Spirits End Read online

  When Sparrow was finished trussing him, he turned Eli over to the guards before going back to the metal door. In one swift motion, he lifted his leg and kicked the door hard with the heel of his boot. The impact sent a ringing reverberation through the metal, and the door fell gracefully back to its locked position. Eli got one last look at his father’s worried face before the door landed, settling back into its stone groove with a solid crunch.

  Sparrow took Eli by the elbow. “This way, little Eliton. ”

  Eli began ambling forward. “That was a neat trick with the door, Sparrow. Tell me, do you have to kick it every time?”

  “It’s the most convenient way to get its attention,” Sparrow said, pulling him into a faster pace. “But I don’t know if it’s strictly necessary. I do my best not to get involved with Sara’s contraptions. ”

  Eli nodded, letting Sparrow drag him between the tanks. Sparrow probably didn’t know how the door worked at all, he reasoned. The kicking was most likely a trigger, something to let the spirit-deaf Sparrow communicate with the awakened door. The real question was, could anyone kick the door and have it open? Eli filed this thought away for later testing as the guards fell in behind them.

  He expected they’d head for the ladder leading up to the suspended walkway, but Sparrow led them in a different direction, setting off between the tanks at a quick pace. They walked this way for several minutes until, suddenly, the tanks ended and Eli saw they’d reached the wall of the cavern.

  Sparrow didn’t miss a beat. He skirted the wall for a dozen feet before leading them up a metal stair set that had been bolted into the stone of the cavern itself. At the top, they passed through a guarded door and into a long, spiraling tunnel of a hallway leading up. Eli quickly lost all sense of direction. The tunnel seemed to be tying itself in knots, twisting in and over on itself before finally ending at a nondescript door that opened into a very well-appointed hallway lined with heavy wooden doors, each bearing a gold nameplate and a small flag. Eli licked his lips in anticipation. They must be deep in the inner offices of the Council of Thrones if this much money was lavished on a hallway.

  Sparrow led them forward without pausing, and the guards made sure Eli kept pace, their boots falling soundlessly on the rich carpet. The hall ended at a graceful stair, and Sparrow led them up two more floors until the stairs ended, letting out into the richest, most tasteful waiting room Eli had ever seen. Eli began dragging his heels, buying himself time to take in the fine furniture and classic paintings before moving on to the vulnerabilities he would exploit the next time he was here. Privately, he decided that would be very soon. Those crystal decanters on the left end table were far, far too fine to leave in the hands of bumbling Councilmen.

  He was just deciding which house at Home would make the best use of the embroidered curtains when Sparrow jerked him out of his happy thoughts, pulling Eli up beside him as he knocked on the heavy door at the far end of the waiting room. The door opened immediately, and Eli took a deep, appreciative breath.

  If the waiting room had been fine, the office before him was truly the center of the treasure trove. It was large, spacious, and set all around with windows looking down on the city. The walls by the door were lined with handsome bookcases while the stretch of space between the two picture windows was filled with a mechanical clock, the first of its kind Eli had ever seen. But while he was gawking at that, Sparrow was nodding to the genteelly handsome older gentleman sitting at the broad mahogany desk set dramatically at the office’s center.

  “Mr. Monpress,” said a soft, well-bred voice. “An honor to meet you at last. ”

  Eli looked away from the clock in surprise, but as soon as he saw the man, all surprise vanished. Even though he hadn’t grown up in Zarin, he’d spent enough time looking at Council-issued coins to know the face of the Merchant Prince of Zarin.

  “Alber Whitefall,” he said with a broad grin. “Never thought I’d have the pleasure. ”

  Whitefall smiled and then glanced at Sparrow. “Thank you, you may go. ”

  Sparrow bowed lavishly and, after handing Eli over to one of the guards, turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Eli craned his head, staring at Sparrow’s retreating back in surprise. It was just sinking in that, while Whitefall was here, Sara was not, and now Sparrow was leaving and she still wasn’t here. He licked his lips and turned back to the Grand Marshall of the Council of Thrones. Whatever this was about, he couldn’t imagine Sara letting other people have access to him without her oversight, which meant either he was wrong or Sara didn’t know he was here. Considering how quickly Sparrow had left, Eli was leaning toward the latter.

