The Spirit Rebellion (31 page)

“Mr. Richton says go in,” he announced, going back to his work.

Eli thanked him, but the sailor didn’t notice; he was busy tying off the rope he’d been working on when they arrived and grumbling about bloody merchants and their inability to keep a bloody timetable.

Eli, Josef, and Nico walked across the deck to the cabin. Without bothering to knock, Eli pushed the wooden door open, and the three of them ducked inside. The cabin was small, but very well decorated. A colorful, gold-tasseled rug covered the plank floor and bright, mirrored lanterns anchored in the corners above flip-out seats filled the room with warm light. Bright paintings of exotic city skylines were nailed to the walls, making up for the lack of windows. A large desk was built into the
wall directly across from where they stood, and sitting at it, dressed in a well-cut navy coat, was a handsome, older gentleman. Silver streaked his close-clipped fox-red hair and neatly trimmed beard, but his face was only lightly lined. He wore silver-rimmed spectacles low on his hooked nose and behind them, his quick, brown eyes missed nothing as he turned to face them.

“Gentero,” he said thoughtfully in a soft, urbane voice. “The trickster. Wrong opera, but quite appropriate.”

Eli shoved his hands in his pockets. “I never liked
Tragedy of the Scarlet Knight
, anyway.”

“No,” the man said, closing the fold-down writing table where he’d been working. “You never had any taste for subtlety.” His eyes flicked from Josef to Nico. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Eli sighed. “Nico, Josef, meet Giuseppe Monpress. He is, for lack of a better insult, my father.”

The man stood up and held out his hand. “Pleasure.”

Josef just looked at him. “I thought we were here to find the thief who robbed the duke ahead of us?”

“We are,” Eli said. “That’s him.”

“Bit of a family business,” Monpress said, sitting down again.

“
You’re
the one who stole the duke’s treasury?” Josef said.

“What bits of it were worth the taking,” Monpress said. “Quite honestly, when you factor in the setup costs and expense of fencing such well-known artifacts, I’m not sure I made any money at all on this venture.”

“Then why did you do it?” Eli said.

The tone in his voice made Josef hesitate. He’d never heard Eli sound quite that sharp. Eli, however, wasn’t
paying attention to him or Nico. His focus was entirely on the smiling man sitting at the desk. “You never pull a job without running the numbers three times through. You used to say that anything less than fifty percent profit wasn’t worth the breath to talk about. So why did you rob Gaol?”

Monpress gave him a dry look. “You mean, why did I take your target?”

“However you want to put it,” Eli said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because it was made for you,” the older Monpress said. “Come, you must have realized that this whole fiasco—the citadel, the bragging, the posters plastered on every wall for two hundred miles in any direction—was all bait in a trap for you. Of course you did, and yet here you are, ready to waltz in like an
idiot
, just like always.”

“Traps aren’t a bother if you go in with your eyes open,” Eli said through clenched teeth. “It was a challenge. And I still don’t understand why you felt the need to impersonate me.”

“I did nothing of the sort,” Monpress said. “I only robbed them. They decided it was you. And no wonder, with the way you carry on. I mean, a
challenge
? Did you listen to nothing I taught you? Thievery is about finesse, about getting in, getting out, and being long gone before anyone thinks to check the safe. It’s
not
about having your face on every wall or being so well known that any noble with a budget shortfall can lure you into his lands.”

Eli shot him a murderous glare, and the older Monpress took a deep breath. “I don’t know why we’re even having this discussion,” he said, his voice calm again. “Like it or not, I still feel an obligation to watch out for
you. I headed for Gaol as soon as I saw them putting up the posters in Zarin. The whole thing was so obvious that I knew it was only a matter of time before you came running. I
had
hoped to be done with the whole affair well before you crossed the border. After all, challenge or no, even you wouldn’t bother breaking in when there’s nothing left to steal. I thought if I couldn’t stop you from taking the bait, I could at least disarm the trap.” His eyes narrowed. “Obviously, I forgot how quickly you can move when your unfortunate flair for the dramatic makes you take leave of what little sense you have.”

