Spy Glass g-3 Page 11

  Some experiences you just don’t get used to; being searched was one of them. After doing the entrance dance, a correctional officer led me to a visiting room. I jerked to a stop. No 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 appeared 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 flashed 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 incessant 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?

  A ridge of flesh 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?

  Understanding lit his face followed by chagrin. “Unfortunately our host didn’t trust me with his plans. He hadn’t since I left him behind in Thunder Valley. Remember?”

  “I’ll never forget.” I had thought Tricky, Devlen and the others had been safely locked away when Devlen ambushed me. I rubbed my thighs. Scars from his sword still marked them and my upper arms.

  Sadness pulled the corners of his mouth down. “And when he offered me some of your money and I declined, he became even more suspicious of my intentions.” He cupped his chin in his hand as he visited the past.

  He would figure it out soon. That was the problem with asking him about my blood. Devlen claimed to be on my side. This would be a test.

  Dropping his hand, he said with a sudden eagerness, “That is why you’re in Fulgor. If there’s money left over, you could—”

  “Don’t say it.” The possibility of me regaining my magic was slim to none. No sense getting my hopes up for a tiny chance. “Besides, I may not have any legal right to it, and what if I start desiring more? That’s too high a price to pay.” Using my blood to gain power could have the same influence over me as blood magic.

  “It’s a shame you don’t have any powerful friends to help you. One that has both magical and political influence would be ideal in this situation,” he teased.

  I slapped the table. Yelena! She could monitor me and ensure I didn’t become addicted by pulling the blood from me if I did. But then I sobered. Since it was my own blood, would the magic work the same? Would I have to inject it into my skin or into my bloodstream?

  Devlen rested his warm hand on my fingers. “See? I’m helping you. Maybe you won’t wait so long to visit me again.” He squeezed.

  Fire sizzled up my arm. I jerked my hand away in surprise.

  “Sorry,” he said, as Pellow stepped forward and yanked Devlen from the chair.

  “Time’s up, Dev. You know the rules,” Pellow said. “No touching.”

  Devlen resisted for a moment, looking at me in pain. “I thought you were no longer afraid of me.”

  I shot to my feet. “I’m not. I…”

  Pellow shoved Devlen through the door. The CO glanced at me over his shoulder. “The rules are to protect you, ma’am.”

  The door slammed shut. My thoughts whirled as the skin on my right hand tingled. What the hell was that? He probably just hit one of those pressure points by accident. I dismissed it.

  Since Devlen had no knowledge about the location of my blood, I had, at least, accomplished my task. No need to visit him anymore. I knocked on the other entrance and my CO escorted me from the prison.

  On the way home, I felt out of sorts and not happy with the way our session had ended. I wanted to reassure him. Me? Reassure Devlen? I almost laughed out loud, except another part of my brain planned to visit him again.

  Unfortunately, time was a precious commodity. I kept my daily routine so I didn’t draw suspicion, but Valek kept me busy every spare minute.

  He taught me about balance. We performed endless numbers of hand-eye coordination drills. He hounded me about my reflexes until I reacted to the slightest movement. I learned how to use a blowpipe, how to pick complex locks and how to climb walls, repeating exercises to a point where they ran together and my muscles shook with fatigue.

  I discovered this type of clandestine operation involved the tools of an assassin. Poisons, Curare and drugs like the one Finn had used on me. The goal was to enter and leave without being seen. Too bulky and heavy, my sais would be left behind. Instead, I practiced my aim with throwing knives and darts. Valek drilled me in knife fighting. I added a dagger to my arsenal, since a longer blade would be impractical.

  We discussed strategy and tactics until my throat burned. Then he led me into the streets where I learned the language of the lie—the slight glance down, the tension in the lips, the tiny shrug of the shoulders, the hand that tapped nervously against a belt. Body language, verbal cues, and clues—I struggled to keep from laughing when the lies were so clear. Everything I learned to spot, I learned to hide.

  During our early forays into secured buildings, my nerves buzzed with excitement and fear. My heart performed acrobatics in my chest. But repetition was the key. Eventually, my body stilled and I could think and strategize without panicking.

  A few skills were harder to perfect, and after a particular frustrating session trying to lie convincingly to him, I asked Valek why he bothered with me.

  “Don’t you miss Yelena? Don’t you have better things to do?” I asked. I could think of a million other tasks I’d rather do. First I would find Kade. It had been four weeks, and he hadn’t replied or arrived in Fulgor. I worried about him and about his reaction to my message.

  “Of course I miss her. She’s in Ixia with the Commander while I’m here,” Valek said, leaning his “stick” against the wall.

  He used the wretched pointer to tap me at the location my body or my face revealed a lie. The middle of my forehead ached from multiple pokes.

  “Isn’t being away all the time hard on your relationship?” I asked.