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  If Whitefall noticed his confusion, he didn’t comment. Instead, he turned his smile to the guards. “Please make Mr. Monpress comfortable. ”

  The guards saluted and moved Eli to the chair in front of Whitefall’s desk. They sat him down slightly harder than was necessary, and then the first guard took a length of rope from his belt pouch and started tying Eli down.

  “Oh, come on,” Eli said. “Rope? Really? Don’t you know who I am?”

  “I respect your reputation as an escape artist, Mr. Monpress,” Whitefall said, his voice unfailingly polite. “But we do have appearances to keep up. I promise not to keep you long. ”

  “Take your time,” Eli said, tensing his muscles against the rope as the soldiers tried to pull it tight. “It’s not like I have pressing business in my cell. Why did you bring me up here, anyway? Didn’t feel like climbing all the way down to the basement?”

  “It is a bit of a challenge for a man of my years,” Whitefall said. “But that’s not the reason. I brought you up here, Mr. Monpress, because unforeseen circumstances have put me in a rather delicate position. One that, unfortunately, prevents me from leaving you in the shelter of your mother’s loving bosom. ”

  It might have been Eli’s imagination, but he thought he detected a hint of anger in that last sentence. He couldn’t say for sure, though, so he filed it away for pondering later. “I’ll have to revise my opinion of you,” he said, leaning against the ropes as the soldiers finished their knots. “I didn’t think you let yourself get into delicate positions. ”

  Whitefall’s smile didn’t even flicker. “Even I get caught unawares sometimes. Fortunately, I have you to get me out. I’m afraid you’re going to be my bargaining chip, Mr. Monpress. An ignoble fate to be sure, though one you must be used to by now. ”

  “I’m getting there,” Eli said, wiggling his arms to test the knots. He started to ask what sort of problem was so huge that the Merchant Prince of Zarin needed a thief worth nearly three hundred thousand gold standards as a bargaining tool, but before he could think of the right wording, the door burst open and a page in crisp white livery strode into the room.

  “The king is here, my lord,” he said. “He arrived just minutes ago. ”

  Whitefall tilted his head. “If he arrived minutes ago, why hasn’t he been brought to my office?”

  The page flushed. “Apologies, Merchant Prince. His arrival was very… unconventional, and we had a bit of trouble confirming his identity at first. We’re sure of him now, but I’m afraid the guard captain is having a hard time convincing him to comply with your law prohibiting weapons in the Citadel. ”

  Eli’s eyebrows shot up. Suddenly, things started to click together.

  “If that’s the king I think you’re talking about,” he said, “no amount of protocol is going to convince him to disarm. If you want to have your meeting today, Alber, I’d suggest you give in and let him keep his weapons. None of you look like master swordsmen, so I doubt he’ll use them. ”

  The page went pale with horror, though whether it was from Eli’s casual use of the Merchant Prince’s given name or the suggestion that a king be allowed to enter the Grand Marshall’s office while armed Eli couldn’t tell. Whitefall, however, didn’t seem to care.


  “Mr. Monpress makes a good point,” he said. “Tell the king he is welcome to keep his weapons. I know he will behave himself as a gentleman. ”

  The page’s face went paler still, but he was too well trained to object. After a moment of shock, he bowed and hurried out the room, closing the door softly behind him. The guards on either side of Eli shifted nervously, but the Merchant Prince offered no reassurances. Instead, he stood up and reached into his pocket, taking out a long, white handkerchief.

  “I did not ask my guest to disarm,” he said, all politeness. “But I’m afraid I cannot take such luxuries with you, Mr. Monpress. ”

  “I don’t see what you mean,” Eli said, looking desperately pathetic. “I’m a prisoner, tied down and at your mercy. If you disarmed me any further, I wouldn’t have any arms left. ”

  Whitefall chuckled and strode around his desk, balling the handkerchief in his hand as he stopped in front of Eli. “Come, Mr. Monpress, I’ve followed your exploits for many years now, even more so since the disaster with Izo. I like to think that I am a man who can learn from the misfortunes of others. Sparrow and Miss Lyonette made the mistake of not securing you properly. I do not intend to be so foolish, especially when dealing with a commodity worth…” His face crumpled, folding into a frown like he was fighting to remember something. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Remind me again, how high was your bounty?”

