by Rachel Aaron
“Correct, Mr. Monpress,” the duke said. “I am Edward di Fellbro, Duke of Gaol, and your master now, so you will hold your words unless spoken to.”
“I’m afraid there’s a bit of a mix-up,” Eli said. “The only master I answer to is myself.”
The duke’s answer to that was a long, thin smile as he led Eli up the stairs to the very top of the fortress. As they walked, the fortress responded. Doors opened on their own to let them pass, chairs scooted out of their way, and curtains pulled back to make room.
“That’s an impressive trick,” Eli said, marveling as a pair of washbuckets rolled themselves behind a corner, out of the duke’s sight. “How do you manage it?”
“I am a firm believer in obedience,” the duke answered. “You’ll learn it as well, soon enough.”
When they reached the smaller nest of towers and courtyards at the top of the citadel, the duke marched Eli around a garden and through a heavy door and into a well-appointed study. The large stone room had many windows looking out across the city and the countryside beyond. As soon as they were inside, however, every window but the last closed its shutters, and the heavy door locked itself behind them.
When the room was secure, the duke let go of Eli’s chain.
“You may take off your manacles now, Mr. Monpress,” the duke said, settling himself comfortably in a high-backed chair. “There is no need for this to be uncomfortable unless you force me to make it so.”
Eli stared at the gray-haired man, not quite sure what to make of him. But the duke just sat there, waiting, so Eli turned around and fished a straight pin out of his sleeve with his teeth. He picked the manacle lock in five seconds flat and turned back around, tossing the irons on the carpet at the duke’s feet.
“Any other tricks while I’m performing?” Eli said. “Should I dance?”
“You should sit,” the duke said, gesturing to the stool in the corner.
Seeing no point in refusing, Eli sat.
“So,” Eli said, “you’ve caught me. Congratulations!
Shouldn’t you be sending someone to the Council to collect your reward?” He looked around at the opulent study, the colorful tapestries and carved-wood tables. “I have to admit, I always hoped it would be a poor country that caught me, or some honest bounty hunter. Someone who could use the money. Gaol scarcely seems in need of sixty thousand standards.”
“It’s not an amount to scoff at,” the duke said. “But you should know, Mr. Monpress, I didn’t catch you for the bounty.”
Eli stopped. “You didn’t?”
“No,” the duke said. “I must admit, Mr. Monpress, you’ve been an immensely interesting hobby. You first came to my attention three years ago, when you stole the crown jewels of Kerket. Since then I’ve been following you closely, and you’ve never disappointed, every theft grander than the last. It’s really quite remarkable.”
“I’m always delighted to meet a fan,” Eli said with a pleased smile. “But you didn’t have to go through all this effort if you just wanted to meet me. I do respond to letters, you know.”
“I know,” the duke said absently. “I have several of yours. Intercepted in travel and bought for a price higher than I was wise to pay.”
Eli gave him a shocked look. “You bought my mail?”
“Yes,” the duke said. “To learn more about you. To learn how to catch you. As you see, it paid off. Here you are.”
“Here I am,” Eli said. “And are you satisfied?”
“I must admit,” the duke said, looking Eli over, “I didn’t expect you to be quite so like the caricature you present to the world. You seem every bit as cocky and irresponsible as your deriders make you out to be. I had hoped to find the real Monpress a man of greater depth than the boy in the posters.”
“Well, you did just trap and arrest me,” Eli said. “I could hardly be expected to show my true colors under such conditions.”
“Quite so,” the duke said and nodded. “But we shall see what you are made of soon enough.”
Eli swallowed. Something in the way the duke spoke hinted that he wasn’t using the phrase in a figurative sense.
“So,” Eli said, shifting in his chair. “If you didn’t catch me for the sixty thousand, and you didn’t catch me for the conversation, why am I here?”
The duke gave him a thin smile. “ Fifty-five thousand, which is what the Council lists as your bounty, is hardly enough money to justify the great expense and enormous trouble of catching you. Especially once we factor in what the Council will take back in taxes, tariffs, and fees. I’d be surprised if there was enough left over to pay Gaol’s Council dues.”
