Eye Spy Read online

  No, she hated this bridge for a different reason altogether.

  Even in the best of weather, when the river flowed smoothly under it, the bridge had always felt wrong to Abi. As if it were sick. It made her a little nauseated to cross it, as if it were moving under her when of course it wasn’t. And in weather like this, when the river raged beneath it? It felt to her as if it were shaking itself to bits, even when other people would just remark it was vibrating a bit.

  And yet, anyone she talked to about her feelings assured her that the bridge had been constructed perfectly, there was nothing wrong with it, it had stood for two hundred years and would stand for another two hundred. And if it vibrated a little when the water roared around its supports? Well, that was to be expected.

  This was of no help whatsoever. And if she had had any choice at all, she wouldn’t go within a mile of this cursed thing.

  But Ma Sendle’s little fruit shop, where she sold mostly preserves, jams, and jellies along with her small store of the finest of offerings from the orchards around Haven, was just on the other side of that bridge. And it would be stupid, especially in this weather, to go halfway across Haven to get to it.

  So she was going to grit her teeth, and cross the bridge with Kat, and endure the sensation that the thing was about to fall to pieces at any moment.

  They turned a corner, and there it was, in the middle distance. At this time of the day—and in this awful weather—there weren’t too many people crossing it. No heavy drays, thank goodness—those usually waited until most of the traffic had cleared out of Haven anyway, making their deliveries at night or in the very early morning. But there were some carts, a few horses, and several people carefully making their way on foot alongside the parapet.

  The thundering of the river was audible even from here. She shivered. Kat cast her a sympathetic glance. Kat’s touch of Empathy meant that Kat knew quite well how she felt.

  But this time was vastly different from every other time she had neared this bridge. With every step Rolan took nearer the bridge, the worse she felt. And then, as he actually set his forehoof on the bridge, it struck her, like a blow to the stomach—

  —this time was no false alarm. The bridge had stopped merely warning. Now it was about to crumble.

  She didn’t need to say anything to Kat; Kat picked it up from her. “We have to get people off the bridge!” Kat shouted as those nearest them turned and stared at her. “Go to the middle and split, I’ll go south, you go north!”

  She couldn’t answer for a moment around the swelling nausea, the actual pain she felt. But Rolan followed Dylia out onto the bridge as they cantered to the center of it, turned and faced the opposite ways. She shook off her pain and nausea, knowing deep inside her that this moment was critical, that this time it wasn’t just a bad feeling, that this time, unless they did something, people were going to die.

  The next few moments were a blur. She knew she was shouting but not what she was shouting, but at least people reacted the way she wanted them to and fled in the direction of safety. Rolan backed up her orders with stamping hooves and, when needed, snaps of his jaws. Everything was a confusion of screams, people running for the river bank, nausea, the feeling that her bones were about to snap, her voice growing hoarse.

  And then it all suddenly cleared. There was only one person left on her side of the bridge, an old man on a cart, who was stubbornly trying to force his way past her, shouting at her. The bridge shuddered in warning, and she didn’t even think; she reached over and grabbed the front of his tunic and with superhuman strength dragged him over the front of her saddle.

  And behind Rolan, a roar of stone and water. She felt the bridge giving way behind them and cried out, clutching the old man and the saddle. She sensed the rocks falling away under Rolan’s hind hooves, felt the impossible strength of his legs as he scrabbled for purchase on the disintegrating stone, the slip and the catch, and, finally, the muscle-straining leap that took them to safety as the cart and screaming horse plunged into the river behind them.

  The nausea and pain vanished as if they had never been there at all. She shook her head clear and passed the old man down into the hands of those on the bank. And then remembered who else had been on that bridge.

  KAT!

  She whirled in Rolan’s saddle, peering frantically through the mist thrown up by the collapse of the bridge, and with a sob of relief, spotted Kat on the other side, waving vigorously to her.

  “Rolan,” she said aloud. “We need Guards and Heralds on the other side, and we need them now.” Because now Kat was all by herself over there. . . .

  Wearily, Rolan nodded his head, and she realized that he must be hurt—muscles torn and tendons strained from that death-defying leap carrying her and the stranger to the bank. Hastily she dismounted and turned again, just in time to see four of the City Watch shoving their way through the crowd up to Kat’s side. And shortly after that, a pair of Guardsmen and a Herald. From here, she couldn’t tell who the Herald was, but it was clear the Princess was in good hands.

  “Let’s get you back up the hill before your injuries stiffen,” she said to Rolan, just as another of the Watch turned up on her side of the river. She let the bystanders babble out whatever explanations they wanted to; Kat would give an accurate report, and right now, the most important thing she could do would be to get Rolan back to the stable and into the hands of the Healers.

  * * *

  • • •

  There was an entire group waiting for her at the front gate of the Palace/Collegium complex. She’d expected a Healer or two and a crew from the stable—after all, Rolan was in need of tender care. She hadn’t expected to be descended on by Heralds herself. Before she could object, or even say anything at all, they’d bustled her into an empty classroom at Heralds’ Collegium and began a methodical interrogation.

  It was definitely an interrogation; she’d been a witness to a few of those conducted by her father.

