“Josef,” Eli tsked, “this isn’t just curiosity; it’s groundwork. You gave me a day and a night to pull this job, and I can hardly steal a Fenzetti blade from here. Come on.” He smiled, heading for the trapdoor. “Let’s get dolled up.”
He vanished down the ladder. Nico and Josef exchanged a long-suffering look before getting up and following.
Though years of thievery and natural inclination had given Eli a quick hand and inventive eye for improvised disguises, he always kept the staples on hand. There were some things you simply could not count on improvising. The moment he reached the floor of the warehouse, he ran to his pack and began pulling things out. He had a surprisingly large pile before he found what he was looking for: a small, carefully wrapped package tied with string. Eli undid the knots deftly and the package spilled open, revealing a cascade of golden, flowing hair, the crown jewel of his costume collection.
He shook the wig out a few times, but it needed very little. Wigs of this quality never did, if you stored them right. Eli didn’t know how much it had cost, but he guessed quite a bit since its previous owner, the Princess of Pernoff, had seen fit to store it in the safe with her jewels. Eli had relieved her of both that night, and though the jewels were long gone, the wig remained one of his favorite possessions.
Using his fingers, Eli brushed his short hair back until it was flat against his head, and then, leaning over, slid the wig on with practiced ease. When he came up again, he looked remarkably different. The pale golden locks hung in subtle waves around his face, setting off his pale skin in a way his own dark hair never had, making him look delicate and noble in a fragile way, something he took full advantage of.
“Powers,” Josef said, jumping off the ladder. “Not that thing again.”
“I’ll stop wearing it when it stops working,” Eli said, pinning the wig into its final position with a half-dozen tiny hairpins. “See if there’s anything workable in the crates. I saw one addressed to Freeman’s Clothier in Zarin that might have something good.”
Josef walked over to the pile of wooden boxes and began reading the faded shipping manifests. He had to move several to get to the crate Eli had mentioned, but when he cracked it open, they were not disappointed.
“Perfect,” Eli said, grinning.
Inside was a neatly folded stack of brocade jackets, obviously intended for some tremendously overpriced shop in Zarin. Eli pawed through them, finally picking out a garish red-and-gold peacock pattern that matched the wig perfectly and, as an added bonus, caused Josef to sigh in disgust. Unfortunately, the only coat in the box that would fit over Josef’s broad shoulders was a hideous green monstrosity that he refused to wear. Finally, Josef settled for a thick, black shirt from his own pack.
“I guess that will do,” Eli said and sighed. “Just be sure to scowl a lot; that way no one will get close enough to notice the mended stab holes and bloodstains.”
“I do wash it,” Josef said. “Anyway, it fits me better than the guy I took it off.”
Eli gave him a startled look. “I don’t think I want to hear any more about your brand of shopping.”
Josef shrugged. “It’s not like he was using it.”
Eli left it at that.
In the end, Josef decided to bring only the twin short swords he wore at his hips and the knives he could hide in his clothing. He and Eli agreed that walking into town covered in blades as he usually was would be asking for trouble, especially when they were trying to be discreet. Of course, this also meant Josef would have to leave the Heart, something Eli had a much harder time convincing him of.
“I don’t see why this is a big deal,” Eli said. “You hate having to use the Heart anyway.”
“That’s not the issue here,” Josef said, crossing his arms stubbornly. “It’s plain stupid to walk into an unknown situation, with armed men gathering in a city we know is a trap, and not bring our best weapon.”
“Come on,” Eli pleaded. “It’s common knowledge you’re with me these days. Carrying that thing is like walking around with a giant signpost: ‘Here’s Josef Liechten! Please stab!’ If you’re going to bring it, there’s no point in disguises at all.”
Josef scowled. “I don’t think-”
“Just leave it here,” Eli interrupted. “It’s not like it could get stolen anyway, seeing as you’re the only one who can pick it up. Besides”-Eli’s voice smoothed to warm honey-“you’re Josef Liechten, the greatest swordsman in the world. Surely
Josef gave him a dangerous glare. “Don’t treat me like one of your idiot spirits.” He pulled the enormous black blade off his back and dropped it. It fell like a meteor, sticking point-first in the wood floor. “I’ll leave the Heart because you make a good case, but don’t ever try and con me again, Monpress.”
“Point taken,” Eli said softly, but Josef was already stalking toward the door.
“You deserved that,” Nico said, standing up from the crate she’d been sitting on.
“Thanks,” Eli said sarcastically, but his heart wasn’t in it. He looked over at Nico. “Sure you don’t want a disguise? Just for a change?”
“No.” Nico gave him a little half smile. “Nothing in those crates can do this.”
She stepped forward into a long shadow cast by one of the dividers that separated the windows and vanished. Eli blinked. He’d seen Nico do her shadow thing dozens of times, but never that cleanly. It was like she’d simply disappeared.
“Slorn did a good job with this coat,” she said behind him.
Eli jumped and whirled around. She was several feet away, sitting on a crate a few rows up, shaking her oversized sleeves with a kind of visceral happiness, like a cat playing with a stunned mouse.
“So I see,” Eli said. “Shall we go?”
But the crate was already empty, and Nico winked into existence again beside Josef, who was standing impatiently at the door.
“Right,” Eli muttered, hurrying to catch up.
The city of Gaol was a beautiful, well-laid-out place. Every road was perfectly straight, every house perfectly kept. Small gardens glowed like jewels behind the low stone walls, and every sign was painted in matching colors without a single scuff or faded letter. Even the paving cobbles were set at perfect right angles with their cracks swept meticulously clean.
Over all of this order flowed a constant stream of ordinary people, men and women, with identical swords belted at their sides. They were moving in close knots, talking together in quiet, nervous whispers. None of them looked happy to be there, but they moved at a good pace, making their way toward the citadel at the city center to join the growing crowd.
“Amazing!” Eli stood on tiptoe to get a better look. “It’s like they turned the town upside down, shook out the people, and gave them swords. What is this, community military service?”
“Stop gawking,” Josef said, tugging the thief down by his gaudy coat. “You’re supposed to be a traveling merchant, remember?”
“I think it’s perfectly in character for me to gawk,” Eli said, batting Josef’s hand away. “Haven’t you ever met a merchant?”
They were walking toward the center of town down one of the main roads. Eli, as the merchant, stayed out in front, while Josef, the hired sword, kept a few paces behind. Nico, as usual, was nowhere in sight, but Josef’s practiced eye spotted her flitting in and out of the gloom between the buildings, a tiny, girl-shaped patch of darker shadow. They were following the crowd toward the duke’s fortress, its hulking, boxy shape black against the clear morning sky. Ahead, the road opened out into a square that was even more packed than the street they were on. Eli paused, frowning at the armed crowd, and then, quick as a bird going for cover, ducked into the nearest door, forcing Josef to turn sharp if he wanted to follow.
The doorway led to a bakery. It was a tiny shop, just a few benches and a counter separating the actual ovens from the customers. Still, like everything in Gaol, it was immaculately neat. Boards covered in precise lettering detailed the startling variety of baked goods and sweetmeats the shop offered. Hearing the door, the baker pulled himself away from the small window that overlooked the crowded square and came to the counter, a sour look on his flat face.
At once, Eli launched himself into character, his grin growing snide and arrogant as he flipped a handful of silver bits from the local currency casually between his fingers.
The baker’s expression became infinitely more gracious at the glitter of silver. “What can I get for you,
