Spy Glass

19

I BLINKED AT REEMA FOR A MOMENT. HAD SHE REALLY uttered the words “sell me” and “Helper’s Guild” in the same breath? I remembered Fisk’s comments about vicious rumors, but had taken them in stride, never imagining the actual reality of them. She scrutinized my body language and balanced on the balls of her feet. Convinced of the danger, she would run away if I didn’t promise to protect her.

Now wasn’t the time to assure her about the true nature of the Guild. “No one will sell you to the Helper’s Guild. I promise,” I said.

With the slightest softening in her posture, she stuck out her hand. I shook it and she relaxed.

“What’s next?” she asked.

“A bath.” When her stubborn chin jutted, I added, “The bathhouse is empty right now. Unless you want to wait until morning and be there with all the students? Your choice.”

“No it isn’t. Don’t play those games with me. You be straight with me and I’ll be straight with you. Deal?”

She didn’t sound like an eight-year-old. “No sugar-coating?”

“None.”

“How old are you?” I asked.

“Does it matter?”

“To me, yes. You’re either a child genius or older than you look.”

She flashed me a grin. “I’m both.”

“Humor’s okay then?”

“Yes.”

“All right. So naked truth it is. Do we need another handshake or maybe a blood oath just for something different?” I asked.

Another grin. “I’m ten, and my mother taught me to listen past people’s words and hear their true intentions.”

“Smart lady. Did she teach you to play fair?” One of my pet peeves, I believed schooling kids to play fair failed to prepare them for adulthood.

“No.” Reema tucked her stuffed dog under Teegan’s covers. He rolled over and curled his arm around the toy. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t you want to know my name?”

“I know it. That healer called you Opal when we arrived.”

Smart girl. The bathhouse was straight north of the infirmary. As I guided Reema, I played tour guide as we passed the dining hall and formal garden located in the center of the Keep’s complex. The two apprentice wings curved around the sides of the garden like an incomplete ring around a bull’s eye. Torches lit the empty pathways. No pools or webs of magic touched me. A nice respite. I hurried Reema past the Fire Memorial. I didn’t have the energy to explain its significance to her.

As predicted, we had the bathhouse to ourselves. I helped her wash her hair. After multiple scrubbings, her true color emerged—white blond. Beautiful.

Reema frowned at the long coils.

“It’s lovely,” I said, combing out the knots before it could dry.

“It stands out. Not a good thing where I live.” She scanned the elegant bathhouse.

The arched walls and high ceiling had been decorated with colorful mosaics. Blue-green tiles lined the oval pool. In the corner, the washing area had metal spigots protruding from the walls above head level. The water would rain from one of them when the lever hanging next to it was pulled. A rack nearby held piles of clean towels. A mirror image of this half of the bathhouse resided on the other side for the males.

“I guess around here, you’d want to stand out,” Reema said. “You’d want to be the best and brightest at the Magician’s Keep. Right?”

“The magicians and teachers don’t compare you to other students, but everyone knows who is strong and who has limited power. By the end of the first season of the first year, the pecking order has been established.”

“It must have been fun being at the top.”

I paused. Why would she…? Oh. She had watched me enter a building no one else could, not even a Master Magician. Naked truth sounded refreshing, but might be harder than I first thought.

“Actually, I was at the very bottom,” I said.

She turned. “Really?”

I considered. “It’s a long complicated story.”

“Tell me…please.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Stories help me sleep at night.”

I imagined her life. Living in a condemned warehouse, no parents, no food unless she found, stole or begged for some, she had to constantly worry about predators and the Citadel’s guards. Stories would be an escape from her harsh reality.

My future life may be uncertain, but I would not let Reema go back to that horror. I vowed I would find her a home.

I told her about my misadventures as a first-year student. Her light laugh spurred me to dig deeper for the humorous moments. Interesting, I hadn’t consider them funny at the time. I stopped once we arrived back at the infirmary. She jumped into the extra bed in Teegan’s room without reclaiming her stuffed dog. I guessed she felt safe.

Pulling the covers up to her chin, I promised to return in the morning. I turned the lantern down to the lowest setting and said good-night.

“Good night, Fire Lady,” she said.

