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Spy Glass

Page 27

by Maria V. Snyder


  She bristled. “You know nothing about it.”

  True. But she loved her brother. “You’re right. But I do

  know Teegan needs you here. He hasn’t woken for the healer,

  but he woke for you. Without you here, he might not get better.”

  A snort of derision. “You’re bluffing. All you grown-ups

  are the same. You think I’m some dumb kid. That I would

  stay here and be easy prey for the Citadel’s guards to pick up.”

  She hopped off the bed.

  “At least let me contact this Fire Lady. Teegan told you to

  stay with her, remember?”

  Reema snagged her lower lip with her teeth for a second

  before crossing her arms. “He’s sick. He doesn’t know what

  he’s talking about.”

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  It had been easier to stop a f lameout than convince this girl.

  This whole situation felt familiar. I searched my memory and

  it didn’t take long. Some recollections never fade with time.

  Although I might not think about my sister Tula every day,

  she was always in my heart.

  “I’m not bluffing about Teegan,” I said. “My sister needed

  me with her. She wouldn’t wake for the healers or for Master

  Magician Jewelrose or for Yelena Zaltana, the Soulfinder.

  Master Jewelrose showed up in the middle of the night, took

  me from my home in Booruby and brought me here.” I ges-

  tured, indicating the room. “I was terrified, worried about my

  sister and overwhelmed. They claimed I was the key to saving

  her. What if I did something wrong and she died because of

  me?”

  The memory of those dark days surged through my body

  and transported me back in time. I saw Tula, not Teegan, lying

  on the bed, looking small and brittle. My body ached to hold

  my sister again. If I had been as smart and savvy as Reema, I

  wouldn’t have let her murderer into the room. Wouldn’t have

  gone with his accomplice, trusting them to keep their word

  that Tula would live if I cooperated.

  “What happened?” Reema asked.

  Dragging myself to the present, I said to her, “I crawled

  into bed with my sister and stayed by her side. I helped Yelena coax her back to consciousness.” The girl didn’t need to know

  the sad ending to the tale. Instead I let the joy of having Tula awake and healthy shine on my face. I would always treasure

  those few days we had together.

  “If I stay here, will you promise me one thing?” she

  asked.

  “If I can, I will.”

  She nodded. “If I’m captured by the Citadel’s guards, prom-

  ise me you won’t let them sell me to the Helper’s Guild.”

  I blinked at Reema for a moment. Had she really uttered the words “sell me” and “Helper’s Guild” in the same

  breath? I remembered Fisk’s comments about vicious rumors,

  but had taken them in stride, never imagining the actual real-

  ity of them. She scrutinized my body language and balanced

  on the balls of her feet. Convinced of the danger, she would

  run away if I didn’t promise to protect her.

  Now wasn’t the time to assure her about the true nature

  of the Guild. “No one will sell you to the Helper’s Guild. I

  promise,” I said.

  With the slightest softening in her posture, she stuck out

  her hand. I shook it and she relaxed.

  “What’s next?” she asked.

  “A bath.” When her stubborn chin jutted, I added, “The

  bathhouse is empty right now. Unless you want to wait until

  morning and be there with all the students? Your choice.”

  “No it isn’t. Don’t play those games with me. You be straight

  with me and I’ll be straight with you. Deal?”

  She didn’t sound like an eight-year-old. “No sugar-

  coating?”

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  “None.”

  “How old are you?” I asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “To me, yes. You’re either a child genius or older than you

  look.”

  She f lashed me a grin. “I’m both.”

  “Humor’s okay then?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right. So naked truth it is. Do we need another hand-

  shake or maybe a blood oath just for something different?” I

  asked.

  Another grin. “I’m ten, and my mother taught me to listen

  past people’s words and hear their true intentions.”

  “Smart lady. Did she teach you to play fair?” One of my pet

  peeves, I believed schooling kids to play fair failed to prepare them for adulthood.

  “No.” Reema tucked her stuffed dog under Teegan’s covers.

  He rolled over and curled his arm around the toy. “Let’s

  go.”

  “Don’t you want to know my name?”

  “I know it. That healer called you Opal when we

  arrived.”

  Smart girl. The bathhouse was straight north of the infir-

  mary. As I guided Reema, I played tour guide as we passed

  the dining hall and formal garden located in the center of the

  Keep’s complex. The two apprentice wings curved around the

  sides of the garden like an incomplete ring around a bull’s eye.

  Torches lit the empty pathways. No pools or webs of magic

  touched me. A nice respite. I hurried Reema past the Fire

  Memorial. I didn’t have the energy to explain its significance

  to her.

