I sat at the breakfast table, nursing a cup of tea and watching the early morning mist cling to the windowpane. I couldn't help it; a small, satisfied smirk kept tugging at the corners of my mouth. The "interceptor" was out there, humming its beautiful, blue-tinted lie, and the blueprints for the day were already etched in my mind.
Arin paused with a piece of toast halfway to his mouth, squinting at me. "Father? Why are you smirking like that? You look like you just solved a physics equation that proved the sun revolves around the kitchen."
"Is the structural integrity of your face compromised, Father?" Lysa asked, her eyes narrowing."That expression correlates with a high probability of a secret plan."
I leaned back, tapping my temple. "It's simply the burden of being the smartest man in the province, children. When you have a brain that calculates three moves ahead, it's hard not to enjoy the view."
Avaris walked by, a heavy cast-iron skillet in one hand. She didn't even look at me as she reached out with her free hand and flicked my ear with a sharp snap.
"Ow!" I yelped, rubbing my ear.
"The 'smartest man in the province' nearly walked into the doorframe this morning because he was admiring his own shadow," Avaris said dryly, setting the skillet down with a heavy thud. "Stop gloating, Ilyas. A smug Architect is an Architect who forgets to check his load-bearing beams. Finish your tea before your 'brilliant' brain freezes."
Arin and Lysa erupted into giggles as I sheepishly returned to my drink. Avaris leaned down, whispering in my ear as she cleared a plate. "Humble yourself, Master of Mud. Now, tell me how we trigger the trap."
"The Goat Gambit," I whispered back, my eyes gleaming.
The Mission: Operation Caprine Diversion
Once the children were off to the Academy, I put on my most frantic, "clumsy scholar" face. I headed toward Old Man Hallow's fence, holding a handful of particularly sweet clover.
Hallow was inside, probably arguing with his fireplace, so it was easy enough to unlatch the gate of his smallest, most mischievous goat—a scrawny thing named 'Barnaby.' I led the creature toward the Old Quarry with the clover, making sure we took a path that was visible from the Imperial guard post on the main road.
Once we reached the lip of the quarry, I tucked the clover into a crevice near my fake device and let out a distressed, high-pitched shout.
"Help! Oh, heavens, help! Someone! My neighbor's livestock is in geological peril!"
Two Imperial guards, looking bored and miserable in the morning damp, came trotting over. "What's the trouble, Verne? Can't you even keep track of a goat?"
"It's Barnaby!" I cried, waving my arms toward the pit. "He's wandered into the excavation zone! The shale is loose! If he falls, the paperwork for the livestock loss will take me weeks to file! Please, I'm not built for climbing!"
The guards groaned, but they couldn't ignore a citizen in "distress." They scrambled down into the quarry, cursing the loose stones. I watched from the top, holding my breath.
"I see the beast," one guard grumbled. "He's over by that—wait. What in the Empress's name is that?"
He stopped dead. Just behind the goat, tucked under the limestone ledge, my "interceptor" was pulsing with a soft, eerie blue light. The copper coils hummed with a low, vibrating frequency I'd tuned specifically to sound "menacing."
"Vance! Look at this!" the guard shouted, his voice cracking with sudden adrenaline. "The blue glow... the Northern resonance stones! It's a relay! A rebel signal relay!"
"Verne!" the other guard yelled up at me, his hand already on the hilt of his sword. "Stay right there! Don't move!"
"What? Is it dangerous?" I shouted back, doing my best impression of a man about to faint. "Is it the gas? Is the quarry going to explode?"
"It's better than gas," the guard grinned, his eyes wide with the thought of a promotion. "It's treason. We've found it, Vance! The signal the Grey Cloak was looking for!"
They didn't even care about the goat anymore. Barnaby happily chewed on the clover as the guards scrambled to secure the "rebel device." Within minutes, a runner was sent to the Academy to recall the scouts.
I stood at the top of the pit, adjusting my glasses. The Empire finally had their "truth." It was made of rusted gears, a glow-stone, and a father's desperation—and they were currently treating it like the crown jewels.
The bait is taken. The Grey Cloak is going to be very busy investigating a pile of junk in a hole, and Old Man Hallow is officially off the hook.