The Spirit Rebellion (13 page)

“An active mind requires stimulation,” he grumbled, tilting his head to look at Josef. “We can’t all be happy sharpening knives all day long.”

Josef just kept dragging his long knife over the whetstone with practiced ease and said nothing. Realizing he wouldn’t get an argument, Eli swung himself up with an exaggerated sigh and looked again at the sealed door to Slorn’s workroom. The only interesting thing going on in the whole house and Slorn was too stingy to let him watch. Still, there was always a way.

“What are you doing?” Josef asked as Eli began to stalk across the room.

“Broadening my mind,” Eli answered, carefully laying his fingers on the door. It was good, hard wood, and already awake. Eli smiled and began tapping his fingers against it.

Before he could say anything, the door said, “Don’t even think about it.”

“Come now,” Eli said softly. “Surely dear Heinricht wouldn’t mind if I checked in on him. It’s not often I get to watch a master at work. Just a peek, what do you say?”

“Absolutely not.” The door held itself firmer than ever. “And if you’re considering schmoozing anything else, I’ll tell you right now you can save your breath. Every stick of furniture in this house is under strict orders to make sure
you
keep out of the way.”

Behind him, Nico made a sound almost like a snort. Eli gave her a cutting look over his shoulder before turning back to the door, which had pulled back so far it was digging into its frame.

“I wouldn’t dream of getting in the way,” he cooed.
“No one wants him to finish quickly more than I do. I just want to learn. How can you deny me that? Come on, I don’t even have to see. Just let me listen in.” He leaned forward, putting his ear against the gap in the boards. “Slorn loves knowledge above all else. How could he object to just a little listen?”

The door gave a shriek and Eli jumped backward, slapping a hand over his ear to stop the ringing. The door’s shriek faded to a loud, off-key humming, and Eli sighed, rubbing his ear with his palm.

“All right,” he said. “I get it. You can stop now.”

The door hummed louder.

“I guess this is one of those times I should be glad I can’t hear spirits,” Josef said, looking down at the sword he was sharpening with a smile that was slightly larger than the blade warranted.

“In this house, that’s all the time,” Eli grumbled. “Does Slorn awaken only the rude ones?”

“I hardly think following orders makes a spirit rude,” came a growly voice. The door ceased its humming, and everyone turned to look as Slorn himself stepped into the room looking very tired and very annoyed.

“Slorn,” Eli said. “How nice to see you again. I was beginning to worry work had eaten you for good.”

“I find it hard to work with so much noise going on.” Slorn folded his arms over his chest. “Aren’t thieves supposed to be quiet?”

“Only when quietness is called for,” Eli said.

“I’m so sorry, Heinricht,” the door said. “I was only trying to protect your privacy, and—”

The bear-headed man silenced it with a wave. “You did well. I was coming out anyway.”

Eli brightened. “Is it done?”

“Mostly,” Slorn said, turning back toward his workroom. “Come in and see, but don’t touch anything.”

Eli sprang across the room and fell in behind him, giving the grumbling door a dazzling smile as he passed. Josef put down his sword and followed at a more reasonable pace, with Nico bringing up the rear.

Eli had been trying to get into Slorn’s workroom since his first visit, and he was not disappointed. The room was in strict order and absolutely full of curiosities. Shelves filled every available bit of wall, and every available bit of shelving was covered with bins of scrap cloth, animal hides, and enormous spools of thread, some of which were glittering, others almost invisible. There were bins of metal as well, all obscurely labeled in Slorn’s spidery writing as “resentful” or “pleasant,” and one locked chest on the top shelf bore a red sign that read “bloodthirsty—for blade cores only.”

There was a large forge in the corner, which was surprising, considering there was no chimney on this side of the house, but it was cold and its anvil had been pushed to the side. Instead, a large loom took up what little floor space there was. It sat empty now, but its shuttles were twitching with exhaustion, coming down off of two days of solid work.