I paused in the threshold. I’d been called various names before, but that was a new one. Unable to squelch my curiosity, I asked, “How do you know Teegan was referring to me?”

“I just do.”

“Why fire?”

“You’ll have to ask my brother.”

I’d spent time with Reema over the course of the next couple days. She mainly stayed by Teegan’s side, but she needed fresh air and Hayes needed information about her and Teegan. I’d shown her more of the Keep’s complex, hoping to deepen our connection. Unfortunately, she had refused to share any more details. At least her brother’s strength increased every day.

When I arrived on the third morning, Reema sat cross-legged on her bed. She read aloud from a book resting on her lap. I listened for a while, glad she could read. It would give her an advantage on the streets.

Finding her a home was proving to be impossible. My visit to Child Services had been a frustrating and depressing experience. By the time I reached the correct agent, she took Reema’s file, set it atop a three-foot-high pile and instructed me in a dead voice to deliver the child to care facility number two. Knowing Reema, she would be there for five minutes before escaping. When I asked if Reema had a chance to be adopted, the woman looked at me as if I was an idiot.

I also struck out with my other forays into the Citadel. Either Fisk avoided me or he had legitimate business. Hard to tell.

“Where to today?” Reema asked.

Her question snapped me back. She closed the book and set it reverently on the night table. Hayes had lent her the story to help her pass the time. Her actions gave me an idea.

“I’m going to show you the Keep’s library.” I led her to the student barracks.

The long building was curved like the apprentice wing, but it was three times its size. Located on the west side of the Keep, it housed the students who were in their first three years of study. The library filled half of the ground floor. The Keep’s curriculum concentrated on learning from textbooks those years, while the seniors in their fourth year began a more hands-on type of learning.

Seniors shared the other long building that mirrored the barracks with the Keep’s employees. The senior quarters were broken into rooms shared by five students. Much better than the rows and rows of bunk beds that lined the floors of the barracks.

When we entered the library, a few students glanced up from their books, but they soon returned to their studies. Tables and chairs occupied the space between the bookshelves. I waded through puddles of magic, wishing I’d remembered morning was a popular time.

Reema stayed by my side. Her lower lip hung open as she absorbed the sheer number of books. Rows and rows filled the space, seemingly unending. I moved instinctively, searching for the history section, but not concentrating too hard.

The stronger the desire to find a certain book the more it guaranteed a failed effort. It was an odd quirk of the library, as if over the years magic had soaked into the tomes, giving them an essence. A more relaxed, half-distracted search worked better. However, if a book didn’t want to be found, you were out of luck.

I discovered the List of Clans tucked between History of the Cloud Mist Clan and Sandseed Soil Study. Reema wanted to explore, but I carried my find to an empty table. She followed, dragging her steps with reluctance and huddled on a chair.

Opening the book to the table of contents, I glanced at her. She had shoved her hands under her legs, and she stared at the hem of her shirt.

“Your mother told you no one would know your clan’s name. Right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Maybe it’s listed in here?”

She wouldn’t look at me. I slid the book to her. Frowning, she scanned the page. I studied her, watching for a reaction to one of the names. After a few minutes, she relaxed.

“It’s not here,” she said. “Why is it so important to know my clan’s name?”

I debated, but settled on the truth. “I’ve run out of options. I would like to find you a home, preferably with a relative.”

“I don’t need—”

“Reema, once Teegan is healthy he’ll be enrolled as a student at the Keep. You’ll be on your own, and I can’t allow that.”

She straightened. “You can’t stop me.”

“I know. That’s why I need to find you a place where you’ll be happy and safe.”

“That’s easy.”

“It is?” Had I missed something?

“Sure. I’ll stay with you.”

I walked right into that one. A hard knot gripped my throat.

She noticed and shut down. All emotion fled and she returned to street survival mode. “Forget it.”

“Reema, I—”

“Are we done here? I should get back to Teegan.” She slid off the chair and headed for the door.

I followed and tried to explain that taking care of her would be impossible. That I might be called away at any time. But she ignored me or she pretended to. Either way, I lost her.

“What do you think?” Fisk asked.

