Chapter 8

“The Council of Winds?” Terrance asked dubiously, looking up from a pile of papers he was going through. “They’re not going to do anything you want. You know they’re not going to do anything, and especially not within any kind of reasonable time frame. Why even waste time trying?”

He and Maeryn were seated on the bed, and had been examining various documents for the last hour alongside a map of Cloudreach that Terrance had provided. Maeryn had taken the opportunity to copy the map into her notebook, just in case, but in the drudgery of paperwork, the two of them had begun discussing their other plans.

They were alone in Maeryn’s room; Dan and Frankie had opted to stay jointly in the second rented room, declining to meet Terrance just yet. Maeryn couldn’t rightly say she understood why, but she hadn’t wanted to push the subject when she was relying on them so heavily.

“It’s more to see how they react to the question than anything else,” Maeryn admitted, finally addressing the question posed to her. “It’d be nice if they just, you know, helped. But it’s a council, right? There’s not just one person in charge. I might see a clue or two of who I could approach.”

Terrance snorted disdainfully. “I can tell you that much. Listen up, and get that notebook ready if you’re wanting to take notes.”

Maeryn cocked an eyebrow at him, but did as he bid. “Alright…”

“I don’t know how much you Geovans know about Zephyrian political structure, but every city has their own Council of Winds, and the number of councilors varies based on the population of the city. Cloudreach is small enough that we’ve only got three. It used to be four, but ever since trading with Geova stopped a lot of people left.”

Maeryn’s pencil flew as she quickly noted the important points. “Okay, so who are the three councilors?”

Terrance held up a finger. “Councilor Sipund is a diehard traditionalist, and extremely averse to change in general. The kind of guy who glorifies ‘the good old days.’ He’s firmly of the opinion that Geovans are to blame for the Mist and mana depletion, and is one of the people pushing for Zephyria to do something about it.”

Maeryn grunted, one of those emotive sounds that encompassed both understanding and disdain. It’d taken a while for her to learn the various kinds of grunts in her time as a Geovan hunter - an unspoken code of camaraderie that conveyed everything from irritation to understanding, from acknowledgment to outrage. She’d found that it was a surprisingly communicative, if succinct, language of its own. And oddly, every boy she’d ever met knew it, whether they were a hunter or not.

Terrance held true to the pattern, letting out a grunt that she translated as deadpan sympathy. Maeryn resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course he was fluent. Apparently some languages transcended cultural barriers. Somehow. Seriously, were boys born knowing this language or something?

Ignoring Maeryn’s inner grumblings, Terrance continued his lecture. “Next up, Councilor Dreen. She’s more of the no-nonsense sort. Very by the book, if you take my meaning. If you want her on your side, all of your forms need to be filled out and you’ll need to wait the requisite two weeks for deliberations. And don’t get on her bad side. Storms will have more mercy than she does if you try to bypass due process.”

Maeryn jotted this down too, before giving Terrance a pained expression. “Why do I feel like the third one is just as bad in some ways?”

“Oh, you’re familiar with politics, then,” the boy snarked. “Councilor Lorn is the face of the Council, in some ways. He’s not bad-looking, and amiable enough, and he’s good at knowing things and greasing the right wheels to make things happen. But he deals in favors, and unless you’ve got something he wants he won’t make the time or effort for you.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Ugh,” Maeryn groaned wholeheartedly. “I know the type. The kind of guy who smiles to your face even as he stabs you in the back, right? One of my old bosses was like that.”

“What happened to him?”

“He got stabbed in the back. Literally, actually - a Mistwarped beast gored him from behind. I wasn’t there when it happened, but it caused quite a stir. Rumors said he was trying to cut a deal and got too close to the Mist. The irony wasn’t lost on anyone.”

“I wish a Mistwarped beast would stab Lorn in the back,” Terrance muttered under his breath.

Maeryn looked up from her notebook and frowned, wondering whether she should try to address that. She didn’t exactly need more drama in her life, but she was quickly coming to enjoy Terrance’s company, and him being grumpy would make things awkward. “Want to talk about it?”

Terrance’s expression hardened. “No,” he denied flatly.

Maeryn raised her hands in the universal signal of surrender. “Got it. Backing off. Sorry if I poked a sore subject.”

The two returned to reviewing the documents that Terrance had brought with them in silence. “Maybe…” the boy muttered after a while, eyes intensely flicking between the map and the paper in his hand as a finger glided across the map’s surface. “Yes… yes.” He looked up to meet Maeryn’s eyes. “I think I found it. Where the researchers are.”

Maeryn set down her documents and stretched, relieved that she wouldn’t need to read any more mind-numbing official business. “What’ve you got?”

“Guest houses in the noble district. We haven’t had anyone from the other cities visit us in months; there should be no reason for them to be in use. But there’s an expense report for food and cleaning services that doesn’t match up.” Terrance shook his head. “Sloppy. It makes sense, though. The noble district isn’t easy to get into, and theoretically it should make it easier for the researchers to get what they need.”

Maeryn cocked her head curiously at him. “How exactly did you get a noble’s expense report?”

“Stole it from the tax office.”

Maeryn clicked her tongue, unable to suppress a small smile. “I should’ve guessed.”

Terrance chuckled at the banter. “In any case, assuming that we’re right, we’ve got a problem. The noble district is quite difficult to get into. You can’t just waltz right in. There’s only one entrance, and it’s under guard. You can’t even just pretend to be one of them with fancy clothes, either; there aren’t that many nobles, and the guards are trained to recognize them on sight.”

Maeryn’s eyes narrowed as she contemplated the puzzle. “Meaning that the direct approach of just sending Dan in to talk to them is no good. Not unless we get a noble to let us in, I imagine. What about bribing the guards?”

“Unfortunately, someone was smart enough to give the guards a vested interest in doing their jobs well. So long as they’re employed as guards, they and their families have quarters in a section of the noble district. There’s enough perks that no sane guard would risk it.”

Maeryn never thought she’d see the day when she cursed someone else’s competency, rather than the opposite. “We’re going to need to take a two-pronged strategy, I think.”

“Oh?” Terrance leaned forward, interested. “What’ve you got in mind?”

“I’ll ask the Council of Winds to let us in. Make it seem like it was obvious that the researchers would be in the noble district, that anyone with more brains than a halfwit could put it together. One of three things will happen. They’ll let us in, or they’ll move the researchers to somewhere more obscure but easier to get to, or they’ll leave the researchers where they are. It literally can’t hurt to ask.”

Terrance nodded slowly. “And the second prong is figuring out a way to discreetly get in and steal copies of their research, I assume.”

“Exactly.” Maeryn nodded at her coconspirator in appreciation of his quick uptake. “Think you can manage?”

Terrance looked down at the map for a long moment, visibly calculating his chances. “If it comes to that, I’ll need help with the guards. But once I’m past them, I should be able to handle the rest.”

“Got it.”

“Then I think we’re done for the night.” The young thief rose to his feet, quickly gathering the assorted papers and map and storing them in his pack. “Don’t bother trying to find me when you’re done with the Council. I’ll know one way or another what happened, and I’ll find you when I’m ready.”

Maeryn raised an eyebrow. “Show-off.”

Terrance smirked. “Always.” And then he opened the window and dove out of it without another word. By the time Maeryn reached the window to close it again, he was long gone.