Page 36 of War Mage

The mage absorbs what I told her, but then bites her lip, unable to stop herself from arguing with me. “You have to admit, though, things could go wrong again. You may not be able to help me.”

“Missions have a way of going wrong at the worst possible time,” I agree. “The successful are those who adapt to circumstances as they are and do not waste time wishing for how they would want them to be. But as long as I have life in me, I will help you, Adara.”

The mage considers my words silently, looking thoughtful. After a moment, I continue, keeping my voice down. “That all being said, we should talk about what to do in case things do go wrong again and you are alone when you get to Grazrath.”

Adara nods grimly. “That would be wise. Even if you survive whatever Zadicus has planned for you, we may not even be together by the time we reach the palace at Evernight.”

“True,” I concur. “We need to be practical and think of another way to remove your ankle cuff if it comes to that. I’m going to teach you how to pick the lock.”

The mage frowns, then pulls up the hem of her skirt, revealing the cuff at her ankle. The light of the moon through the canvas glints dimly off the dark metal. It’s thick and roughly forged, with hidden hinges in the back and a lock at the front. It looks like it’ll be a simple lock to pick, thank the gods.

“I’ve never picked a lock before,” Adara whispers, a warning in her voice. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it.”

“It won’t be easy,” I reply, reaching toward the bottom cuff of my trousers and using my claws to pick the seam on my left leg so that I can get the hidden pieces of wire. “I only have a couple pieces of wire, not a full set of lockpicks. But you’re clever. You can get the hang of it.”

The mage’s lips quirk. “Careful, I think you just complimented me.”

“Yes,” I reply evenly. “I did. Now pay attention, we don’t have any time to waste.”

???

We travel for many more hours, the night stretching long. I show Adara again and again how to unlock the ankle cuff, twisting the first piece of wire into a torsion wrench and using the second so that it can move the tumblers on the inner workings of the lock, but she can’t quite get the hang of it. I think her stress and desperation to get it right are causing her to make mistakes, her hands trembling slightly with nervousness. I’m patient and encouraging, even as she fails to open the cuff again and again. My being critical will not help us in this situation.

After failing for probably the twentieth time, Adara growls in frustration. “Why isn’t this working? You can do it so easily!”

“I have had much practice with such things,” I say soothingly. “This is your first time attempting. Let’s take a break and you can try again tomorrow after you’ve had some time to rest. It may be easier to try during the day as well, so you can see what you are doing more easily.”

Adara sighs and tries to hand me back the pieces of wire, but I press it into her hands. “Keep them. It’ll be easier for you to hide it now that I’ve already unpicked its hiding spot. Braid it into your hair so no one can see it. That way you’ll still have it in case something happens to me.”

My words hang heavy between us, a reminder that I may not survive being the magistrate’s blood slave. Adara’s scent takes on a burnt edge of worry, but then she changes the subject, obviously trying to think of something other than my fate. “Why did you have pieces of wire sewn into your clothes, anyway?”

I accept the change of subject without protest. After all, talking about it won’t change matters. “It’s a habit of mine, since I was a child, to always have two pieces of wire on me. You never know when you might need to pick a lock.”

“Since you were a child?” Adara questions, while braiding her hair with the wire hidden inside her thick strands. “It’s not something that you learned as a spymaster?”

Her question is a fair one and though I am not one to speak of my past, I explain, “I became a spy because of the skills I learned as a child. After my mother died, I was a city orphan. I had no clan to care for me or adopt me, so I was alone. I survived at first by begging, but I accidentally begged in the wrong territory. A gang of adolescent orcs, older than me by a few years, but not old enough to join the Horde, caught me and told me that I needed to pay a tribute in order to beg on their street corners.”

“Bastards,” Adara hisses. “There’s always someone willing to prey on the weak.”

“Yes, it is the way of the streets,” I agree. “I had nothing to pay them with so they beat me that day. I tried a different corner the next day, but that was apparently their territory too. So they beat me again. And again and again. I could never escape them.”

“What did you do, then?” the mage asks. “How did you survive them?”

“After many beatings, one where they gave me this scar,” I say gesturing to my cheek, “I finally asked if I could join them. I figured that if I were a member of their gang then they wouldn’t beat me any longer. They were taken aback by my request, but agreed, as long as I did anything they asked. That started my life of crime. I learned to steal, cheat, and lie to survive. I became so good at it that I got cocky.”

“You? Cocky?” Adara asks in disbelief. “I suppose you can be an arrogant asshole, but I have a hard time seeing you as cocky.”

“Well, I was,” I tell her. “I stole from bigger and bigger targets, the richer and more noble the better. That was when I stole from the prince of Orik.”

“The prince?” questions the mage. “Rognar?”

I nod, even though she can’t really see me in the dark. “Yes. He caught me, of course, and I thought that was the end. But I didn’t beg or cower as I faced my fate and that impressed him, as well as the fact that I had almost succeeded in stealing from him. So he offered me a deal; to train with the agents of the Crown and learn spycraft while pledging my allegiance to him and only him. I accepted and that put me on the path to becoming Shield of the King.”

“So you went from being nothing to being the trusted left hand of the king?” she asks. “That is impressive.”

“It was luck,” I return evenly. “I could have just as easily been executed for stealing from the prince. My actions were not those of someone wise.”

“You were young,” Adara retorts. “And it was your skills that impressed the prince so that he saw you as useful instead of sending you to your death. It was your hard work that got you to where you are today.”

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