The two men glared knives at each other, and for a moment Eli looked as if he was about to turn on his heel and march out. Then he shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You know what?” he said. “I don’t care. I don’t even know why I was surprised to find you here. You always were a meddling old man who never knew when to leave well enough alone. But it doesn’t matter. That ‘thief-proof’ citadel was a joke I wouldn’t want to be known for breaking into anyway. However, we are here for something other than just the joy of breaking in. I need an item from the duke’s collection, a Fenzetti blade.”

Monpress looked appalled. “That thing? Why? Fenzettis are impossible to fence.”

Eli smiled secretively. “Let’s just say I have a buyer who’s already paid in full.”

“A buyer?” Monpress said, theatrically impressed. “That’s a first for you. I was beginning to side with the popular opinion that you eat everything you steal.”

“That’s one of the nicest things they’ve said about me.” Eli grinned. “Are you going to give us the Fenzetti or not?”

Monpress stood up with a long sigh and walked to the
far corner of the cabin. He lifted the plush carpet to reveal a hidden hatch, which he yanked open.

“After you,” he said, nodding to the narrow ladder descending into the hold below.

After a skeptical look, Eli went first, then Josef and Nico. Monpress came down last with a lantern, which he hung from the hook on the low ceiling. The hold took up most of the ship’s lower level. It was just tall enough to stand in and it was packed absolutely full of goods. There were bolts of fine cloth, casks of wine, enormous spindles of thread, wooden bowls, porcelain, all stacked in open-top boxes stamped with Gaol’s label.

Josef looked around in disbelief. “Wait,” he said. “If being a merchant is just your cover, where did all this stuff come from? Is it stolen too?”

“Powers, no,” Monpress said, laughing. “It’s all purchased from the duke’s own shops. Every stitch of cloth or drop of wine on this vessel has been paid for in full, and then paid for again in tariffs, and insured.”

Josef shook his head. “Sounds expensive and troublesome.”

“For certain,” the old thief answered. “But it’s all part of a properly executed job. I stole the best of Gaol’s family treasures, all of which are easily recognizable, and all of which the duke is probably searching for quite adamantly at this very moment. However, the Duke of Gaol is, before all else, a businessman. Even in crisis, the last things he’d want to search are his own insured goods.”

Monpress reached over to the pile of cloth beside them and lifted the top bolt. There, nestled between the folds of burgundy damask, was a beautiful set of gold plates.

“White Tower Dynasty,” Monpress said. “Probably
older than Gaol itself. Lovely design, too. I think those are my favorite pieces.”

“Hiding stolen goods in purchased ones,” Eli said, trying not to look impressed. “Classic. I have to say the insurance is a nice touch. Even if you did get stopped, the duke’s guards wouldn’t do more than a cursory inspection for fear of breaking something.”

“First rule of thievery,” the elder Monpress said, laying the cloth down again. “Always hide where it costs money to find you.”

Josef burst into laughter, and Eli shot him a sharp look. “It wasn’t that funny.”

“No, no,” Josef gasped between laughs. “It’s just that I see where you get it now.”

“Really?” Monpress smiled, gripping Eli’s shoulder. “I’m so happy to hear he remembers
some
of what I taught him. If he can only learn to control his flamboyant nature, he might actually make a good thief someday.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eli said, ducking out of the older man’s grasp. “I’m already the greatest thief in the world, or haven’t you heard?”

Monpress gave Eli a serious look, killing the mirth in the room. “If you were actually any good, I wouldn’t have heard,” he said quietly. “If you were actually the best thief in the world, no one would know you were a thief at all, even after you’d robbed them blind.”

“What?” Eli said. “You mean like you? How many months did you play merchant to set this up? You had a tunnel into the treasury, so I’m guessing at least three. In the last three months I’ve stolen the Golden Horn of Celle, the original painting of the
Defeat of Queen Elise, AND
the King of Mellinor.”

