Spy Glass

by Maria V. Snyder

  you’re really here in Fulgor?”

  “My answer hasn’t changed since this morning.”

  “What about your Stormdancer? Does he know why?”

  “Of course. Kade is in Ixia. The Commander has agreed to

  allow him to harvest the blizzards.” I spotted the next ques-

  tion in his eyes and explained why I wasn’t with Kade. “Cold

  season. Northern Ice Sheet. Icy wind.”

  He nodded. “You hate the cold. You use to shiver at night

  and I’d—”

  “Don’t go there. Working on trust, remember?” Memo-

  ries of my time with him when I had thought he was Ulrick

  threatened to bubble to the surface. I squashed them deep

  down where they belonged.

  “Sorry.”

  We kept on safe subjects for a few minutes, catching up on

  news. He leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed despite his

  situation. And happy. Robbed of his freedom for the next four

  and a half years, his magic gone and yet he seemed at peace.

  Was it his Sandseed heritage?

  “How do you do it?” I blurted, interrupting his description

  of lights-out.

  “Do

  what?”

  I searched for the proper words. “Be so…calm…so…” I

  waved my hands as if trying to pull what I wanted to say from

  the air and shove it into my brain. “Be so…content without

  your magic?”

  He considered my question. “I’ve lived a year now without

  magic. A…difficult year. At first, I was furious, and I vented

  my anger on you. That’s one difference between us. You sac-

  rificed your magic. No one stole it. So you believe you have

  no one to be mad at but yourself.”

  “But—”

  “Listen. How could you be angry at yourself when you did

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  the right thing? You can’t. Instead, you swallowed that resent-

  ment, and are pretending to be fine. However, that emotion

  is smoldering inside you, burning a hole in your soul.”

  “You’re an expert now? Do you do group therapy for your

  fellow prisoners?” Sarcasm laced my voice. How could he

  know how I felt?

  “I trained as a Sandseed Story Weaver. Magic was but one

  of the many tools we learned to help others.”

  “That was long ago, before you turned into an evil Davi-

  ian Warper who tortured me.” A small part of my mind was

  shocked by my cruel words, another part cheered me on.

  But he remained calm. “There’s your anger. Good. Now

  direct it at the proper place. I said you believe you have no

  one to blame but yourself because of the person you are.”

  “According to you, I’m a nice accommodating doormat.”

  I spat his words back at him. No reaction.

  “You’re tenacious, intelligent and kind, but you’re hard on

  yourself. You believe there was something you could have

  done better or smarter at Hubal. If you had only been quicker,

  you wouldn’t have had to make your sacrifice.”

  I sucked in a breath, feeling as if I had been slapped.

  “You need to realize you did your best in an extremely

  difficult situation. Most people wouldn’t have survived at all.

  Your anger is valid and needs to be directed at the men who

  forced you to make a sacrifice.”

  “Time’s up,” my CO said.

  Devlen said in a rush, “Allow yourself to be furious at

  Ulrick and Tricky. Purge it from your soul and come back to

  see me.”

  “Why?” I stood before the CO could grab my arm.

  “Because I will help you take the next step and fill the

  emptiness inside you.”

  “How?”

  “Like I have. You motivated me to be a better person and in

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  the process the emptiness filled. We need to find something

  or someone who will encourage you to move past it.”

  The correctional officer hustled me from the room. With

  my thoughts on my visit, I had no memory of the trip through

  the darkening streets of Fulgor. Devlen’s words swirled in my

  mind. He had always been an expert at twisting logic and play-

  ing with my emotions. If I repeated our conversation enough

  times, the f law in his argument would appear.

  He had been right about one thing. One thing only. I hadn’t

  been clever enough in Hubal.

  By the time I reached home, I failed to find the gap in

  his logic, and I realized I had forgotten to ask him about my

  blood. Idiot.

  After unlocking the four complicated locks Nic had insisted

  on installing, I entered the front room. Lighting a lantern

  against the increasing gloom, I spotted my first surprise. A

  letter had been slipped under my door. I carried it upstairs to read and encountered my second surprise.

  Valek sat at my kitchen table, eating a bowl of stew.

  The aroma of ginger and garlic hung in the air. Valek was

  eating Ian’s beef stew, which meant he had been following me

  and had already visited the Pig Pen.

  “How long have you been here?” I asked.

  “Hello to you, too,” he said. He pointed to a second bowl.

  “Sit. Eat. You must be starving.”

  I joined him at the table. He had lit all the lanterns and the

  room glowed with a cozy yellow light. Heat radiated from

  the meat, yet the coals in my hearth remained banked. He

  must have arrived only a short time before me. We finished

  the meal in silence.

  When he leaned back, I asked him again, “How long have

  you been in Fulgor?”

