The Spirit Rebellion (23 page)

“I guess that will do,” Eli said and sighed. “Just be sure to scowl a lot; that way no one will get close enough to notice the mended stab holes and bloodstains.”

“I do wash it,” Josef said. “Anyway, it fits me better than the guy I took it off.”

Eli gave him a startled look. “I don’t think I want to hear any more about your brand of shopping.”

Josef shrugged. “It’s not like he was using it.”

Eli left it at that.

In the end, Josef decided to bring only the twin short swords he wore at his hips and the knives he could hide in his clothing. He and Eli agreed that walking into town covered in blades as he usually was would be asking for trouble, especially when they were trying to be discreet. Of course, this also meant Josef would have to leave the Heart, something Eli had a much harder time convincing him of.

“I don’t see why this is a big deal,” Eli said. “You hate having to use the Heart anyway.”

“That’s not the issue here,” Josef said, crossing his arms stubbornly. “It’s plain stupid to walk into an unknown situation, with armed men gathering in a city we know is a trap, and not bring our best weapon.”

“Come on,” Eli pleaded. “It’s common knowledge you’re with me these days. Carrying that thing is like
walking around with a giant signpost: ‘Here’s Josef Liechten! Please stab!’ If you’re going to bring it, there’s no point in disguises at all.”

Josef scowled. “I don’t think—”

“Just leave it here,” Eli interrupted. “It’s not like it could get stolen anyway, seeing as you’re the only one who can pick it up. Besides”—Eli’s voice smoothed to warm honey—“you’re Josef Liechten, the greatest swordsman in the world. Surely
you
can take a few armed men without the Heart.”

Josef gave him a dangerous glare. “Don’t treat me like one of your idiot spirits.” He pulled the enormous black blade off his back and dropped it. It fell like a meteor, sticking point-first in the wood floor. “I’ll leave the Heart because you make a good case, but don’t ever try and con me again, Monpress.”

“Point taken,” Eli said softly, but Josef was already stalking toward the door.

“You deserved that,” Nico said, standing up from the crate she’d been sitting on.

“Thanks,” Eli said sarcastically, but his heart wasn’t in it. He looked over at Nico. “Sure you don’t want a disguise? Just for a change?”

“No.” Nico gave him a little half smile. “Nothing in those crates can do this.”

She stepped forward into a long shadow cast by one of the dividers that separated the windows and vanished. Eli blinked. He’d seen Nico do her shadow thing dozens of times, but never that cleanly. It was like she’d simply disappeared.

“Slorn did a good job with this coat,” she said behind him.

Eli jumped and whirled around. She was several feet away, sitting on a crate a few rows up, shaking her oversized sleeves with a kind of visceral happiness, like a cat playing with a stunned mouse.

“So I see,” Eli said. “Shall we go?”

But the crate was already empty, and Nico winked into existence again beside Josef, who was standing impatiently at the door.

“Right,” Eli muttered, hurrying to catch up.

The city of Gaol was a beautiful, well-laid-out place. Every road was perfectly straight, every house perfectly kept. Small gardens glowed like jewels behind the low stone walls, and every sign was painted in matching colors without a single scuff or faded letter. Even the paving cobbles were set at perfect right angles with their cracks swept meticulously clean.

Over all of this order flowed a constant stream of ordinary people, men and women, with identical swords belted at their sides. They were moving in close knots, talking together in quiet, nervous whispers. None of them looked happy to be there, but they moved at a good pace, making their way toward the citadel at the city center to join the growing crowd.

“Amazing!” Eli stood on tiptoe to get a better look. “It’s like they turned the town upside down, shook out the people, and gave them swords. What is this, community military service?”

“Stop gawking,” Josef said, tugging the thief down by his gaudy coat. “You’re supposed to be a traveling merchant, remember?”

“I think it’s perfectly in character for me to gawk,” Eli
said, batting Josef’s hand away. “Haven’t you ever met a merchant?”

