by Rachel Aaron
The main hall of the servant level was even more crowded than the dining room. Alarm bells were ringing up and down its length, and the smell of wood smoke and burning tar hung heavy in the hazy air. Servants seethed from the dozens of interconnecting hallways like ants out of an overturned hill, shouting and shoving as they rushed the exits. Eli let them surge past him, nimbly working his way upstream along the wall. Only when a platoon of guards carrying buckets appeared at the far end of the hall did he change course and duck down one of the small connecting corridors.
“I can’t believe it!” Miranda whispered fiercely as they half walked, half ran down the narrow hall. “You started a fire just so you could get past some guards? Do you ever consider the consequences of your actions!?”
“We didn’t start a fire,” Nico’s voice said calmly.
Miranda jumped and whirled around. At first, she saw nothing but the empty hallway filled with hazy smoke, dark except for the sputtering wall sconces set at wide intervals. Then, Nico appeared from the shadows a foot behind them, as if she had emerged from the wall itself, looking very pleased with herself.
Miranda refused to be intimidated. “What did you do?”
“Nothing bad,” Nico said. “I just let the furnace know what I was, and now it’s trying to burn down the castle.”
“You deliberately terrified a fire spirit?” Miranda gasped. “That’s horrible!”
Nico crossed her arms over her chest, her brown eyes perfectly calm. “I didn’t terrify it. I introduced myself. It was the furnace’s decision to try and kill me by burning everything. Don’t worry, though; it’s a slow, fat spirit. The servants will have no trouble holding it back, if they can get over their own panic.”
“Don’t you dare blame the furnace,” Miranda said. “Spirits are panicky by nature, fire spirits especially. It’s our job to protect them from things like this, not scare them witless.”
“Your job, you mean.” Nico turned away. “Don’t assume that everyone thinks like you.”
Miranda’s face reddened, but before she could retort, Nico vanished into the shadows as suddenly as she had appeared.
“How does she do that?” Miranda said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“She’s always been like that,” Eli said, giving the Spiritualist a little push down the hall. “Didn’t I tell you she didn’t need a costume?”
Miranda shook her head and let him jostle her down the corridor. They had gone only a few steps when Nico popped back into view, making Miranda jump again.
“I forgot to tell you,” she said to Eli. “Renaud is in the treasury. I overheard the valets complaining about it when I was getting in position. He’s been in there since last night, apparently.”
Miranda’s eyes went wide. “The treasury? You’re sure?”
Nico shrugged. “That’s what I heard. Apparently, he’s been spending all his time staring at a support pillar.”
“Well, there’s no accounting for taste,” Eli said. “Maybe he’s never seen one before. I don’t think he got out much.”
“You’re sure it’s a pillar?” Miranda’s voice was pleading. “Are you sure you didn’t mishear?”
“I don’t mishear,” Nico said flatly.
Miranda clenched her hands together. “Oh, dear.”
Josef, who had been quiet all this time, stepped forward to block her way. He planted himself in front of the Spiritualist, looking down at her with a stony expression. “Why is a pillar bad?”
“I’ll have to explain later,” Miranda said, pushing past him. “We need to get to the—”
“No,” Josef said, grabbing her arm. “You’ll explain now.”
He looked up and down the corridor. Behind them, in the main hall, servants were still running madly for the exits. Josef shook his head at the panic and marched Miranda in the other direction. He tried the first of several small, inconspicuous doors. When it opened, he shoved Miranda inside. Nico and Eli followed suit, cramming themselves into the small closet.
“What are you doing?” Miranda hissed, fighting Josef’s hold.
“You haven’t been open with us,” Josef said, tightening his grip. “You were the one who asked for our help, Spiritualist. You don’t get to string us along, telling us whatever you think we need to know. I’m not going a step farther until you tell us why Renaud being in the treasury is enough to make you go white.”
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 accepta
ble 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.
CHAPTER
20
Marion 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 f
ingers 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.”