The Legend of Eli Monpress(329)

For a moment, Sted’s eyes went wild. He pressed against Sezri until the smaller man began to tilt and it looked like Sted would fall on Izo like a tiger. But then, like a curtain falling over a lamp, the furious light went out. Sted stepped back, turned on his heel, and marched out of the hall, slamming the iron gate as he left. Sezri watched him leave, never moving until Sted’s enormous shadow vanished into the night.

“That,” he said, turning to look at Izo, “was a very foolish game to play.”

Izo waved dismissively. “I’ve been leading bandits for fifteen years. You think I don’t know how to handle men like Sted?”

“Sted isn’t one of your thugs.” Sezri’s voice was sharp with disgust. “Have you forgotten whom he serves?”

“Men like that don’t serve anyone but themselves,” Izo said, laughing. “Your Master is kidding himself if he thinks otherwise.”

“My Master sees all things,” Sezri said quietly. “It is by his goodwill alone that you have risen as far as you have. You would do well to keep that in mind.”

“He helped,” Izo said. “He gave me monsters like you, but I was the one who planned the raids, who beat the other bosses. I was the one who took every two-bit gang from here to the coast and turned them into an army capable of taking on Council cities. True, it would have taken me much longer without your Master’s aid, but he has received good payment for what he’s given. I’ve kept my end of the deal. Slaves flow from my camps to the Dead Mountain every day. Now it’s his turn. He promised to make me a king of the Council, and I will hold him to his debt.”

“And you shall be king,” Sezri said. “Offering them the swordsman was nothing but foolish arrogance and impatience.”

“Call it what you will,” Izo said. “I did what I had to do to make the Council move. If that upsets your Master’s deal with Sted, that’s not my problem. I’m not about to sit back and give up what I’m owed so your Master can pay another.”

Sezri clenched his fist. Izo’s arrogance was going too far. Inside him, he could feel the strength of the seed building, ready to lash out, to show this pathetic little man the true power of the Master. But before he could even think the command, the beloved voice filled his head.

Enough, Sezri.

The demonseed closed his eyes, nearly crying as the Master’s voice rolled across his mind.

Let the human do as he likes. All will be answered. Now, go and find a spirit you can devour without raising alarm. Your strength will be needed soon.

“Yes, Master,” Sezri whispered, bowing his head. “All will be as you command.”

The voice chuckled, sliding over his soul like a hand stroking a cat. Such a good child.

“What was that?” Izo’s voice snapped Sezri from his euphoria, and the demonseed glared in disgust at the tiny, human spirit on his makeshift throne.

“Do as you like,” Sezri said, turning on his heel. “King Izo.”

There was a scrape behind him as Izo stood up. “I hope you’re going to check on Sted.”

Sezri didn’t answer. He simply stepped into a shadow and vanished, sliding through the dark until all he could feel was the seed inside him and the fading power of the Master’s voice on his soul. He stopped when he reached the forest just beyond the city. There, in the dark shadow of the trees, he began to hunt for a spirit that would suit the Master’s purpose, unaware of the pair of animal eyes watching him from branches above.

• • •

Nico sat in the dark in the corner of the small house, her coat draped over her head like a funeral shroud. Directly across from her, the tall man in the brown coat sat on a bench by the fire, staring at her. Outside, bandits were laughing and drinking; inside, the room was silent except for the low hissing of the coals. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other since the woods.

None of this would have happened if you’d just accept my gifts. The swordsman’s dead and it’s all your fault. You know that, don’t you?

Nico closed her eyes and buried her head in her knees.

Across the tiny room, the door opened, letting in a swirl of cold, smoky air before shutting again. Nico glanced up. A man wearing a green silk coat, green ballooning pants tucked into tall, polished boots, and a short blue cape with silver lining was standing in the entrance. He looked startlingly out of place, but the man sitting by the fire nodded a familiar greeting.

“Sparrow.”

“Tesset,” the foppish man replied as he bolted the door behind him.

The man in the brown coat, Tesset, waited until Sparrow was finished before asking, “How did it go?”