Sam

  The first thing Sam noticed upon entering was the large mahogany desk and the imperious gaze of the man sitting in an armchair behind it. A woman, Christine no doubt, stood beside the desk, watching the incoming guests with her arms crossed. She walked over to greet them and gestured for Ruby and Sam to take seats in the chairs facing the desk. After they were seated, she remained standing beside Sam, silently observing him. Noel watched from the doorway.

  Christine wore a long blue skirt and a white blouse. She had a pair of glasses hanging around her neck. Her pale face revealed the marks of old age, which she tried to conceal with makeup, yet her long, gray hair, clipped in a bun, betrayed her attempt. Sam started to feel uncomfortable under her stare, shrinking in his seat. The entire room was quiet.

  “What’s wrong, ma’am?” Sam asked meekly, watching her hands. He recalled what Noel had said about her.

  “Have we met before?” Christine asked. She had a sweet voice.

  "N-no, ma'am. It's the first time I've ever seen you. I swear."

  “You swear?”

  "I swear, ma'am. I'm not going to lie to you. I've never seen you before."

  “I see…” Christine stopped looking at him and went to sit on a leather sofa near the left wall of the office. Noel moved away from the door and sat next to her. Then, everything fell silent again. No one spoke, except for the pendulum clock at one side of the room, whose ticks and tacks enlivened the heavy atmosphere.

  Did I say something wrong? Sam thought. He had noticed the look of disappointment on Christine's face when he told her he didn't remember her.

  ?Sunlight streamed through the window and white curtains behind the man on the desk, bestowing him a solemn appearance. Although the office was on the fifth floor, Sam could still hear the clop of horses and their carriages on the streets below; children screaming the news and offering their newspapers; a constable blowing his whistle and yelling at someone to stop. And under all these noises was the familiar droning of a crowd marching through the sidewalks. It was probably well after nine in the morning. The day had officially begun in the city of Candstone.

  The man, George, had grey hair and a short beard. On his right cheek, Sam saw the beginning of an old burn that stretched from his pale cheekbones to his neck. It was half hidden by his beard and was about a finger's width thick. George’s eyes were yellow, feline-like; they glanced at his guests while his fingers played with a wooden pipe. He wore a black waistcoat and a white shirt that looked tight across his broad chest and powerful arms. Noel had told the truth. Though he seemed old, older than Christine and Noel, Sam knew this man could crush him with his hands.

  Sam sat straight, hand on his knees, gaze focused on the man before him, never showing any expression on his face. He repeated the rules Noel had told him over and over in his head, as though he was praying. It was his first time meeting George Smith, the man his mentor and the instructors at the military camp called ‘The Director.’ The leader of the Internal Security Service (ISS). Sam always wondered about his appearance and if the tales about him held merit. The instructors at the camp taught him that he should always listen to the Director’s commands without hesitation; however, he had received none so far since graduating. They forced him to join the Metropolitan Police and then forgot about him.

  Christine coughed, drawing George's stare. They saw each other for a while in silence. Then, George shifted on his chair, reached a drawer on his right, took out a wooden box the size of a book, and opened it over his desk. Sam heard Christine laughing, and saw Noel shaking his head. The box contained dried tobacco leaves inside, neatly stacked in several small compartments. George pinched a few to fill up his pipe. Slowly and gently, he pressed the mixture inside the pipe bowl with his index finger. Satisfied, he guarded the box back inside the desk.

  So a smoke before talking, eh? Sam wondered how George would light up the pipe without matches, for he saw none.

  George remained still, looking at them. Suddenly, an intense white flash emanated from him, forcing Sam to close his eyes. As the light receded, he saw that George’s right hand was glowing, while on his left hand a little flame had spawned over the index finger, as though it were a candle. Sam gawked, looking at it as he heard a gasp from Ruby.

  An invoker… But Roswell never told me he was one. Sam looked at Ruby. And it seems she didn’t know either.

