The Spirit Thief (24 page)

Miranda briefly considered lying, but Josef’s face was murderous in the dim light filtering through the warped cracks in the closet door. She swallowed against her dry throat and decided it was time to come clean.

“It’s not like I was hiding it,” she said, slumping against the back wall. “I just didn’t think it would be an issue.”

“Obviously it is,” Josef said, releasing his grip. “Talk.”

“Fine,” Miranda said. “I wasn’t just wandering through Mellinor when I found out you three had stolen the king. I was sent here by the Rector Spiritualis.”

“Figures,” Eli said. “That old windbag probably couldn’t stand having a country in the Council that didn’t buy into his Spiritualist mumbo jumbo.”

“Ignore him,” Josef said, cutting off Miranda’s retort
before she could open her mouth. “Why did the Rector send you?”

Miranda shot Eli an icy glare. “We received a tip from Coriano that Eli was in this kingdom.”

Josef arched an eyebrow. “Coriano works for you?”

“Worked,” Miranda corrected him. “We couldn’t let
someone
”—she glared at Eli—“continue to ruin our good reputation, so the Spirit Court paid Coriano to tip us off since he was following your trail anyway. Everything was fine until I got here. Then Renaud bought Coriano out from under us.”

“That’s the problem with mercenaries,” Eli said. “They always live up to their name.”

“Stop interrupting,” Josef said flatly. “What about the pillar?”

Miranda shook her head. “When Master Banage sent me here, we didn’t know the king was the target. He thought Eli was after an obscure wizard artifact that has been in Mellinor’s possession since its founding, Gregorn’s Pillar.”

“Obscure?” Eli looked insulted. “Why would I want to steal something no one’s heard of?”

“Gregorn,” Josef said and frowned. “I’ve heard that name before.”

“I’m not surprised,” Miranda said. “Gregorn was Mellinor’s founder, and, despite their current rhetoric, he was actually quite a famous, and quite a nasty, enslaver.”

“What does Banage care about the pillar then?” Josef asked. “He’s not an enslaver. Why would he want something that belonged to one?”

“To keep it away from other wizards who want to follow Gregorn’s path,” Miranda said.

“What’s it do, then?” Josef asked. “Does it amplify powers somehow, or call spirits to you?”

Miranda began to fidget.

“I’m not actually sure,” she admitted at last. “Master Banage never told me exactly. All I know is that it’s bad news for everyone if a wizard gets his hands on it.” Master Banage’s exact words had been ‘soul-imperiling danger for both the human and spirit worlds,’ but after Eli’s earlier comments, she didn’t think they would appreciate the gravity of that statement.

Eli scowled at her. “I thought the Spirit Court was around to keep stuff like that under control.”

“We do,” Miranda snapped. “Why else do you think Master Banage sent me to keep the pillar from being stolen? I’m a fully initiated Spiritualist! I’m not exactly an errand girl.”

“So why let it sit in Mellinor all this time if it’s so dangerous?” Josef scratched his chin. “Seems awfully irresponsible.”

“We’re a neutral power!” Miranda threw up her hands. “We can’t just waltz in and demand a country’s national treasure! Besides, in case you forgot, Mellinor hates wizards. Gregorn’s Pillar is perfectly harmless to normal people; so leaving it in a country where wizards are deported on sight seemed like an acceptable risk.”

“Let me get this right”—Josef bent down to look her straight in the eye—“you think that Renaud, an enslaver, is trying to get this pillar, which is named after another enslaver, and is, in your words, ‘bad news’ if a wizard gets his hands on it.” He arched an eyebrow at Miranda. “Don’t you think you should have told us about this earlier?”

“I’m sorry!” Miranda sputtered. “I really didn’t think
it was going to be an issue! Renaud grew up right above it, so I figured if he knew about the pillar at all, he would have gotten it years ago, before he was banished.”

“He wouldn’t have had access to it when he was a prince,” Eli said. “The treasury vault can be opened only by the king’s direct order.”

Everyone turned and looked at him, and Eli took a step back.

