The Veiled Diplomat

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  Zayn nodded along with his class. He found himself edging forward as if this lesson was meant for him and him alone.

  "Imagine," said Instructor Konig, holding his hands out as if he were telling a thrilling story, "the lone assassin, supplanted deep inside the enemy's network until the moment the code word is given, and then they spring into action, silencing their target forever!"

  He raised his hands in victory, making "ohh" and "ahh" crowd noises. The class chuckled, which brought a smile to Zayn’s lips. Beneath his beige exterior, Instructor Konig had an infectious enthusiasm that had slowly, but eventually, won the class over. He didn't have the style or gravitas of the other teachers, but he knew his stuff, and Zayn appreciated that. Not all magic in the Academy was going to be flashy.

  "Sadly," said the instructor, "sleeper agents don't work. Does anyone know why this is?"

  Zayn looked around at his classmates. He hadn't been reading ahead. There was already too much work and he'd resorted to using the no-sleep imbuement trick to get by the last few weeks, but Portia raised her hand again.

  "Because hiding specific knowledge from a person's own brain creates unintended consequences," said Portia.

  "Yes," said Instructor Konig, clapping his hands together once. "When you try and restrict that knowledge from the waking mind, it ends up causing other things to get lost within the spell. Your memories and thoughts are a web that creates the person that is you. If you cut parts away, or hide them, it disrupts the whole thing. But better than explaining this concept, you're going to experience it.

  "Before class, I got permission from one of you to be the sleeper agent"—Instructor Konig made air quotes and spoke in a heavy voice—"but of course, this individual is not actively aware of the fact that they are."

  Zayn looked around at his fellow third years. Everyone had conspiratorial expressions. He searched his own mind to see if he could find evidence that he might be the sleeper agent, but as far as he could tell, he wasn't it.

  "I see by the looks on your faces that you're wondering if you are the sleeper agent. You might be. Or you might not. That's what you get to find out. I want you to talk to your classmates, ask them questions, try to figure out who it is. Try to find gaps in their knowledge, things they should know, but can't seem to remember. At the end, once everyone has decided, I'll let you know who the real sleeper agent is. You have an hour!"

  A general commotion followed as everyone paired up. Zayn tried to talk to Portia, but Charla had already grabbed her. Then Vin tapped him on the shoulder.

  "Are you the sleeper agent?" he asked, stroking his chin for comic effect.

  "No, I am not. Are you?" asked Zayn.

  "Nope," said Vin. "Well, I guess that covers it."

  "Nice try, Agent Sleep. Where were you last summer?"

  Vin made shifty eyes. "Up to my neck in crocodiles and PAC money, while looking one hundred percent fly. What about you?"

  "Doing small-town things in a small town," said Zayn.

  "That's little vague, Mr. Agent. Why don't you elaborate," said Vin.

  Zayn sighed. "Mostly helping out around the house, fixing my sister's food truck, helping Doc at the junkyard."

  Vin held his hand and out and rocked it back and forth. "You might be, Zayn. You might."

  He was about to ask another question when Marla grabbed Vin, and before he could look for anyone else, Sofia was standing near him, smelling like a goddess.

  "Hey, Zayn," said Sofia in an unusually sweet voice. "How are you?"

  Zayn blocked his smelling sense using his imbuement. "Another busy year."

  She placed a hand on his arm, softly stroking it until he had to repress a chill. "So I know it's been a while, but I was wondering if you wanted to go out on a date sometime?"

  "Aren't we supposed to be figuring out who the sleeper agent is?" he asked.

  She fluttered her eyes. "Maybe I am. Maybe whatever Instructor Konig did to you made you forget that you're supposed to be turning me down."

  "It's not that I'm not interested, but I'm trying to stay focused on the Academy," he said.

  "It's a start," she said with a wink.

  Remembering that he was trying to figure out who the sleeper agent was, he asked, "So what were you doing before class?"