  “Long enough to confirm what you’re trying to do.”

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  I acted nonchalant. “Good, then I don’t have to explain

  anything.”

  An eyebrow quirked. He had darkened his pale skin and

  was unshaven. His plain and stained clothing resembled those

  worn by the construction workers.

  “Nice try. What I don’t know is why you called for

  help.”

  “Then why did Yelena tell me you were already on the

  way?”

  “Good timing. I heard you traveled to Fulgor after our chat

  and guessed the reason you came here. I figured you would

  encounter trouble.”

  Annoyed, I asked, “Are you sure you guessed right?”

  “Unless collecting blueprints of Wirral is a new hobby of

  yours?”

  I slouched in my chair. “You’re right. I encountered trouble.

  Again.”

  “It’s the nature of this business,” he said.

  When I failed to perk up from his “pep” talk, he asked,

  “Remember when I told you I make mistakes?”

  “Yes.”

  “This—” he swept his hand out, indicating the room “—is

  all due to my mistake in underestimating you.”

  “Go

  on.”

  “I thought I was being subtle when I asked you about your

  blood. I must be losing my touch.” He gave me a wry smile.

  “If it makes you feel any better, it took me several hours to

  put it together.”

  “I’ll hold off on my retirement then.” He waited.

  I sighed. “Whe
n exactly did you arrive in town?”

  “First day of the warming season.”

  I made a quick mental calculation. “A few days before then,

  I had a humbling encounter.” I detailed my experiences with

  Finn and his pack. “I have to assume he knows the reason for

  our immunity, about blood magic…everything. I’d like to

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  know what game he’s playing, but I can’t touch him. You, on

  the other hand, won’t have any problems getting to him.” I

  grinned in anticipation. Finn was in for a nasty surprise.

  Valek had remained silent as I talked, staring into the

  distance. He played with his spoon, spinning it around and

  around on the tabletop. “I agree. Finn must be dealt with, but

  not by me.” He met my gaze.

  “You don’t need to worry. He’s not in your league,” I

  said.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’ve no doubt he’s a

  classic overgrown bully. But he’s not mine to deal with.” His

  f lat tone revealed no emotion. “He’s yours.”

  “Did I hear you right? ” I leaned on the table, propping my elbows near the edge. “Me? Weren’t you listening

  when I described Finn’s speed and his goons and that serum?

  I can’t fight him.”

  “Then why are you in Fulgor?” Valek asked.

  “I told you.”

  “How committed are you?”

  “I’m here. And I have blueprints of the prison, files on all

  the hotshots—”

  “That isn’t what I asked.”

  “Very

  committed.”

  “Then why are you helping Councilor Moon? Why did

  you purchase this building? Why are you hanging out with

  your friends?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Half hearted spies tend to die, Opal. In fact, you’re lucky

  Finn decided you weren’t a danger to him or the prison. Oth-

  erwise, you’d be dead by now.”

  “I’m making progress. Being Councilor Moon’s aide gives

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  me access to data I wouldn’t normally have. It’s just spying,

  lying and deceiving others go against my nature.”

  “Then I’ll ask again. Why are you here?” His matter-of-

  fact tone irritated me, but he continued as if having a pleasant conversation. “Why not ask someone to find the information

  for you?”

  “I’m being smart. I can’t handle Finn—”

  Valek raised his eyebrow. I hadn’t answered his question.

  “It is too important to trust anyone else,” I said.

  “Now we’re making progress.”

  I groaned and rested my forehead in my hands, closing my

  eyes. Was it lecture Opal day? First Devlen, now Valek. Did I

  miss the announcement? All I needed was my mother to pop

  up and berate me for not delivering the wedding samples to

  Mara for the mess to be complete.

  Valek said, “And you’re right.”

  I was right? I glanced up.

  “It is too vital to send another in your place, but you lack

  the skills for this type of occupation. Being able to work

  undercover and hide your intentions and emotions doesn’t

  happen overnight. You can’t just rush off and jump right in.”

  He snorted with amusement. “Well, you can and you did, but

  that’s the fastest way to blow your mission.”

  “I recognized my inexperience and sent for help,” I said.

  Which brought us back to the beginning. “I wanted you to

  keep Finn occupied, while I talked to Ulrick.”

  “A reasonable plan.”

  “But?”

  “Think about it in glassmaking terms. You’re given the task

  of producing a complicated sculpture for the Sitian Council

  Hall. It’s a difficult job and you’re going to need an assis-

  tant. Who would you rather have helping you? Your father

  or me?”

  My father. Why? He had over thirty years of glassmaking

  experience, while Valek had spent one day playing with the

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  glass. So who would Valek sneak around a maximum security

  prison with? One of his corp, like Janco, or me?

