The Spirit Rebellion(142)
As if to prove his point, a great crashing sound rose up in the distance, the sound of water washing over things it shouldn’t. Eli opened his arms and let Karon’s smoke pour into him again, wincing as the pain of the burn on his chest flashed like a fresh wound. But the pain faded quickly, and he pushed off of Josef just before a wave of white water burst into the square. It flooded up the street, surging over the burning houses in absurd, gravity-defying waves. Even the great pile of spirits marking where the duke had fallen was washed under, and everywhere the fire vanished beneath the cool, blue-white surge.
With the water came a stiff wind. It blew from the west, driving the stench of burned wood away. By this point, Eli and the rest had slogged through the water to the steps of the duke’s citadel, where they were out of the flood. The wind hit them head-on, chilling their wet clothes and filling the air with the smell of the cold, rocky shore. Then something landed with an enormous splash just around the corner. Eli jumped at the sound, and Josef’s hand went to the Heart, but he dropped his grip when the source of the sound came around the corner. It was a little old man, thin as whipcord and with a genteel, scholarly appearance that was only slightly ruined by the way he was wringing the water out of his billowing white robes.
He stopped when he reached the stairs, staring at the huddled group with trepidation as he settled his spectacles on his nose.
“Excuse me,” he said, leaning forward inquisitively. “Which of you is Eli Monpress?”
“That would be me,” Eli said, stepping forward. “Might I ask who’s asking?”
“My name is Lelbon,” the man said with a dry, polite smile. “I am a scholar and general errand runner for Illir, the West Wind.”
He paused, as if this should mean something to them, but Josef just stared at him, and the elder Monpress leaned back against the doors, keen to see where this would go. Eli, however, broke into a grin.
“The West Wind, you say?” Eli scratched his chin thoughtfully. “And what is the West Wind doing sending representatives here? Gaol certainly doesn’t count as the western coast.”
“My employer is interested in the well-being of all the lands he blows over,” Lelbon said stiffly. “We’ve been aware of the situation in Gaol for some time, but were unable to interfere due to the local Great Spirit’s refusal to allow outside aid. The Spiritualist Lyonette has been investigating for us and, as you can see, has rectified the situation.”
“By flooding the whole place,” Eli said, laughing. “That’s Spiritualists for you.”
Lelbon just gave him a sour look. “I was sent to you with a warning. Spiritualist Lyonette is currently speaking with my master, but she will be heading in this direction shortly. I am instructed to relay that it would be wise of you to move on.”
“Would it?” Eli said. “And where exactly does your master get off giving me orders?”
“It’s only a suggestion,” Lelbon said with a shrug. “The great Illir is merely concerned for your welfare. After all, even for as great a spirit as the West Wind, interfering in the affairs of the favorite is politically unadvisable.”
“Favorite?” Josef said, looking at Eli. “Favorite what?”
“Forget it,” Eli said. “All right, you heard the little old man. Let’s get out of here.”
“What, just like that?” Josef asked. “We’re not going to steal anything?”
“What’s left to steal?” Eli said, nodding at the smoldering town and the great empty citadel. “Besides,” he said, grinning at Monpress, “according to everyone, I already stole the entire treasury from the thief-proof fortress. That’s quite enough for one country. We’ve got the Fenzetti; we’re done here.”
That’s when he noticed that Josef wasn’t carrying anything.
“You do have the Fenzetti, don’t you?” Eli said. “It’s with Nico, right? Where is she, anyway?”
“I’ve got it,” Josef said flatly. “Nico’s another matter.” He turned around and walked into the shadowed doorway of the citadel, coming back with the Heart strapped across his shoulders and two wrapped bundles. One was sword-shaped and wrapped in cloth, the Fenzetti. The other was small and dark and carefully cradled in Josef’s arms.
“Wait,” Eli said, going very, very pale. “She’s not—”
“No,” Josef said. “But it isn’t exactly good. I’ll tell you on the way. Let’s go if we’re going.”
“Right,” Eli said quietly, putting his smiling face back so fast Josef didn’t even see his expression change. He turned to the elder Monpress, who was still lounging on the dry step. “You’re welcome to piggyback on our escape, old man. It makes me feel useful to assist the elderly.”