  They did make sure she wasn’t hurt, of course, got her hot tea and a blanket to wrap around her, even got a cushion for the hard bench seat. But it was very clear once they knew that she was fine that they weren’t letting her go anywhere until they got some answers.

  The classroom was oddly quiet. It wasn’t on a side of the building where the rain was hitting the windows, so weather sounds were all muted. It smelled of chalk dust and ink. She’d never noticed that before, probably because when she was actually in a classroom she was too busy taking notes or listening to pay any attention to how it smelled. The three Heralds who had brought her here sat in a semicircle in front of her. She answered each question, carefully, in detail, and just as methodically as they asked them. Being Mags’ daughter certainly helped in a case like this.

  When they’d ascertained exactly what had happened today, they paused for a moment, which gave her a chance to get more of that hot tea into herself. She didn’t recognize any of the three Heralds, which meant they probably taught the use of Gifts. She’d have had no reason to be in contact with them or in any of their classes, since up until now, no one had ever thought she’d had a Gift. Two, both males, were brown-haired. One was short and slender, the other had gray in his hair. The third, a woman, looked as if she had been a weaver at one time; she had that kind of upper-body strength and large, strong hands. She had hair of a color between red and brown.

  “Have you ever felt that way about a place before?” the woman asked.

  “Well, I always felt that way about that bridge, just not as strongly as I did today,” Abi replied. “I’ve always hated it, always hated crossing it. It always felt . . .” she thought about her feelings for a long time, trying to pick the best words. “. . . like there was something wrong about it. That it was sick in some way. Or like an instrument that was out-of-tune, except that the consequences of being out-of-tune were going to be much worse than a horrible rendition of a song.�
��

  “You mean you heard things?” the graying man asked. She shook her head.

  “No, it was definitely a feeling, inside. I never heard anything but the same things other people heard. This was something I felt, except I always knew it wasn’t me feeling it, it was the bridge. The bridge was wrong. I don’t know if it was built wrong, or grew wrong over the years, but by the time I was old enough to cross it, it had gotten to that point.”

  The three of them locked eyes, and she was pretty sure they were Mindspeaking. Good, I’d rather they did that than talked in front of me as if I wasn’t there. The tea was very good; something with a lot of rose hips in it, and a little mint, and a generous dollop of honey. Now that she was warm, she didn’t mind being here. Mind? It was far better than being out in that miserable rain. From the sound of the drops outside the window, in fact, it was getting worse. If they’d gotten to the shop, even Kat would have been drenched by the time they got back. Did she make the Herald go with her to the shop? I bet she did. So she’s drenched. Poor Kat.

  No one had died, that was the important thing. She actually felt very good about how things had worked out. No one had died, Kat was safe, and she’d personally been responsible for all of that! Not that she wanted a medal or anything, but it did feel really good to know she’d saved peoples’ lives. This is probably how Papa feels when he does the same thing. If so, she wouldn’t mind doing it again. Only maybe without bridges collapsing.

  The Heralds interrupted her thoughts. “Are there any other places where you’ve felt like you felt about the bridge?” the woman asked.

  “Not nearly that strongly,” she replied. “There are a couple of places in some highborn houses I’ve been in where I felt that faintly, but not to the point where I’d avoid going to a party there. One is the minstrel’s gallery at Lord Corveau’s house, and the other is the balcony over the back terrace at Lord Spenaker’s. And I feel that way all the time down in Haven, in the impoverished districts where the houses are just about ready to fall apart.”

  The woman nodded with satisfaction. “So it’s always buildings?” asked the graying man.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been outside Haven to find out,” she pointed out. “I’m pretty sure after what just happened that what I’ve been sensing is stress or strain, but the city is built on pretty stable land, so I wouldn’t know if I can sense the same thing in natural locations—like maybe a spot that was likely to have an avalanche. I know for a fact Rolan probably strained tendons and muscles, maybe tore them, and I didn’t feel anything from him, I just knew like anyone would know that he must have been hurt.”

  The woman seemed extremely pleased with her answer. “I agree with you, Abi—can I call you Abi?” At Abi’s nod, she continued. “I think you’ve made the right deduction. We weren’t sure if what you have is Foresight or something else, but it seems very clear that you’re right. You sense the physical strain in things that are not living. And we Heralds are the wrong people to try to teach you, since that’s what it appears to be. If you want to learn how to use this thing, that is.”

  She snorted. “Of course I do. A fat lot of good it’s going to do me or anyone else if all I can do is sense vaguely that something’s under stress. Right? I mean, think of the potential if I can tell something’s in need of repair before it’s obvious! Or better still, if I can tell how and where to fix it!”

  The woman grinned. “Quite so. I’m fairly certain the closest Gifts we have to yours are going to be among the Healers, but I’ll ask around to be sure. When I know, you and I will make arrangements for lessons. I’m Herald Stela, by the way.” She held out her hand, and Abi shook it, very much liking the firm handshake she got. “But there’s something else I’d like to ask you to do, and that’s to join the Artificers, the Unaffiliated students who are learning things like building, construction, and the making of things.”