Eli hopped around like a magpie, examining the tool racks, the shelves of materials, the half-finished projects, anything he could get to. Josef, obviously not seeing what the excitement was about, strolled along behind him looking decidedly bored until he spotted something that made him stop midstep. He grabbed Eli’s sleeve, pulling the thief away from the chest of glass knobs he’d been
gawking over, and nodded toward the wall. Eli followed his gaze, letting out a low, impressed whistle.

There, hanging from a large iron peg, was a sword unlike any they’d seen. To start, it was enormous, larger even than the Heart of War. The blade, guard, and handle were all the same dark metal, a steel blacker than iron with a red tinge that made Eli shudder. Strangest of all was the edge. The heavy, black metal tapered on one side, sharpening, not to a sword edge, but to a row of jagged, bladed teeth. They ran in an uneven line, like teeth in a sea monster’s jaw, and every one of them gleamed killing sharp. The sword’s surface had a strange, matte finish that made the blade look darker than it was, but when Josef reached out to touch it, Slorn was suddenly there, grabbing his hand halfway.

“I said don’t touch,” the bear man growled.

“Slorn,” Eli said, sliding between the two men with a smile. “I thought you didn’t make swords anymore.”

Slorn let go of Josef’s hand with a low rumble. “I don’t, usually. That’s a custom order for another client.” He glared at the sword. “The rabid piece of junk took me almost two months to finish and it’s not friendly, so I’d appreciate it if you left it alone.”

Despite the warning, Josef leaned in, more interested than ever. “It must weigh what, two hundred? Two fifty?”

“A ton,” Eli said. “Who’s it for, a mountain?”

“I have clients who are mountains,” Slorn said, “but no. And I was told weight didn’t matter, so I didn’t bother to weigh it. Can we move on, please? I don’t have all day.”

He stepped aside, motioning them to the far back corner of the workroom. Eli went cheerfully, Josef less so, but what they saw next put the sword out of their minds.
In the corner stood a dressmaker’s dummy half eaten by something that looked like liquid night. Eli blinked and looked again, letting his eyes adjust to the soft light of the workshop, and slowly, the blackness arranged itself into the shape of a woman’s coat.

It was a long coat with a wide collar, flared sleeves, and buttoned straps to hold it closed. Silver flashed at the neck, and when he looked harder, Eli realized the flashes were needles. A small army of needles swam through the black fabric, moving in perfect unison, dragging the shiny black thread behind them. Still, despite that all this was happening less than three feet in front of him, Eli had a hard time seeing what the needles were doing. The light from the tall floor lamp seemed to slide around the coat, almost like the yellow glow was deliberately avoiding it. Eli marveled at the effect, wondering what kind of fabulous cloth Slorn had used, but when he looked at the scraps that lay scattered about on the floor, he realized the fabric was actually no blacker than any dark wool.

He mentioned this to Slorn, and the bear-headed man smiled wide.

“That’s the new layer of protection I put in.” His voice had an uncharacteristic note of bragging in it, the pride of a workman who has just made something unique. “It’s not that the coat is so black, but that the lamp can’t see it. Watch this.”

He grabbed the coat’s sleeve and began to move it toward the lamp. The closer he got to the light, the darker and less substantial the coat became.

“How did you do that?” Eli asked, snatching the sleeve out of Slorn’s hand to get a better look at it.

“The law of type,” Slorn answered proudly. “Most
spirits who emit light are fire spirits in one form or another. They all have the same type. It’s like a spirit species.” He added that last bit for Josef, who looked completely lost.

“But the law of type merely states that spirits of the same type share strengths and weaknesses,” Eli said, giving the coat’s fabric an experimental tug, amazed at the strength of it. “What does that have to do with not seeing?”

Slorn chuckled. “Let’s just say that spirits who share a type also share the same blindnesses. For example, fire spirits as a whole are very direct. They don’t bother with things they can’t burn. To take advantage of this, I simply wove the spirits in the coat together in a way that, for the spirits, makes it look like resting water, which is of no interest to flames.”

“Wait,” Josef said. “So you’re saying fire doesn’t see water?”

