The Spirit Rebellion (43 page)

“I never thought that would work half as well as it did,” he said, lowering his head to help Miranda climb onto the dock. “The city literally leaped at the chance to look for a new master.”

“Anything would be better than the old one,” Miranda said, pulling herself up by the tough fur on his ruff. “Actually, I don’t see how things could have gone better, the duke’s control broken, Eli on a chain; all I need now is for Hern to come begging for mercy and I think I’ll have just about everything I could want in the world.”

“As pleased as I am to be included in such happiness,” Eli said, climbing up onto the dock behind her, “I would like to remind you—”

But he never got to finish. At that moment, an ear-splitting howl drowned out all other sound. Miranda, Gin, and Eli all shielded their ears, and even the elder Monpress looked up, startled. The cry went on and on, shaking and changing pitch, like it was being passed from one voice to another, full of terror and wailing and crushing despair.

“Is that Nico?” Miranda shouted. It was certainly desperate enough to be demon panic.

“Nico’s panics don’t sound like this,” Eli shouted back. With a wince, he glanced up at the city, and his face went bone pale. Startled, Miranda looked, too, but even she didn’t quite recognize what she was seeing until Gin named it.

“It’s an Enslavement,” he whimpered. “I’ve never seen one so large.”

Miranda straightened up, forcing herself to ignore the horrible noise and look. Across the river, the city was twisting like a trapped animal. Buildings writhed and screamed, their bricks cracking from the pressure. Fires were breaking out everywhere, shooting up chimneys as their spirits fought the wizard’s will. But it was too strong. Even as she watched, the city began to settle down, the buildings crouching low like beaten animals, trembling. Yet for all the flash, Mellinor’s captured river seemed unaffected by the crushing force. So did Gin, who was on his feet, teeth bared.

“It’s the duke,” Eli said beside her, answering her question before she spoke it. “His Enslavement is only for his spirits. He’s taking his city back.”

“Oh, no, he’s not,” Miranda said, grabbing hold of Gin’s fur and pulling herself up. But as she settled on Gin’s back, she jerked violently. Her eyes widened, and she doubled over as if she’d been punched in the stomach.

Eli, one arm pulled up beside her anyway from the chain linking them together, caught her as she wobbled. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my rings,” Miranda whispered, her voice shaking and terrified. “They’re gone.”

Eli frowned. “I thought that was already established.”

“No,” Miranda snapped. “I mean they’re
gone
. Before
they were there, but far away, but just now…” She shrugged helplessly. “It’s like a door closed. I can’t feel anything.”

“Miranda,” Gin growled, “calm down. It’s way too early for them to flicker out. Get a hold of yourself before you panic Mellinor.”

Miranda blanched and glanced over at the river. Sure enough, the water was washing toward her. She waved it away frantically and sat up straight, wiping her eyes with her hands.

“You’re right,” she said quietly. “But why can’t I feel them?”

“Well,” Eli said, “who did you say had them?”

“Hern,” Miranda said. “He’s another Spiritualist. A nasty one.”

“Sounds like most Spiritualists,” Eli said, nodding sagely. “Present company excluded, of course.”

Miranda didn’t even bother with the nasty look for that one. Instead, she sat, brow furrowed in furious thought, until all at once she groaned.

“I know what happened,” she said, turning to Gin. “Hern sealed himself in his tower. He’s too much of a coward to try stopping the duke’s Enslavement, so he’s separated himself to wait it out. I bet my rings are in there, too, and whatever he’s using for a seal is blocking my connection as well.”

“Then we have a problem,” Gin said. “So long as there’s some connection, the spirits can hold out by staying deeply asleep. But if the connection is gone entirely, they’ll die within the hour.”

“I know, I know,” Miranda said frantically. “But I can’t just ignore the Enslavement of an entire town!”

“Might I suggest something?” Eli interrupted.

Spiritualist and ghosthound turned to glare at him, but Eli’s cool smile didn’t falter. “You need to get your rings back before they expire, right? That’s part of your oath, isn’t it? Protection?”

“Of course it is,” Miranda growled.

“But at the same time, you, as a Spiritualist, need to stop this Enslavement before the entire town is driven mad, or else you violate your oath to protect the Spirit World.”

Gin snapped his teeth together. “Get to the point, thief.”

“The point should be clear,” Eli said. “Even you can’t be two places at once, so why don’t we split our efforts? You go rescue your rings and I’ll take care of the duke.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Miranda scoffed. “What’s to say you won’t just turn tail and run? Isn’t ‘get while the getting is good’ one of your rules of thievery?”

“It is,” Eli said. “Though not quite in those words. But consider this, dear Miranda”—he rolled up his sleeve—“you’re not the only one out for payback tonight.”

Miranda gasped. Eli’s arms were covered in horrible bruises. Most were red and angry; others were starting to turn a deep purple. She stared at them in disbelief. How had the thief kept up with her? She wouldn’t have been able to move with bruises like that, but the whole time that she’d been dragging him along, Eli had given no sign he was injured. Now she felt almost guilty for being so rough with him.

“Anyway,” Eli said, letting his sleeve drop again, “it’s not just vengeance for me.” He glared at the town, which was now almost totally still in submission. “I have no love for bullies and Enslavers.”

Miranda believed him on that. From what she’d seen of his tactics, spirit goodwill played an enormous part. He must have been going crazy not being able to talk to the spirits in Gaol. Eli might be a scoundrel and an embarrassment to the dignity of wizardry, but when it came to protecting the well-being of spirits, they were almost always on the same page.

Of course, once she let him go she might never get him back, but at this point surrendering Eli was a small price to pay for not having to choose between the town and her spirits.

“Are you sure you can do it?” she asked, looking him straight in the eye.