  “I can do that?” she exclaimed. “I thought places in the Artificers were only open to people who got recommendations because they were good at math and things like that!”

  “You’re getting a recommendation from me, and that’s all it takes,” Stela replied. “They’ll open up a place for you. You can become good at math with practice, but it isn’t every day when someone comes along who can intuit that a bridge is about to collapse. As you yourself pointed out, it would be good to have someone out there who can tell us the points of weakness before something collapses and it would be even better to have someone who knows how to fix those points of weakness before the weaknesses become an issue.” She stood up, and the other two followed her example. “I’ll come talk to you and your parents in the next couple of days, as soon as I can make the arrangements. I’ll see you then. Meanwhile you can go join your family and be the hero of the hour.”

  Abi stood up, holding the blanket around her, and clutching her mug of tea. The gray-haired Herald held open the door for all of them, and she made her way back into the Palace and the suite of rooms her family lived in feeling both excited and bemused.

  But the moment she got into the corridor leading to their suite, her brother Perry charged down it and enveloped her in a hug. “Holy fire, Abi!” he exclaimed into her hair. “You’re a hero!”

  She oofed, the wind knocked out of her for a second. “Is Kat back?” she asked, more concerned about her friend than anything else.

  “Yes, and she made Herald Seth go with her to get the apple jelly, so the Queen has every speck of it that there was in the shop.” He hugged her again. “She got soaked, and so did he, but it was worth it, she says. Everyone’s in our great room, so come on.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her along behind him, too impatient to put up with her sedate walk.

  The suite of rooms that Mags and Amily’s family lived in was a bit peculiar, even for the Palace. It was several small rooms surrounding one big one, and the big one was where everyone gathered most of the time. The whole family and all the Royal offspring were there now, most of them clustered around Kat, who by her gestures, was describing the bridge collapse. Her mother, Amily, intercepted her before her siblings could co-opt her; she was still in the semiformal Herald’s Whites that she wore when she was serving at King Stefan’s side. She must have come straight here from the Throne Room.

  “How wet are you?” Amily demanded.

  “Damp,” Abi admitted. “They gave me this blanket, though, and the classroom where they took me was pretty warm.”

  “Then not another word out of you until you get changed into something dry and comfortable,” her mother ordered. Abi was not at all reluctant to do so; damp clothing was somehow even less appealing than fully wet clothing.

  She emerged from her room in her favorite old, worn, long-sleeved canvas tunic and trews, both soft enough with hard wear to feel like lambswool. Gray again; this was part of the camouflage she and her brothers took on to protect the Royals. They all wore gray or brown, so anyone charging into this room wouldn’t know which of the children were the King’s—until one of the three who were not, eliminated him, one way or another. I have a very strange family, she thought, not for the first time.

  By this time, her mother was pouring out hot, spiced cider for everyone, and she was very happy to get her share. She sat down with the rest of them on the old rug between the hearth and the huge table on one side of the room, a table they all used for eating and everything else. She did wonder a little why her mother was here, and not attending the King . . . but maybe the King figured that she needed to be a mother right now, not the King’s Own. Besides, he had Mags with him, and everyone in the King’s inner circle knew that what Amily knew, Mags knew, and vice versa; if anything important was happening in the Throne Room, Amily was getting a full description.

  “We got Kat’s version, and Mama told us Rolan’s version, so we don’t need to hear about the bridge,” Perry proclaimed, before anyone could pelt her with questions. “So what did the Hera
lds say?”

  “First I want to know if Rolan is all right,” she interjected, looking over their heads to her mother.

  “He strained his back legs and hips and sprained his back, but you did the right thing by keeping him moving at a slow pace and getting off of him immediately,” her mother told her. “He’ll be just fine in a couple of days at most.”

  Well, that’s a relief. Mama entrusts me with him . . . and I go and get him hurt. Although I don’t know how we could have avoided that situation except by not being out there at all. And if they hadn’t been there, people certainly would have died. At least Rolan’s injuries were minor.

  “Well, I guess I’ve got a Gift, but it isn’t one they’ve ever seen before,” she said. “They said the closest thing to it is how a Healer can sense when you’ve got a muscle or bone that’s under stress and damaged, except my version works with things that aren’t alive. Built things, as far as I know, but I’ve never been out of Haven, so I don’t know if I could tell if there was a hillside that might have an avalanche or something.”

  Her little brother Tory’s mouth made a little “o” shape, though he didn’t say anything. Perry asked the important question.

  “You’re going to train in it, right?” He grinned. His Gift was unusual, but not unheard of: an exceptionally strong version of Animal Mindspeech. That might have been what allowed him to bond to his partner, the giant kyree currently acting as a back-brace for him. The kyree nodded sagely.

  “Rood rain,” he mouthed, meaning “should train,” of course. All of them understood Larral the kyree as easily as they understood each other.

  “They seem to think the Healers can come up with something,” she said, and accepted a slice of bread and cheese from her mother. Then, once it was in her hands, she realized she was starving, and she ate it so fast it was gone before Amily had gotten done passing out the snack to the rest of the group. “They also want to put me in the Artificers,” she continued, feeling suddenly gleeful as Perry whistled.