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

wasn't lying, however, there was a very real chance that they could face prison, or worse.

Only one way to find out

"Well," Sam looked away from Mattie to Lebert, "I suppose that makes the decision much easier."

Lebert flashed him a pearly white grin. "Indeed."

"Sam," Mattie shuffled closer to him and dropped her voice so Lebert wouldn't hear her. "What if it's a trick?"

"Then we'll just have to call ourselves murderers instead of thieves." He whispered back, keeping his eyes on Lebert for any sudden signs of movement.

"I don't like this." She crossed her arms.

"I dislike prison more." He grinned and nudged her. In his head, though, he was agreeing. If Lebert turned out to be anything but legitimate, Sam would kill him. He may never have killed anybody before, but he had no doubt that he could if it meant protecting the only family he had.

Mattie chewed her lip and looked between the two of them. Lebert was watching her, his grin never dimming.

"Okay," she finally said.

"Excellent." Lebert clapped his hands and a shadow from the opposing end of the room shifted. A man emerged from the darkness, a loaded crossbow hanging from his hand.

Sam's breath hitched and Mattie grabbed his arm.

"It's good that you accepted. I do so hate killing off the young."

2

They waited in the street with their packs slung over their shoulders. The sun was just breaking over the Pel Ridges to the east, bringing a bright yellow sheen to everything around them that, for an hour or two, would make the mud streets and plank shanties of Hookman's Square gleam like it had a hope of being prettier one day.

The morning crowds were already sloughing up and down the road. Quarry workers walked toward the cliff crater outside of town, the fishermen trod to the docks, the whores dragged their feet to the playhouses, and the orphans darted toward the midsection in hope of finding a fat purse of specs to nab. Shoes and bare feet churned up mud, making the avenue a cacophony of splashing and sucking, splat-shloop-splat-shloop.

Sam stood on a brittle piece of wood in front of his door to avoid getting sucked into the thick mud. Mattie shuffled on her own piece of wood while Reg, Tegan, and Daro hung around the open threshold and waited with them. They weren't happy about this whole thing, and Sam couldn't blame them. Without him and Mattie around, the crew would be a lockpick and a strategist short. Couldn't be helped, though. It was either leave or go to prison.

But he was still worried about them. If he wasn't around to map their exit strategies and make sure they had food to eat, who would? Reg was careless enough to get caught if he didn't have somebody there to make sure he didn't do anything stupid, Tegan couldn't talk his way out of anything, much less an arrest. And Daro, well, he was good at talking the other two into spending their money on wine and girls rather than rent and dinner.

If he got back and found out that they'd died, he'd find them in the afterlife and throttle them. His crew was all he had, all that mattered, and they'd grown up together from street urchins to gutter rats. He would never recover if he lost them.

After waiting for nearly twenty minutes, Lebert finally passed their house. Sam might have missed him completely if the man hadn't glanced right at them. Instead of stopping to collect Sam and Mattie, he kept walking.

Right. No need to alert the others. Spies didn’t exactly like civvies knowing what they looked like.

Sam glanced at the guys they were leaving behind and gave them a wordless, lopsided smile. They'd said their goodbyes, no need to draw it out.

He looked at Mattie and thrust his chin in Lebert's direction.

Her grip on her pack tightened but she grinned at the guys. "Seeya, losers."

The guys muttered goodbye to her and before anybody could get too emotional, Mattie grabbed Sam by the wrist and yanked him along the street to catch up with their enigmatic recruiter.

Sam troughed quickly through the morning muck, keeping his eyes down and his shoulders hunched. It was the only way he could catch the pickpockets with any accuracy; they were usually so small and quick that even if he was looking right down at them, they'd nab his specs if he didn’t react quickly enough. If he worked as a spy for the empire, he'd never have to worry about mudrats and their deft fingers ever again. As soon as the thought surfaced, he stuffed it back down. Lebert may not be pulling their legs about recruiting them, but Sam could still wake up any minute and discover that the whole thing was a dream.

He'd believe it when he left the stinking capital city of Roslav and not a minute before. Until then, he would assume that this was all an illusion that might disappear at any moment—good things like this didn't happen to people like him and Mattie.

They caught up to Lebert at the top of a hill that sloped toward the docks. The smell of brackish water, piss, and fish was fresh in the wind. Lebert pulled up short and glanced at them over his shoulder. Now that Sam could see him properly in the light, the recruiter wasn't nearly as intimidating as he'd first seemed. He was average in build and looks, and he might have easily been lost in a crowd if Sam didn't already know to look for him.

Then again, maybe that was a required trait. It would be difficult to be a spy if one stuck out like a sore thumb.

Sam looked at Mattie for a long moment and when she noticed, she frowned and stuck her tongue out at him. If it was a requirement to be plain, then Mattie wouldn't qualify. She had big blue eyes and all her teeth. She could probably pass as a noble if she had a