  I mulled over his comments. His question about my com-

  mitment now made sense. I’d been pretending, playing dress

  up, and in the process sacrificed my magic and gotten Janco

  into trouble. In order to do it right, I needed to know things—

  things only Valek could teach me.

  Valek watched me.

  “Will you teach me?” I asked.

  “You’re willing to give everything up?”

  I swallowed, thinking of Kade. “Everything?”

  “For now. The rest of your life is on hold.”

  “How

  long?”

  “Four months. Maybe less. You did pretty well so far, con-

  sidering you’re a rookie.”

  “Then, yes. I’m in one hundred percent.”

  Valek smiled. “Good. First, send Kade a reply, asking

  him not to come.” He pointed at the unopened letter on the

  table.

  I had forgotten about it. Sealed with wax, the message ap-

  peared to be secured.

  Valek shrugged. “I was bored.”

  “Second?”

  “We’ll review your visit to Devlen, and decide what to ask

  him next.”

  “And the rest of the time?”

  “Spy training.” He grinned.

  “You don’t really call it that, do you?”

  “No.”

  Kade’s sweet letter almost broke my resolve. He had planned

  to stop in Fulgor on his way back to his home in the Storm-

  dance lands, spending the rest of the warming season with

  me. In my carefully worded reply, I asked him not to come.

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  Instead, I told him I would meet up with him at the end of the

  warm season for Mara and Leif ’s wedding in Booruby.

  One half of me expected an angry reply, the other waited

  for him to show up on my doorstep.

  Valek moved into my spare bedroom. We boarded up all

  the windows on the ground f loor for security and privacy,

  and Valek converted a window on the ground f loor into a

  hidden exit to the alley behind the building. He also rigged

  a way for us to descend from the second story.

  “Always have alternate escape routes. The more, the mer-

  rier,” he had said.

  He brought in various gadgets and weapons and equipment

  for training, filling the ground f loor with them. He even or-

  dered me to fire up a kiln and return to working with glass,

  insisting the effort of creating would enhance my training.

  I asked Faith to begin interviewing new assistants for the

  Councilor. In the meantime, I continued to help Tama and I

  joined Nic and Eve every morning. Evenings I worked with

  Valek, sometimes late into the night.

  After reviewing my conversation with Devlen, Valek sent

  me to Dawnwood for another chat. It was three weeks into

  the warming season and the late-afternoon sun warmed my

  shoulders. Fourteen days had passed since my previous visit.

  Even though Devlen worked on the construction site next to

  the training yard, I hadn’t talked t
o him.

  And since Finn and his goons hadn’t shown up at all, my

  security escorts had stopped. Although I was quite sure Valek

  tailed me just in case.

  A strange little sensation bubbled in my chest as I headed

  toward the prison. Expectation? Dread? Worry? None of

  them. It was more like pleasant anticipation. Oh joy.

  Some experiences you just don’t get used to; being searched

  was one of them. After doing the entrance dance, a correc-

  tional officer led me to a visiting room. I jerked to a stop. No

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  bars. A square table with two chairs had been placed in the

  center of the small room.

  “Twenty minutes,” the CO said and left.

  Surprised, I scanned the room. The bare white walls ap-

  peared to be solid. Except for the door on the opposite wall,

  nobody could see in. Devlen entered with Pellow a step

  behind.

  Devlen sat at the table and Pellow remained by the door.

  I pulled out the other seat and perched on the edge. “New

  room?”

  “More trust,” he said. Devlen rested his arms on the table,

  leaning forward. “You look tired. You shouldn’t work so

  hard.”

  “How do you know I haven’t been hitting the taverns at

  night?”

  He f lashed me a grin. “Give me a little credit. First, you’re

  not the type and second, I think you’ve been playing with

  Gressa’s toys. Have you fired up one of her, or more accurately, one of your kilns yet?”

  Alarmed, I asked, “How did you know?”

  “The construction workers like to gossip. A lot. Their in-

  cessant chatter is a nice diversion from the mindless labor.”

  Devlen waited for an answer.

  “I just started.”

  “Good. It’ll help you heal.”

  “Are you going to turn all Story Weaver on me? If so, then

  I have other things to do.”

  “No.”

  “Thank fate.” I drew a breath. “I wanted to ask you about…

  Hubal.”

  He stiffened for a second then relaxed. “Go on.”

  I glanced at the CO, then met Devlen’s concerned gaze.

  “I was a…guest for a number of days, and I’d like to know if

  there were any…extras left.” Too cryptic?

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  A ridge of f lesh puckered between his eyebrows as he tried

  to follow my hint.

  “Since I donated so much…money to my host, I wonder

  if he spent it all or had some left over.” In other words, what had Tricky done with all my blood?