“What? I did do
some
research on Mellinor. That was my first plan, actually—get Henrith to open the vault for me—but then I figured kidnapping would be much more high profile.”

Miranda slapped her hand against her forehead. “Well,” she said, “that clears things up nicely.”

“Does it really matter?” Eli said. “I mean, our objectives haven’t changed. Get Renaud, get the money, get away. The plan is still rolling smoothly. We’ll just have to be more careful. Besides”—he rubbed his hands together—“sneaking into a treasury sounds much more profitable than sneaking into a throne room.”

Miranda grunted, but she could think of nothing sufficient to counter all that was wrong with that sentence. Eli grinned and opened the closet door, spilling them out into the dark hazy hall.

“Look,” Miranda said, balancing herself against the sooty wall, “even if you’re right, and the plan is still valid, we don’t know where the treasury is. Since we made it this far with only a spying rat for trouble, it’s a safe bet Renaud doesn’t have the Pillar yet, but if anyone recognizes us, we’ll be up to our neck in guards and, shortly after that, enslaved spirits. We don’t have time to wander around lost.”

“So we’ll ask someone.” Eli smirked and pointed over her shoulder. “In fact, I think I’ve spotted someone who can help us.”

Miranda whirled around, and her eyes widened in shock. Standing at the junction where their small corridor met the madness of the main hall, still as a statue with her hands pressed against her mouth despite the other servants pushing past her, was Marion. As soon as Miranda made eye contact, the girl rushed forward, and the Spiritualist barely had time to catch her breath before the librarian’s hug crushed it out of her.

“Oh, Lady Miranda,” she gasped. “I knew you’d be back! I knew it! The king’s not really dead, is he?”

Miranda clutched the girl’s shoulders awkwardly. “No, Henrith’s alive. He’s with Gin, and safe.”

Marion looked up at her, eyes glowing with delight. “Really? Oh, thank goodness.” She looked around at Eli and Josef. “Who are these? Reinforcements from the Spirit Court?”

“More or less.” Miranda grinned, and Eli rolled his eyes. “Listen”—she pushed Marion back so she could look the girl in the eyes—“Marion, this is serious. We need to get to the treasury.”

Marion nodded vigorously and grabbed Miranda’s hand, pulling her to the end of the corridor. “This way,” she said, turning down a tiny hallway Miranda hadn’t noticed before. “With the main halls like that, it’s faster to take the servants’ passages.”

Miranda nodded and resigned herself to being dragged. Eli took up position right behind her, with Josef bringing up the rear. As usual, Nico was nowhere to be seen. Marion led them through a maze of narrow halls and
then down a flight of stairs. This led to more hallways and then more stairs, until Miranda could hardly believe all of this labyrinthine tunneling fit inside the same castle she’d bullied her way into only days before.

As they followed the twisting hall down yet another stair, something occurred to her, and Miranda looked over her shoulder at Eli. “How did you know it was Marion?” she whispered. “I never told you what she looked like.”

“Simple,” Eli whispered back. “Who else in this place would possibly be happy to see you?”

Miranda couldn’t help but chuckle at the truth of that, and she turned her attention back to the stone hall as Marion led them past the turn-off for the prisons and down yet another narrow stair, heading deeper and deeper into the castle’s foundations.

M
arion led them deeper than Miranda had imagined the castle could reach, down below the prison, below the foundations, and into the very heart of the stone that lay far below the fertile soil of Mellinor. Though the city was low lying, there was no sign of water here, no seepage over the years as one would expect to find this deep below the surface. Only the ancient, wooden support beams and the occasional fluttering light of the lamps broke the monotony of the smooth, dry stone as the narrow hallways and connecting stairs descended deeper and deeper into the earth.

Finally, at the base of the longest stairway yet, they reached a small wooden door.

“This is as far as I can take you,” Marion said, turning to face them. “The treasury hall is just beyond here, but I’ve never been inside myself. Actually,” she said and blushed sheepishly, “servants aren’t even allowed past the prison, but I spent a lot of time memorizing drawings of
the castle back when I was the Master Architect’s assistant, before I got promoted to librarian.”