“Then why bother?” Eli said. “Conscripting that army of millers, farmers, and shopkeepers outside must have been an enormous headache, and let’s not forget the spirits.” He glared at the duke. “I don’t know how you got control over so many spirits at once, or what you threatened them with so that they won’t talk to me, but I can guarantee that if the Spiritualists ever find out about your little dictatorship here, they will come down on Gaol like a swarm of locusts. Seems a great risk on your part for a reward you claim not to want.”
“Don’t flatter yourself too much,” the duke said. “The spirits of Gaol have been mine since long before you appeared.”
“So what then?” Eli leaned forward. “Did you just catch me to prove something? Personal challenge? If so, bravo and well done; can I go now?”
The duke chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Catching the uncatchable thief does bring a certain feeling of accomplishment—pleasant enough, but meaningless in the end. I’m a duke, Mr. Monpress, and as a duke I must think as a country, not as a man.”
He stood up from his seat, pacing back and forth like a professor expounding his theory. “As I said earlier, I’ve followed your exploits for some time now, and over the years, I’ve noticed something of a discrepancy. Let’s take your robbery of Kerket. The crown jewels consisted of eight pieces, including the scepter of Kerket, which contains the Sea Star, the largest sapphire in the world. Technically priceless, though I imagine you would get only around ten thousand standards for it on the open market, and that’s if you could find a buyer willing to take the risk. Still, ten thousand standards, and that’s just one jewel in one piece of the set. Any normal thief would have retired to a life of luxury after that, but you, you show up in Billerouge not a month later to steal seven paintings from the royal collection. Again, technically priceless, but I estimate fifteen thousand for each at least, likely more.
“How strange, then,” the duke said, fanning his fingers as he spoke, “that none of these famous items have ever reemerged. In fact, nothing you steal ever shows up again. Every time you’re spotted, you’re wearing the same threadbare clothing. You seem to have no lands, or, if you do, you certainly spend no time on them, considering you’re spotted in a different country nearly every month. So far as I can tell, you travel mostly by foot, primarily through wilderness, and of all the hundreds of reports I’ve collected from the Council about your exploits, not a single one has mentioned you ever spending more than twenty standards at a go.” He stopped and looked at Eli. “Do you see where this is headed?”
Eli shrugged, and the duke gave him a slow smile.
“You’ve been on the Council bounty list for what?” He shrugged. “A little more than three years? I estimate that in that time you’ve stolen approximately three hundred and fifty thousand Council standards’ worth of goods, not counting what was stolen from my own treasury.” His grin widened. “To put that in perspective, three hundred and fifty thousand standards is more than the entire yearly tariff income of the Council of Thrones. That is the number that caught my attention, Mr. Monpress, not the fifty-five thousand those idiots in Zarin say you’re worth.”
Eli tilted his head to the side. “It sounds so impressive when you put it like that. I never actually added it up myself.”
The duke shot him a scathing look. “I find that very hard to
believe.”
Eli just smiled, and the duke moved on. “Now, Mr. Monpress, I have answered your question. I must insist you answer one for me.”
“I’m a firm believer in fairness,” Eli said, crossing his legs. “What do you want to know?”
The duke crossed over to the single open window and looked out at the rooftops and neat green fields of his country. “There is something I wanted to ask if I caught you,” he said, his voice for once not commanding, but curious. “These thefts of yours are always elaborate, some quite dangerous. I’ve heard stories of you walking right past piles of gold brick to steal a wooden statue, simply because it was more famous. At first, I thought you must be a collector, but then you go and steal the payroll for the entire Marcheron Shipping Company.”
“Oh, yes,” Eli said, laughing. “I thought I’d really lose my neck that time. Those pirates are quick with a knife, and I didn’t have my swordsman then.”
