Spycraft Academy B. Miles (new ebook reader txt) 📖

"Arm stands? Ha. If he makes me do more than sit, I'm going to have a nervous breakdown." Fletch held out his arm. His dusky skin was pimpled with little almost-black bruises. Fingerprints, probably. Hilda had taken a special interest in Fletch, who she called 'Mimke." She vowed to make him a great warrior within the year, probably because he was as opposed to sweat and dirt as the noble girls. She used Fletch as a demonstration partner and flung him around without breaking a sweat. Once, she even picked him up by the feet and slung him like a club. 'Teamwork,' she called it.

Sam rounded the entrance to the meditation tower, Mattie a step behind him, Fletch beside her, and Drina flanking them like a silent shadow.

Halfway up the spiraling stone stairway, a gaggle of voices echoed behind them, bouncing off the narrow walls. A man laughed and a woman told him to shut up. Sam didn't think anything of it until he heard his name, 'filthy lowborn' and 'today' being chittered along after it.

He looked over his shoulder and his group stopped automatically, the lot of them turning to look down the steps. Seconds later, Delcan's blonde head appeared and he locked eyes with Sam. To his credit, he didn't look surprised or sheepish that he'd been caught talking about him.

Instead, he sneered and walked up the stairs with the rest of his group as if nothing were amiss.

Sam turned back around and grit his teeth. Something today, then? Great, if Delcan wanted to keep antagonizing Sam, then Sam would meet the other man blow for blow. He just had to wait until Delcan made a move, no need to get a demerit for starting a prohibited fight.

After all, if he got too many of those, he'd be expelled. Forty in all, but a limit of five per semester. They couldn't very well expect perfect conduct from people gifted in the art of sneaking about and fleecing things. That's what the first semester syllabus said, anyway, but Sam had heard some of the other students talking about older family members surpassing the demerit limit without an expulsion.

"Hey Drina." Delcan's voice was as irritating as scraping metal. "We're having a little get-together tonight. You should come. I've got a bottle of clear spirit you'd probably like."

His voice was even more irritating now. Sam knew Drina wasn't stupid enough to go along with the man, but that didn't quash the desire to tell her what Delcan had said only a week past. He'd avoided telling both of the girls because they would be uncomfortable, and there was no reason because Delcan was just talking shit.

"Thanks, I'd love to, but I have to study. I'm a bit of an idiot, you see, so I've got to work extra hard to keep up."

Her voice was obviously sarcastic but it was also laced with irony, considering Delcan was too dense to get that she wasn't stupid enough to fall for any blatant attempts to get in her trousers.

"Yeah, I get that."

I bet you do.

"We've got a system for that, actually. See, Prin is our own little brainiac. And Ches, well, let's just say that Ches has a way of making the rest of us do just as well as Prin on tests. Oh!" Delcan snapped his fingers, as if he suddenly thought of something brilliant. "You know, if you aren't happy with your . . . friends, we happen to have room for one more. We'd make sure you didn't have to waste all night studying, and—"

Sam was almost at the top of the steps. He gave no warning when he turned around to snarl at Delcan to back off. He'd lost a crew member to a poacher once, and it set them back for months. Not to mention, at least where he came from, it was a bold attempt at emasculation and a blatant display of disrespect.

But he didn't have to say anything, because Mattie had moved so fast that even Sam didn't see it coming when she shoved Delcan backward. He stumbled and would have bounced down the steps and cracked his skull had his crew not caught him.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll keep away from our crew. I've cut men's throats for much less than poaching."

That was a lie. Mattie may have stabbed a few people here and there, but there had never been any throat-slitting. Delcan didn't have to know that, though. All Delcan had to know was that they were filthy quellers, and the low quarter was the most dangerous neighborhood in Central Varin. Ergo, they were criminals and wouldn't blink at spilling his blood.

Delcan's crew pushed him to stand upright and his face was stormy. That was the second time he'd been embarrassed by somebody in Sam's crew. Maybe he'd learn.

The blonde didn't have time to respond before Mattie looped her arm through Drina's and led the other woman quickly up the stairs, breezing past Sam and shooting him a look that was half anger, half worry as she glided into the open classroom.

Sam took one more glance over his shoulder and met Delcan's eyes. Sam saw violence behind them.

"Talent! Skill! Magic"

The Sheet—that was what he insisted on being called—was walking around the room, weaving himself between each student as he carried on with his lecture. Sam cracked his eye and caught a glimpse of the tall, wiry man as he crouched down to peer into Alfreda's relaxed face. The Sheet studied her for a moment, shot to his feet, and continued.

Sam closed his eye again before he was caught 'stagnating.'

Meditation was shit. It was by far the most useless class, though the girls seemed to like it well enough.

"Talent!" The Sheet stopped just behind Sam, his voice dropping into a sharp whisper. "Talent is the application of Will onto the Universe."

He bent and Sam could feel his teacher's breath