“Well, thank the Powers for that,” Eli said, smiling charmingly. “You’ve been a most effective guide, Lady Marion.”

Marion’s blush spread as Eli took her hand and guided her back toward the stairs. “I must insist that you return now. You’ve risked far too much helping us.”

“It was the least I could do,” Marion mumbled. She looked shyly at Miranda and dropped into a sudden, haphazard curtsy. “Thank you, lady. Good luck!”

She whirled around and scrambled back up the stairs as fast as she could go. Miranda watched her with a faint smile. Only when the girl’s footsteps had safely faded away did she turn back to the grim task before them.

Josef had pressed himself against the wooden door and was peering through the gaps in the boards with one eye. Nico was crouched below him, peeking under the crack where the door met the floor, while Eli hovered impatiently behind them both. “How does it look?” he asked.

“Interesting,” Josef said. He stepped aside so Miranda and Eli could have a look.

Miranda pressed her eye against the crack, and her breath caught in her throat. On the other side of the door was the treasury hall Marion had mentioned. It was much larger than Miranda had expected, roughly a hundred feet from end to end and wide enough for ten men to stand shoulder to shoulder. She knew that last bit for certain, because that’s how they were standing. The corridor was absolutely packed with soldiers. They were standing at attention in tight rows running from wall to wall down the entire length of the carved hall. Each soldier carried a
tall, wooden shield in one hand and an iron-tipped spear in the other. Bright torches hung from every bracket on the blackened walls, filling the entire corridor with light. At the end of the hall, almost hidden by the bristling spears and peaked helmets, the top edge of the iron treasury door was visible, a black spot in the dancing light.

“That explains why there were no guards outside,” Josef whispered. “They must have packed the entire army in there. Even if we were invisible, we couldn’t sneak through without shoving half a platoon out of the way.”

Miranda bit her lip. “Nico”—she looked down at the girl—“couldn’t you just do your, um, disappearing thing to get past them?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Nico said. “It’s too far to go in one jump. I’d have to land in the middle of them. Anyway, what would I do when I got there? You all would still be here.”

“Well,” Josef said, “I guess there’s nothing for it.” He walked back up the stairs a little ways and took hold of one of the wooden support beams. Bracing his foot against the stone wall, he dug his fingers into the wood and began to pull. The wood squealed under his grip, and the old stone crumbled. Josef pulled harder and, with a cracking sound, yanked the beam free of its anchors. Miranda gaped like a landed fish as the swordsman swung the six-foot beam over his shoulder like it was made of straw. The noise had drawn some attention. Shouted orders and the sound of shields slamming down filtered through the thin door. Josef, however, walked calmly down the stairs past Eli and the gaping Miranda and paused just in front of the door, beside Nico.

“Ready, girl?” he said.

To Miranda’s amazement, Nico’s pale face lit up in an enormous smile. “Always, swordsman.”

“Wait,” Miranda whispered. “What are you—”

Josef lifted his foot and, in a motion too fast for Miranda’s eyes to follow, kicked down the door. Time slowed to a crawl as all the soldiers turned toward the sound, and for one endless, silent moment, no one moved. Then, Josef’s wooden beam caught the closest soldier square in the chest, and the hallway erupted.

The soldiers surged forward, shouting and brandishing their spears. The alarm horns rang out deafeningly close, and the stone floor trembled under the pounding boots as the wave of armed men crashed into the small doorway. Josef swung his beam in huge arcs, sweeping soldiers off their feet and slamming them by the half dozen into the mosaic walls. He waded into the thick of them, the Heart of War securely strapped across his back, its leather disguise falling off in ragged chunks as it deflected strokes that would otherwise have landed in the swordsman’s spine.

Miranda tried to run forward, but Eli’s hands wrapped around her shoulders and flung her with surprising strength against the doorframe.

“Let me go!” she shouted. “That idiot’s going to get us all killed!”

“Too late for that!” Eli shouted back. “He’s already going. If you interfere, he’ll have to watch out for you, and then he really will die.” He eased his grip a fraction. “Trust him,” he said. “Josef’s the best there is.”