  Sofia paused, fluttered her eyes for a moment. "I...I was doing the same thing I do every morning, naked yoga. I find it's the best way to start the day."

  He couldn't decide if her hesitation was purposeful, or if she really didn't remember and filled in with something flirty. Before he could ask another question, Keelan tapped on Sofia's shoulder.

  The rest of the hour proceeded in a similar fashion. As it wound down to the end, Zayn found Sofia again. He had a suspicion and wanted to test it. If Konig had met with her before class and made her the sleeper agent, then anything tied to her morning ritual might be affected.

  "Hey Sofia, thanks again for lending me those yoga videos this morning. I really enjoyed them."

  Sofia's mouth opened halfway as the corners of her eyes crinkled with thought. "I did?"

  She looked around, before wandering off in a daze, and not long after that Instructor Konig called time.

  Standing in front of the class, the instructor said, "Alright, I hope everyone has decided. I'm going to count to three, and on three, I want everyone to shout out who they think the sleeper agent is.

  "Get ready. One, two, three!"

  A chorus of "Sofia" filled the room. There were a handful of other names, and Vin said his own name, but the general consensus was on the Brazilian.

  "Congratulations, for those of you that said Sofia, you are correct. She was the sleeper agent."

  Sofia looked a little bewildered, but the realization seemed to be slowly dawning on her face.

  "As you can tell, with only a minor modification, she was affected enough that over half the class picked her out." He paused, letting everyone consider what he had to say. "That's all for class today. Be prepared for class on Thursday by learning all thirty-three memory knockout charms and their effective counters."

  A collective groan filled the auditorium to which Konig added, "Better prepared than..."

  "Dead," responded the class.

  As everyone filed out, Zayn approached Instructor Konig, who was collecting his notes, which he'd stacked on the floor.

  "Can I help you, Mr. Carter?"

  "I had a few more questions about sleeper agents."

  As Konig organized his papers, he nodded. "Shoot."

  "Is it really that impossible?" asked Zayn.

  The instructor raised an eyebrow. "Nothing's impossible. You know what the patron likes to say."

  "Yes, improbable," said Zayn, "but I'm guessing there are practical limits."

  "Maybe you have something in mind?"

  Zayn lifted one shoulder. "Professional curiosity."

  He had no idea if Instructor Konig knew much about Varna, since he wasn't a regular instructor, but he didn't want to give away what he intended.

  "If you're thinking about trying it to get into a specific location, I recommend against it," said the instructor, clearly meaning the embassy, though it wasn't what Zayn was thinking about.

  "Why? Can't those challenges be overcome if the memory deletion was done properly?" asked Zayn.

  "There are too many risks and unknowns. The mind is an unknown network. You never know what can happen, especially when you have to hide deeper intentions. If what needs to be hidden is integral to a person, even a little bit, it tends to modify the person in ways they can't expect. As I said before, practically, it is impossible, even though theoretically, smaller things can be hidden."

  "I see," said Zayn.

  Instructor Konig patted Zayn on the shoulder. "If you want to experiment on something small, feel free, but I don't recommend it with anything important. It's just too dangerous. Okay?"

  "Thanks, Instructor Konig."

  He left the classroom frustrated. Once the instructor
had started the lesson, Zayn had hoped that it might be a solution to his problem in Varna, but unless he could figure out a way around the unintended consequences, he needed a different solution.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Seventh Ward, February 2016

  The play's the thing

  The auditorium caught the sounds of their conversation as they wandered in from backstage. The La Fay Elementary school on the north side of the seventh ward wasn't being used on this Sunday afternoon, and more importantly, the custodian had taken a smell-no-more trinket in trade for use of the facilities.

  Skylar moved to front center, put her hands on her hips, and belted out, "All the world's a stage and I'm its oyster!"

  "What was that?" asked Vin.

  "I don't really know," said Skylar. "Isn't that something from a play?"

  Vin's eyes fluttered as he placed the back of his hand to his forehead. "Amateurs."