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  Eli straightened up and opened his mouth to recite his bounty down to the last gold standard, but before he could get a word out, Whitefall’s hand swooped in to shove the balled-up handkerchief between his teeth. Eli gagged, eyes bulging. Whitefall snatched his hand back as the soldiers moved in, wrapping a length of rope around Eli’s cloth-stuffed mouth before he could spit the handkerchief out.

  “Your youth betrays you, Mr. Monpress,” Whitefall said with a slow smile. “Cleverness is inborn, but guile is the providence of the aged. A few more years and you would have seen that coming a mile away. ”

  Eli made a furious sound, but Whitefall had already started back toward his seat. “I apologize for any discomfort. If it makes you feel better, I don’t expect this to take long. Turn him around, please. ”

  This last bit was directed at the guards, and Eli grunted in surprise as his chair was suddenly lifted and turned sideways so he could see the door and Whitefall. By the time he was safely back on the floor, the Merchant Prince had returned to his chair and was shuffling papers on his desk, tapping the piles into neat squares.

  “Remember,” he said softly, “no matter what happens, do not take your eyes off the thief. I will do the talking. ”

  The soldiers saluted. “Sir!”

  Eli said something as well. Fortunately, though, it came out as a series of muffled grunts, because that was not the kind of language one used in the presence of the Merchant Prince.

  Whitefall had time to give him one last smile before a soft knock sounded. He lifted his head to answer, but the door flew open before he could get a word out and two familiar figures swept into the room. When he saw them, Eli was really afraid he was going to cry.

  Josef came in first. He looked the same as always, but tired, with dark circles under his hard blue eyes. His swords, all of them, were in their places, strapped awkwardly over his expensive jacket and well-tailored trousers. The familiar, battered hilts of his daggers peeked over the edge of his glossy polished boots, and Eli felt a kind of peace settle into his bones. No matter how much else changed, this part of the world at least was still as it should be.

  Nico was likewise unchanged. She followed Josef like his shadow, her coat wrapped up to her neck with the hood drawn forward. Beneath its shadow, she looked tired as well, but where Josef projected a weariness born of eternal annoyance, Nico looked like she’d been pulled too tight.

  Her skin was pale, even for her, and her eyes were dark and sunken under furrowed black brows. Still, Eli was happier than he cared to admit to see that the injuries from her fight with Den seemed to be healed. Strangely, she was carrying a large satchel over her shoulder, but before Eli could get a better look at it, Nico and Josef both froze in the doorway, staring at him like they’d seen a ghost.

  Eli tried to smile, but all he managed was to scrape his lips against the rough rope that kept the hated cloth in his mouth. He settled for a slow wink at each of them before looking pointedly at Whitefall. Keep going, he thought at them as hard as he could. Don’t fall for his trap.

  And this was where years spent in constant company paid off. One look was all it took. Josef nodded, a bare duck of the chin, and then ignored Eli completely, turning to the Merchant Prince with a deadly glare. To his credit, or perhaps due to his vast experience with being glared at, Whitefall didn’t even flinch.

  “King Josef,” he said. “Welcome to Zarin. My condolences on the death of your mother. Queen Theresa was an old ally and a dear friend. She will be greatly mis—”

  “You’re the Whitefall?” Josef interrupted. “Head of the Council of Thrones?”

  Whitefall stopped, mouth open, and Eli was almost glad of his gag at that moment. It helped stifle his laughter.

  “I am,” Whitefall said, sounding a little less self-assured. “I suppose we’re cutting straight to the point, then?”

  “You political types seem to make an art of wasting time,” Josef said with a shrug. “Thought I’d save you the trouble. ” He jerked his head at Eli. “Why’s he here?”

  Whitefall’s smile returned. “So you recognize him, then?”

