happening in the larger warehouse across the walkway. Could that be where the missing Talents were being kept? At least some of them were still alive, if the screaming was any indication.

  She frowned. It has been a few minutes since I last heard any—

  Suddenly, the storm broke over the warehouse with a violent thunderclap. The rush of water drowned out every other sound except the thunder. She’d no longer be able to hear anyone coming.

  Just what I need.

  Mica crouched beside the sack of spices, considering her options. Officially, she was supposed to observe and report, not take action. Now that she knew the location of the warehouse, she could send in the authorities to stop whatever was going on here. But at least some of the authorities were in on it. What if the entire City Watch already knew what was happening here? They wouldn’t help her.

  Then the scream came again, so loud and desperate that it cut through the drumbeat of the rain, before abruptly stopping. Mica made her decision. She drew one of her knives and crept back to the door. The rain made it difficult to hear any activity across the way, but she couldn’t wait any longer. She yanked open the door and darted across the walkway, the downpour drenching her in seconds, then she slipped through the other door, entering the large warehouse at last.

  She found herself on a catwalk high above a vast space crammed with wooden crates. The position was exposed, and she had to dive behind a stack of barrels a dozen feet away to avoid being spotted at once. An acrid smell far worse than anything in Potioners Alley filled the warehouse. The air felt sickly, and Mica’s damp clothes quickly became uncomfortable in the too-warm space.

  Despite the rain thundering on the rooftop, she could hear a lot more now that she was inside the main building. She heard people—more than she expected—moving around below her, coughing and shuffling, groaning. And she heard angry voices rising from the far side of the warehouse.

  “—told you two not to be seen together.”

  “Relax. I wasn’t wearing my real face.”

  “I don’t care.” The voice was gravelly, as if the speaker had spent far too much time shouting. “You’re a sorry excuse for a Mimic.”

  “Just because I didn’t go to some fancy academy—”

  “Be happy you didn’t. Otherwise, you’d be out there in a crate with the more valuable Talents.”

  Mica couldn’t hear a response. She pictured the lantern-jawed member of the City Watch struggling not to talk back to the man who was berating him. She risked sticking her head out from her hiding place for a peek at the warehouse floor, which was filled with large wooden crates. The missing Talents were imprisoned inside the things? Had she found them at last?

  The two City Watchmen stood in an aisle running through the center of the crates, but Mica couldn’t see the man they were talking to. There appeared to be a cleared-out space that stretched from the aisle to the wall left of Mica’s current position. She began to edge around the catwalk, hoping to get a look at what was inside it.

  Then the unseen man spoke again in that gravelly bark, which sounded vaguely familiar. “I’m done with this one for now. Put her back and bring me that big fellow. The Mimic.”

  Mica froze, watching in horror as the two watchmen dragged a young woman out of the cleared area and down the aisle. Blood dripped down her arms, and her face was covered in bruises. Mica couldn’t tell what kind of ability the young woman had, but she didn’t look as though she was in any condition to use it. White-hot rage blazed through her at the sight. How dare they treat someone like this, Talent or not?

  The men made no effort to be gentle with the girl, not slowing down even as she struggled to get her feet underneath her. It took all of Mica’s willpower to keep from leaping down and attempting
to free the woman then and there. But if there were Talents in all these crates, she couldn’t afford to be rash. She needed backup.

  Observe and report, she told herself. You’re a spy, not a hero.

  Mica stayed hidden as the watchmen shoved the girl into one of the crates and locked it up. She stayed hidden as they moved toward another crate almost directly below her spot on the catwalk. She could probably drop right on top of them from here, but that wouldn’t get her the information she needed to stop this operation. She stayed hidden as they fiddled with the lock, already calculating how soon she could return with reinforcements. She could get out the way she came in and disappear without anyone ever knowing she had been there.

  Mica knew that was the wisest course of action, and so she stayed hidden—until the men opened the crate and dragged Danil out onto the floor.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mica didn’t have time to talk herself out of it. The moment she recognized Danil’s curly hair and saw the pallor in his formerly rosy cheeks, she leapt into action.

  She drew her twin blades and dropped from the catwalk onto the Impersonator watchman. Her knives sliced deep into his shoulders, forcing him to drop his grip on Danil.

  “What the—Where’d you come from?”

  The man flailed and swung his fists, the surprise attack not enough to take him out of action, as Mica clung to his back like a bat. His hair changed color rapidly then began receding into his scalp.

  “Get him off me!”

  Mica hung on tighter.

  The mousy-haired watchman gaped at the spectacle, momentarily loosening his hold on Danil’s bound arms. Mica’s friend wasn’t as weak or disoriented as she had feared. He suddenly lengthened and thinned his hands to slip free of his bonds and rolled away from his captor. The man cursed and tackled him.