  George stuck the finger with the flame into the pipe bowl, as he inhaled from the bit and spat out smoke. Watching him, Sam realized that George had been silent during the whole event. Not a word he had uttered to conjure the spell. And he made it look so effortless, a mundane party trick to light up his hobby. Sam had seen how invokers usually made their magic, and they always yelled the essence of their intentions. Some used simple words or phrases, while others opted for verses. Whatever method was used, they all shouted and stared hard at the spot where the magic would surely emerge. But George was not like any of them, not even close.

  I guess all the invokers I’ve met were just circus acts. Sam chuckled at the thought, then swallowed hard and straightened his back—George’s yellow eyes were now upon him.

  The old invoker gazed at him for a while, as though he was weighing his catch, calculating how much he could gain from Sam. He stroked his beard and nodded several times. The right hand still glowed, and the little flame remained on the left. He lay back on his chair and continued smoking in silence, using the flaming finger to light up the pipe when he felt that the fire was dying.

  Time passed. Christine and Noel talked among themselves. George smoked. Sam didn’t know if he should say something or not. He looked furtively at Ruby, and through silent gestures he asked her if they should say something.

  Ruby sent him a glare that told him to stay quiet and wait.

  So he did.

  “You two seem nervous,” George said. His voice sounded rough. “Afraid?”

  Sam and Ruby said nothing. A question had been asked, yet they were too shaken to respond.

  George frowned at their silence, then laughed, looking at Christine and Noel. “Well, it seems my companions did one of their pranks again. Be at ease. Whatever they said about me, believe half of it.

  “Ah! Don’t say that, George,” Christine said mockingly. “You’ll only make them have a bad impression of us. We feel hurt, you know.”

  “I agree,” Noel said.

  “I'd be worried if that's what it takes to hurt you,” George said. “I wondered what you were doing at the door. Now I know you were talking about me.” George looked at Sam and Ruby. “You'd better start talking. I don’t plan to waste my morning.”

  “Y-yes, sir.” They cried.

  “Don’t be like that, George,” Christine said. “You need to be more gentle. You’ll only scare them if you talk like that.”

  “I don’t care. We aren’t working with children here. I need people of resolve for this mission.”

  “George, please. Be nice.”

  “I will, I will,” George said, waving the hand with the flame. “Why am I always the bad one, huh? Lads, let me tell you something. Don’t let her kindness deceive you. If you really knew her, you’d be more afraid of her than me. Would you believe me if I told you that she has buried more bodies than I? I don’t know why people keep falling for her tricks.”

  “Because they work. Can’t you see?” Christine said as she went up and stood behind Ruby and Sam, placing her hands on their chairs. “I make you the sole target of their attention, so I can have their backs exposed.” She grinned. “It has never failed me, no matter how many times I do it.”

  Sam flinched, looking at the pale hand on his chair.

  “She’s just bluffing. Don’t mind her,” George said, as he turned off his spell: the hand stopped glowing, and the flame vanished. “She loves doing pranks because she now finds life boring. Being stuck in an office, only reading reports. It’s a drastic change from her old job.” George's hard face became soft when looking at Christine. Sam wondered what kind of past these two shared.

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  “And how was your trip with Sterling to Westbourne, Miss White?” George asked. “Were you able to enjoy the beach weather at all?”

  “Awful, sir. Mr. Sterling didn’t even give us a day off. I barely had time to visit the beach.”

  “He praises you a lot, you know,” George said. “He says it was thanks to your contribution that we were able to solve the case.”

  A smile lit up Ruby's face. She seemed more relaxed. “Thank you, sir. It was an honor.”

  George opened a drawer and took out two folders. He opened one and began to read it: “‘She’s intelligent, a rapid thinker, and a hard worker. She can read and analyse a pile of documents faster than anyone I have ever known. And she is also proficient with numbers. However, she needs to fix her problem of talking too much when she’s excited.”’

  Ruby blushed and looked down.

  “This is a report Sterling wrote about you. Besides a few points, you’re a top-notch recruit."

  “Thanks.”

  “It says here that you can speak Iberian. How good will you honestly rate yourself?”

