have heard,” he said quietly. “If you were actually the best thief in the world, no one would know you were a thief at all, even after you’d robbed them blind.”
“What?” Eli said. “You mean like you? How many months did you play merchant to set this up? You had a tunnel into the treasury, so I’m guessing at least three. In the last three months I’ve stolen the Golden Horn of Celle, the original painting of the
“Three months?” Monpress smiled. “That would have been a feat indeed, considering the posters went up only two weeks ago. And for your information, the tunnel was already there, one of the duke’s many cost-cutting measures to save stone. All I had to do was cut the initial entry into the treasury and make the fake panels, which took about two days. I spent the next three moving everything before the duke found out.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Eli said. “The point is that the jobs I pull are-”
“I know, I know, very impressive. ” Monpress sighed. “Your exploits are reported far and wide. But what do you have to show for it? You’re hunted by everything that cares for gold, and yet look at you. Threadbare coat, worn boots, you look like a common cutpurse. It’s embarrassing to watch you drag the name Monpress through the dirt and not even making a good living at it. If you wanted fame, you should have chosen another profession, or have you forgotten the most important rule of thievery?” His eyes narrowed. “A famous thief is quickly a dead one.”
“Sorry if I don’t put too much faith in that one,” Eli said, crossing his arms. “I’ve been famous for years, and I’m still alive. My head is worth more than you’ve stolen in a lifetime, old man.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that,” Monpress said quietly. “I get by. But unlike some, I don’t feel the need to turn every theft into a carnival.”
“Uh-huh,” Eli said. “A few hundred thousand more and my bounty will beat Den the Warlord. I’ll be the most wanted man in all of the Council Kingdoms, and they
“Well,” Monpress said icily, “that will be a red-letter day indeed.”
The two men stared at each other, and the hold grew very uncomfortable. Just as things were getting really heavy, Nico spoke.
“The boat is moving.”
Both Monpresses blinked in surprise.
“I guess our good captain decided it was time to go,” the elder Monpress said. “River types can be so impatient.”
“Well,” Eli said, “not that it hasn’t been a pleasure catching up, but I’m not interested in crawling to Zarin on a riverboat with you, old man. We’ll just take that Fenzetti off your hands and be on our way.”
Monpress arched an eyebrow, but led them to the back of the hold, stopping in front of a pile of rolled-up woven rugs in a rainbow of colors stacked against the wall. The old thief stood on tiptoe and reached for the one on the very top. He caught the edge with his fingers, then paused and looked over his shoulder.
“Sir swordsman,” he said, “if you would be so kind. I’m afraid my arms aren’t what they used to be.”
Josef shrugged, and Monpress stepped back as the swordsman grabbed the rug. He swung it down with a grunt, and it landed hard on the wooden floor of the ship.
“Heavier than it looks,” Josef said, panting slightly.
“Must weigh a ton to have you out of breath,” Eli said, kneeling down. “Let’s see it.”
He gave the rug a push, and it began to unroll, dumping its hidden treasure onto the floor with a dull clatter. For a moment, they all just stared. The thing on the floor was whitish gray, metal, but not at all shiny, and a little longer than Josef’s arm. Its matte surface had a strange, smooth texture, almost like it was made of soap. It was sword-shaped only in theory, and Eli had to look at it from several different angles to figure out which end was the point and which was the hilt.
Curious, Josef picked it up and gave the white blade a swing. It wobbled through the air, off balance and ungainly, and Josef stuck it into the deck floor, glaring when the dull point couldn’t even pierce the wood.
“Fenzetti blade,” he grumbled. “More like Fenzetti bat. It doesn’t even have a sharpened edge.”
“To be expected,” the elder Monpress said. “There’s not a force in the world that could put an edge on bone metal. That’s part of why they’re so hard to sell. Fenzettis are immensely rare, valuable historical pieces that demand a high price. But, in the end, who wants to pay through the nose for an ugly, dull sword?” He shrugged. “Hopeless situation.”
“Good for you that we’re taking it off your hands, then,” Eli said, grabbing a folded square of crimson-dyed linen from the stack beside him and tossing it to Josef. “Wrap that thing up and let’s get out of here.”
Josef nodded and started to bind the cloth around the blade. But just as he was tying it off, the boat began to pitch. They all flailed for purchase as the hold lurched below their feet, listing high on the starboard side like a skiff at sea instead of a flat-bottomed riverboat loaded with cargo.
“What’s going on?” Eli said, getting his feet back under him.
“I think it’s the wind,” Monpress said, holding onto a support beam as the boat started to level out again.
“Wind can’t do that,” Josef snapped, but Nico held up her hand.
“Listen,” she whispered.
They listened. Sure enough, above the sailor’s cursing and the creaking of the boat was another sound, a deep, howling roar.
Josef slammed his feet on the ground as the ship finally righted itself. “What kind of wind-”
He never got to finish because, at that moment, both Nico and Eli slammed their hands over their ears. Monpress and Josef exchanged a confused look.
“Powers,” Eli gasped.
“What?!” Josef shouted.
“It’s the spirits,” Nico said, her voice strained. “They’re all yelling. It’s deafening.”
Josef’s eyes narrowed. “Demon panic?”
“No,” Nico looked up, very confused. “They’re shouting an alarm.”
Josef’s eyebrows shot up. “An alarm?”
“Yeah,” Eli said. “And it gets worse. We’ve stopped moving.”
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.”
