The Spirit Rebellion (17 page)

On the second knock, the door cracked open and a hand in a grubby leather glove shot out, palm up. With a flick of his fingers Eli produced a gold standard, which he dropped into the waiting hand. It must have been enough, for the door flew open and a burly man in a logger’s woolen shirt and leather pants welcomed them in.

“Sit down,” he said, motioning to a fur-covered bench. “I’ll get the broker.”

Eli smiled and sat. Josef, however, did not. He leaned on the wall by the door, arms crossed over his chest. Nico stayed right beside him, her eyes strangely luminous beneath the deep hood of her new coat.

The large man vanished through the little door at the rear of the building, leaving his guests alone in the tiny room, which was uncomfortably warm thanks to the red-hot stove in the corner and smelled like dust. A few moments later, the man came out again, this time trailed by a tall, thin woman in men’s trousers and a thick woolen coat, her graying hair pulled tight behind her head. She walked to a stool by the stove and sat down, looking Eli square in the eye as the large man took up position behind her.

“The fee is five standards a question,” she said.

“That’s a bit steep,” Eli said. “One is traditional.”

“Maybe in the city,” the woman sneered. “This far out, customers are few and far between. I have to eat. Besides, you don’t pay the doorman in gold if you’re bargain shopping. Five standards or get out.”

“Five standards then.” Eli smiled, flashing the gold in his hand. “But I expect to get what I pay for.”

“You won’t be disappointed,” the woman said as the man took Eli’s money. “I’m a fully initiated broker. You’ll get the best we have. Now, what’s your question?”

Eli leaned forward. “I need the location and owners of all the remaining Fenzetti blades.”

The woman frowned. “Fenzetti? You mean the swords?”

Eli nodded.

“A tough question.” The woman tapped her fingers against her knees. “Good for you I had you pay up front. Come back in one hour.”

“No worries.” Eli smiled. “We’ll wait here.”

Neither the woman nor her guard looked happy about that, but Eli was a paying customer now, so they said nothing. The woman stood up and disappeared into the back room. The man took up position by the door she’d gone through, watching Josef like a hawk.

“Well,” Eli said, fishing through his pockets, “no need to be unfriendly, Mr. Guard. How about joining us for a game?” He pulled out a deck of Daggerback cards. “Friendly wagers only, of course.”

The guard glowered and said nothing, but Eli was already dealing him a hand with a king placed invitingly faceup. The guard’s expression changed quickly at that, and he moved a little closer, picking up his cards. After winning the first five rounds, the guard had warmed up to them immensely. So much so, in fact, that he scarcely noticed his luck going steadily downhill after his initial streak. Eli kept things going, asking him innocent questions and distracting him from the cards in his hand, which only seemed to get worse as the rounds went on. To Josef, who was used to Eli’s fronts, it was clear that the thief’s attention was only half on the game. His real
focus was the door the woman had disappeared behind and the strange sounds that filtered through the thick wood. The noise was hard to place. It sounded like a sea wind, or a storm gale, yet the torches outside the tiny, grimy window were steady, burning yellow and bright without so much as a flicker.

Almost exactly one hour later, by Josef’s reckoning, the door opened and the woman came back into the room. By that point, the guard had been losing for nearly forty minutes, and four of Eli’s five gold standards were back in the thief’s own pockets. The woman shot her guard a murderous look, and he jumped up from the bench, leaving his hand unplayed (a good thing, too: his pair of knights would never have beaten Eli’s three queens) as he dashed to his place behind her. Eli only grinned and gathered his cards, tucking them back into his pocket before he turned to hear his now greatly discounted answer.

With a sour expression, the woman flipped open a small, leather-bound notebook. “I was able to get the locations of eight Fenzetti blades,” she said. “You don’t look like the sort who’s trying to buy one, so I’ll skip over the part about how none of these are for sale. Of the eight I could locate, five are held by the Immortal Empress.”

Eli made a choking sound. “The Immortal Empress? Couldn’t you start with something in an easier location? Say, bottom of the sea?”

“You paid only for location and owner,” the woman said. “Them being impossible to get is your problem.”

