Spycraft Academy by B. Miles (little readers .txt) 📕

to fall on a knife if he had to, so that Mattie could escape. As the leader of the crew, that was his job.

It had been his job since they were kids.

Sam paced the whole room but didn't find any evidence of what he was looking for. He almost told Mattie to leave, but then he stopped and squinted at the bookshelf. Every hardbacked leather title was the same size and color. Sam highly doubted that the merchant read any of them. One of the spines stuck out further than the others, not by much, but enough to snag his attention.

He grabbed the book on the middle shelf and pulled it out. Fine gold print decorated the cover, Gibron's Encyclopedia of Vintage Furniture. The pages were wedged with a thick bookmarker sticking out of the top. He opened the book carefully and flipped to the marked page: 'XII Chapter, I Section: Studies and Dens.'

Sam cocked an eyebrow and pushed the book back into place. His gut churned. Half excitement, half dread. It was ridiculous to think that somebody had purposefully positioned that there, but a long-forgotten and almost child-like thrill ran through him all the same. 'If wishes were fishes,' his mother used to say, 'then we would still be hungry because we don't have time for daydreaming, Sam. Get your behind up and get to work.'

Ironically, the dockworkers found her naked and floating face-down in the water before he turned seven, hundreds of little bonefish nibbling on her like she was a delicate snack. He used to think that she died with so many wishes that all the fish had to eat them out of her.

Sam gave the room one last look and then saw what he'd been looking for. A side table tucked near the corridor archway was completely bare of anything except for a slightly darkened ring where a vase once was. Whoever had been inside wasn't a guard or a servant, it was somebody who had the same idea as them and got to the place early. It was shitty, but it happened. Likely, the thief had already filched the valuables, but they could see if anything was overlooked.

Slim pickings were better than none.

Sam gestured for Mattie to come inside. There were no grand adventures or secret spies here. This wasn’t a fairy tale. This was how they didn't starve during the winter.

Mattie cautiously stepped inside and shut the door without a sound.

Sam held up three fingers and she nodded—she would stay three long steps behind him in case the thief was still around. They might be willing to negotiate a trade or simply agree to leave them alone while they snuck around, but then again, they might slit their throats. Hard to tell with criminals, but it wasn't anything they hadn't dealt with before.

He slipped into the main corridor soundlessly, his steps measured and no louder than a distant whisper. Mattie followed behind him. They wound through the first floor, Sam ducking his head inside every open door and bypassing every closed one. If their friend wasn't in any open room by the time they made it through the whole house, they'd double back and be mindful of the squeaking hinges.

When they made it to the second floor, there was still no sign of another thief. The kitchen was colder than the front room so the heat didn't come from there. Sam glanced around an open archway to check the room in the middle of the hall. It was empty and dark just like the rest of them. Sam almost walked past it, but he froze when a faint warmth radiated from inside...like an old fire.

The faint outline of two lounges pointed at a fireplace and a large desk sat in the corner. Books covered the entire far wall. It was a spacious room. A study.

The book came unbidden to his mind and he bristled. Why would anybody read a book about upholstery, especially when the person in question sold sugar, not textiles or furniture?

Sam took a breath. It was stupid and unlikely that it meant anything at all, but his curiosity clawed against his gut and he took a step inside. It would only take a moment, just long enough for him to prove to himself that he was being ridiculous; the merchant wasn't involved in a mystery or conspiracy.

He took a step inside, then another, and another. Mattie's footsteps tapped gently behind him as she followed him. Halfway to the desk, the tapping of her feet stopped abruptly. Sam whirled around and studied her shadowed expression. Her big blue eyes looked like too-large sapphires set in their sockets and her shoulders were a straight line of tension. He frowned and mouthed 'what?' but she wasn't looking at him.

"I must say—"

Sam twisted around and his rusted dagger was in his hand within a second. He looked wildly about the room, but the disembodied voice had no origin, like an echo.

"I was impressed when you decided to step into the room rather than pass it up like the others. You must have seen my clue." A shadow in the corner shifted and Sam shifted with it. "I thought to myself, 'such a clever young man.' But then I thought you weren't so clever when you didn't even notice me among your little friends, shadow boy."

The dark figure stepped forward. The dim moonlight pierced him through the window, lighting his features just enough for Sam to see the shape of his face, but not the character of it. "It's alright, I wouldn't expect somebody so young to be perfect. That's something you'll be working on at school, of course."

Sam's dagger was cold and hard in his palm.

"Oh, come now, no need for weapons, children." His grin was stark white against the black of the room. "I have come in good faith."

"Who are you?" Mattie spat from behind Sam.

The man inclined his head at her, "Lebert Yaxley, at your service. I'm a recruiter for the Varin School