The Spirit Thief(64)

“A good fight does wonders for them!” Eli shouted over the din of the spirits’ war.

“That’s horrible!” Miranda shouted back. “Using a spirit’s feelings like that, it’s abusive!”

“Not at all.” Eli looked hurt. “I’m treating them like living things, which is a lot more than I can say for the blacksmith I bought them from. Look, it’s even waking up the door.”

The acids’ fight was indeed getting the door’s attention. It squealed and ground on its hinges, trying to get away from the brawl that was eating through its core. The din was deafening, and Miranda clapped her hands over her ears. Eli cringed at the worst of it, but otherwise seemed content to watch the show. Josef just stood there, watching the door with bored interest. Nico crouched closer to the hissing metal than Miranda would have dared, staring in fascination as the hole in the door grew wider.

Finally, the acids fought themselves out, leaving a warped, melted hole in the iron just large enough to fit a small fist through. The door whimpered, and Eli rubbed it gently, whispering apologies and promising to have it recast as soon as possible. Whether he meant it or not, the words seemed to put the door at ease, and as it drifted back to sleep, Eli reached his hand through the melted hole and popped the lock on the other side.

“Swordsmen first,” Eli said, swinging the door open.

Josef put his hand on his sword hilt and eased his way into the black tunnel.

“All clear,” he whispered, and the rest of them hurried through the doorway, mindful of the spots where the last remnants of the acids were still steaming.

The hall on the other side was smaller than the cellar it joined. In fact, it was barely larger than the door itself. They walked single file, with Josef leading the way, absently twirling two knives in his hands. Miranda went next, followed by Eli, with Nico trailing behind as usual. For her part, the Spiritualist kept to the absolute center of the hall, as far as she could get from the cobwebby walls. Here and there, small roots had pushed through the ceiling, and she realized they must be under the palace grounds. Unseen things scuttled in the dark behind them, making Miranda’s skin crawl. Apparently, Josef didn’t like the scuttles either because he stopped suddenly, causing Miranda to nearly run into him.

“What now?” she whispered, regaining her balance.

Josef threw up his hand to silence her. She glowered at the command, but said nothing. Behind them, something skittered again, and Josef turned on his heel. Miranda didn’t see the knife leave his hand, but she heard it hit. A squeal erupted behind them, and the skittering stopped. Eli whirled around, holding his lamp high. The light fell across their dusty footprints and, right at the edge of the glow, was a squirming, dying rat with Josef’s knife sticking out of its side.

“Getting paranoid?” Eli muttered, lowering the lamp. “It’s not like you to kill the wildlife.”

“It’s not paranoia.” Josef walked over to reclaim his knife. “Have you ever seen a rat act like that?”

“What are you talking about?” Miranda said.

“Rats are scavengers and foragers,” Josef said. “This one’s been following us since the first cellar. What kind of rat leaves a cellar full of food to follow people into an empty hallway?”

Miranda hurried over to the dying animal and hovered her hand over its head. Sure enough, she could feel the faint echo of Renaud’s spirit slipping away as the rat’s movement stilled. She snatched her hand back.

“Josef’s right,” she said.

“If he has control of the rats, that could be a major problem,” Josef said, looking at Eli. “Even you can’t sneak past rats.”

“He can’t control all of them,” Miranda said, rubbing her hand on her skirt. “Controlling lots of small spirits is harder than controlling one large one.”

“He wouldn’t need to control all of them,” Eli said thoughtfully. “Rats talk among themselves, and two wizards aren’t exactly inconspicuous. Two or three informants would be enough.”

Josef pushed past them and began walking in quick, impatient strides down the dark hall toward the castle. “We’ll just have to assume Renaud knows we’re down here,” he said. “And that means we need to be somewhere else.”

Miranda hurried after him. The dark, dirty tunnel was the last place she wanted to face another of Renaud’s mad spirits. The swordsman set a grueling pace, not running but walking so fast they might as well have been. The tunnel around them was growing lighter or rather, less dark. She still couldn’t see anything beyond the lamplight, but the tone of the darkness was shifting to something friendlier, more human. Even so, the tunnel seemed to go on forever, and Miranda’s legs were beginning to ache. The gardens hadn’t seemed this long when she was aboveground. As the tunnel went on and on, she started to wonder if this wasn’t some new trap they had stumbled into.