The Breath -Sixth Whale Book 1

*14*

In the Secret Arts section of the Gilvern Wizards Guild, things were tense. Apprentices hid out of sight as Prebble paced through the corridors. His normally silent footsteps were beating the wooden floor as if they'd been the ones to offend him. Already one apprentice who was caught unaware by the infuriated Prebble had nearly lost his position after walking into him. Nobody had the nerve to ask the man why he was in such a foul mood.

There was nothing but a hot rage inside the man. The Witchfather had made him powerless to do anything. He couldn't even attempt to kill the man, and those silver eyes didn't even register him as someone worth being concerned over. Why would they? The blasted man had absolutely flawless control over him. Someone moved behind him and Prebble threw the knives he had hidden in his sleeve at them. The answering noise wasn't that of a running apprentice or the satisfying thud of a body hitting the floor. It was a bored sigh. That meant only one thing, he turned to face his secretary, Ms Abigial Primm.

Ms Primm was possibly the only person in the guild that Prebble was genuinely afraid of. She wasn't one of these women who were so beautiful men trembled in their boots, with long wild hair and an intimidating walk. Ms Prim was just incredibly well... proper. Like an old schoolmistress or the mother superior in a nunnery. She had a face where every feature was too sharp and angular, it was almost like she could cut you if you looked at her in the wrong way. Her figure was slightly too thin and her dark hair was meticulously and always wrapped into a bun. She was always impeccably neat, with never a hair out of place of a crumb on her clothes. Currently, she was looking at him with a very bored expression, diary for the day in one hand and his knives caught in the other. There wasn't a day that went by when Prebble didn't thank the creator that Abigial Primm was born as a woman without magic. Had she been able to become a wizard or even a witch he suspected that there wouldn't be a Master Prebble of the secret arts for very much longer. 

" You're running behind schedule. I've already delegated some of your tasks to the journeymen, but this one is a special service. They paid extra so they could have you do it. " She flicked open her diary and skimmed her fingers over the writing. You could imagine her with glasses but her vision was as sharp as the rest of her. Ms Primm's bronze eyes didn't even bother to look up at his as she continued the next part. He knew though if he looked away from her, or so much as seemed not to be paying close attention the knives would be hurled back at him, and they wouldn't miss. Despite his own personal relief, the fact that Abigail Primm could never be a member of the secret arts department of the guild was something of a tragedy. She could have been a master of all masters, a legend in the sacred halls. Instead, she was a secretary. Admittedly the best secretary on the whale, for she'd perfected that to a precise art too, but still someone whose purpose in life was arranging the day-to-day of a far less perfect man.

" The target is in the palace, they are a member of the delegation from Xan-Darkut. His name is Wu Feng, his position is comparable to your own during international relations. With one significant disadvantage of course." She briefed him, snapping the book shut. Her metallic eyes met his and Prebble felt his mouth go dry.

" Very well, I'll depart immediately." Prebble sighed like a sulking teenager. He had wanted to argue. Arguments with Miss Primm were always fun, even if he'd never won one.

" Good here's a sketch of him, try not to lose it. We only have one." Abigail handed him a neatly folded piece of paper and turned to return to her office.

" If you don't go, I'll know Sir, and then I'll have to refund our client." She emphasised the word and Prebble had a shiver of disgust. Despite his anger at the world, he would never be the reason his department issued a refund. He tried to mask his delight at getting the chance to off one of the empire's bloodhounds. Still, he glanced at Abigail and in his gut, he could tell she knew. This job was supposed to cheer him up.