“Yes, yes.” The duke turned to look Eli in the face. “But what I want to know is why? Why do you steal these things? It’s obviously not for the money. You’ve had more money than any one man could spend in his life for years now.”
“Don’t estimate what a man can spend,” Eli said and chuckled.
“If you spent half of what you steal, you’d be your own economy,” the duke scoffed. “You can stop the conceited-boy act. There’s no audience for you here. Just tell me the truth. Why do you steal what you steal? Why do you live this”—he stopped, grasping for the right word—“this vagabond lifestyle? You’re obviously intelligent, driven, not to mention a powerful wizard. So why? What is your motive? Why do you do it?”
“Well,” Eli said slowly. “First, it’s fun. A man needs something to do with his life. As for motive, mine is grander than most. That fifty-five thousand you didn’t want to scoff at earlier? I can’t even be bothered with such a number. Such a tiny sum isn’t even a tenth of my ambition.” Grinning at the duke, Eli leaned forward, his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “One day, this head on my shoulders will be worth one million in gold.”
The duke’s look narrowed to a glare. “I’d said you were driven, but now you prove to be delusional as well. One million in gold? You’d be worth more than any four kingdoms put together. The Council would never allow such a bounty. A sum like that could destroy the balance of power on the continent. It’s an impossible goal.”
“Perhaps,” Eli said and nodded, “but an impressive one, nonetheless.”
“But you have yet to answer why ,” the duke said. “Why set such a number for yourself?”
Eli paused, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against his knee. “A bounty is a unique thing,” he said. “Some overly nice people would say that a man’s life is priceless, but as you so eloquently pointed out, things are worth what people will pay. In that way, a bounty is like a price tag, isn’t it? And who doesn’t like large numbers? Especially when applied to one’s self.”
The duke tilted his head, his brow furrowing from effort to decide if Eli was being facetious. In the end, he must have decided it didn’t matter, for he walked across the room and stopped in front of Eli with a patient smile. “Well, whatever you claim your reasons to be, your goal is tragically to die unfulfilled when I turn you in for the bounty.”
“Come on,” Eli said, scooting to the front of his chair. “Surely with all the money flying around, actually turning me in for the bounty would be superfluous.”
“But I must turn you in,” the duke said. “If I start selling your stolen treasures without turning you in, everyone will think we’re in league together. Once you’re caught, however, I can claim your treasures as my own. Finder’s rights. Also, that fifty-five thousand, minus taxes, will just about cover the expense of catching you.”
“Are you sure you should be telling me this before I tell you where I keep my treasures?” Eli said. “I mean, when you put it that way, I feel absolutely no inclination to help you. Shouldn’t you at least pretend to offer me my freedom? Keep the carrot dangling?”
The duke gave him a withering look. “I do not lie, Mr. Monpress. Such fawning embellishment wastes my time and yours.”
“Then I hope you have something spectacular planned,” Eli said. “Because I can’t think of a single reason why I should go along with you.”
“Oh, you will,” the duke said. He fixed Eli with a slow, cutting smile, and waved his hand. The second his fingers moved, the chair Eli was sitting in threw itself backward. Eli hit the wall with a thud that knocked his breath out, but he didn’t bounce off it. The moment he touched the stone, the blocks changed shape. The stone moved like living clay, wrapping around his legs, arms, waist, and neck, pinning him spread-eagle to the bare wall of the study. He was still trying to blink the spots out of his eyes as the duke walked over and pressed a gloved hand against his shoulder.
“I have a great deal of experience with bringing objectors around to my point of view,” he said softly. “You see, Mr. Monpress, everyone has something they find intolerable. All you have to do is discover what that is, and then, whether it’s a Great Spirit or a man, it becomes your willing servant.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Eli said, gasping against the stone’s chokehold, “but I’m afraid life as a thief has made me remarkably tolerant.”
“That’s all right,” the duke said. “Life as a duke has made me remarkably patient.” He gestured at the stone. “We’ll start with the simplest, physical pain.”
Eli sucked in a breath as the braces holding him in place began to move slowly and inexorably away from one another, stretching him in all directions.
