by Rachel Aaron
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 bac
k 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.
“I could get used to this,” Eli said, jumping up after her. “Remind me to thank Slorn again.”
“Don’t get too happy,” Josef said, climbing in last and taking the driver’s seat. “We’re not out yet.”
He took off the Heart and laid it gently in the cart. Next, he undid all of his scabbards, handing his blades one by one to Nico. Finally, he pulled up his collar and buttoned his cuffs, hiding the scars on his arms and jaw, and slouched over the horses with a petulant expression on his face. Eli nodded in approval. If it wasn’t for the strange, watchful look in his eyes, even he would have been hard-pressed to label Josef as anything other than a big farmer with a bad temper.
Their ride out of town was uneventful. If the guards had any suspicions about how a merchant cart that had been driven into town by an old woman the night before was now being driven out by a surly man in his twenties, one look at Josef’s shoulders was enough to convince them it wasn’t really important. They rode in silence for about twenty minutes before Eli tapped Josef on the shoulder and the swordsman pulled the cart over to the side of the empty road.
“Cover for me,” Eli said, hopping down. “I’m going to see if I can’t speed things up.”
Josef nodded and leaned back, undoing his cuffs and flipping his collar back to its usual flat position. Nico started handing him his belts of knives as Eli undid the harnesses on the cart horses and let them wander over toward the clumps of grass that grew between the wagon ruts.
“There,” Eli said, tossing the harness on the ground. “Either they’ll find their way home or some deserving soul gets new horses. Never let it be said that I never gave back to the people.”
“You’re a regular public servant,” Josef grumbled, belting on his swords. “What now?”
“Now,” Eli said, “we get moving.”
He crouched down beside the right front wheel and gave it a friendly pat. “Good morning,” he said cheerily.
For a few moments, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the wheel began to creak as it finally woke up. “What’s good about it?”
“Well,” Eli said, looking around, “to start, it’s a lovely dry day on a nice even road with a downward slope. Doesn’t get much better, I’d think.”
The wheel wobbled. “That’s because you’re not down here being dragged along by those cloppy-cloppy beasts, going so slowly you got moss in your joints, having mud kicked at you morning, noon, and night. No day’s a good day when you’re in the rut, I tell ya.”
“Ah,” Eli said, keeping his voice low so the other wheel wouldn’t wake up too soon and spoil the plan. “Today’s a bit different, friend. You see, the horses are gone, and I’ve got a bit of a challenge for you, if you’re interested.”
“Challenge?” The wheel perked up. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” Eli said, “you see that wheel over there?” He pointed at the left front corner of the cart. “He told me, just now, that you’re over your prime, off circle, and that he can outroll you any day of the year.”
The wheel creaked with fury. “Oh, he did, did he? Put on only last winter and already looking to replace me, eh? Well, I’m sound as any wheel you’ll find, and if he wants to try me, tell him he can go ahead. I’ll match any horse he cares to try!”
“Oh, we’re not talking horses, friend.” Eli shook his head. “This is an open challenge. The two of you in a flat-out race, no horse, just you, him, and the open road, winner take all.”
“No horses?” The wheel balked. “How’m I supposed to roll, then?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” Eli said. “You just roll forward.”
“What, you mean like downhill?”
“Or uphill,” Eli said. “Anywhere! Just roll.”
“Don’t know ’bout that,” the wheel said. “Last time I tried that I fell over. I hate falling over.”
“No worries there,” Eli said. “The cart will keep you up, and I’ll be in the seat acting as the referee and laying out the course. What do you say, want to try a race? Prove who’s the better wheel?”
“Won’t be much of a competition,” the wheel cackled. “Just give the signal and I’ll show you how a cart’s supposed to move.”
“Excellent,” Eli said, standing up. He left the wheel muttering threats at its axlemate and leaned toward Josef, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I’m just waking the front two for now. When they catch on, we’ll switch the wheels and start again with the pair in the back.”
“I have no idea what that means, but all right,” Josef said, pulling himself back into the cart. “Just don’t get the cart too excited. It’s a long trip.”
“Won’t be when I’m done,” Eli said, walking around the cart to the left wheel to start the process again.
A few minutes of excited whispering later, the whole cart began to shake. Eli leaped into the driver’s seat and grabbed hold of the bench. “Hang on,” he said, grinning at Nico and Josef. “Here we go.”
He’d barely finished speaking before the cart launched forward, rattling down the overgrown road at a breakneck pace.
Josef clung to the cart for dear life as the trees flew by and the sky danced overhead. Eli was laughing and shouting directions and encouragement to the wheels, who were spinning as though their lives depended on it as they screamed insults at each other.
“Don’t you think this is a little conspicuous?” Josef shouted over the wheels.
“Not at all!” Eli shouted back. “This is nothing compared to how some Spiritualists travel. If we’re lucky, people will think we’re Shaper wizards. No one’s stupid enough to mess with Shapers, and they ride stuff like this all the time, though their horseless carts are a lot nicer, not to mention smarter. I could never pull this stunt o
n Shaper goods. Ah,” he said, breathing deeply, “I love common, sleepy spirits. They’re so open to suggestion.”
Josef looked at him blankly, but Eli just grinned wider.
“What? No point in going slow through that if we don’t have to, right? Don’t worry so much.”
Josef had an answer for that, but experience told him to save his breath. The thief would do what he wanted, and this was faster. So he made himself as comfortable as he could in the pitching cart and dug out one of his throwing knives. At least the cart gave him a good chance to practice catching his knives in an unstable environment, and Josef wasn’t the kind to let opportunity pass.
From her place in the back of the cart, Nico watched Josef as he flipped the razorsharp knife, catching it first with his right hand, then his left. Behind her, the green forest whirled by in a blur as they bounced at full speed down the road toward Gaol.
CHAPTER
9
They had to switch the wheels only once before they reached the border of Argo. The roads had been quiet and empty, barely more than cart tracks as they skimmed the northern edge of the Council Kingdoms. They had seen no one and, more important, no one had seen them.
“Well, it makes sense,” Josef noted as their cart rolled to an exhausted stop by the signpost marking the official border. “That glorified goat track was the worst excuse for a road I’ve ever seen.”
“Why should they keep it up?” Eli said, climbing stiffly off the cart. “It’s not like anyone with money goes through there. Who’d take a narrow road through the middle of nowhere now that the Council’s opened the rivers? Still”—he patted the exhausted wheels—“across the top of the Council Kingdoms in three days. I’d like to see a riverboat do that.”