  “I can understand and read some, but I have no confidence in defending myself against a native.”

  “But can you spy one? It might be necessary for this mission.”

  “I think I can, sir.”

  “Good enough. Now with you, my lad,” George turned to Sam and began to read his file. “How strange that he didn’t recognize you,” he said, looking at Christine.

  “I know. I feel heartbroken,” Christine said. She walked ahead and stood next to George. “Maybe it’s because I barely taught him. My old colleagues carried most of the burden.”

  Sam stared at Christine. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t place her. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s my first time seeing you.”

  “Don’t you remember your time at the military camp? I was one of the instructors there.”

  Then it came to him, old memories from years ago. Before he could join the ISS, he had to first endure a four-year program of intensive physical training and education in a hidden camp to the south of the capital. There were around thirty participants like him. Street urchins. Young males with no parents, or parents who were too poor to feed them. No one would miss them if they disappeared.

  The instructors at the camp taught them calligraphy, arithmetic, history, geography, etiquette, and plenty more: the complete curriculum that an average boy of the middle or high class would have been taught at a private school. The majority of the recruits were illiterate, so the instructors had to go the extra mile with them.

  That place, however, was not a private school with ordinary teachers, but a military camp with soldiers serving as instructors. Besides training their minds, they also taught the young recruits how to defend themselves and, if necessary, kill. But the greatest knowledge they shared was the art of sensing and channeling sayr, a knowledge which would have cost Sam an eye and leg to learn elsewhere.

  “I remember the faces of all my instructors,” Sam said. “But I don’t remember you very well, ma’am. Are you also part of the army like them?”

  Christine laughed. “George, did you hear that? He thinks we were soldiers.”

  “But you all dressed up for the occasion, didn’t you?” George said.

  “We were forced to disguise ourselves to avoid misunderstandings; otherwise, your bosses would have accused you of starting a cult.”

  “You weren’t soldiers?” Sam asked. “Then what were you?”

  “Friends who lent us a hand, lad. Let's leave it at that,” George replied, smoking from his pipe. “I understand you visit Roswell often at his restaurant. How is he doing? No trouble in the business?”

  “Nothing beyond the ordinary.”

  “I haven’t seen him in a while. I heard he’s gotten fat since his child was born. Maybe I should move him out of there.”

  “I thought the restaurant was his?”

  George shook his head. “It belongs to the ISS. Being near the parliament gives us a good location for gathering information. I placed him there after he asked me for a desk-type job.”

  “He has gained some weight,” Sam said. “I think it’ll do him good to stay away from the kitchen.”

  “That could be fixed soon. We cannot have that place anymore after we come out to the public.” George resumed reading Sam’s file. “You’re one of the first graduates of our Seeds program. Top of the course, no less. Your combat abilities are inferior when compared to some of your colleagues, however. Can you at least control sayr?”

  “Yes, though my instructors said that I don’t have much talent.”

  “At least you can put up a fight, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good… Here says that Roswell got you in the program. Did you know he once tried to kill you?”

  “W-what!?” Sam yelled, almost jumping out of his chair.

  “I can see he never told you. You took something he was working on when you stole his wallet. He was planning to silence you and your crew of pickpockets when he showed up at your lair. He thought you were working for the enemy. You made him change his mind, however. Your friends were yelling, swearing, and making threats at him, while you kept yourself calm and tried to reach an agreement. He liked that. It takes guts to stay logical and look for the best outcome in that situation.”

  Sam remained quiet, thinking about that day. He recalled that Roswell had come with two men to his hideout. Roswell was composed and behaved politely throughout the meeting, while his companions stood still. They never showed any hostility despite the ongoing barrage from Sam’s mates. Sam shuddered, thinking that maybe there were more men outside, waiting for the order to get in and kill everyone. Death had stood before him, and it was now that he realized it.

