Casey passed the mop across the stone floor in smooth, careful strokes, idle and sarcastically admiring the gleam of wet flagstones in the lantern light. Her back was complaining, but that was only normal after an evening's work cleaning.
Cleaning was certainly necessary. The pupils at Crescent's Private Academy managed to get just as much mud and muck on the floor as any other teenager would.
"I swear, if these kids tracked any more mud in here we could start our own pottery class," Noah grumbled, "Right, Aricen?"
He looked at Casey, with a grin, "Hey, don't get too comfortable with the cleaning. Remember today is the last day of our mission."
The clock in the study struck the quarter-hour. That gave them forty-five minutes before midnight of orisons and chants. They knew from weeks of experience- and, to be honest, Casey's own memories of boarding school- that the kids wouldn't be getting up a moment earlier than necessary.
This meant most would be dragging themselves out of bed at eleven forty-five, before heading to the chapel in hastily thrown-on clothes and barely brushed hair. So that gave them thirty minutes before any of them started moving.
Thirty minutes to steal a book and escape.
Casey propped the mop on her bucket, straightened, and took a moment to rub her knuckles into her back. Sometimes undercover workers, socialites, and the spies in question get to stay in expensive hotels and country houses. That's what Mistress Trusted people told her.
All wearing appropriately high fashion and dining on haute cuisine, probably on gold-edged plates. At other times, it involved spending months building an identity as a hardworking menial, sleeping in attics, wearing some plain grey woollen outfits, and eating the same food as the kids. They could only hope that their next assignment wouldn't involve endless porridge for breakfast.
Two doors down the corridor were their destination: The House Trophy Room. It was full of gold and silver cups, all embossed with variations on Turquoise House, as well as trophy pieces of art and presentation manuscripts.
One of those manuscripts was their goal.
Casey and Aricen had been sent by the Mistress to this remote area to obtain Dusk Laments, the famous so-called necromancer Xarathul Delfiler's first published book. It was by all accounts a fascinating, deeply informative, and highly unread piece of writing. They had spent a month looking for a copy of it- as she didn't actually require an original version of the text, just an accurate one.
Unfortunately, not only had they been unable to track down a copy, but their inquiries had caught the interest of certain people- The Commanders.
Exactly what their name suggests, they are the really honoured people of the Emperor just like The Mistress of Shadows, who is a traitor mind you. They believe that the Emperor is the greatest and as he divided the land into 13 pieces for each commander, it's only right to stay in your own place unlike stepping into someone else's and stealing a precious book.
They are notorious for their ruthless tactics and their willingness to go to any length to achieve their goals. The villagers have long suspected those commanders are behind some of the most heinous crimes committed against written rule, which the Emperor burned down in front of everyone. So, now there are no rules.
So, they'd had to burn that cover identity and go on before the commanders caught up with them.
It had been pure chance, or, as they liked to think of it, finely honed instincts that had prompted them to notice a casual reference in some correspondence to 'Sire Delfiler's fond memories of his old school' and 'his donations to the school'.
Now at the time that Delfiler had written this early piece, he'd still been young and unrecognized. It was not beyond the bounds of possibility that in his desperation for attention, or simply out of the urge to brag, he'd donated a copy of his writing to the school. And they'd exhausted all their other leads. It was worth a try.
Casey and Aricen had taken a few weeks to establish a new identity as young siblings in their early twenties with poor but honest and hardworking backgrounds, suitable for skivvying, then found themselves a job as a cleaning maid.
The main school library had not held any copies of Dusk Laments and in desperation, they had an original boarding house. Beyond all expectations, they had been lucky.
They abandoned their cleaning equipment and opened the window at the end of the hall. The leaded glass swung easily under Casey's hand. "Nice work," she grinned.
Aricen had taken care to oil it earlier. A cool breeze drifted in, with a hint of oncoming rain. Hopefully, this bit of misdirection won't be necessary, but one of her mottos was directly borrowed from the great novel 'The Hobbit' by J.R.R Tolkien: It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations if you live near one.
They quickly trotted back down the corridor to the trophy room and pushed the door open. The light from the corridor gleamed on the cups and glass display cabinets. Without bothering to kindle the room's central lantern, Aricen crossed to the second cupboard on the right. He could still smell the polish they'd used on the wood two days ago.
Opening its door, they withdrew the pile of books stacked at the back and pulled out a battered volume in dark purple leather.
"No more porridge!" They whispered together.
Casey suddenly looked up from the book and said, "Do you ever wonder if the headmaster even reads all these books that people send to the school?"
Aricen raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"
"I mean, like that book, Delfiler sent in. Do you think he's just sitting at home, anxiously waiting for a response from school, only to receive a generic form letter in return?"
Aricen chuckled. "Maybe he's been pacing around his living room for years, wondering if he should have added more footnotes or used a more scholarly tone."
Casey grinned. "Or maybe the headmaster just tossed it into a pile with all the other self-published vanity books from ex-pupils and forgot about it."
Aricen burst out laughing. "Can you imagine the look on Delfiler's face if he found out?"
Casey shook his head. "Poor guy. Maybe we should send him a sympathy card."
Aricen giggled. "Or a copy of our break-in plan. He might find some use for it."
Fortunately, it was a fairly small volume. Casey tucked it into a hidden pocket and returned the other books to cover their tracks and then hesitated.
This was, after all, a school for the Astralite-touched. Simply stated, those individuals who have awakened magic powers either got them from their parents or from the Astralite, which is a source of raw magical energy.
Casey furrowed her brows and whispered to Aricen, "Do you think the headmaster has set up some sort of alarm spell?"
Aricen rolled his eyes. "We are not really touching the cups so I guess that should be fine, right?"
"Right, right?" Casey nodded. "But if there is an alarm spell and it works on anything taken out of the room, we'll be in big trouble."
Aricen chuckled, "Can you imagine being chased by a mob of teenagers?"
Casey winced at the thought, "Ugh, that would be so embarrassing."
Aricen patted her shoulder, "Don't worry, we've planned for this. We just need to get in and out quickly."
Casey took a deep breath, "Okay, let's do this. But if we get caught, you forced me into this."
Aricen raised an eyebrow, "Excuse me? The Mistress of so-called Shadows is the one who came up with this crazy plan."
Casey smirked, "Exactly, it's your fault for agreeing to it."
Aricen shook her head, "You're impossible."
Casey grinned, "You lack vocabulary."
Aricen rolled his eyes again. "Let's just go. There's no point standing around reconsidering possibilities, it would only result in running short on time." He shook his head, trying to think straight.
As Casey looked at him, she nodded. She too realized that thinking about it was pointless.
They stepped across the threshold one by one. A sudden raucous noise broke the silence. The stone arch above the doorway rippled, lips forming the stone to howl, "Thief! Thief!"
"Damn the heavens!" Casey grumbled. "SERIOUSLY? WHAT IS THIS SOME FORCED FANTASY NOVEL?"