The Spirit Thief

CHAPTER 19

Something’s not right,” Josef muttered.

“You’ve got a point,” Eli said, thunking his slab of bread against his wooden plate. “This bread’s two days old at least.”

Miranda hunched over her stewed beef and said nothing. The three of them were crowded around a small table in the kitchen surrounded by a crowd of servants who were all eating their dinners with determined efficiency. So far, phase two had consisted of sneaking into the kitchens and blending in with the other servants for the dinner rush. No one had noticed them, but they weren’t getting any closer to Renaud, and, even worse, Nico was nowhere to be seen.

“We’re wasting our time,” Miranda grumbled, shoving her plate away. “There was no need to get food as well.”

“Nosunse,” Eli said around his enormous mouthful of beef. He swallowed with gusto. “A servant who rejects food? Now that would stand out. Besides, why let it go to waste?” He took another bite.

“They have only two guards at the door,” Josef went on, ignoring them both, “and no one checking the servants. The cooks didn’t even look sideways at us.”

“Maybe they don’t know we’re here,” Eli said. “The spying rat we caught could have been the only one. Or maybe they know we’re in the castle, but they weren’t expecting us to come to the kitchens. Or maybe my plan is actually working. The whole point of breaking in at dinner was to catch the shift change so no one would notice three newcomers.”

“Or maybe they’re just incompetent,” Miranda said, remembering how the castle had reacted when she’d arrived for the first time. “Renaud may be in charge, but Mellinor is still Mellinor. Common sense seems to be as forbidden as wizardry in this country.”

“You have a point,” Josef said, leaning back in his chair and pretending to drink while he scanned the room. “But this was too easy even for incompetence. Mellinor may be slack, and I don’t know about Renaud, but Coriano isn’t someone who would leave an opening like this, not unless he was planning something.”

“Coriano?” Eli wiped his mouth with a greasy napkin. “Didn’t he run off?”

“He’s a swordsman; he only retreated. Besides”—Josef dropped his hand to where the carefully wrapped Heart of War was leaned against his leg—“the Heart can feel his sword. They’re calling to each other.”

“Josef,” Eli said patiently, “for the last time, you’re not a wizard. You can’t hear a damn thing that sword is saying.”

“I don’t have to hear him to know what he wants,” Josef growled. “You’re just mad you can’t talk to him.” Josef flashed Miranda a conspiratorial grin. “It’s the only spirit we’ve found that won’t talk to Eli.”

“Who’d want to talk to a spirit that chose you, anyway,” Eli muttered, reaching for his spoon to finish the last of his impromptu dinner. “He must have horrid taste.”

“Enough,” Miranda said, shoving Eli’s bowl out of reach before he could take another mouthful. “We’re wasting our time. What are we waiting for, anyway?”

A chorus of screams erupted from the kitchen, and Eli’s face broke into an enormous grin. “That.”

A crowd of cooks poured screaming out of the kitchen, followed by a thick plume of white smoke. The servants at the front tables started to panic, screaming “fire.” The soldiers ran forward, shouting for order as the servants rushed the doors to the kitchen gardens. While the overwhelmed guards yelled and tried to keep people from trampling each other, Eli and Josef calmly got up and jogged toward the now unguarded door to the upper castle. Miranda watched the panic in shock for a moment and then stood up and stomped after the thief.

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 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.