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

back of his neck, staring at the door. He apparently hadn't noticed Sam. Truthfully, Franklin wasn't the most observant teacher, as was evidenced by the way Mattie and Drina openly sabotaged him right in the middle of class.

Franklin huffed and looked at the ground, still rubbing the back of his neck. He muttered, "They're learning, that's all that matters," before he turned to trudge to his desk.

Sam almost felt bad about what he was about to do. He liked Franklin, no doubt the older man would assume somebody was playing a mean prank on him when he discovered what happened. He'd probably been picked on when he was a kid—Sam could spot it easily. It was a certain softness, a pliability, and it would have made him an obvious target for the boys made of sterner stuff. Probably the girls too, poor man.

Still, Sam needed that potion. There was no way he or, admittedly, Drina, could make such a thing without stealing a large amount of ingredients, which would be much worse.

As Franklin moseyed to his desk, Sam calculated a quick contingency should he get caught. He'd have to talk his way out of it and steal it later from Franklin's quarters, when the chances of getting caught were much higher. Best not to get caught now, then.

Franklin's eyes alighted on Sam. His posture straightened and his eyes widened. "Oh! Young Mr. Croft!"

He looked around the room, probably to see if anybody else was around that he hadn't noticed. When the instructor saw no other bodies, his attention flew to Sam and he smiled a cheeky, sheepish smile. "Do forgive me. I have a habit of talking to myself..."

Sam waved off the concern. "Don't mention it. I think everybody talks to themselves."

Well, he didn't, and nobody he knew did. The sweet-rock addicts and the old, addled homeless did, but Franklin was a middle-aged man with no friends and no lover. He had to talk to somebody.

"Too true. Why, my mother used to have entire conversations with herself while she did housework! And the cat." Franklin chuckled, walking to his desk. For such a tall, slim man, he took short and quick steps. Probably so his big cloak didn't catch around his feet.

"She sounds lovely." Sam smiled benignly and held up his poisons tome. "Mind if I ask you a few questions about something I'm having trouble with? I won't take up too much of your time."

Franklin’s eyes lit up and a pit of guilt truly opened up in Sam's belly. He hated using people like this, especially people like Franklin, who genuinely wanted human conversation. But the possibility of his country's ruin was on the line, so he'd have to toughen up and get it done. He'd make it up to Franklin somehow. Maybe stay behind tomorrow and let the old man jabber away about whatever he liked.

Sam opened his book and flipped to a random page. Storytime, his crew used to call it.

First, the hook. "To start with, I know we haven't gotten this far in our lessons, but I'm utterly fascinated with brewing, so I hope you'll forgive me for jumping ahead."

"Ah! Not at all, dear boy! Brewing is a greatly underappreciated art form. Why, some of our most notable victories in the war have been because of a good brew."

Sam smiled and came around the table to stand on Franklin's left side, placing the open book in front of him.

Second, the context. "One of my very good friends, Cody, used to take me out to the forest when I was small. We'd gather all manner of plants." He glanced down at the plant...well, mushroom. The label read Visier Bellot "But I was always more fascinated with fungi. It's been a long time, but I believe Cody told me this specific species was the active ingredient in one of the most powerful poisons north of the forbidden southlands."

He pointed at the picture and leaned in as closely as Franklin. The old man's brows furrowed, and he pushed his spectacles up his nose.

Sam's hand brushed feather-light against his robes, feeling around until he met something solid beneath the black layers.

"I can't remember what he called the poison...would you have any idea?"

His hand slid into the folds of Franklin's robes, but they were so deep. Too deep. Sam bent his knees slowly, his fingertips desperately stretching toward the floor.

"Generally, poisons don't contain hallucinogenic properties at all, much less as an active ingredient." Just a little more.

Franklin looked up at him and Sam froze, resting his chin in his palm and staring deep into the older man's wizened grey eyes.

"Perhaps your friend Code just scrambled up categories? Generally, hallucinogenic potions are known as feravenum, which is distinct in that the potion is not meant to cause death, only prime a target for mental conditioning, temporary insanity, incapacitation, or hypnosis."

"Ah."

Franklin turned back to the book and tapped his chin. Sam continued to reach. His fingers brushed something cool and small, and he grasped it with two fingers like a crab's pincer.

"Perhaps Gorgoco Bestia? Commonly known as 'Scramble' among the rank and file?"

Sam drew his hand out and stuffed the vial down the back of his pants as he smiled brightly. "Yes! I remember now! That was definitely it."

He grabbed his book and closed it. Franklin startled at the swiftness of the movement.

"Thank you so much, I would have never guessed it."

Franklin blinked up at Sam, straightened his spectacles, then smiled. "You're quite welcome. I'm quite happy to help. Do you have any other questions?"

"No."

Franklin's smile stayed tacked onto his face, but his shoulder visibly sagged. "Ah."

"Well..." Sam felt a bit too guilty to just leave. Mattie would laugh at him for this. "Well, I do, actually, but I think I'd better save them for next time. Dent will flay me alive if I'm late again."

Franklin visibly perked up and his grin was set to cleave his face in two. "Of course, of course! Come to me any time, I'm happy to share