“Three months?” Monpress smiled. “That would have been a feat indeed, considering the posters went up only two weeks ago. And for your information, the tunnel was already there, one of the duke’s many cost-cutting measures to save stone. All I had to do was cut the initial entry into the treasury and make the fake panels, which took about two days. I spent the next three moving everything before the duke found out.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Eli said. “The point is that the jobs I pull are—”

“I know, I know, very impressive. ” Monpress sighed. “Your exploits are reported far and wide. But what do you have to show for it? You’re hunted by everything that cares for gold, and yet look at you. Threadbare coat, worn boots, you look like a common cutpurse. It’s embarrassing to watch you drag the name Monpress through the dirt and not even making a good living at it. If you wanted fame, you should have chosen another profession, or have you forgotten the most important rule of thievery?” His eyes narrowed. “A famous thief is quickly a dead one.”

“Sorry if I don’t put too much faith in that one,” Eli said, crossing his arms. “I’ve been famous for years, and I’m still alive. My head is worth more than you’ve stolen in a lifetime, old man.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that,” Monpress said quietly. “I get by. But unlike some, I don’t feel the need to turn every theft into a carnival.”

“Uh-huh,” Eli said. “A few hundred thousand more and my bounty will beat Den the Warlord. I’ll be the most wanted man in all of the Council Kingdoms, and they
still
won’t be able to catch me.”

“Well,” Monpress said icily, “that will be a red-letter day indeed.”

The two men stared at each other, and the hold grew very uncomfortable. Just as things were getting really heavy, Nico spoke.

“The boat is moving.”

Both Monpresses blinked in surprise.

“I guess our good captain decided it was time to go,” the elder Monpress said. “River types can be so impatient.”

“Well,” Eli said, “not that it hasn’t been a pleasure catching up, but I’m not interested in crawling to Zarin on a riverboat with you, old man. We’ll just take that Fenzetti off your hands and be on our way.”

Monpress arched an eyebrow, but led them to the back of the hold, stopping in front of a pile of rolled-up woven rugs in a rainbow of colors stacked against the wall. The old thief stood on tiptoe and reached for the one on the very top. He caught the edge with his fingers, then paused and looked over his shoulder.

“Sir swordsman,” he said, “if you would be so kind. I’m afraid my arms aren’t what they used to be.”

Josef shrugged, and Monpress stepped back as the swordsman grabbed the rug. He swung it down with a grunt, and it landed hard on the wooden floor of the ship.

“Heavier than it looks,” Josef said, panting slightly.

“Must weigh a ton to have you out of breath,” Eli said, kneeling down. “Let’s see it.”

He gave the rug a push, and it began to unroll, dumping its hidden treasure onto the floor with a dull clatter. For a moment, they all just stared. The thing on the floor
was whitish gray, metal, but not at all shiny, and a little longer than Josef’s arm. Its matte surface had a strange, smooth texture, almost like it was made of soap. It was sword-shaped only in theory, and Eli had to look at it from several different angles to figure out which end was the point and which was the hilt.

Curious, Josef picked it up and gave the white blade a swing. It wobbled through the air, off balance and ungainly, and Josef stuck it into the deck floor, glaring when the dull point couldn’t even pierce the wood.

“Fenzetti blade,” he grumbled. “More like Fenzetti bat. It doesn’t even have a sharpened edge.”

“To be expected,” the elder Monpress said. “There’s not a force in the world that could put an edge on bone metal. That’s part of why they’re so hard to sell. Fenzettis are immensely rare, valuable historical pieces that demand a high price. But, in the end, who wants to pay through the nose for an ugly, dull sword?” He shrugged. “Hopeless situation.”

“Good for you that we’re taking it off your hands, then,” Eli said, grabbing a folded square of crimson-dyed linen from the stack beside him and tossing it to Josef. “Wrap that thing up and let’s get out of here.”

Josef nodded and started to bind the cloth around the blade. But just as he was tying it off, the boat began to pitch. They all flailed for purchase as the hold lurched below their feet, listing high on the starboard side like a skiff at sea instead of a flat-bottomed riverboat loaded with cargo.