The soldiers in the hall surged forward, swords drawn, and as they crashed into Josef, the swordsman did what he did best. He planted his feet and, with a great roar, swept his swords, one high, one low, into the crowd. The soldiers, trained to fight in formation, all held their weapons at the same height. Josef’s swords sang over and below them, past their defenses. The man on the far left had it worst. Josef’s swords slammed into his armor at the shoulder and the thigh, flinging him sideways into the soldier on his right. Josef carried the momentum, throwing himself into the sweep. His weight, the force of his blows, and the unexpected angle were too much for the men, and they smashed into the far wall, grunting in pain and surprise. Swords clattered to the stone as they tried to catch themselves, but it was no use. The moment they were off balance, Josef spun and slammed them again, with his leg this time, beating them against the wall and into the doorman, who’d just finished getting up.
What had been a coordinated charge was now a mess of men on the floor. Josef grinned and fell back to the door, not even winded. The second line of soldiers got their swords ready and were starting to push past their fallen comrades when a whistle sounded. It was a high trill, and the moment it went off, the guards began to pull back.
Josef fell into his defensive crouch, but the hallway was emptying rapidly until only one man stood at the far end. He was tall and thin, with neatly trimmed black hair streaked with gray, and a bored, slightly annoyed expression. His eyebrows arched when he saw Josef.
“So,” he said, “you’re our Spiritualist?”
“Depends,” Josef growled. “Who’s asking?”
The man fixed him with a cold stare. “I am Edward di Fellbro, Duke of Gaol.”
“The man himself,” Eli whispered, peeking around the corner. “Why is he here? Aren’t dukes supposed to lead from the back?”
Josef ignored him, tightening his grip on his swords. “Look,” the swordsman said. “I’m not going to bother feeding you a story. We’re just here looking for the thief, same as you. No need to get nasty. Just back off now before more of your soldiers get hurt.”
“Back off?” The duke chuckled. “You’re in no position to be giving orders, boy. But I have no mind to waste time and money forcing you out. Surrender now and I’ll let you keep your life.”
“And if I don’t?” Josef said.
Edward just smiled, a cold, thin smile, and moved his mouth, saying something Josef couldn’t quite make out.
From his place against the wall, Eli gave a little squeak. “Josef!” he cried. “Get back!”
Josef jumped backward a second before the hearth beside the treasury door erupted in a wall of white-hot flame. Almost before he could recover, two flat stones came sailing through the fire. Josef’s sword knocked the first one aside before he’d even realized what it was, but the next one clipped him on the shoulder, and he grunted in pain.
Eli jumped forward, grabbing the stone from where it had fallen and turning it over in his hands. It was a paving stone from the hall outside, and as he touched it, he could hear the rock babbling in terror.
“Josef, watch out,” Eli said. “He’s a wizard.”
“I guessed that,” Josef grumbled, rubbing his shoulder. In the doorway the flames were dying down, revealing the duke again. He hadn’t moved from his place at the end of the hall, only now he had a pile of paving stones in front of him. They were stacked neatly, leaving a large, bare patch on the floor around him. He smiled at Josef and casually tossed a paving stone in his hand.
“The offer of surrender is still open,” he said.
Josef opened his mouth to tell him exactly what he could do with his offer, but at that second, the duke saw Eli crouched on the floor, his blond wig askew. The duke’s pale, lined face went white as snow, and he opened his mouth in a shout that drowned out Josef’s comeback.
“Eli Monpress!”
Eli jumped and looked just in time to see every single one of the paving tiles shoot forward. They flew from the duke in a flock of loosed fury, flying through the air faster than stone was ever supposed to move. They flung themselves at Eli, and they would have done some terrible damage had Josef not grabbed the thief by his gaudy collar and tugged him down at the last second.
The paving stones whistled inches over their heads, but Eli barely had time to get some air back into his thundering lungs before he heard the duke’s voice roaring through the keep. “Spirits of Gaol! Your duke commands you! Crush the intruder!”
“Hold on now,” Eli said, looking up from his crouch. “You can’t just order a building like—”