  “Got you thinking, right?” George said with a chuckle. “Don’t worry about that, lad. Everything has been forgiven and forgotten. You have been doing a good job at the police. The reports about your performance have been excellent. Roswell thinks likewise. Here it says that last week you helped him spy on a person of interest at the restaurant. You followed the customer for more than ten miles through the city, alone, never losing sight of him. That was no small feature, lad. You have talent.”

  “Thanks, sir. It was like the old days with my crew. I never lost anyone I had marked for a pick.”

  George closed Sam’s file and placed it on top of Ruby’s. “Being honest, you weren’t supposed to return to us yet; however, circumstances demand your participation. We need two young-looking, intelligent, and level-headed agents for this task. Listen carefully, this is the second official case of the ISS, and if my guts are right, it might even be related to our first; therefore, failing is not allowed.” George's voice became grave, like the growl of a dog ready to bite. “We cannot disappoint our superiors. We have waited years for this chance to show what we can do. Soon, the public will know who we are; therefore, we must start strong. I will not accept any failures. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ruby and Sam said.

  “Your mission is to escort the delegation sent by the Temple of Idnus from Helsane. Escort is just a pretext to spy on them, however. The delegation is a small group of ten, composed mainly of members of the Idnus Army and two detectives from Helsane City. I want you to stay close to them and find out why they've come to our country. Noel will be your team leader. Although he's one of us, he's still part of Metro. Until the ISS officially becomes operational, he'll have to perform both duties, unfortunately.”

  “They are not happy about this arrangement, may I add,” Noel said.

  “Let them cry,” Christine said.

  “Why are they mad, ma’am?” Ruby asked.

  “Because we have priority. We’ve been handed the two most important cases of the year so far, and Metro was ordered to lend us any help they can.” She started to laugh. “Now it is we who will eat those bonuses.”

  “You are still on that?” George asked.

  “But of course,” Christine said, raising her voice. “I will never stop complaining about it. I’m still upset about what they did to us. We were the ones who cleared that case at Westbourne, but the maggots at Metro took all the credit,” She glared at Noel.

  “I wasn’t part of that case,” Noel said, raising his hands.

  “Are you that desperate to get a congratulation from the Queen?” George laughed.

  “I've had enough of those. I’ve watched over that brat since she wet the bed. What I want is the big, fat bonus the detectives got besides the congratulations.”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  “My old colleagues passed me the tip,” Christine said. “They saw everything. That was our reward, George. You should say something to your friend next time you meet him for a drink.”

  “Fine, I will say something to the man,” George said unwillingly.

  “Excuse me, sir. The case you’re talking about is perhaps related to the weapons found on the docks in Westbourne?” Sam asked. Hearing the name several times made him recall that he had read the story in the newspapers.

  “It is,” Noel answered for George. “What’d you know about it, lad?”

  “I read that the police there discovered two warehouses near the docks crammed with weapons and ammunition, all of them illegally smuggled into the country. The authorities said it was a miracle the whole thing didn’t blow up to high heaven, seeing how unsafe the gunpowder was being stored.”

  “Two trading companies and workers from the docks and customs were arrested during the investigation,” Noel said. “It was a joint operation between Candstone and Westbourne police departments. But it was the ISS that did most of the investigation. Miss White was part of the team that solved the case.”

  Sam glanced at Ruby. The girl raised her chest proudly and smiled at him.

  “The poor girl broke her back doing all the heavy lifting, only to see how others took all the credit,” Christine said with lament.

  “That’s enough!” George shouted. “Let’s all stop talking about this and move on. I feel we’re forgetting the main reason for this meeting, damn it.”

  Christine snorted and went to sit on the couch with Noel.

  “So, continuing where I left off,” George began to talk as he eyed Christine. “Your job is to watch over the delegation and report back to me everything they do and say. It is—

  “Why don’t you tell them first why the delegation came here in the first place?” Christine said while looking at her nails. “It will help them to understand their assignment.”

  George glared daggers at her, and Christine responded with a smile.

  "I agree with her," Noel said.

  George sighed. “As you wish. Tell me,” he said to Ruby and Sam. “Have you heard of The Bloody Party?”