“How can you be so blasé?” Eli said around a large mouthful of bread. “Don’t you want to know what’s going on?”
“Sure,” Josef said. “But wanting to know is a terrible reason to do anything. It only causes trouble, and not the good kind either, the stupid, time-wasting kind. Just let it go. We’re on a deadline, remember?”
“How could I forget?” Eli grumbled, lying back.
They sat in silence for a while before Nico leaned forward and blew out the lamp. Lying there, in the dark, Eli meant to think more about the crates and the wind and all the other strange things. He needed to think about them because, despite Josef’s cracks about curiosity, the first rule of thievery was never go into a job if you didn’t understand the territory. This was a dangerous game, with more uncontrollable factors than he was comfortable with. But, despite his best intentions, the weeks of hard travel pulled at his body, and he was asleep as soon as the light went out.
High overhead, the windows rattled in the dark as the strange wind passed by again.
• • •
The night air above Gaol was still. Far off on the horizon, lightning flashed from distant storms. Even so, no rain-heavy wind swept the fields of Gaol and the clouds did not cross the duchy border. They knew better.
Down in the streets, however, a wind moved slowly. It sent the tall oil lamps flickering, disturbing the steady pools of light they shed on the paved streets. It dipped into alleys, under barrels, and through attics. It roared as it went, a cruel, howling sound, and never strayed from its path, moving with almost painful slowness until it had made a full circuit of the town. Only then did the wind pick up speed. It turned and rose, flitting over the rooftops and toward the center of town where the duke’s citadel crouched on its jutting rise, every bit as sullen and formidable as the posters made it out to be.
The strange wind circled the base of the fortress once and then turned and climbed the glum wall to the top, the only part of the gloomy structure that varied from the blocky architecture. Here, crowning the top of the citadel, was a series of interlocking towers. They were short and hard to see from the ground, but being on top of the citadel they provided a breathtaking view of the city and the countryside around it. At the center of the fortress, nestled between the towers, was a small courtyard garden filled with small, neat plants, all carefully arranged into beds by color and size. It was here the wind stopped, spiraling down and slowing to an almost stagnant crawl before the man who sat on a reed chair at the center of the garden going over a stack of black-bound ledgers by the light of a steady lamp.
The wind hovered a moment, hesitantly, but the man didn’t look up from his ledger until he had finished the row. Only then, when each figure had been noted in his short, meticulous handwriting, did Duke Edward look up at the empty space where he knew the wind was waiting. “Report.”
“My lord,” the wind whispered, “two things. First, Hern has arrived.”
“Has he?” The duke set his ledger aside. “That’s unexpected.”
“He went straight to his tower as soon as he was through the gate.” The wind made a chuckling sound. “He doesn’t seem very happy about being back.”
“Interesting,” the duke said. “What’s the second?”
The wind’s whistle grew nervous. “I caught a blip of something over by the docks this evening.”
The duke scowled. “A blip? Explain.”
“Well,” the wind said, “it’s hard to describe to a blind man—”
The duke’s glare hardened, and a small surge of power rang through the garden. All at once, the wind found the words.
“It was like a flash,” it said. “And then it was gone. I passed over twice but never saw it again. Could have been a hedge wizard, some spirit-sensitive riverboater who never developed his skills past listening for floods.”
“But you don’t think so,” the duke said.
The wind jerked at this, surprised, and Duke Edward smiled. He’d always been good at picking up what wasn’t said. It was a useful skill for people and spirits alike.
“I don’t know what it was,” the wind said, finally. “But nothing ordinary shines that brightly.”
“I see,” the duke said. “I trust discipline is being maintained.”
“Of course,” the wind huffed. “Your spirits speak to no one.”
“Good,” Edward said. “Keep an eye on this blip. Tell everyone that I want tight patrols tonight. The bait has been spread far and wide. Our little mouse may be in the trap already.”