Exploitable Weaknesses by Brian Keller (best interesting books to read txt) 📕

wanna meet wi’ a girl. Her da would kill me, an’ prolly her too, if he knew ‘bout us. She c’n read a fair bit. Tell ‘er ta meet me by that spot where there ain’t no buildin’. T’night, jes’ afore midnight. C’n ya write that?” The barkeep rubbed the side of his face as he looked at the drawing, then replied, “Yah. I think so. Too bad they burned out the scribes, ain’t it?” Cooper nodded, thinking, “I couldn’t agree more.”

A few minutes later, Cooper thanked the man and looked over his handiwork. He had wanted it to look rough and uneducated, but this would need a little touching up just to be decipherable. He took the stick of charcoal with him when he left and made some adjustments once he’d stepped around the corner.

He folded the paper into a tight packet, creasing each fold as he did. He then unfolded it, smoothed it out and then folded it again, differently this time. He wished to give it the appearance that it had been fretted over, as if it had been prepared for delivery and then withheld a dozen times, before being finally delivered in a fevered rush, as it would soon be. He backtracked along his chosen escape route, to make sure it was still clear, then approached the bar where the team of Secret Police were seated in the small pavilion out front. Cooper walked briskly up to the rail and reached across it, dropping the folded message onto their table. One of the policemen noticed his approach and reached to grab his wrist but Cooper quickly withdrew. He explained, “Jes’ give that ta whoever in the Palace wants ta talk wi’ me. I’ll meet ‘em t’nite, if there ain’t guards ever’where.” Two of the men abruptly stood and one leaned over the rail to reach for him. He was well out of reach and drawing further away with each rapid step. One of the Secret Policemen called out, “Who do you think we are, lad?” but by then Cooper was already far enough away that the man needed to raise his voice to be heard. In moments he’d rounded the corner of the nearest building and quickly followed his planned route. It was still clear.

Now he just needed to wait until nightfall. He quickly returned to the Ruins and changed into his leather armor. Happily, the leather worker had taken the time to finish the needed maintenance and repairs. He asked the ladies in the kitchen for a quick bite to eat and they were only too happy to oblige. It was still well before dinner time when Cooper left the Ruins and walked through Batter’s Field and into the Waterfront to watch over the meeting place. He wasn’t too worried that Aporigh would send soldiers to the meeting place. As a young informer, he presented no threat to the Spymaster, so no troops should be necessary. Still, the Spymaster certainly wouldn’t be traveling alone and it would be foolish for him to ignore the possibility. If soldiers started coming in, he’d simply fade away and either set up another meeting or devise a whole new method to reach the Spymaster. He could use the rest of the evening as time to think.

A few hours later, it began to rain. It started as a light drizzle but built slowly to create well-defined drops. Cooper mused how raindrops against his hood sounded like approaching footsteps, except footsteps on the clay roofing tiles beside him would sound nothing like that. He’d selected a spot where he could observe, yet remain mostly unobserved, and just as importantly, un-cramped. He was able to stretch out on the rooftop of a building overlooking the vacant space, hidden behind a decorative façade. The only place where he might be observed would be from this roof, or from the top of the neighboring building to the northeast. He’d chosen tonight since such a short time between message delivery and response would require the Spymaster to rush his preparations. If he tried to move soldiers into the area, it would be forced and obvious.

The clouds that were carrying the rain moved on, taking the precipitation with them but the sky remained overcast. From his vantage point, it looked like it had been enough to settle the dust without soaking the ground. Cooper wished the same could be said for the roofing tiles, but the thin green layer of accumulated moss, (“or was it algae?” he wondered) only required a moist sea breeze to make them treacherously slippery. Later in the year, during the drier season, this layer would dry and flake off, but tonight Cooper would need to account for it when he chose to  move. He shifted his position so he could reach down and touch the copper tube he had tucked in his waistband. It needed to stay there until it was time to drop it on the Spymaster’s corpse.

*****

Iona accepted the folded up paper that Yoren handed to her. As she unfolded it the Spymaster asked, “Feel anything?” Iona paused, then replied, “Nothing. Why?” His expression became a mix of disgust and disappointment. Iona deduced, “Did this come from Cooper?” Yoren nodded, “I suspect so. It was handed to a team of my Secret Police. Apparently, they aren’t much of a ‘secret’.” Iona unsuccessfully stifled a smile as she studied the note. Yoren growled, “Did I say something funny?” Iona recovered quickly and replied with more than a hint of sarcasm, “No, sir. I was just reacting to the stunning artwork and precise wording of this note.” Yoren wasn’t entirely convinced but he replied, “And what do you think about that?” Iona shrugged, “He’s trying to appear as an almost-uneducated person. He’s providing enough information here to make it possible to find the intended location, but his use of common misspellings and native dialect in the description makes it feel… I don’t know…