  "So what are we doing today, Maestro?" said Zayn.

  "Maestro is for band. I'm the director, and the acting coach, and probably the lead," said Vin despondently.

  From the left side of the stage, Keelan said, "I always wanted to be in a play."

  "See," said Zayn. "We're eager clay, ready to be molded. Lay it on us, what are we going to do?"

  Vin shook his head incredulously. "Gather round. So there's not a lot of information about the maetrie's theater habits, or at least not a lot of detailed information. They have plays that sound more like consensual group torture, and others that would probably be called performance art in Invictus."

  "That's consistent with my experiences in the Diamond Court casino," said Zayn.

  "Right. Like I said, most of it has little detail, so it would be hard to perform, even if we understood the intent, which we'd probably get wrong due to cultural reasons. But there is one style of theater that we might be able to pull off, and I say might.

  "They call it Liebereisen and essentially it means Journey of Discovery, heavy emphasis on the journey part. The plays are about someone going on a journey in the Eternal City, and what they encounter and how that changes them and makes them into the person they are. It's a coming of age tale."

  "That sounds like something I would enjoy," said Portia, who was sitting on the stage stretching her legs while she was listening.

  "Yes, it sounds nice. It's not too different from the Odyssey, though Homer was an adult. But the journey part is the same," said Vin.

  Keelan had his faced scrunched up. "How does that even work? Since the Eternal City has no directions, it's all based on intention."

  "That's what makes the Liebereisen a uniquely maetrie sort of event, and form of entertainment. Because the journey is different for everyone, and based on who they are, it becomes like fate to them. It defines who they are for the rest of their lives," said Vin.

  "I'm not seeing why this is going to be a problem," said Zayn.

  "There are two major issues. One is that there aren't many of these plays translated into English, or any human language. And the ones that are involve events that I don't even know how we can pull off on the stage. In the one I read, the Hahn, which is like the hero, transformed into a fish monster during the first act, and ate the heart of a smoke-eater in the third," said Vin, exasperated.

  "The other problem is that the Liebereisen is a marionette play, which means we have to figure out how to create a rigging and have strings hanging off of us as if we're being moved by fate."

  "We're going to be marionettes? That sounds cool," said Keelan.

  Vin threw his hands in the air. "But how? We don't have a big budget like the Orpheum Theater and no one here except me has been in a play before."

  "We can figure that out later. Why don't you walk us through some of the things we need to learn so we can practice them on our own time," said Zayn.

  Vin pushed on his stomach as if he were trying to prevent an ulcer. "I suppose that will work. Alright, the four of you, line up over here and we're going to do some acting exercises. I need to see what I have to work with."

  For the next few hours Vin had them do mouth exercises, which involved them doing funny voices, flapping their lips and tongues, and stretching their mouths. There was more than one instance of the giggles, which brought glares from Vin, which only made it worse since they'd never seen him so serious.

  The next three hours had them practicing how to be marionettes, which involved moving as if strings were pulling their limbs into motion, rather than the normal smooth flow of their bodies. Zayn tried to imagine that every movement involved a slight upward arc.

  Before they'd started, Zayn had thought this part would be easy for them due to their imbuements. But they looked like they were having seizures rather than movement by string.

  "Everyone, take a break," said Vin, who looked like he'd gained ten years in those short hours. "The good news is you're not getting any worse, but the bad news is that you haven't gotten any better. This is going to be a complete disaster."

  Zayn saw the looks on the team's faces right away. His feedback had stung.

  He caught up to Vin, who had marched to the side of the stage and was drinking from a bottle of water.

  "Hey, Vin."

  "What?" he asked, spinning around.

  "Easy, man," said Zayn. "You okay?"

  "No, this is terrible. I'm awful at this. We've spent half a day already and it's like I haven't done anything," said Vin.

  "We're not going to get it all at once," said Zayn.

  "But no one is getting anything!" Vin brought his arm down in frustration, spilling water all over his shirt. "Great. Now this."