I walked around the two-bedroom, furnished apartment in amazement. It was the first day of the heating season and sunlight poured in from huge windows occupying two of the four walls. “It’s incredible.” When Fisk had led me to the run-down factory, I had been dubious, but the inside had been renovated and broken into several apartments. “How did you find it?”

He puffed his chest out. “All in a day’s work.”

I shot him a look.

“What? I’m not going to reveal my secrets. I’d be out of a job.”

“It’s a clever location,” I said. The building was on the eastern edge of the business district in the north section of the Citadel.

“And not too many people know what’s hidden here. Perfect for security. Plus I thought you’d like to be close to the Keep and Council Hall.”

The apartment was on the third floor, which was the same distance from the roof and from the ground, making it harder for “spiders” like Valek to climb. “You’re right. I’ll take it.”

Before Fisk could go and negotiate a fair price, I stopped him. “What about my other request?”

“Nothing, yet.”

I tried not to show my disappointment as we left the building. I shouldn’t complain; it was better than Reema’s future. Unless I found her a home.

“Anything else?” Fisk asked.

“Yes. I’ve heard a rumor about the Citadel’s guards selling homeless children to your guild. What’s going on?”

His pleasant demeanor dropped as anger flared. “And you believe it.” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course not—”

“Then why mention it?”

I told him about Reema. His anger transferred from me to those who had scared her.

“I’ve been dealing with these nasty rumors. The Helper’s Guild is a very profitable business. After I pay my members a small allowance, I use the rest of the money to buy housing, clothes and food for them. But there is another group trying to form their own guild so they can keep the profits.”

“And the children?”

“You saw where Teegan and Reema were living.”

For an instant Fisk let his exhaustion show as he drooped. The responsibility of caring for his guild weighed on his shoulders and lined his face. I had to remind myself he was only sixteen.

“How can I help?” I asked.

“You can’t…”

I waited.

He brightened just a bit. “You can convince Reema we’re the good guys.”

If she’d let me.

I moved my meager possessions to the apartment as soon as the deed was signed. Even though I spent most of my day at the Keep, it was a relief to leave at night. Teegan’s heath improved and my concern about Reema grew. I kept walking into my extra bedroom and just standing there, straining to find a solution or a way to help the girl. Life in the guild was better than on the streets, but life in a home would be ideal.

But my apartment wasn’t a home for me, nor was my factory in Fulgor or my parents’ house in Booruby. Kade’s cave? I didn’t know! If my blood was recovered and if I regained my powers, everything might change.

Leif and Mara returned from their vacation all glowing and silly. Yelena also stopped by, but she picked up Kiki and was gone before I could talk to her.

“If you do that one more time, I’m leaving,” I said to Mara. I sat in their small kitchen, sipping tea. They had decided to stay in Leif’s quarters at the Keep for now, but when I had told them about my new place, they planned to talk to Fisk.

“Do what?” Mara asked, attempting to appear innocent.

“Get all kissy and lovey-dovey. Can you at least stop pawing each other while I’m here?”

“Jealous, Opal?” Leif asked.

“No. Nauseous.”

They broke apart and sat on opposite sides of the table. “Happy?” Mara asked, but she still made moon eyes at Leif.

Newlyweds! Not fit for company for… Well, longer than the fourteen days it had been since their wedding.

“So what’s going on around here?” Leif asked.

I filled him in about Teegan, Reema and the First Magician’s decision not to inform the Council about my immunity.

“Bain’s been under a ton of pressure lately. With Zitora’s retirement and no other students showing potential to reach master level, he’s been grumpy.”

Leif was kind enough not to mention how both those problems were my fault. Pazia Cloud Mist had been the first student magician in ten years to be strong enough to take the master-level test. Until I had siphoned most of her magic, during an experiment. She had attacked me with all her power, intending to harm me, but I should have had more control over my response.

“Opal.” Leif swatted my arm. “Snap out of it. Zitora and Pazia made their own choices—whether good or bad. You didn’t cause Bain’s problems.”

“I thought you couldn’t sniff my moods.”

Leif’s unusual magic allowed him to smell emotions, read people’s intentions and determine their prior deeds. Handy for interrogating criminals.