  “No amount of time or distance can break us apart. Besides, Yelena would kill me if I allow you to go on a mission you aren’t prepared for.”

  “Two seasons isn’t much time.” I sighed. Our goal was to be done with this business before Mara and Leif’s wedding at the end of the warm season. And the constant worry about something happening to my blood before I could find it rubbed on my nerves.

  “You’re making excellent progress. And I must confess I have ulterior motives.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m hoping all this training will be put to good use.”

  I smiled. “As in, I’ll enjoy sneaking around and playing spy so much that I’ll agree to work for you?”

  “Exactly. Now tell me you love me.” He picked up his stick.

  “I do love you, Valek.”

  He gawked. “You do?”

/>   I laughed. “Of course, you’re practically family.” He relaxed.

  “But that also means I hate you, too. It’s part of being in a family.”

  “I see.”

  “And right now, I’m leaning more toward hate. Because if you poke me with that horrid stick one more time, I’m going to take it from you and whack you over the head with it.”

  He slid his feet into a fighting stance. “You can try.”

  “Gotcha!” I smirked. “You believed me!”

  “Well done. Take tomorrow night off. You earned it.”

  I started to protest, but clamped my lips together. Needing a break, I mulled over the possibilities. I could visit Devlen, or have dinner at the Pig Pen with Nic and Eve, or take Quartz for a long ride. Interesting how I listed Devlen first.

  “I’m glad you came back,” Devlen said.

  We sat in the same visiting room with the table and chairs, but this time Pellow cuffed Devlen’s wrists to the chair’s arms.

  “I wanted to be here sooner,” I said.

  He brightened. “You did?”

  “I wanted to explain—”

  “No need. I understand. After all the pain I caused you…” He grimaced. “I still haven’t done enough for you. I don’t know if I’ll ever do enough to compensate for my actions.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t understand. You surprised me, that’s all.” Which was true. I didn’t need to mention the fire.

  “I’ve been thinking of ways to help you with your…money problem.” He turned to Pellow. “Can you give us a minute?”

  The CO’s face creased into a mixture of amusement and shock.

  “I broke up that fight yesterday and saved Sewer’s job,” Devlen said to him. “You can let me have one minute.”

  Pellow hesitated a moment more, then nodded. He said to me, “Yell if you need me. I’ll be on the other side of this door.” Then he left.

  “Sewer?” I asked.

  “One of the officers. He smells awful.” Devlen lowered his voice. “That’s not important. Finding your blood is. Here’s my idea. I lose points every time I break the rules, and if I become a problem, I’ll be sent to Wirral. Once there, I can—”

  “No.” He wanted to be transferred so he could talk to Tricky and Ulrick. “No. Do not become a problem.” Why not? I had complained over his light sentence.

  “But—”

  “They didn’t trust you on the outside, why would they talk to you in prison? Besides, I have another way.” I could see he wasn’t convinced, but the thought of him inside Wirral upset me. “Promise me you won’t cause trouble.”

  “Why not? I can help you. I want to help you.”

  “I need you here.” I almost smiled at his puzzlement.

  “Why?”

  Good question. “Because I can’t visit my Story Weaver if he’s incarcerated in Wirral.”

  His confusion turned into utter astonishment. I couldn’t erase my statement, and I suspected I had gotten myself in deeper with Devlen. I hoped I wouldn’t regret it.

  Pellow entered, announcing the end of our session. He unlocked Devlen’s wrists from the chair.

  “Promise me,” I said before they could leave.

  Devlen grinned. “You have my word.”

  His word. When had I started accepting it? Perhaps all those lessons in body language had given me more of an insight. Or not. If I could learn how to lie with conviction, Devlen could, as well. I stopped second-guessing myself. Nothing but a headache to be gained for it.

  After I left the prison, I headed toward Justamere Farm. Located on the western edge of Fulgor, the boarding and training stable was within walking distance of my new home. Quartz greeted me at the pasture’s fence. A shy Thoroughbred stood next to her. She had made a friend.

  I loved the stable. Clean, neat and in good repair, the buildings housed a number of horses and an indoor training ring as well as one outside. With another hour of sunlight left in the day, I decided to saddle Quartz and do a few practice jumps.

  If Devlen was my Story Weaver, then Quartz was my best friend. Spending time with her, I let all my worries and frustrations melt away. A creature of power and energy, she flew over the hurdles with ease. I needed to imagine dealing with my own problems the same way. Stay on task, keep a steady pace, launch at just the right time and land without upsetting your stride.

  By the time I met up with Nic and Eve at the Pig Pen, the evening rush had subsided.

  “’Bout time,” Nic complained.

  Eve plucked a horse hair from my cloak. “She’s been hanging out at the stables.” She peered at me. “What else have you been doing at nights?”

  “Breaking and entering, petty theft, shoplifting and drunk and disorderly until I pass out,” I said. All true except the D and D, and I returned everything I stole.