“All right,” Eli said, sighing. “Well, that’s five out of the way. How about the other three?”

The woman ran her finger down the page. “One is owned by the King of Sketti.”

“Sketti, Sketti,” Eli mumbled, trying to remember. “That’s on the southern coast, right?”

“It’s an island, actually,” the woman said, nodding. “Large island in the south sea. Four months from Zarin by caravan, five by boat.”

Eli grimaced and motioned for her to continue.

The woman flipped to the next page in her book. “There’s rumored to be a Fenzetti dueling dagger in the great horde of Del Sem. It hasn’t been seen in eighty years, though, not since Rikard the Mad lived up to his name and started giving out his family’s treasure to anyone who promised to banish the demon he was convinced lived in his chest.”

Eli frowned. “So that one could be anywhere, really.”

The woman nodded and closed her book. “I’d say Sketti is your best option. Would you like to buy another question?”

“Not so fast,” Eli said. “You said there were eight known blades. You’ve only told us seven so far. Where’s the last one?”

“Oh,” the woman said. “That one might as well be at the bottom of the sea for all the chance you have of getting your hands on it. It’s currently held by the Duke of Gaol.”

“Gaol?” Eli whistled. “He’s supposed to be richer than most countries put together. Rules over a beautiful and boring little duchy like it’s his private playground, or so I’ve heard. Where does the impossible part come in?”

She gave him a look of disbelief. “Where have you been?”

She got up and walked over to a small wardrobe set against the corner. It looked like a simple coat closet, but
when she opened it Eli saw it was full of papers, organized into wooden nooks with small, scribbled labels. She dug around for a moment and then returned carrying a rolled-up poster.

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen these. They’ve been plastering them up in every city, town, and waypost across the Council Kingdoms for the past week. The printing cost alone must have been a fortune.”

Eli took the poster from her and carefully unrolled it. It was very large, twice the size of the bounty posters and covered in splashy block printing surrounding an engraved illustration of the most formidable fortress Eli had ever seen.

“Edward di Fellbro,” he read aloud. “Duke of Gaol, Liegesworn of the Kingdom of Argo, so on and so forth.” He scanned down the enormous list of titles that always seemed to follow anyone important, looking for the actual announcement. “Ah,” he said. “Here we are. It’s an announcement for the duke’s new stronghold. Look here”—he motioned Josef and Nico over—“ ‘… this new, impenetrable fortress, a wonder of modern architecture and security built on impenetrable bedrock, was created to protect his lordship’s priceless family heirlooms, the famous treasures of Gaol.’ ”

Eli’s eyes flicked back and forth, his grin growing wider by the word. “Powers,” he cackled. “There’s three paragraphs alone on the thickness of the walls!”

“Mm,” the broker said, nodding. “It goes on like that the whole way through. People thought it was funny at first, him making such a big deal over it in places that didn’t even know there was a Duke of Gaol. Who advertises a fortress, anyhow? But the tune changed after
rumors got round ’bout what he did to the first couple of thieves he caught. Cruel doesn’t begin to describe it. So, unless you’re Eli Monpress, I’d count this target out. No sword, Fenzetti or whatever, is worth that kind of suicide mission. Stick to Sketti.”

Eli nodded thoughtfully, rolling the poster back into a tube. “Can I keep this?”

“Sure.” The woman shrugged. “As I said, they’re everywhere. I’ll just get another.”

“Much obliged,” Eli said graciously, standing up. “Thank you for a very thorough answer, Miss Broker. I’ll make sure to recommend your services.”

The woman gave him a sharp look. “It’s customary to tip,” she said. “Especially considering how you managed to cheat my idiot here out of most of my fee.”

Eli gave her an innocent smile, but she arched an eyebrow. “I told you,” she said. “A girl has to eat, and if you won’t play fair by me, then I might be forced to write a letter to these sword owners.”

“You make a good case,” Eli said, and his hand flashed, sending four gold standards flying across the room in rapid succession. The woman caught them easily, and she nodded her head in thanks as the thief and his companions ducked through the low door and into the night.

