narrow, with a ceiling tall enough for archer stands to be placed over troops. Best of all was what waited at the end. There, at the far side of the hall, standing beside a large stone hearth and chimney, was an immense metal door. Its surface was perfectly smooth, without even a knob or handle. It was set flush against the stone without groove or crack, no way to get leverage at all. It stood black and impenetrable in the firelight as they approached, and Eli immediately began to perk up. This was more like it.
When they reached the fire pit the guard captain stopped and began to feel around in his pockets, muttering apologies.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said. “It’s something different every time.” He drew out a small sachet wrapped in white paper. He laid it in his palm, weighing it experimentally before lobbing the packet, paper and all, straight into the banked fire. The paper curled and blackened, its edges cracking as sweet-smelling smoke-Eli picked out cinnamon and thyme-rose in a white plume. Then, without warning, the fire burst upward in a full roar, blasting the tiny hall with a wave of heat.
“You again?” a flickering voice bellowed as the fire churned, but the guard just mopped a bit of soot off his balding head, completely unaware that the fire was speaking to him.
The flames slumped down sullenly. “I know,” it mumbled. “Open the door, close the door. I never get to sleep. It’s been years. I don’t know. No rest, no sleep, nothing but work…” The voice wavered like smoke in the wind and then faded as the fire dropped back to its usual size, leaving only the smell of burnt cinnamon. Somewhere below them, machinery began to grind and the great door in front of them rolled aside.
“There you are,” the guard said. “That’s the magic gate. Don’t understand how it works, but I suppose it beats pushing that slab open with your shoulder, eh?”
“Indeed,” Eli said, doing his best to convey the absolute disgust he was sure a Spiritualist would have felt at seeing a fire spirit used in that way. It wasn’t hard. He felt kind of sour himself. He didn’t know what kind of operation Gaol was running, but wizards who overworked their spirits deserved to be robbed blind. He only wished he’d been the one to do it. His thoughts drifted back to the terrified crates, but he forced himself to stop. Whatever was going on here, he didn’t have time to deal with it. Anyway, it didn’t matter. Once word got out that Eli Monpress had robbed Gaol, the Spiritualists would start showing up in droves. They would deal with whatever abuses were going on in Gaol. That would be his gift to the spirits, and it would have to be enough. Right now, he needed to find out who was taking advantage of his reputation before the situation got out of control. He had a suspicion, but for once he really hoped he was wrong; otherwise things were going to get very, very annoying. Just thinking about it made him feel tired, and he quickly turned his attention back to the task at hand.
The room beyond the treasury door was massive. It was perfectly square, with bright, mirrored lanterns burning high overhead that Eli suspected were also spirit powered, since he could see no way a servant would get up that high to light them. The harsh, brilliant light fell over what must have once been an impressive and large collection, but was now just a neat grid of empty shelves with only telltale holes in the dust to show there had ever been anything there.
“The entire holding of the di Fellbro family,” the guard said, almost teary. “Gone.”
“Not all gone,” Eli said, pointing across the room to where a large golden lion still took up half a shelf.
“Aye,” she guard said. “The thief left a few pieces. Some we think were too large for him to carry. Others, well, we honestly don’t know why he left them.”
Eli nodded and leaned closer. “Confidentially, friend,” he said conspiratorially, “how close are your men to catching Monpress?”
The guard’s face went red. “Hot on his heels, sir. I can’t tell you the details, of course. Security must be upheld.”
“Of course,” Eli said, smiling graciously. “Thank you, Captain, we’ll take it from here.”
The captain twisted uncertainly. “Actually, sir, I’m afraid I’ll have to stay. I couldn’t leave anyone, even a Spiritualist, alone in here.”
“Suit yourself,” Eli said with a shrug. “We won’t be long.”
The guard nodded and took a seat on the ledge of the hearth, but Eli had already stopped paying attention to him. He walked across the room to the lion and kneeled down to peer into its open mouth. Josef stood behind him, eyes roving over the empty shelves, while Nico wandered off toward the far end of the room, staring up at the high ceiling.
“So,” the swordsman said quietly, “think they’re actually close to catching the thief?”
“Not a chance,” Eli said, running his fingers over the lion’s mane. “He wouldn’t have let us in if they had a lead. For all they know, this stuff just vanished in the night. The guard’s probably sticking around because he’s hoping we’ll give him something he can use. Look here.”
His fingers paused their roving just behind the lion’s left paw, and Eli bent down almost to the ground, peering intently at the gold with a knowing smile. “Thought so, this is a fake. Actual Golden Lions of Ser have a tiny blessing to the volcano of Ser stamped into their left paws. This one has nothing.”
“It’s not real gold?” Josef said, drumming his knuckles on the lion’s head.
“Oh, no, it’s real gold.” Eli stood, brushing off his knees. “But whoever robbed this place wasn’t your common cat burglar. Look at the shelves, not a one out of place. Even the dust is undisturbed. This room seems completely secure, far more so than anything we walked through to get here. I’ve been on the lookout since we stepped through the door and even I can’t figure out how the thief got in, or got out again with what had to be a wagonload of priceless artifacts. However, I can tell that whoever did this was patient, educated enough to spot a fake, discerning enough not to want one, and very, very good. That narrows the list down quite a bit.”
“So you know who it was?”
Eli rolled his eyes. “Let’s just say there’s only one man I know who can pull a job like this, but if we’re going to find him, I’m going to need to see a list of the duke’s business contacts.”
Josef looked at him, thoroughly confused. “Business contacts?”
“It’s our only chance. He certainly didn’t leave a clue here.” Eli craned his head around, scanning the shelves. “Well,” he said cheerfully, “at least the Fenzetti blade is missing.”
“How is that a good thing?” Josef said.
“If the thief took it, we know it wasn’t fake.”
“Or wasn’t here to begin with,” the swordsman grumbled.
“No, no.” Eli shook his head. “If the broker said it’s here, then it’s here. Their information is always reliable; that’s why you pay through the nose for it.”
While he was speaking, Nico appeared beside Josef. The swordsman instantly stopped listening to Eli and turned his attention to her.
“Men with swords are filling the hallway,” she said quietly. “And someone is talking with our guard.”
Eli spun around. Sure enough, there was their guide at the door in deep, frantic conversation with someone Eli couldn’t see. As he watched, whoever it was ran off, and the guard took up position at the center of the door.
“The game is up,” Josef said, looking at Nico. “I’ll take the front. See if you can’t find another exit.”
Nico nodded and they broke, leaving Eli staring at empty space.
“What are you planning?” he whispered loudly, trotting after Josef as the swordsman ran for the door.
Josef didn’t answer. He reached the door and stared down the guardsman, who had turned to face them, a short sword held in his shaky hands.
“I am sorry, Sir Spiritualist,” he said, peering over Josef’s shoulder at Eli. “Orders from the top. The other guards are coming right now. I have nothing but respect for your organization, but please, surrender quietly.”
Eli stared at the guard as if he’d grown a second head before he remembered his cover story and snapped back into character.
“Surrender?” he shouted, beyond indignant. “I am here on the business of the Spirit Court! I am apprentice to the Rector Spiritualis himself, head of the Eli investigation! When it comes to Monpress, I
Eli had himself in a fury now, and it was working. The guard was sweating bullets, but he still didn’t move. Behind him, the clink of metal boots on stone was deafening as the guards marched down the hall, filling their only escape with a wall of armed men, and not the conscripts from outside either, but professional soldiers.
Eli was about to start a new round of threats when Josef threw out his arm, cutting him off.
