When they reached the fire pit the guard captain stopped and began to feel around in his pockets, muttering apologies.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said. “It’s something different every time.” He drew out a small sachet wrapped in white paper. He laid it in his palm, weighing it experimentally before lobbing the packet, paper and all, straight into the banked fire. The paper curled and blackened, its edges cracking as sweet-smelling smoke—Eli picked out cinnamon and thyme—rose in a white plume. Then, without warning, the fire burst upward in a full roar, blasting the tiny hall with a wave of heat.
“You again?” a flickering voice bellowed as the fire churned, but the guard just mopped a bit of soot off his balding head, completely unaware that the fire was speaking to him.
The flames slumped down sullenly. “I know,” it mumbled. “Open the door, close the door. I never get to sleep. It’s been years. I don’t know. No rest, no sleep, nothing but work…” The voice wavered like smoke in the wind and then faded as the fire dropped back to its usual size, leaving only the smell of burnt cinnamon. Somewhere below them, machinery began to grind and the great door in front of them rolled aside.
“There you are,” the guard said. “That’s the magic gate. Don’t understand how it works, but I suppose it beats pushing that slab open with your shoulder, eh?”
“Indeed,” Eli said, doing his best to convey the absolute disgust he was sure a Spiritualist would have felt at seeing a fire spirit used in that way. It wasn’t hard. He felt kind of sour himself. He didn’t know what kind of operation Gaol was running, but wizards who overworked their spirits deserved to be robbed blind. He only wished he’d been the one to do it. His thoughts drifted back to the terrified crates, but he forced himself to stop. Whatever was going on here, he didn’t have time to deal with it. Anyway, it didn’t matter. Once word got out that Eli Monpress had robbed Gaol, the Spiritualists would start showing up in droves. They would deal with whatever abuses were going on in Gaol. That would be his gift to the spirits, and it would have to be enough. Right now, he needed to find out who was taking advantage of his reputation before the situation got out of control. He had a suspicion, but for once he really hoped he was wrong; otherwise things were going to get very, very annoying. Just thinking about it made him feel tired, and he quickly turned his attention back to the task at hand.
The room beyond the treasury door was massive. It was perfectly square, with bright, mirrored lanterns burning high overhead that Eli suspected were also spirit powered, since he could see no way a servant would get up that high to light them. The harsh, brilliant light fell over what must have once been an impressive and large collection, but was now just a neat grid of empty shelves with only telltale holes in the dust to show there had ever been anything there.
“The entire holding of the di Fellbro family,” the guard said, almost teary. “Gone.”
“Not all gone,” Eli said, pointing across the room to where a large golden lion still took up half a shelf.
“Aye,” she guard said. “The thief left a few pieces. Some we think were too large for him to carry. Others, well, we honestly don’t know why he left them.”
Eli nodded and leaned closer. “Confidentially, friend,” he said conspiratorially, “how close are your men to catching Monpress?”
The guard’s face went red. “Hot on his heels, sir. I can’t tell you the details, of course. Security must be upheld.”
“Of course,” Eli said, smiling graciously. “Thank you, Captain, we’ll take it from here.”
The captain twisted uncertainly. “Actually, sir, I’m afraid I’ll have to stay. I couldn’t leave anyone, even a Spiritualist, alone in here.”
“Suit yourself,” Eli said with a shrug. “We won’t be long.”
The guard nodded and took a seat on the ledge of the hearth, but Eli had already stopped paying attention to him. He walked across the room to the lion and kneeled down to peer into its open mouth. Josef stood behind him, eyes roving over the empty shelves, while Nico wandered off toward the far end of the room, staring up at the high ceiling.
“So,” the swordsman said quietly, “think they’re actually close to catching the thief?”
“Not a chance,” Eli said, running his fingers over the lion’s mane. “He wouldn’t have let us in if they had a lead. For all they know, this stuff just vanished in the night. The guard’s probably sticking around because he’s hoping we’ll give him something he can use. Look here.”