“I don’t need magic to read your mind. You get this little crinkle between your eyebrows when you’re feeling guilty.”

I rubbed the spot with two fingers, smoothing the skin. Even if I claimed I was among family, Valek would still fuss at my betraying body language. “I don’t know how Bain plans to keep my immunity a secret. If I hang out here long enough, any magician interacting with me would discover it.”

“Unless you claim you have a null shield woven into your clothes for protection. No, that won’t work.” Leif tugged his shirt down, looking guilty.

“Does the Council know how malleable null shields are?” A sick feeling roiled.

“No.”

“Why not?”

He fiddled with the fabric of his sleeve. “The Master Magicians decided to keep it quiet for now. Plus the Councilors are protected by magicians who can create null shields when needed.”

“But wearing shielded clothes would give them protection all the time.”

“Yes, but…” Leif’s gaze swept the room, avoiding mine.

“Eventually another magician is going to discover how to graft shields onto fabric and walls. You know it’s inevitable, and once the Council finds out, they’ll be upset.” An under-statement. They would be livid, feel betrayed and be suspicious of Bain and Irys, but if all the Councilors were shielded by Bain’s magicians… I followed the logic. Those magicians reported everything to Bain. “Master Bloodgood’s wading in dangerous waters.”

Leif rubbed the back of his neck. “I know. He says it’s temporary. Knowing how blood magic can switch people’s souls, Bain is worried another person might try to take over one of the Councilors’ bodies. If they’re shielded all the time, he can’t tell if that has happened. With a magician guarding each Councilor, he knows—”

“Everything. The magicians are loyal to Master Bain and are spying on the Councilors for him.” But Zebb hadn’t informed Bain of my immunity. He cared about Councilor Moon enough to keep his bargain with me. As for the others, there would be no way to tell.

Leif grimaced. “Spying is such an ugly word.”

“It’s an ugly situation.”

“I tried to explain it to him, but he threatened to assign me as a guard dog for Councilor Greenblade.”

“That doesn’t sound like Master Bain. Perhaps…”

“Don’t even go there, Opal. Not many people know the whole blood magic switcheroo. Besides he’s too strong for anyone to do that to him.”

I had learned nothing was impossible. Not when it involved magic. Ulrick and Tricky were gone, and we had won the battle against blood magic. But the war was ongoing.

The next day, I took Reema shopping. She trailed behind me with her gaze on the ground. She hadn’t said anything to me since the day at the library, but at least she stopped ignoring me.

When we reached the crowded market, Reema stepped closer to me. I headed in the direction of the clothing and fabric stalls, determined to purchase a few items for Reema and her brother.

“Lovely Lady, can I be of assistance?” a young girl asked.

She wore a comfortable-looking shirt over loose pants and cinched with a leather belt. I guessed her age at fourteen. Perfect.

“Yes—”

Reema grabbed my arm, digging her fingernails into my skin. “You promised,” she whispered.

“I know. Relax.” I turned back to the Helper’s Guild girl, who had been staring at us in confusion. “What’s your name?”

“Amberle.” She played with a silver pendant hanging around her neck.

“I’m Opal and this is Reema,” I said, pointing. “Amberle, I’d like to know where I can find clothes like yours.”

She brightened and led us to a small shop near the northern edge. “Jane makes practical clothing from durable fabric. Your sister will grow out of them before she wears them out.”

I didn’t bother to correct her as we entered the cozy shop. The shopkeeper smiled her thanks at my guide. I paid Amberle a copper, but asked her to help Reema choose garments while I shopped for Teegan.

Reema shot me a shrewd look. She understood my real reason for having Amberle stay. By the time we were done, both Reema and Teegan had two new sets of clothes and I found a couple pairs of sturdy travel pants. Both dark brown in color. Drab, as Kade’s mother would say, but the color hid stains and road dirt.

Loaded with packages, we returned to the street. Amberle flagged down two more members of the Helper’s Guild. The boy and his friend ran over to us. They both wore the same pendant as Amberle’s—two hands together with the fingers spread out. At first glance the design looked like wings. I asked her about it.