“Well,” Josef said, walking in step with Eli through the narrow dirt streets, “that was surprisingly informative. If I’d known brokers were so useful I would have tried harder to find one.”

“They’re everywhere if you know what to look for,” Eli said, spinning the rolled-up poster between his fingers. “Though they’re really at their best when you’re
looking for something physical. They don’t handle manhunts well. I didn’t expect such a thorough answer from a broker in an end-of-nowhere town like Goin, but I guess I should have known better. Brokers, wherever they are, always know what’s going on. Someday, when I get bored enough, I’ll find out how they do it.”

“Well,” Josef said, “at least we know where we’re going. I’ve never been to the southern coast, but there are several good swordsmen along the islands I’ve been meaning to test out. This seems like a good opportunity.”

“Josef, Josef, Josef,” Eli said. “What are you talking about? We’re not going to Sketti. There’s no way I’m wasting the half a year it’ll take to go all the way down to the south coast, and then come all the way back on what is essentially a pro bono project.” He flashed a smile at Nico. “No offense, dear, but your coat isn’t worth
that
much. Besides,” he said, unrolling the poster again with a gleeful grin, “why would we pass up an opportunity like this?”

“I see several in bold print,” Josef said, looking over his shoulder.

“
Look
at this!” Eli cackled. “ ‘Impenetrable fortress’? ‘Impossible to infiltrate’? ‘
Thief-proof
’? It’s practically an invitation!” Eli slapped the paper with the back of his hand. “This, my friends, is a challenge! And I never turn away from a challenge.”

“Or a trap,” Josef grumbled. “Come on, Eli, think. The only reason to put up a notice detailing your fantastic security is if you’re desperately trying to ward off thieves, or fishing for them. Considering he’s putting up posters in nowhere mud-hole towns miles from his borders, I’m going with the latter.
Especially
when the bait
seems tailored to a certain famous thief with a kingdom-swaying bounty who’s well known for his love of impossible targets. Powers, he might as well just hang up some ‘Welcome Eli’ banners and be done with it.”

“You might be right,” Eli said, rolling the poster back into a tube. “But that just makes it even more irresistible. Besides, the duke’s lands are in Argo. That’s barely a week away from here if we acquire some transportation. Even if we just go over to take a look and decide it’s impossible, we’ve still hardly lost any time. Besides, if this trap for me is as transparent as you seem to think, then there are bound to be dozens of bounty hunters hanging around, and you did say you wanted a good fight.”

“I wouldn’t call most of the trash that comes after us a ‘good fight,’ ” Josef grumbled, but even his gruff tone couldn’t hide the spark of interest. “Of course,” he added, a few moments later, “we never know when we might run into another Coriano.”

“That’s the spirit.” Eli grinned, clapping him on the back. “Come on, let’s go find some food and then see if we can’t find a ride out of here. I don’t know about you two, but I’m
really
sick of walking.”

Neither Josef nor Nico disagreed with that statement, and so the three of them went off in search of a tavern whose kitchen was still open and whose floor wasn’t currently a wrestling ring.

As it turned out, finding a meal was the hardest part of the night. The taverns of Goin lived up to their reputation as rowdy dumps where beer counts as food and a broken nose is considered part of a good night out. This worked for Josef, who had a bit of fun tossing the locals around
under the guise of “securing a table,” but Eli was having trouble finding anything on the dinner boards of the few places that offered food that wasn’t a concoction of meat, grease, and dirt. After several hungry, bloody hours, the night rolled around into predawn, and Eli was finally able to buy a sack of day-old bread from a baker who had just opened his shop.

Obtaining transportation was significantly easier. Most of the stable hands were drunk, and the stable locks were old and rusted. With about five minutes’ work Eli had them a very respectable-looking covered merchant’s cart and a team of sturdy but unexceptional brown horses to draw it.

Josef and Nico both frowned when they saw the horses. Horses were always a risk. They were very sensitive to threats, especially demons, and were prone to panic if Nico came too near. Slorn’s new coat was working wonders, however, and the horses barely noticed when Nico climbed up over the driver’s bench and into the back.