Spycraft Academy by B. Miles (sites to read books for free .txt) 📗

left a most unsettling impression. Sam wouldn't want to be caught in a room with one of them, that was for sure. Especially not the library during breakfast—nobody but Rosin would have been there.

The mess hall was quiet even though it was full. The loudest people in the room were Delcan's, though that was no surprise; they acted like nothing strange was happening.

Sam might have been more annoyed by the grating sound of the blonde's booming, exaggerated laughter if he didn't remember what he witnessed last night. He wished Delcan would have just gotten out of the shower and got dressed like a normal person instead of obsessing with his reflection. Sam wanted to be able to hate the other man for his arrogance and cruelty, and it would have been much easier if he knew Delcan was an empty-headed narcissist.

He wasn't though. A narcissist wouldn't stare at their own reflection with such loathing. Maybe he was such an arrogant pig to cover up just how much he disliked himself.

Fletch slid into the chair between Rosin and Mattie, his face free of its usual carefree smile. He leaned in and whispered, "I think I know what was stolen from Mode's office."

Sam carefully laid down his spoon and folded his arms on the table, giving Fletch his undivided attention. "How?"

"I heard two of the third-years talking about it in line."

"How would they know?" Sam asked.

Two people's hearsay was hardly worthy information.

Fletch shrugged, "One of them said they heard Loredena talking to Apelles about it."

That gave the claim a bit more weight, but it still had to be confirmed.

If Loredena claimed something particular was stolen, then Sam would believe her. The question was whether the third-years in question were telling the truth.

"What did you hear, specifically?" Sam asked.

Fletch's eyes shifted, then he scooted his chair in close and whispered, "The Varin Cipher."

Rosin sucked in a gulp of air and sputtered, coughing up the water she'd been drinking and drawing more than one pair of eyes to the table. Sam thumped her on the back. Mattie and Drina looked just as confused as he felt.

When Rosin recovered, she dabbed at her lips with her kerchief and said, 'excuse me,' flushing a pretty pink color.

Interesting. Sam had assumed she was middle-caste at most from her behavior and open demeanor. She hadn't told him much about where she was from outside of the actual location—a small port city to the east—but he'd never seen a merchant or artisan woman blush so furiously from a coughing fit. That was noble behavior. They were odd like that, thinking that basic human functions such as a sneeze were improper in polite company.

Sam watched the blonde girl closely and took note of the way she crossed her wrists on her lap. He didn't notice that before, either. Was she a noble, like Fletch? Sam didn't think it mattered much if she was a decent person, but it was still unsettling to know that he'd been so negligent in observing his new crew member. The sense of safety this school gave him was making him slack off.

"The Varin Cipher...do you not know what that is?" Rosin looked at the girls, then Sam, who shrugged.

"I can't believe you don't know about it!" Her light voice was lowered into a whisper. "That's the cipher to every coded document used by the Varin military."

"If it's so important, why would Mode have it?" Drina didn't look convinced, carelessly leaning back in her chair as she was. She was right to be skeptical; it didn't sound feasible to him, either.

"And why would every document be encoded the same way?" Sam added. "That would be dangerous to begin with. If somebody cracked the cipher, they'd be able to read every piece of classified information in the country."

Rosin shook her head. "I don't know why Mode would have it, and I don't know why they use one code for everything, but the cipher has been around since the war started. Maybe the Grand General wanted to put it somewhere nobody would think to look. It would be too obvious if he had it, or the king, or a commander. Mode is elite, so he'd have the security clearance for the job, and he's one of the most powerful spellcasters alive, so he could kill anybody who's after it rather easily."

"And yet he kept it in his office?" Drina scoffed. "Right."

Rosin deflated. "Okay, yeah, it sounds unlikely, but still. If Loredena told Apelles it was the code, then I believe her."

"If those third-years weren't talking out of their asses to begin with," Drina muttered.

Fletch looked at Sam. "Regardless, shouldn't you go to the faculty and tell them what you saw?"

Sam crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Fat chance of that."

"What? Why?!" Fletch's expression pinched into something unfamiliar. Annoyance, maybe, or perhaps even anger. He didn't understand the repercussions of giving away sought-after information, and how could he? If Sam had to guess, Fletch had never been in a position where he could be beaten bloody for his troubles.

"The tongue of a corpse doesn't wag," Sam said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You've never heard that one?" Mattie said, her tone bordering on venomous. "It means that a dead man can't talk. As in, if Sam goes to Loredena and tells her what he saw, and if she tells Mode, then Apelles will be detained. If he has an alibi that's good enough to eliminate him as a suspect, then his first stop will be Sam's bed in the dead of night. He'll slit his throat, then he'll leave with the cipher in tow. Because, you see, if he stayed and left Sam alive, then Sam would be tailing him the whole time. If he left and kept Sam alive, then Sam would be the only person alive who has seen him move. When Sam graduates, if they meet again, even if he's covered from head to toe, Sam will know who it is."

Mattie crossed her arms and leaned