  "Look, Vin. You're doing great. It's just going to take time. Feel free to give us homework. I bet after a week you'll be shocked how good we are," said Zayn.

  "I guess that's fine," said Vin, taking a deep breath. "I'm just worried, since we only have a few months to get ready."

  Zayn bit his lower lip. "Actually..."

  Vin shot his gaze at Zayn. "What?"

  "We need to be ready by the beginning of March. I booked a theater, nothing big, but it's in the second ward. I told them we're a traveling company," said Zayn.

  The moment the words reached his ears, Vin looked like he'd seen a ghost. "A month? We don't even have a script yet, or roles, or even know how the marionette ropes work."

  Zayn patted him on the shoulder. "It's okay if it doesn't go perfectly. This is a warm-up, but I thought it'd be good to get something on the schedule."

  "But..."

  Vin sounded like someone had killed his dog.

  "It's a community theater. We probably won't even have an audience. I haven't told anyone yet, but it looks like there's going to be a big event at the embassy in May. That gives us time to improve our marionette play, and get invited."

  Vin shook his head. "It's a great plan, Zayn, but I don't think I can pull it off for you."

  "Sure you can," said Zayn, but Vin didn't look confident about his abilities, and it wasn't that Zayn thought they were going to be able to pull it off without any problems, but he was willing to fail because to him to do nothing was worse.

  Vin hadn't gotten to that point yet. Nor had the rest of the team. If there was one thing Zayn knew that he was better at than anyone else it was the willingness to screw something up. Failure hurt. Failure stung. And in his line of work, failure could kill. But failure was the best way to learn.

  Zayn glanced back to the rest of the team, sitting in a circle chatting softly, and occasionally looking over at Vin with tight-lipped frowns. The team worked great when he was leading them, but he couldn't be in charge of everything all the time. Each of them had strengths that if unleashed, would make them even stronger. But they had to feel safe enough to fail to learn that truth.

  "Vin," said Zayn, squeezing the big man's shoulder. "If anything goes wrong, it's my fault. I'm the one who came up with this idea. I'm just asking you to put it into action. But I don't know anything about the theater, or plays
, so you're going to have to show us what to do. Okay?"

  Vin rubbed his temples with his forefingers. "I can do that. I can do that."

  "Great. I think we're good for another round of lessons before we head back to the house," said Zayn, "but remember we're new to this, so give us some room to grow."

  Vin nodded as he took another drink from his water bottle.

  "Okay, everyone. Back up, we've got a lot of work to do before we can go home," said Vin roughly.

  Zayn cleared his throat, catching Vin's attention.

  "But you're all doing great," continued Vin in a softer voice. "It's been a good first day. We're going to work on the popping motions necessary for the marionettes, but don't worry if you don't get it today. We'll get better...all of us."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Second Ward, February 2016

  Down the rabbit hole

  The evening climb up the side of the Glinda Heights apartment building was completely unnecessary, as there was a staircase that led to the roof, but his muscles were sore in places he'd never considered from their marionette practices during the past week, so he wanted to work them out.

  The apartment complex had a good view of the Diamond Court Embassy, which had busy crowds outside the white marble steps, day and night, speculating as to the reason for the maetrie's arrival and for the big event set to occur in a few months.

  In an exclusive release, the Herald of the Halls had announced that there was to be a great ball, a coming of age party for Prince Orráine so named The Diamond Eternal Ball. And though his name wasn't specifically mentioned, everyone assumed that the party was also for Prince Aethalstar, the elder of Queen Zaire's sons, and the heir to her throne, not that the maetrie lived short enough lives for succession to matter in any cases that didn't involve treachery.

  There was also a lot of speculation about why they would set up an embassy in Invictus, and concerns about a nefarious purpose behind it, but the city was filled with seers and fortune-tellers, and the overwhelming consensus was there was nothing to worry about. The only seers that disagreed were crackpot mages who'd flunked out of the Halls years ago and had succumbed to faez madness.