was a jerk.
“Come on,” Eli whispered, careful to keep his back to Banage, who was waiting expectantly below. “I just want to talk to someone with some sense. Don’t leave me alone with him.”
The door pressed itself more firmly into the stone and began to emanate a silence so saturated with smug superiority it almost made Eli gag. He flopped back, dangling from the wall by his knees so the door wouldn’t have the privilege of seeing him fume. This just made the door cinch down tighter with a haughty clink, and Eli gritted his teeth. Yep, definitely a jerk door.
He was working up the will to try again when he heard the door tremble against the stone. Quick as a monkey, Eli dropped, swinging down the ladder to land at Banage’s side. The second his feet hit the ground, something hit the door with a resounding clang, and the metal swung open.
Banage stared at the opening door, and then his eyes flicked to Eli, wide with wonder. “You weren’t just bragging,” he whispered. “That was amazing.”
Eli shook his head. “As long as I’ve waited for such a compliment, I’m afraid that wasn’t me. Look lively, I think we’ve got a bird.”
As though on cue, Sparrow’s head appeared above them. “Sorry to interrupt family time,” he called cheerily. “I need Banage the younger. Quickly, please.”
Eli crossed his arms. “What’s my motivation?”
“Well,” Sparrow said, “if you don’t come up on your own, I can always go get Sara and let her think up a way to get you out.”
Eli grimaced. He had no interest in being on the receiving end of Sara’s creativity. With a long-suffering sigh, he shimmied up the ladder once more. Sparrow’s hands met him at the top, gathering Eli’s wrists together and deftly tying them behind him with a supple length of steel cord.
To Eli’s surprise, Sparrow wasn’t alone this time. Two guards in the Whitefall family’s personal dress stood a short distance away, staring at the surrounding forest of tanks with obvious discomfort.
When Sparrow was finished trussing him, he turned Eli over to the guards before going back to the metal door. In one swift motion, he lifted his leg and kicked the door hard with the heel of his boot. The impact sent a ringing reverberation through the metal, and the door fell gracefully back to its locked position. Eli got one last look at his father’s worried face before the door landed, settling back into its stone groove with a solid crunch.
Sparrow took Eli by the elbow. “This way, little Eliton.”
Eli began ambling forward. “That was a neat trick with the door, Sparrow. Tell me, do you have to kick it every time?”
“It’s the most convenient way to get its attention,” Sparrow said, pulling him into a faster pace. “But I don’t know if it’s strictly necessary. I do my best not to get involved with Sara’s contraptions.”
Eli nodded, letting Sparrow drag him between the tanks. Sparrow probably didn’t know how the door worked at all, he reasoned. The kicking was most likely a trigger, something to let the spirit-deaf Sparrow communicate with the awakened door. The real question was, could anyone kick the door and have it open? Eli filed this thought away for later testing as the guards fell in behind them.
He expected they’d head for the ladder leading up to the suspended walkway, but Sparrow led them in a different direction, setting off between the tanks at a quick pace. They walked this way for several minutes until, suddenly, the tanks ended and Eli saw they’d reached the wall of the cavern.
Sparrow didn’t miss a beat. He skirted the wall for a dozen feet before leading them up a metal stair set that had been bolted into the stone of the cavern itself. At the top, they passed through a guarded door and into a long, spiraling tunnel of a hallway leading up. Eli quickly lost all sense of direction. The tunnel seemed to be tying itself in knots, twisting in and over on itself before finally ending at a nondescript door that opened into a very well-appointed hallway lined with heavy wooden doors, each bearing a gold nameplate and a small flag. Eli licked his lips in anticipation. They must be deep in the inner offices of the Council of Thrones if this much money was lavished on a hallway.