  “Funny,” Nic said, but he didn’t smile. “Maybe we should switch our schedule and start working nights. Sounds like quite the party.”

  “I thought you did work nights,” I said.

  “Not anymore.” Eve shook her head. “You’ve been distracted during our morning training. Nic gave you three good openings to slam him yesterday, but you missed them. Obviously you’re not paying as close attention at work as well. Councilor Moon has her own guards now. All trustworthy and with excellent records.” She swigged her ale. “We’re assuming your attention is focused on something more important. Your side project?”

  “Sorry I’ve been distracted.”

  “Should we be worried?” Nic asked.

  “No. Everything’s progressing well.” I waved Ian over and ordered a meal. “What are you doing now? Patrolling the streets?”

  “Sometimes,” Eve said. “Our unit tends to fill in where needed, depending on what’s going on.”

  “Today we got to watch prisoners build a wall at HQ. Here’s to another thrilling day on the job.” Nic raised his mug as if making a toast. “One inmate actually tried to talk to me. Gasp.”

  Despite the sarcasm, I sensed another current under Nic’s words. “What did he want?”

  “He asked about you, Opal. Seemed concern about your welfare.”

  Devlen. “That’s was nice,” I tried.

  “Yeah, downright decent of him. Something you don’t see too often in convicted criminals.”

  “Okay, Nic. Spit it out,” I ordered. “What’s really the matter?”

  He bunched up his napkin and tossed it onto the bar. “I don’t like being kept out of the loop, and when I meet a prisoner who knows more than I do about someone who is supposed to be my friend, I get a little testy.”

  “He does know more about me than you, Nic. Probably more than anyone except Kade.” And Valek. There was no hiding with Valek. Yelena may be the Soulfinder, but he was the Soulseer. “That prisoner was one of the men at Hubal.”

  Nic looked surprised. “What’s he doing in Dawnwood? He should be at Wirral.”

  “It’s complicated, but he redeemed himself in the end.”

  “Is that why you’ve been visiting him?” Eve asked.

  Alarmed, I asked, “Have you been following me?”

  “No need.” A half smile played on her lips.

  I groaned. “The gossip network strikes again. I forgot you have friends who work at Dawnwood.”

  “And it upsets them when the Councilor’s assistant starts visiting a prisoner,” Nic added. “I suggest you stop.”

  An unpalatable thought. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Eve seemed curious, but Nic glared.

  “He’s the only one who understands how it feels to suddenly be without magic.”

  “We understand. We don’t have magic—”

  “And you never did. It’s different, Nic.” I sighed. He didn’t quite comprehend. “Look at it this way. You’re a strong man. You can lift heavy things and swing that hunk of metal you call a sword with one hand. What if I took away your strength? You can’t carry a barrel of water on your shoulder or draw your sword to de
fend yourself. Who would you identify with? Your brother, who can still heft a casket of wine, or Eve, who never could, or me, who also lost it?”

  The lines on his face smoothed. “All right. I see your point. I still feel like I’m out of the loop. Like one of those neighbors.”

  My turn to be confused. “What neighbors?”

  “The people who live next to a crazy psychopath and tell us, ‘He was such a good neighbor. Quiet. No trouble,’” Nic said in a high squeaky voice.

  “How about if I promise to tell you about the bodies buried under my factory before security digs them up? Will that make you happy?”

  “Ecstatic,” he deadpanned.

  Eve changed the subject and we were soon laughing and joking. As the evening drew to a close, they walked me home.

  “Are you watching prisoners tomorrow?” I asked.

  “Sort of,” Eve said. “We’re escorting a trio from the Greenblade Clan from our holding cells to Wirral.”

  “Best part is seeing them gape in horror when they realize what their future holds,” Nic said. “Some break down and bawl.”

  “I’d cry, too,” I said as a chill zipped along my spine.

  “Don’t feel too bad about those three. They discovered a way to extract the venom from Greenblade bees. They sold the poison to others. At first, the murders appeared to be accidents. Poor man, stung by a lethal bee.” He tsked.

  “How did they catch them?” I asked.

  “Greed and stupidity,” Eve said. “They sold the venom to anyone who could afford the price, without thought to where the murder would be committed. After the second bee sting in the middle of the city where there are no bees, the authorities became suspicious.”

  “Greed and stupidity are our friends,” Nic said. “It’s amazing how creative and inventive criminals can be, but eventually greed, sheer stupidity or both will bring them down.”

  The next month passed in a blur. At one point, while clinging to the side of a building in the middle of the night, I wondered what the hell I had been thinking to agree to this training.

  One positive thing Valek had been right about was working with the glass. It helped me focus my mind. When the kiln had been hot enough to melt sand, soda ash and lime into glass, I gathered a slug of molten glass on a pontil iron and basked in the bright glow. Such potential locked inside just waiting for me.