  As predicted, we had the bathhouse to ourselves. I helped

  her wash her hair. After multiple scrubbings, her true color

  emerged—white blond. Beautiful.

  Reema frowned at the long coils.

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  257

  “It’s lovely,” I said, combing out the knots before it could

  dry.

  “It stands out. Not a good thing where I live.” She scanned

  the elegant bathhouse.

  The arched walls and high ceiling had been decorated with

  colorful mosaics. Blue-green tiles lined the oval pool. In the

  corner, the washing area had metal spigots protruding from

  the walls above head level. The water would rain from one

  of them when the lever hanging next to it was pulled. A rack

  nearby held piles of clean towels. A mirror image of this half

  of the bathhouse resided on the other side for the males.

  “I guess around here, you’d want to stand out,” Reema said.

  “You’d want to be the best and brightest at the Magician’s

  Keep. Right?”

  “The magicians and teachers don’t compare you to other

  students, but everyone knows who is strong and who has

  limited power. By the end of the first season of the first year, the pecking order has been established.”

  “It must have been fun being at the top.”

  I paused. Why would she…? Oh. She had watched me enter

  a building no one else could, not even a Master Magician.

  Naked truth sounded refreshing, but might be harder than I

  first thought.

  “Actually, I was at the very bottom,” I said.

  She turned. “Really?”

  I considered. “It’s a long complicated story.”

  “Tell

  me…please.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Stories help me sleep at
night.”

  I imagined her life. Living in a condemned warehouse, no

  parents, no food unless she found, stole or begged for some,

  she had to constantly worry about predators and the Citadel’s

  guards. Stories would be an escape from her harsh reality.

  My future life may be uncertain, but I would not let Reema

  go back to that horror. I vowed I would find her a home.

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  I told her about my misadventures as a first-year student.

  Her light laugh spurred me to dig deeper for the humorous

  moments. Interesting, I hadn’t consider them funny at the

  time. I stopped once we arrived back at the infirmary. She

  jumped into the extra bed in Teegan’s room without reclaim-

  ing her stuffed dog. I guessed she felt safe.

  Pulling the covers up to her chin, I promised to return in

  the morning. I turned the lantern down to the lowest setting

  and said good-night.

  “Good night, Fire Lady,” she said.

  I paused in the threshold. I’d been called various names

  before, but that was a new one. Unable to squelch my curiosity, I asked, “How do you know Teegan was referring to me?”

  “I just do.”

  “Why

  fire?”

  “You’ll have to ask my brother.”

  I’d spent time with Reema over the course of the next

  couple days. She mainly stayed by Teegan’s side, but she needed fresh air and Hayes needed information about her and Teegan.

  I’d shown her more of the Keep’s complex, hoping to deepen

  our connection. Unfortunately, she had refused to share any

  more details. At least her brother’s strength increased every

  day.

  When I arrived on the third morning, Reema sat cross-

  legged on her bed. She read aloud from a book resting on her

  lap. I listened for a while, glad she could read. It would give her an advantage on the streets.

  Finding her a home was proving to be impossible. My

  visit to Child Services had been a frustrating and depressing

  experience. By the time I reached the correct agent, she took

  Reema’s file, set it atop a three-foot-high pile and instructed me in a dead voice to deliver the child to care facility number two. Knowing Reema, she would be there for five minutes

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  259

  before escaping. When I asked if Reema had a chance to be

  adopted, the woman looked at me as if I was an idiot.

  I also struck out with my other forays into the Citadel.

  Either Fisk avoided me or he had legitimate business. Hard

  to tell.

  “Where to today?” Reema asked.

  Her question snapped me back. She closed the book and set

  it reverently on the night table. Hayes had lent her the story

  to help her pass the time. Her actions gave me an idea.

  “I’m going to show you the Keep’s library.” I led her to the

  student barracks.

  The long building was curved like the apprentice wing,

  but it was three times its size. Located on the west side of

  the Keep, it housed the students who were in their first three

  years of study. The library filled half of the ground f loor. The Keep’s curriculum concentrated on learning from textbooks

  those years, while the seniors in their fourth year began a more hands-on type of learning.

  Seniors shared the other long building that mirrored the

  barracks with the Keep’s employees. The senior quarters were

  broken into rooms shared by five students. Much better than

  the rows and rows of bunk beds that lined the f loors of the

  barracks.

  When we entered the library, a few students glanced up

  from their books, but they soon returned to their studies.

  Tables and chairs occupied the space between the bookshelves.

  I waded through puddles of magic, wishing I’d remembered

  morning was a popular time.

  Reema stayed by my side. Her lower lip hung open as she

  absorbed the sheer number of books. Rows and rows filled the

  space, seemingly unending. I moved instinctively, searching

  for the history section, but not concentrating too hard.

