The Spirit War(37)

“I think I’ve lost enough for one day,” he said. “Josef, since you have all our gold at the moment, would you settle the tab?”

“Since it’s your money, sure.”

Josef set the Heart in the corner and made his way to the bar. When he was gone, Nico turned to Eli.

“Why did you keep betting?” she asked quietly. “You knew he had a better hand.”

“That I did,” Eli said. “But there’s more to the game than gold, and Josef’s always in a better mood when he wins.”

He gave Nico a brilliant smile as he grabbed his bag and made his way toward the back door. Nico watched him with a puzzled expression until Josef returned.

The swordsman paused. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

Josef shrugged and motioned for Nico to lead the way to the alley where Eli was waiting.

At eight o’clock precisely, the guard changed as scheduled. Five minutes later, a carriage pulled into the palace square. The carriage was a fine one, with a matched pair of bays and a liveried footman who jumped down the moment the wheels stopped. The footman opened the door and flipped the folding stair out with a clack. From the shadows inside the shuttered carriage, a gloved hand reached out, and the footman hurried to help the gentleman down.

The passenger was a genteel figure in an old-fashioned long coat, fitted pants, and short boots cut from two shades of black leather. His face was obscured by a full, gray beard trimmed to a neat point, but his blue eyes were magnified by the silver spectacles that sat on the bridge of his nose. The old man moved slowly, leaning on the footman. He looked so fragile as he climbed down that the junior guard started forward to help him, but the senior guard stopped him with a shake of his head, and they held their position as the footman helped the old man down to the street.

As soon as the gentleman cleared the carriage door, another man exited almost on his heels. The second man was dressed similarly to the first, same old-fashioned coat and two-tone boots, but he was younger, much larger, and armed with two swords at his side as well as a long, sword-shaped-wrapped bundle on his back. He had a silver-tipped cane and a leather-wrapped satchel tucked under his arm, both of which he handed to the first man as soon as he reached the ground. The older man took the cane and the satchel gratefully, leaning on the first while he undid the straps on the second.

The younger man paid the footman without comment. From the way the footman began to bow and scrape, it must have been an impressive amount. After much groveling, the footman climbed back onto his perch and the carriage pulled away, leaving the two men alone with the guards.

The senior guard eyed the way the armed man rested his hands on his sword hilts and stepped forward, putting himself between the new arrivals and the palace gate.

“May I help you?”

“One moment, if you please,” the older man said, still digging through his satchel.

The guard relaxed just a fraction. The expensive clothes had been a good hint, but now he was sure these were men of import. No one with an accent that refined could be up to trouble.

After much digging, the old man pulled a small book out of his bag and began thumbing through it. “Here we are,” he said, stopping somewhere in the middle. “I’m looking for a Mr. Wallace.” He glanced over his spectacles at the older guard. “That would be you?”

“Yes, sir.” The senior guard, Wallace, stood at attention. “Are you expected?”

The old man sighed and adjusted his spectacles. “I shouldn’t think so, Mr. Wallace. My name is Velsimon Whitefall and this is my bodyguard, Officer Fuller. We’re with the National Obligation Audit Division of the Council Tax Bureau.”

The man with the swords nodded, but Wallace didn’t see him, the gate guard was too busy turning a pasty shade of grayish pink. He didn’t know much about the inner working of the Council of Thrones, but he knew the name Whitefall, and he knew that anyone from an office with “Audit” in the title was no one you wanted at your gate.

“I apologize for our late arrival,” the old man continued. “We were delayed leaving the mainland, but our business here is of the most pressing urgency. There was a bit of a miscalculation on Osera’s last payment and I need to speak with your treasury officer, Mr.…”

“Lord Obermal?” Wallace suggested.

“Ah yes, Obermal.” The old man closed his little book with a sigh. “There are so many countries now, they all start to”—he waved his hands in a circle—“roll together.” He finished with a shrug. “Would you be so kind as to take us to him?”