“No,” Slorn shook his head. “I’m saying that, since deep, standing water is generally not a threat to fire spirits, they are almost universally uninterested in it, and so feel no need to illuminate it.” He gave Josef an amused look. “Why do you think lakes look so black at night?”

“Clever,” Eli said, letting the sleeve fall back to its position. “Very, very clever. So we’ve got a coat that is almost invisible in firelight. That will be very useful in our line of work.”

“Doesn’t work in sunlight, though,” Slorn said, frowning. “The sun’s a different matter entirely, so don’t get overconfident.”

“No worries,” Eli said. “I’m confident in my confidence. What else did you put in?”

Slorn shook his head and turned back to the coat. “It’s a vast improvement over the previous coat. It’s stronger and more flexible, though still thick enough to keep even the most persistent spirits from seeing what’s inside, not that they would know to try. To the spirit world, this coat and anything it hides are just a blank, no more interesting than a sleeping nest of small water spirits or a pile of finely ground sand. Plus, the needles are putting a hood in as we speak, so there won’t be the problem of losing the hat anymore, though she will look a little out of place in warmer climates.”

“She’ll look a little out of place anywhere besides a cultist convention.” Eli grinned. “Fortunately, we’re not concerned with appearances.” He looked over at Nico. “What do you think?”

Nico’s eyes were wide. “I want to try it.”

“Go ahead,” Slorn said, stepping aside.

The needles finished the last stitches on the hood as Nico stepped forward. She reached out, almost hesitantly, and took hold of the coat by the collar, gently sliding it off the dummy’s shoulder and onto her own. It fell around her like a cloak, seemingly far too big, and yet her hands peeked out perfectly from the long sleeves while the hem ended just below her knees. She gave it an experimental shake, and the coat swirled around her like a current.

“Well?” Josef said.

Nico held out her arms. “It’s heavy,” she said, surprised.

“Not nearly as heavy as it should be,” Slorn said, “considering what’s in it. That coat contains almost a hundred feet of cloth, all folded and crunched around itself to give the spirit an actual size and power much greater than its
form would suggest. There’s wool and silk and steel in the weave, all picked for their complementary personalities and strong sense of duty. Out of that mesh of spirits, I have imprinted a new soul with properties greater than its component parts.” Slorn ran his fingers over the smooth, black fabric. “This cloth will stop arrows, knives, and even a sword thrust from anything except an awakened blade. On your shoulders, it’s better than any normal armor ever could be, because all the pieces of this coat, the thread, the cloth, the buttons, are part of one awakened spirit given a single purpose: to protect the spirit world from panic and destruction by concealing the demon and protecting the demon’s prison”—he nodded at Nico—“you. If you are the strongbox that holds the demon, they are the vault around you, or that’s how the spirit sees itself.” Slorn smiled. “I made it rather zealous, so you’ll have to be careful. The coat will follow you as its captain and obey any orders you give so long as they do not contradict the purpose I used as the foundation of its creation—preventing the demonseed from escaping into the world.”

“Wait,” Eli said. “Follow her orders? How? Nico’s not a wizard.”

Slorn looked at him, astonished. “Of course she’s a wizard. Only wizards can become demonseeds. Normal human souls are far too flimsy to contain a demonseed to maturity.”

A stab of betrayal hit Eli in the gut as he turned to Nico. “You were a wizard all this time? Why didn’t you tell me?”

For the first time since he’d know her, Nico looked hurt. “You didn’t ask,” she said softly. “And it didn’t seem
important. Besides, it’s not like I can talk to spirits casually, being what I am.”

Eli opened his mouth to ask more questions, but the murderous look he was getting from Josef was enough to make him close it again. Fortunately, Slorn took that moment to change the subject altogether.

“Now that you’ve seen the work,” he said, “it’s time to talk about the price.”

“I was wondering when we’d get to that.” Eli sighed. “Well, never let it be said that I am a man who doesn’t pay his bills. What can we do for you?”

Slorn sat down on the edge of his wooden table. “Have you heard of the Fenzetti blades?”