The Spirit Rebellion(91)

He was right. Though the boat was still rocking from its sudden jump, they weren’t moving forward like before. They weren’t moving at all.

“Fantastic,” Monpress said. “You know, the only time I ever have trouble like this on a job is when you’re with me, Eli.”

Eli rolled his eyes and walked over to the closest crate. He plunged his hand between the bolts of wool and came out with a jeweled cup. It was vibrating in his hand and, for those who could hear it, screaming like a banshee.

“Easy,” Eli said gently.

The cup ignored him, squealing and spinning in his hand.

“Shut up,” Eli said, loading a bit more force into his voice.

It was enough. The cup froze in his hand, looking slightly dazed, or as dazed as a cup could look.

“Thank you,” Eli said. “What are you doing?”

“Raising the alarm,” the cup said. “You’re a thief.”

“Am I?” Eli said. “And how would you know? You’ve been stuffed between textiles all morning.”

“The wind was the signal,” the cup said haughtily. “No one steals from the Duke of Gaol! He’s already got you surrounded, and when he catches you, we’ll finally be rewarded for years of loyal watching! Finally, after so long things will be—”

Eli shoved the cup back in the wool, muffling it.

“What?” Josef said, gripping the Fenzetti blade with both hands as if it was a bow staff.

“It’s a trap,” Eli said. “Looks like most of this treasure was awakened and set to report their thief’s location. Apparently we’re surrounded.” He glared at the old Monpress. “Why do you never hire a wizard? If you’d just had someone to poke at all this before you hid it, you would have known.”

The old thief folded his arms over his chest. “Not everything runs by wizard rules,” he said. “And in case you haven’t noticed, now is scarcely the time for blame.” He glanced upward. Sure enough, boots were thumping on the deck above their heads. “Either my sailors have suddenly decided to wear shoes, or we should beat a hasty retreat.”

“Right,” Eli said. “Is there another way out?”

“Of course,” Monpress said, beckoning them to follow him. “You’re with me, remember?”


On the dock, Duke Edward watched the stopped ship with a satisfied smile. Below his feet, the river was perfectly still, holding the boat like a fly in amber as his soldiers swarmed over it.

“Excellent work, Fellbro.”

“Thank you, my lord,” the river said, its deep voice strained from the pressure of holding the water back. “Are the soldiers almost finished? I don’t think I can keep this up for much longer.”

“You’ll keep it up until I tell you otherwise,” the duke answered, motioning for another group of soldiers to move into position on the far bank.

“But”—the river began to tremble—“with all due respect, my lord, you’re asking an imposs—”

“Fellbro,” the duke said, staring down at the water, which had gone perfectly still, “do you remember when you first swore obedience? What happened that year?”

The water didn’t answer, so the duke continued. “Do you remember how I dammed your flow and poisoned your water?” Edward leaned closer. “I do. I remember the great floating islands of dead fish, the stench, the flies. How anything that drank your water died within the day. Do you think that was pleasant for either of us?”

“No, my lord,” the river said.

The duke leaned closer still, his voice a cutting whisper. “And do you think I would hesitate to do it again?”

The river’s water sank away from him. “No, my lord.”

“Then I suggest you stop complaining and find a way to obey me,” the duke said, straightening up. “Do not forget your station, Fellbro.”

“Yes, my lord,” the river murmured, its water dark and murky.

Satisfied, the duke turned to see his soldiers beat down the hold door while another group moved to secure the cabin. He was watching with pleasure when a strong wind blew down beside him.

“Everything’s in place,” Othril said, panting. “I must have flown across the duchy twice over, but everything is ready on your order. Though”—the wind turned to the boat, ruffling the duke’s graying hair in the process—“we might not need it. The soldiers are almost into the hold, and there’s no other way out. Maybe you overestimated his abilities.”

“I overestimate nothing,” the duke said, nodding toward the stern of the boat.

Right where the back of the boat met the water, something was shaking. Then, with a soft crack, the hull popped open and a plank splashed into the water a few feet from the long pier where the soldiers had boarded. The moment the plank hit the water, a small figure dressed in shapeless black jumped out, landing neatly on the dock. The figure was followed by a large man carrying a long, wrapped package, and then an older gentleman who jumped quite gracefully for his age. Last of all, a gangly, dark-haired man leaped from the boat. His jump was awkward, and he almost missed the dock altogether, but the larger man grabbed him at the last moment, pulling him onto the dock, and they started running just as a hail of arrows launched after them from the bow of the ship.