The Spirit Rebellion(53)

Eli looked up and saw that Josef was right. At the bottom of the hill they’d just crested stood a large, lovely town. Gray stone buildings with steep red roofs stood in orderly squares divided by broad, paved roads. The city was hemmed in on all sides by a high stone wall, though it looked more like an ornamental barrier to separate the city from the country than an actual, defensible position. On the far side of the city from their position, a river hemmed in by bridges and dock houses glittered in the evening light, and above it, sitting on a jut of rock like a crow on its perch, was the duke’s citadel.

Even if the poster hadn’t had a picture, Eli would have recognized the building. Perfectly square, with tiny windows and a black exterior, it was radically different from the charming buildings that surrounded it. Guards walked the perimeter, tiny glittering figures with polished hauberks guiding thick-shouldered dogs on leather leads. Though it was still early evening, torches burned on the citadel walls, their light reflected by mirrored panels set right into the stone, bouncing the light back and forth so that every shadow was illuminated. These felt like unnecessary precautions, however. Even without the guards and the lights, the thick walls of the citadel positively reeked with inaccessibility. Eli felt his pulse quicken. It was a challenge, a true challenge, and he could hardly wait to begin.

Josef caught his gleeful look and folded his arms over his chest. “We’re doing this carefully, remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” Eli grinned. “It would be a shame and a waste to do it any way but right.” He clapped his hands and turned to his companions. “First order of business, setting up base camp. I’m thinking docks.”

“Sounds good,” Josef said. “Lots of people go through there. It’s hard to remember them all. Even the best guards won’t notice three new faces.”

“Close to the city, too,” Eli said, eyeing the river. “And plenty of escape routes.”

“That’s settled, then,” Josef said, veering off the road. “Let’s go.”

Eli and Nico followed the swordsman as he left the road and cut straight down the steep embankment toward the river. They hit the water south of town and followed it up, slipping past the wall through one of the dozens of dock gates and up onto the river walk. The river itself was a good fifty feet across and deeply trenched for the large, low-running barges that floated down it. Piers jutted out into the murky green water, connecting the boats to the long, low storehouses that pushed right up to the river’s edge. River crewmen were gathered in knots by the iron fire troughs, smoking pipes and roasting fish on skewers over the hot coals. These clusters were few and far between, however, and other than the river men, the docks were empty.

“Better and better,” Eli said quietly.

They chose one of the storehouses on the end, a small affair with an older lock, which took Eli five seconds flat to pick, and plenty of dusty cargo that wasn’t going anywhere.

“Perfection,” Eli said, craning his head back to look up at the last light of evening as it streamed through the tiny, glassless windows high up on the two-story walls. “And with daylight to burn.”

“I’ll take care of the groundwork,” Josef said, setting the Heart down in a corner. “Nico, secure the building. Eli, do whatever it is you do.”

“Right,” Eli said, plopping down on a crate and kicking off his wet boots. “I’ll get right on that.”

Josef made a “forget it” gesture as he walked out the door. Nico had vanished the moment Josef assigned her duty, and so Eli was left alone. He took his time wiggling out of his wet coat and fanning out his shirt so the white cloth wouldn’t dry crinkled. Finally, when he was beginning to feel human again, he stood up and strolled to the center of the dusty warehouse.

“All right,” he said to the empty room. “Let’s get started.”


It was fully dark when Josef slipped back into the storehouse, carrying a bag of food and a long list of new troubles. But when he opened the door, he realized he wasn’t the only one who’d had bad news. Eli was sitting in the far corner of the room, surrounded by boxes and looking more frustrated than Josef had ever seen him look.

He put down his bag and walked over, crouching next to the thief. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s the boxes!” Eli exclaimed, far too loudly. “They won’t talk to me!”

Josef flinched at the desperate edge in his voice. Anything that put Eli this out of whack was going to be a problem.

Eli glared at the boxes. “They won’t talk to me at all. Not at all! It’s like they’re not even spirits!”