Spy Glass. Maria Snyder V.
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pierced the air. It was impossible to avoid the reminders of what I had sacrificed.
“I have a few friends in Fulgor. It seemed like a good place to start,” I said.
He agreed to the truce, but also puffed out his chest and threatened to tell the Council about my immunity if I failed to keep him informed. I ignored his bluster. What concerned me more was I still didn’t know why Zebb failed to erect a null shield around Tama. Until then, I wouldn’t trust him.
Tama Moon’s confidence crept back over the next twenty days. We had weeded out the inexperienced guards and assembled a group of seasoned veterans with flaw-less service records. Nic’s team remained her personal bodyguards, but her distrust of magicians failed to abate despite my assurances and the lack of magic.
The taverns buzzed with general rumblings from the citizens over the mass firings of the guards, but otherwise their biggest concern was over why their Councilor hadn’t returned to the Citadel.
Sipping wine at the bar of the Pig Pen, I overheard bits of a conversation from a few people talking nearby.
“…they’re making resolutions without her.”
“…we need someone to speak for our clan.”
“First Akako and now this…maybe we should demand her resignation.”
“The Council could assign someone…”
“…they take forever to make a decision.”
When they turned to another subject, I stopped listening. Their accurate comment about the Sitian Council and the slow pace of decisions snagged on one of my own worries. What if the Council decided to execute Ulrick, Tricky and his goons before I had a chance to find out where they hid my blood? A slight risk, but still a possibility. Perhaps it was time to resume my own project.
I had planned to ask Tama to arrange a visit with Ulrick for me, but no visitors were allowed inside Wirral. And I couldn’t find any exceptions—like by order of the Councilor—to that rule. I needed an alternative plan.
“Faith, do you have a minute?” I asked from the threshold of her office.
“Sure, come in.”
Sunlight streamed in from the large glass windows behind her. I suppressed the memory of being here when Gressa had occupied the First Adviser’s position. Then I had been manacled and considered a criminal. Instead, I noted the lush carpet and rich furniture. Her office was as ornate as the Councilor’s, but smaller.
I settled into a comfortable chair in front of Faith’s desk. When she smiled at me, a prick of guilt jabbed me. Squashing all such feelings, I stayed pleasant as we exchanged small talk. Eventually, she asked what I needed.
“Tama has improved so much over the last twenty-five days, but she is still terrified of Zebb,” I said.
“That’s understandable,” Faith said.
“I know, but the townspeople are worried about her missing Council sessions and if she doesn’t return soon, there could be a call for her resignation.”
Faith tsked. “There are always naysayers out there. You can’t please everyone.”
“True, but I have an idea that might help.”
Her eyebrows arched as she waited for me to continue.
“I’m assuming her sister Akako and Gressa are in the maximum security prison?”
“Yes, they are both in the SMU along with those other men.”
“Do you know the correctional officers who work in the SMU?” I asked.
“Not personally. They’re a specially trained elite unit. In fact, there are only a handful of people allowed in the SMU.”
“Do the officers live there?” That seemed extreme.
“No.” She tapped her fingertips together. It was an unconscious habit that she displayed whenever the logic in a conversation didn’t quite add up; as if she could push all the illogical pieces together and build something she could understand. I’d spent more time with her than I realized. Tama had made an excellent choice when she appointed the practical and sensible Faith as her First Adviser.
“Do you have the names of those in the elite unit?” I asked.
“How is this related to Tama’s fear of Zebb?”
Time for a little creative reasoning. “We did back-ground checks on all the guards in the Council Hall and Tama has relaxed. She’s afraid of a magical attack. So I thought if we did some digging into the backgrounds of the unit, she would feel better, knowing the men and women guarding those who know blood magic are trustworthy. I know I would sleep better with that information. And I think we should check into Zebb’s history, as well.”
Faith’s hands stilled and she pressed her steepled index fingers to her lips. “Why don’t you just ask Tama for their names?”
“She would want to know why I was interested. And it’s more complicated than with the Hall’s guards. Then we were just weeding out the inexperienced and those of questionable repute. The unit has been with these prisoners for over a season. What if we discover a real problem? Akako could have assigned moles in the prison just in case her plans failed. You know Tama requests daily updates, and I can’t lie to her. She would be terrified by the notion. I’d rather wait and tell her good news once we assess the situation.” I held my breath.
“A reasonable plan, and I agree we shouldn’t tell the Councilor. At least not yet.” Faith opened a drawer in her desk, pulling out a sheet of paper. “I’ll send a request to Wirral’s warden.”
Uh-oh. I hoped to keep the number of people involved to two. “Don’t you have that information here?”
“No. Grogan Moon is in charge of all Wirral’s personnel.”
“Is his office in the Hall?”
“No. It’s at the prison where he spends most of his time. He comes here for meetings with the Councilor and other clan business.” She dipped her quill into ink and wrote the request.
After she folded the paper and sealed it with wax, I jumped to my feet. “I’ll deliver the message.”
She hesitated.
“I want to make sure it reaches the warden and not some underling. Besides, I think it’ll be helpful if I take a look around.”
As soon as I entered, the solid mass of the prison’s stone walls bore down on my shoulders. The air thickened and I fought to draw a breath. I clutched Faith’s request in my hands, which were pressed against my chest as if it were a shield.
With each step, I sank deeper into the bowels of Wirral. My escort held a torch, illuminating his aggrieved scowl. Most messengers delivered their communications to the officers at the gate, but I had insisted on handing the missive to the warden himself.
After an intense debate, an order to disarm and a thorough search of my body, I had been permitted to enter. I’d regretted my insistence as soon as the first set of steel doors slammed behind me. The harsh clang reverberated off the stone walls, and matched the tremor of panic in my heart. More sets of locked gates followed until I lost all track of time or location.
Rank and putrid smells emanated from dark hallways. Shrieks of pain, curses and taunting cries pierced the air. We didn’t pass any cells. Thank fate. I had no wish to view the conditions nor the poor souls trapped in here.
Eventually, the officer led me up a spiral staircase so narrow my shoulders brushed both walls. The acrid odors disappeared and the oily blackness lightened. Dizzy with relief and the fast pace, I paused for a moment by the only window we encountered. Drinking in the crisp breeze, I looked down on an exercise yard. Completely surrounded by the prison, the packed dirt of the square at least allowed the prisoners some fresh air and sunlight.
My