  “Course,” Josef said. “Can’t turn a corner anymore without seeing his smug face cluttering up a perfectly good wall. Any kid in the Council could tell you that’s Eli Monpress. ”

  Whitefall leaned back in his chair. “You’re the one wasting time now, King Josef,” he said, his voice as smooth and cool as polished wood. “Let’s not play. I already know that you and Mr. Monpress have a deeper relationship than posters. I know, for instance, that you two, and I believe the girl behind you, worked together at the events in Mellinor and Gaol. You were certainly together when Izo’s camp was destroyed, or did you forget that it was Council agents who subdued your little trio?”

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  Josef shrugged. “Considering how badly those agents failed, I didn’t know if they’d told you. I never denied knowing or working with Monpress. I just asked why he’s here, which you have yet to answer. ”

  “He was caught this morning,” Whitefall said. “Usually, that would be the news of the year, but then I got a message from my cousin that you, King Josef of Osera, were bringing in a bounty that eclipsed even the famous Eli Monpress. Bearing that in mind, I thought it would be prudent to delay the announcement of Monpress’s capture until we could talk. ”

  Smiling at Josef’s stony expression, Whitefall turned to Eli’s guards. “You may go. ”

  The guards did not look pleased with this order, but they obeyed, walking past Josef with a great deal of posturing and bravado before finally slipping out the door.

  “Such delicate matters are best discussed in private,” Whitefall said after the latch clicked. “Now, do you have proof of the bounty to show me?”

  Josef glowered at him a few moments more, and then nodded to Nico. She walked forward, hefting the bag off her shoulder. When she reached Whitefall’s desk, she stopped and unbuckled the flap. Her hand went in and came back out with her fingers tangled in a mess of dark hair. With no more care than anyone else would show a pumpkin, Nico plopped the head of Den the Warlord down on Whitefall’s desk. The Merchant Prince shrank back, eyes wide with horror as the old, black blood adhered to the wood.

  “Charming,” he said finally, reaching for his handkerchief only to find it gone. He sighed and padded the sweat from his brow with the edge of his sleeve. “Thank you. I’ve witnessed the bounty. You can put it away now. ”

  Nico grabbed the head and shoved it back into the ba
g. On the other side of the office, Eli slumped in his chair. Of course they would bring a severed head to the Merchant Prince of Zarin. It made perfect sense in Josef logic. Powers, he had to get back to them before Josef decided that sending Nico to terrify the daylights out of the opposition was a valid political strategy.

  Now that the head was gone, Whitefall’s color was returning. “Den the Warlord, dead at last,” he said. “No small feat. Who defeated him?”

  “She did,” Josef said, tilting his head toward Nico.

  Whitefall gave him a deeply skeptical look. Eli could see the old man examining the angles, trying to figure how Josef could benefit from such a lie. He must have come up blank, though, because he sighed and leaned on his desk, careful to keep his elbows well away from the blood smears.

  “I suppose it doesn’t matter,” he said, glancing at Nico. “You’re giving the bounty over to this man, then?”

  Nico nodded.

  “May I ask how you intend to use the reward?” Whitefall said, eyes going back to Josef. “Five hundred thousand gold standards is a great deal of money, more than enough to destabilize the Council. You can see why we have to be careful, especially after the panic we’ve had this last week. ”

  “I’m not building an army, if that’s what you’re asking,” Josef said. “The Empress destroyed my country. Osera is a smoking ruin, and after paying for the war, we have no money to fix it. That’s where he comes in. ” Josef pointed to the bag where Den’s head rested. “I mean to use Den’s bounty to rebuild my island. Anything left over will be put in the treasury to guard against future disaster. ”

  “How extremely reasonable,” Whitefall said, lips tilting up like the words were some kind of private joke. “Maybe we should appoint more swordsman kings?”

  Josef shrugged. “Seemed fitting to me that the man who helped wreck Osera twice should be the one whose head pays to fix it. How long until the Council can pay up? We need the money as soon as possible. ”

  “And that’s where we find our problem,” Whitefall said slowly. “Yours is not the only country that’s had to pay for a war, King Josef. ”