  The stronger the desire to find a certain book the more it

  guaranteed a failed effort. It was an odd quirk of the library, as if over the years magic had soaked into the tomes, giving them

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  an essence. A more relaxed, half-distracted search worked

  better. However, if a book didn’t want to be found, you were

  out of luck.

  I discovered the List of Clans tucked between History of the Cloud Mist Clan and Sandseed Soil Study. Reema wanted to explore, but I carried my find to an empty table. She followed, dragging her steps with reluctance and huddled on a chair.

  Opening the book to the table of contents, I glanced at her.

  She had shoved her hands under her legs, and she stared at the

  hem of her shirt.

  “Your mother told you no one would know your clan’s

  name. Right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Maybe it’s listed in here?”

  She wouldn’t look at me. I slid the book to her. Frowning,

  she scanned the page. I studied her, watching for a reaction

  to one of the names. After a few minutes, she relaxed.

  “It’s not here,” she said. “Why is it so important to know

  my clan’s name?”

  I debated, but settled on the truth. “I’ve run out of options.

  I would like to find you a home, preferably with a relative.”

  “I don’t need—”

  “Reema, once Teegan is healthy he’ll be enrolled as a stu-

  dent at the Keep. You’ll be on your own, and I can’t allow

  that.”

  She straightened. “You can’t stop me.”

  “I know. That’s why I need to find you a place where you’ll

  be happy and safe.”

  “That’s

  easy.”

  “It is?” Had I missed something?

  “Sure. I’ll stay with you.”

  I walked right into that one. A hard knot gripped my

  throat.

  She noticed and shut down. All emotion f led and she re-

  turned to street survival mode. “Forget it.”

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  261

  “Reema,

  I—”

  “Are we done here? I should get back to Teegan.” She slid

  off the chair and headed for the door.

  I followed and tried to explain that taking care of her would

  be impossible. That I might be called away at any time. But

  she ignored me or she pretended to. Either way, I lost her.

  “What do you think?” Fisk asked.

  I walked around the two-bedroom, furnished apartment

  in amazement. It was the first day of the heating season and

  sunlight poured in from huge windows occupying two of

  the four walls. “It’s incredible.” When Fisk had led me to the

  run-down factory, I had been dubious, but the inside had been

  renovated and broken into several apartments. “How did you

  find it?”

  He puffed his chest out. “All in a day’s work.”

  I shot him a look.

  “What? I’m not going to reveal my secrets. I’d be out of a

  job.”

  “It’s a clever location,” I said. The building was on the

  eastern edge
of the business district in the north section of

  the Citadel.

  “And not too many people know what’s hidden here. Perfect

  for security. Plus I thought you’d like to be close to the Keep and Council Hall.”

  The apartment was on the third f loor, which was the same

  distance from the roof and from the ground, making it harder

  for “spiders” like Valek to climb. “You’re right. I’ll take it.”

  Before Fisk could go and negotiate a fair price, I stopped

  him. “What about my other request?”

  “Nothing,

  yet.”

  I tried not to show my disappointment as we left the build-

  ing. I shouldn’t complain; it was better than Reema’s future.

  Unless I found her a home.

  “Anything else?” Fisk asked.

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  Maria V. Snyder

  “Yes. I’ve heard a rumor about the Citadel’s guards selling

  homeless children to your guild. What’s going on?”

  His pleasant demeanor dropped as anger f lared. “And you

  believe it.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Of course not—”

  “Then why mention it?”

  I told him about Reema. His anger transferred from me to

  those who had scared her.

  “I’ve been dealing with these nasty rumors. The Helper’s

  Guild is a very profitable business. After I pay my members a

  small allowance, I use the rest of the money to buy housing,

  clothes and food for them. But there is another group trying

  to form their own guild so they can keep the profits.”

  “And the children?”

  “You saw where Teegan and Reema were living.”

  For an instant Fisk let his exhaustion show as he drooped.

  The responsibility of caring for his guild weighed on his shoulders and lined his face. I had to remind myself he was only

  sixteen.

  “How can I help?” I asked.

  “You

  can’t…”

  I

  waited.

  He brightened just a bit. “You can convince Reema we’re

  the good guys.”

  If she’d let me.

  I moved my meager possessions to the apartment as soon

  as the deed was signed. Even though I spent most of my day

  at the Keep, it was a relief to leave at night. Teegan’s heath

  improved and my concern about Reema grew. I kept walking

  into my extra bedroom and just standing there, straining to

  find a solution or a way to help the girl. Life in the guild was better than on the streets, but life in a home would be ideal.

  But my apartment wasn’t a home for me, nor was my fac-

 

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