They were walking toward the center of town down one of the main roads. Eli, as the merchant, stayed out in front, while Josef, the hired sword, kept a few paces behind. Nico, as usual, was nowhere in sight, but Josef’s practiced eye spotted her flitting in and out of the gloom between the buildings, a tiny, girl-shaped patch of darker shadow. They were following the crowd toward the duke’s fortress, its hulking, boxy shape black against the clear morning sky. Ahead, the road opened out into a square that was even more packed than the street they were on. Eli paused, frowning at the armed crowd, and then, quick as a bird going for cover, ducked into the nearest door, forcing Josef to turn sharp if he wanted to follow.

The doorway led to a bakery. It was a tiny shop, just a few benches and a counter separating the actual ovens from the customers. Still, like everything in Gaol, it was immaculately neat. Boards covered in precise lettering detailed the startling variety of baked goods and sweetmeats the shop offered. Hearing the door, the baker pulled himself away from the small window that overlooked the crowded square and came to the counter, a sour look on his flat face.

At once, Eli launched himself into character, his grin growing snide and arrogant as he flipped a handful of silver bits from the local currency casually between his fingers.

The baker’s expression became infinitely more gracious at the glitter of silver. “What can I get for you, sir?”

“Hmm,” merchant Eli droned, not bothering to look
away from the window. “Give me a half dozen of those little fruit things, and a loaf of whatever’s cheap, for my boy here. Something hearty—these swordsmen eat you out of house and home.”

Josef didn’t have to fake his scowl, and the baker’s red face paled. “Of course, sir, at once.”

He went over to the shelves and began pulling things down with the hesitant clumsiness of someone who didn’t usually do this himself.

“Where are your apprentices?” Eli said, casually leaning on the spotless counter. “I can’t imagine you run this shop alone.”

“Oh, no,” the baker said and laughed. “But you know how boys are. They ran off to the square as soon as they heard the news. The duke’s called in the conscriptions, the whole lot, word is.” He huffed as he set out the tarts. “I’m just thankful I got dispensation on account of my shop, or I’d be grabbing my sword too.”

“Conscriptions?” Eli said. “Why? Is Gaol under attack?”

“Oh, no.” The baker shook his head. “Who’d attack Gaol? No, sir, word everywhere is that Eli Monpress robbed the duke’s fortress last night.”

The silver coins stopped flashing in Eli’s hand.

“Really,” he said, almost too casually. “How do you know it was Monpress? Did they catch him?”

“No,” the baker said, fishing a loaf of brown bread out of the bin. “There’s been no official word yet, but if they’d caught the thief, I doubt Duke Edward would bother with conscripts.” He gave Eli a wink. “
That’s
how we know it was Monpress. Who else would warrant mobilizing the whole country to catch him?”

“Who else, indeed,” Eli said. “But it’s been hours since the robbery if Monpress robbed the citadel last night. Wouldn’t the thief have escaped by now?”

“I don’t see how he could have,” the baker said, packing Eli’s order into a small wicker basket. “The duke closed the gates before dawn this morning. They say Monpress can move through shadows and kill guards just by looking, but that’s rubbish. Whatever his bounty, he’s human, and nothing human could have gotten through the duke’s security.”

“Why do you say that?” Josef asked, glaring at the baker from his place on the wall. “The thief got in, didn’t he?”

The baker jumped and looked at Eli, obviously waiting for him to discipline his guard, but Eli was staring out the window, studying the citadel and the growing crowd with intense interest. Realizing he wouldn’t get any backup from that quarter, the baker sullenly packed the last of Eli’s pastries into the basket. When he was done, he had to wait a moment while Eli tore himself away from the window, but the pile of silver Eli tossed on the counter quickly smoothed over any hurt feelings.

“Thank you, sir,” the baker said, bowing graciously as Eli swept out of the bakery with Josef on his heels.

The moment they stepped onto the street, Eli veered hard right, and they ducked down a narrow but shockingly clean alley. Nico was waiting for them, and she helped herself to one of the pastries from Eli’s basket as soon as he was close.

“What’s going on?” she asked, biting into the corner of the flaky tart.