“The stretching is a slow buildup,” the duke said calmly, a connoisseur explaining the intricacies of his art. “The pain will become greater and greater as the joints are stretched past their limits, disjointing the shoulders, knees, elbows, possibly the hips, though most never get that far. I don’t normally go to these lengths. Most people find even the idea of pain intolerable, but I try to keep in practice.”
Eli grunted in reply, panting as his arms stretched farther. The stone crushed into his skin as it pulled, stretching him like taffy. He could feel his sinews pulling, his bones creaking at unnatural angles until he had to clench his teeth to keep from whimpering. The duke saw this, and gave Eli a pleasant smile.
“We can stop at any time,” he said. “Just tell me what I want to know and this will all be over. Otherwise, the pain will continue to grow until you pass out. When that happens, we’ll rest an hour and then start again. Just remember that this situation is completely within your control. One concession, that’s all it takes.”
“You know,” Eli said, gasping as something in his shoulder began to make a horrifying creaking sound, “for someone who claims to have studied me as long as you have, you don’t know me very well. If you’d paid any attention, you’d have stuck with the carrot. Being bullied just makes me more stubborn, and life with Josef has made me very blasé about pain.”
“We’ll see,” the duke said, resuming his seat by the window. “I can wait.”
A moment later, the something in his shoulder snapped, and even Eli’s clamped teeth couldn’t stop the scream that came next.
“Sorry about the cramped conditions,” the elder Monpress said, passing Josef a bottle of wine and a set of mismatched cups. “This place was never meant to hold more than one person.”
“We’ve been in worse,” the swordsman said.
They were crowded into an attic with a sloped ceiling that Josef had to almost double over to fit under. He and Nico were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the wrapped Fenzetti while Monpress sat opposite, cross-legged on top of the trapdoor.
They’d made it to Monpress’s hideout with relatively little trouble. Once the soldiers captured Eli, the streets had emptied to nothing. Now they were waiting for dark, and while, technically, everything was going according to plan, Josef couldn’t shake the feeling that the situation was rapidly spinning out of control. For one, th
ey hadn’t received a signal from Eli. Whenever he’d let himself get caught before, he’d always sent a signal of some kind. This time they’d gotten nothing. It could be because Eli couldn’t cajole the spirits in Gaol like usual, but Josef had a bad feeling about it.
Monpress, however, was keeping busy. He’d already changed clothes from his somber merchant outfit to what looked to Josef like a set of ragged black pajamas. The cloth looped and tied in a dozen places, held close to the old man’s surprisingly lithe body by an intricate network of straps. Once he was dressed, Monpress began slipping tools into hidden pockets with a silent efficiency that impressed even Josef. In addition to two small knives, he had a host of crooked hooks, pliers, straight pins, and other metal objects Josef recognized from Eli’s thief tools but couldn’t put a name to. He was wrapping his feet in padded cloth when Josef finally gave up and asked him what he was doing.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Monpress said. “I just took a large chunk from my schedule to keep Eli out of trouble. Yet here I am, Eli in jail, and myself trapped in an attic with no treasure at all for compensation. So, I’m going to do the only thing I can do to mitigate my losses. I’m going to spring him.”
“Wait,” Josef said. “Don’t bother. I’m going for the Heart as soon as it’s dark. I’ll just get him then.”
Monpress looked at him skeptically. “You’re going to beat an entire army with one sword?”
“No,” Josef said. “The sword is for the wall. I don’t need the Heart to fight common soldiers.”
“Is that so?” Monpress chuckled. “I hope you don’t mind if I try my way as well? Just for variety’s sake?”
“Do what you want,” Josef said. “Whatever happens, we’re getting out of here tonight.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Monpress said, pouring himself a glass of wine from the bottle in Josef’s hands. “Drink up; it’s a good bottle. Be a shame to waste it.”
Josef eyed the bottle skeptically. “No, thanks. I’m sure it’s good, but I don’t drink when I have to fight.”