The Spirit Rebellion(78)

His fingers paused their roving just behind the lion’s left paw, and Eli bent down almost to the ground, peering intently at the gold with a knowing smile. “Thought so, this is a fake. Actual Golden Lions of Ser have a tiny blessing to the volcano of Ser stamped into their left paws. This one has nothing.”

“It’s not real gold?” Josef said, drumming his knuckles on the lion’s head.

“Oh, no, it’s real gold.” Eli stood, brushing off his knees. “But whoever robbed this place wasn’t your common cat burglar. Look at the shelves, not a one out of place. Even the dust is undisturbed. This room seems completely secure, far more so than anything we walked through to get here. I’ve been on the lookout since we stepped through the door and even I can’t figure out how the thief got in, or got out again with what had to be a wagonload of priceless artifacts. However, I can tell that whoever did this was patient, educated enough to spot a fake, discerning enough not to want one, and very, very good. That narrows the list down quite a bit.”

“So you know who it was?”

Eli rolled his eyes. “Let’s just say there’s only one man I know who can pull a job like this, but if we’re going to find him, I’m going to need to see a list of the duke’s business contacts.”

Josef looked at him, thoroughly confused. “Business contacts?”

“It’s our only chance. He certainly didn’t leave a clue here.” Eli craned his head around, scanning the shelves. “Well,” he said cheerfully, “at least the Fenzetti blade is missing.”

“How is that a good thing?” Josef said.

“If the thief took it, we know it wasn’t fake.”

“Or wasn’t here to begin with,” the swordsman grumbled.

“No, no.” Eli shook his head. “If the broker said it’s here, then it’s here. Their information is always reliable; that’s why you pay through the nose for it.”

While he was speaking, Nico appeared beside Josef. The swordsman instantly stopped listening to Eli and turned his attention to her.

“Men with swords are filling the hallway,” she said quietly. “And someone is talking with our guard.”

Eli spun around. Sure enough, there was their guide at the door in deep, frantic conversation with someone Eli couldn’t see. As he watched, whoever it was ran off, and the guard took up position at the center of the door.

“The game is up,” Josef said, looking at Nico. “I’ll take the front. See if you can’t find another exit.”

Nico nodded and they broke, leaving Eli staring at empty space.

“What are you planning?” he whispered loudly, trotting after Josef as the swordsman ran for the door.

Josef didn’t answer. He reached the door and stared down the guardsman, who had turned to face them, a short sword held in his shaky hands.

“I am sorry, Sir Spiritualist,” he said, peering over Josef’s shoulder at Eli. “Orders from the top. The other guards are coming right now. I have nothing but respect for your organization, but please, surrender quietly.”

Eli stared at the guard as if he’d grown a second head before he remembered his cover story and snapped back into character.

“Surrender?” he shouted, beyond indignant. “I am here on the business of the Spirit Court! I am apprentice to the Rector Spiritualis himself, head of the Eli investigation! When it comes to Monpress, I AM the highest authority! And I demand that you tell those men to stand down and let us pass!”

Eli had himself in a fury now, and it was working. The guard was sweating bullets, but he still didn’t move. Behind him, the clink of metal boots on stone was deafening as the guards marched down the hall, filling their only escape with a wall of armed men, and not the conscripts from outside either, but professional soldiers.

Eli was about to start a new round of threats when Josef threw out his arm, cutting him off.

Josef looked down at the guard. “You seem like a nice fellow,” he said. “Sorry about this.”

Quick as a cat, Josef stepped forward, sliding inside the man’s guard and pinching his inner arm just below the joint of his armor. The guard cried out in pain, and his sword fell from his now-limp hand. The second it dropped, Josef spun him around and gave him a push. The man went flying into the hallway, straight into the first pack of guards. They scrambled to catch him, but the guard’s weight sent them lurching backward. By the time they recovered, Josef filled the door completely. He drew his swords and stepped into a defensive position, spinning the blades in whistling arcs, an enormous grin on his face.