“Someone got here before us,” Josef said, leaning
against the wall with his arms crossed. “I’d like to know who.”

“I have an idea,” Eli said carefully, picking a tart out of the pile. “But I’d have to get a look at the scene of the crime to be sure.”

“What?” Josef said. “You mean
inside
the citadel? The one surrounded by armed guards?”

“Well, I certainly can’t tell anything from out here,” Eli said.

Josef frowned. “You do realize this could all be part of the trap.”

“What?” Eli said, his mouth full of sweet pastry. “Fake a robbery so I’d come and investigate? That’s a bit of a long shot. Think of it like this: We’re here for a Fenzetti blade. Now, if another thief did break in, he either took the blade with him or had to leave it. Either way, we have to go into that citadel, either to pick up the thief’s trail or get the blade for ourselves. The way I see it, we’ve just had the opportunity of a lifetime dropped in our laps. They’re getting their orders now, but in a few moments, that whole crowd of citizen soldiers is going to start tearing this town apart looking for Eli Monpress. By going into the citadel, we’ll be going to the only place they’re
not
going to be looking. No thief good enough to get into the Duke of Gaol’s citadel would ever return to the scene of the crime. When you look at it that way, the citadel’s the safest place in the city for us to be right now.”

Josef gave him a long look, casually sliding a dagger in and out of his sleeve as he thought about it. “That’s some twisted Eli logic,” he said at last, “but I’ll bite. Anyway, sneaking into a citadel sounds a lot more interesting than hiding in a warehouse until dark.”

“Ah,” Eli said, licking the last of the tart off his fingers. “But that’s the brilliant bit of the plan. We won’t be sneaking. They’re going to let us in all nice and legal.”

Josef arched an eyebrow. “How are you going to manage that?”

Eli only smiled and shoved the wicker basket at him. “Just eat your breakfast. I’ve got to do some shopping. Be back in five minutes.”

Josef barely had time to grab the basket before Eli was gone, ducking back out into the street with a flash of fake golden hair and vanishing expertly into the crowd. Josef stood there, holding the basket and watching where Eli had been for a moment, and then he sighed and sank back against the wall.

“Never boring with him, is it?” he said, fishing the loaf out of the basket and biting deep into the warm, dark bread.

Nico shook her head and helped herself to another tart.

Ten minutes later, Eli popped back into the alley carrying a small velvet bag in his fist and grinning like a cat who’d just eaten a coop of canaries. Josef stopped twirling the empty breadbasket between his fingers and straightened up. “What did you buy?”

“Take a look,” Eli said and opened the drawstring, upturning the velvet bag over his open hand. There was a faint tinkling sound, and a glittering cascade fell out of the bag into Eli’s waiting palm. They were rings. Jeweled rings in a rainbow of colors, all set in gold bands of various thickness. Some of the stones were round and smooth, others were cut to sharp points that refracted the
morning light in glowing colors, and not a single one was smaller than the first knuckle of Eli’s thumb. They were, in short, the tackiest, gaudiest jewelry Josef had ever seen.

“Powers, Eli,” Josef said, picking up a ring set with a ruby that was almost larger than the embellished band it was attached to. “I hope you stole these. I can’t imagine paying good money for something this ugly.”

“Oh, I paid for them,” Eli said, shoving the rings onto his fingers. “But not much, don’t worry. They’re glass. Fakes. I saw them in the window of one of the stores as we were walking up. They’re what gave me the idea for how we’re going to get into the citadel, actually. Look.” He held up his newly adorned hands and wiggled his fingers. “Remind you of anyone?”

He’d crammed the rings onto every finger, thumbs included. His right pinky actually had two rings, both smaller gold and pearl bands that looked like something a father would buy for his spoiled daughter. But he was right, the effect was familiar, and Josef began to understand.

It didn’t seem possible, but Eli’s grin grew even wider. “Come on,” he said, turning on his heel. “This is going to be the most fun I’ve had all year.”

Josef stepped out after him. Nico, still licking her sticky fingers, kept right on the swordsman’s heels.