She touched it reverently. “Master Fisk gifted all his helpers with the symbol for the Helper’s Guild. It serves many purposes. A way for our customers to know we are legitimate, a reminder to us of our tasks and as inspiration for us.”

One of the boys said, “The wings mean if we work hard enough, anything is possible.”

Nice. I handed the boys each a copper and the packages, instructing them to deliver them to the Magician’s Keep.

Reema’s face whitened. “You’re trusting them? Just like that?” she asked me.

Insulted, Amberle snapped, “That’s my brother and cousin. They would never steal from a customer. Master Fisk would throw them out of the guild.”

“Has he thrown many out?” I asked.

“A few,” she acknowledged with a sad shake of her head. Amberle touched her pendant. “Is there anything more you need today?”

“Yes.” I pulled a list from my pocket.

Reema groaned, then said, “I’ll meet you back at the Keep.”

“No. Some of these things are for Teegan, and I’ll need your opinion on them.”

She eyed me with suspicion. “What for?”

“He’s going to be enrolled as a student and he’ll need some basic items like paper and ink.” Plus I needed a few comforts for my apartment.

Not happy, she grumbled and dragged her feet. I ignored her as Amberle guided us to various stalls and stores in the market. She answered all my questions about working as a guild member, but I could tell she wondered why I was so curious. Reema, though, saw right through me. She shot me so many poisoned glares, I stopped counting after ten.

In the rug store, Fisk appeared next to me as I browsed through a collection of small remnants.

“Don’t scare me like that.” I had grabbed my switchblade, but hadn’t triggered the blade.

“Sorry,” he said, but his smirk countered any genuine remorse. “Your reflexes have improved. Been training?”

“Always. Once you stop, you lose your edge.” I rubbed my shoulder, remembering Sarn’s vise grip as he had tossed me to the ground.

He nodded to Reema, who sat in a corner with her arms crossed over her chest, staring at the floor. “Is that her?”

“Yes.”

Amberle hustled over to us in concern. “Lovely Opal, I hope I—”

“Relax,” Fisk said. “I have some business to discuss with Opal. Can you take Reema to the bakery?” He handed her a silver coin. “Buy her a dozen of those delightful cinnamon cookies Barb makes. We’ll meet you there.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Amberle went to collect Reema, Fisk pulled me outside and led me to an empty alley. I scanned the area, remembering the last time Fisk had shown me a back door and I had walked right into an ambush.

“Looking for rats?” he asked, smiling.

“I still owe you for that.”

“Master Bloodgood already paid me.”

I stared at him.

“It was business, Opal. Nothing personal.”

“Yeah, right.” I let him fidget for a moment. “Any news?”

“Not on your boy, Finn. He hasn’t come through here and no one has heard of him.”

Not like it was a big surprise. Yet disappointment still welled. He waited and I realized he had more information. “Well?”

“I found out more on those pearls.”

“Good or bad?”

“Depends. If you’re looking to buy a pearl, the prices have dropped significantly. There are so many available, it’s a buyer’s market. However, if you make your living harvesting oysters for pearls, you’re out of luck. And income.”

“Have farms closed?”

“The smaller ones have, but a couple of the bigger ones are in trouble.”

Interesting discussion, but I wondered why Fisk cared, so I asked him. “And don’t tell me it smells fishy.”

I surprised a laugh from him, but he soon returned to being serious. “I think someone is messing with the market on purpose, driving those others out of business. Once the supply is controlled by one farm, then they can withhold pearls and drive the prices up as high as they want.”

“Again, why do you care?”

He jabbed a hand toward the market. “They’re messing with my customers. Already a few jewelry stores are putting pearls aside, waiting for the price increase.”

“How can I help?”

“Can you talk to Councilor Bloodgood? The oyster farms that are closing are along the Bloodgood coast. Maybe he can do something about it.”

Remembering Bain’s comments, I said, “I’m not sure the Councilor would agree to talk to me. Have you tried Master Bloodgood?”

“Yes. He has to remain impartial unless there is evidence of foul play.”

“I’ll try to see the Councilor. Do you have any idea which farm is harvesting all those pearls?” I asked.

“I just got a name today. They must be located close to the Jewelrose border. They call themselves—”

“The Bloodrose Clan.”