Sparrow led them forward without pausing, and the guards made sure Eli kept pace, their boots falling soundlessly on the rich carpet. The hall ended at a graceful stair, and Sparrow led them up two more floors until the stairs ended, letting out into the richest, most tasteful waiting room Eli had ever seen. Eli began dragging his heels, buying himself time to take in the fine furniture and classic paintings before moving on to the vulnerabilities he would exploit the next time he was here. Privately, he decided that would be very soon. Those crystal decanters on the left end table were far, far too fine to leave in the hands of bumbling Councilmen.
He was just deciding which house at Home would make the best use of the embroidered curtains when Sparrow jerked him out of his happy thoughts, pulling Eli up beside him as he knocked on the heavy door at the far end of the waiting room. The door opened immediately, and Eli took a deep, appreciative breath.
If the waiting room had been fine, the office before him was truly the center of the treasure trove. It was large, spacious, and set all around with windows looking down on the city. The walls by the door were lined with handsome bookcases while the stretch of space between the two picture windows was filled with a mechanical clock, the first of its kind Eli had ever seen. But while he was gawking at that, Sparrow was nodding to the genteelly handsome older gentleman sitting at the broad mahogany desk set dramatically at the office’s center.
“Mr. Monpress,” said a soft, well-bred voice. “An honor to meet you at last.”
Eli looked away from the clock in surprise, but as soon as he saw the man, all surprise vanished. Even though he hadn’t grown up in Zarin, he’d spent enough time looking at Council-issued coins to know the face of the Merchant Prince of Zarin.
“Alber Whitefall,” he said with a broad grin. “Never thought I’d have the pleasure.”
Whitefall smiled and then glanced at Sparrow. “Thank you, you may go.”
Sparrow bowed lavishly and, after handing Eli over to one of the guards, turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Eli craned his head, staring at Sparrow’s retreating back in surprise. It was just sinking in that, while Whitefall was here, Sara was not, and now Sparrow was leaving and she still wasn’t here. He licked his lips and turned back to the Grand Marshall of the Council of Thrones. Whatever this was about, he couldn’t imagine Sara letting other people have access to him without her oversight, which meant either he was wrong or Sara didn’t know he was here. Considering how quickly Sparrow had left, Eli was leaning toward the latter.
If Whitefall noticed his confusion, he didn’t comment. Instead, he turned his smile to the guards. “Please make Mr. Monpress comfortable.”
The guards saluted and moved Eli to the chair in front of Whitefall’s desk. They sat him down slightly harder than was necessary, and then the first guard took a length of rope from his belt pouch and started tying Eli down.
“Oh, come on,” Eli said. “Rope? Really? Don’t you know who I am?”
“I respect your reputation as an escape artist, Mr. Monpress,” Whitefall said, his voice unfailingly polite. “But we do have appearances to keep up. I promise not to keep you long.”
“Take your time,” Eli said, tensing his muscles against the rope as the soldiers tried to pull it tight. “It’s not like I have pressing business in my cell. Why did you bring me up here, anyway? Didn’t feel like climbing all the way down to the basement?”
“It is a bit of a challenge for a man of my years,” Whitefall said. “But that’s not the reason. I brought you up here, Mr. Monpress, because unforeseen circumstances have put me in a rather delicate position. One that, unfortunately, prevents me from leaving you in the shelter of your mother’s loving bosom.”
It might have been Eli’s imagination, but he thought he detected a hint of anger in that last sentence. He couldn’t say for sure, though, so he filed it away for pondering later. “I’ll have to revise my opinion of you,” he said, leaning against the ropes as the soldiers finished their knots. “I didn’t think you let yourself get into delicate positions.”
Whitefall’s smile didn’t even flicker. “Even I get caught unawares sometimes. Fortunately, I have you to get me out. I’m afraid you’re going to be my bargaining chip, Mr. Monpress. An ignoble fate to be sure, though one you must be used to by now.”
“I’m getting there,” Eli said, wiggling his arms to test the knots. He started to ask what sort of problem was so huge that the Merchant Prince of Zarin needed a thief worth nearly three hundred thousand gold standards as a bargaining tool, but before he could think of the right wording, the door burst open and a page in crisp white livery strode into the room.
