Spy Glass. Maria Snyder V.
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me a quick hug of welcome. Her short strawberry blond hair tickled my cheek. Intelligence and humor danced in her light blue eyes.
“All right, I’ll bite. A weapon?” I asked.
“He hates bathing during the cold season. So by the end he reeks so bad, we’ll send him into places we know criminals are hiding, and, within minutes, they pour out like rats escaping a burning building. Works better than a stink bomb.”
“Ha, ha,” Nic deadpanned. “You certainly don’t smell like roses after you’ve been working out. Besides, I hate being wet and cold.”
“Me, too,” I said. We launched into stories of woe, trying to outdo each other on who had been wetter and colder during our various adventures.
“No way the Northern Ice Sheet is colder than Briney Lake,” Nic said. “One time, I broke through the ice, sinking up to my thighs—”
“Nic, that’s enough. I’m sure Opal didn’t come to talk about your wet feet,” Eve said. Her gaze focused on me and she crossed her arms, reminding me of her powerful build. “What’s the trouble?”
“Can’t I come visit two friends without—”
“No,” Nic interrupted. “It’s too soon. You should be with your family or that boyfriend of yours, resting and recuperating.”
“Kade’s in Ixia, and my mother’s…wedding preparations drove me away,” I said.
“Why didn’t you go to the Magician’s Keep?” Eve asked. “Doesn’t your sister live there?”
“She lives there with Leif.” When they failed to react, I added, “Have you seen those two together? I’m queasy just thinking about it.”
They shared a glance.
“Why here?” Eve asked.
“Why not? I’m not surrounded by magicians here. Besides, I need something to do. Are you hiring?”
Nic laughed, but Eve punched him on the arm. “She’s serious.”
He sobered. “Come on, Opal. It’s us.”
Trying to keep secrets had gotten me into trouble before. I was supposed to be smarter now. I glanced around the training yard. “Not here. Later, when you’re off duty.”
“Okay, come back for the late-afternoon training session. Bring your sais. After we work out, we’ll grab supper at the Pen,” Nic said.
“The Pen?”
Eve grinned. “The Pig Pen. Nic’s brother owns it. Best stew in town.”
After talking to Nic and Eve, I sent an overland message to my parents and one to Kade, explaining my whereabouts. Then I spent the rest of the day studying Fulgor’s prison. Located in the far northwest quadrant of the city, it occupied a huge area, extending five blocks wide by eight blocks deep. Its sheer outer walls were topped with coils of barbed wire. Glints of sunlight reflected off glass shards that had been cemented into the top third of the wall, acting as an effective and low-cost device to cut climbing ropes.
Watchtowers perched above the four corners of the massive building. I walked around the structure, noting only two well-guarded entrances. The place appeared to be impenetrable. Sneaking into the prison was out of the question. Escape also seemed impossible.
I found a hidden spot to observe the entrance. Not a lot of movement either in or out. I had hoped a shift change would create a flurry of activity, but the shifts must have been staggered. Every two hours, some officers went in and three or four would leave. Even delivery wagons were few and far between.
Janco would be delighted by the challenge, but I wouldn’t ask him for help. He was in enough trouble because of me. There had to be another way inside.
Cold and stiff from my day-long surveillance, I arrived at the guards’ afternoon session with my sais and wearing my training uniform. A long-sleeved tunic tied with a belt, and a pair of loose-fitting pants. Both garments were dark brown to hide the bloodstains and dirt. I wore my softest pair of leather boots, also brown with black rubber soles.
I joined Nic and Eve, and it wasn’t long before my stamina waned. My bouts with my brother Ahir hadn’t been enough to get me back into shape. Huffing and puffing with effort, I swung and blocked Nic’s sword a few times before he unarmed me.
He tsked. “Someone hasn’t been keeping up with her training.”
“The man’s a genius,” I said between gulps of air. “What are your next words of wisdom, Oh Smart One? Water is wet?”
“Someone gets grumpy when she’s outmatched.”
I responded by triggering my switchblade.
Nic sheathed his sword, and pulled a dagger. “Street fight.” He lunged.
Not quite a fair match. His longer weapon kept me at arm’s length, but I used a few nasty moves Janco taught me. Even so, Nic disarmed me again.
At the end of the training session, my arms ached and I couldn’t lift a sword let alone defend myself. All my hard work to reach a competent level had been undone by one season of light activity.
Eve bumped my shoulder with hers. “Don’t worry. The skills are there. And you’re looking a lot better than the last time we saw you.”
“Loads better,” Nic said. “Then I could have blown you over with my breath.”
I met Eve’s gaze. He had given me the perfect opening.
“Too easy,” she said, shaking her head. “Trust me, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to slam him.”
“When?” I asked her.
“Twice a day, every day as long as you’re in Fulgor.”
Nic put a sweaty arm around my shoulders. “We’ll get you into fighting shape in no time.”
“Great,” I said, and held my breath until Nic released me. “Does his brother have the same hygiene?” I asked Eve. “Is that why the place is called the Pig Pen?”
Her sly smile failed to reassure me.
My first impression of the tavern was utter disbelief. The place smelled of spiced beef and fresh-baked bread. Patrons filled all the tables and a bright fire warmed the room. Nic led us through the crowd. A bunch of people gathered in front of the bar. All the stools should have been occupied, but two remained empty.
Nic and Eve headed straight toward them. Eve slid onto hers as Nic called to the bartender. He settled in his stool, and before I could move, a ripple flowed along the bar and an empty stool appeared next to Nic. He gestured for me to claim it.
Amazed, I sat. No squawk of protest. No murmurs of complaint. Instead the room buzzed with conversation, and laughter punctuated the general hum. The dark wood of the bar gleamed with care. Clean glasses lined the shelves behind the counter.
The bartender placed steaming bowls of stew and mugs of ale in front of us, but before he could wait on another customer, Nic introduced me to his brother, Ian.
I shook his hand and studied Ian. His dark hair touched the top of his shoulders, and he was slimmer than Nic. No scars like the one Nic had along his jaw. Ian also wore fitted clothes that matched compared to Nic’s ad hoc pants and shirt. Other than those differences, the men looked identical.
“Twin brother?” I asked Nic.
He grinned, brushing a hand over the bristle on his head. “I thought the hair would throw you.”
“I used to be an artist. It takes more than a different hairstyle to fool me.”
“Good to know.” Nic dug into his stew with abandon, dripping gravy onto the bar. Ian rolled his eyes and wiped up the mess.
“Pig pen?” I asked Ian.