“Nearly positive,” Eli said. “You already broke Gaol free once. How hard can it be to do it again?”

“Right,” Miranda sighed. She was suddenly feeling less confident. “I guess we’ll have to break this chain.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Eli said. He held up his wrist and did a quick flipping motion that made her own hands ache to see, and the iron manacle slid neatly off his hand.

“There,” Eli said, rubbing his reddened wrist.

Miranda stared at him, deflated. “You could have done that at any time, couldn’t you?”

“Of course,” Eli said. “But no other escape would have been nearly as enjoyable as seeing your face just now.”

Miranda put her head in her hands. “Just go do your part,” she said. “I’ll be there as soon as I get my rings back. If you can’t take the duke, just stall him or something until I arrive.”

“As you command,” Eli said and bowed.

Miranda gave him one last dirty look. Then, shaking
her head, she tapped Gin’s sides with her heels. The ghosthound sprung forward, and then they were flying down the dark docks beside the glowing river.

“Think he’ll keep his word?” Gin growled.

“I have no idea,” Miranda said. “But we’ve already made our choice; no time for second-guesses.”

“Never is,” Gin said.

She ducked low on Gin’s back as Mellinor parted his waters to let them cross. When they reached the other side, Gin turned north between the silent, trembling buildings and headed toward the tower where, somewhere, her spirits were waiting.

Eli waved until the dog dove into the riverbed, and then sat down with a long, pained sigh to rub his poor, aching wrist.

“There was no need for disjointing,” Monpress said, sitting down beside him. “You could have just borrowed my lock pick.”

“What,” Eli said, “and ruin the show?”

Monpress sighed. “When will you learn there’s more to life than theatrics?”

“About the same time you learn there’s more to theft than money,” Eli said, slapping the old man across the shoulders.

Monpress grunted at the impact. “We should be going,” he said. “Will your companions be along soon?”

Eli looked sideways at him. “The Heart’s going strong, and I can hear the demon panic from here, so I think Josef and Nico are a little busy. Even if they weren’t, I’m not going anywhere. Weren’t you listening? I have a crazed Enslaver duke to bring down.”

Monpress gave him a surprised and disappointed look. “You’re actually going through with it? Have you forgotten
everything
I taught you?”

“I know, ‘the best revenge is a clean getaway,’ ” Eli said. “But this isn’t about revenge, old man, not entirely. It’s about principle. Not letting the tyrant win.”

Monpress shook his head. “Since when are you a man of principle?”

“Since always,” Eli said, getting up. “My principles were just never anything you cared about. Anyway, I didn’t volunteer you to come. Isn’t it about time for you to make a quiet exit?”

“Past time,” Monpress said, standing as well. “But I just lost ten thousand gold standards worth of stolen art trying to save your neck. I’m not about to let you go off and ruin my investment completely.”

Eli rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the fatherly concern.”

Monpress nodded graciously. “So, I assume you have a plan.”

“The beginnings of one,” Eli said, scratching his chin. “Can you still throw a clawhook and line two stories?”

“Of course,” Monpress said, insulted. “I’m old, not infirm.”

“Good,” Eli said, starting toward the bridge. “Then this just might work. Come on, I’ll explain on the way.”

Monpress shrugged and jogged after him, moving silently over the glowing river and toward the cowering city.

N
ico crouched, panting. Sted was walking toward her, panting as well, but his sword didn’t waver. They’d been going around the room for what felt like hours, neither able to land a finishing blow. Nico was too fast, and Sted was, so far as she could tell, uninjurable. He didn’t even defend when she leaped at him, but always went on the offensive, and the maze of long, bleeding cuts running across her body was all she had to show for her efforts.

But it wouldn’t last much longer. Already she’d dipped too deep into the demon’s power. The blackness was swimming over her vision, and she could feel her eyes burning, which meant they were glowing with the unnatural light. She was getting very close to the edge.

Normally she wouldn’t be concerned. She’d gone over the edge and come back before, and it was worth the risk if it meant she could do what needed to be done. But this time was different. This time there was no Josef waiting to bring her back. She slid between the shadows,
watching as Sted circled in the dark, racking her brain for a way to finish this quickly, when a voice whispered deep in her ear.

Why not let go?

Nico froze midstep. The words echoed in her mind, but the voice wasn’t Sted’s. It came from inside her ears, from the dark blotch deep behind her conscious mind.

Embrace what you really are. We could crush him like a bug in one blow, him and that rabid dog sword of his.

Nico began to breathe heavily. The voice was cold and soft and somehow nostalgic, but she couldn’t actually remember hearing it before. In answer to that thought, the voice began to chuckle, and Nivel’s warning came back to Nico in a cold rush of sudden understanding: Never listen to the voice. Never acknowledge it.

Nico fled the shadows and dropped to the ground behind a crate, slamming a wall down between her mind and the voice. It was happening. She was losing control, just as Nivel had said she would. But Josef was relying on her. She had to hold on, had to beat Sted. Now was not the time to go soft.

As if to prove the point, the boards on the other side of her hiding place began to creak. Sted was moving toward her, dragging his sword along the crates, methodically breaking up every hiding place. Nico crouched in the shadow, examining her options, but any way she came at it, the situation looked hopeless. She’d matched Sted strength for strength, bashed his skull hard enough to crumple it to dust, but even after her best blows, Sted was uninjured. His skin was still whole and without so much as a bruise. Nico bit her lip. He couldn’t be unbeatable. No one was unbeatable, but she’d tried everything.

Everything?
The voice chuckled.
You haven’t begun to try. What are you doing, anyway? Dancing around in circles, trying the same things over and over, like they’ll somehow come out differently this time. How stupid.

Nico slapped her hands over her ears, but unbidden, driven by a force other than herself, her eyes flicked to Sted’s shoulder and the narrow sinews bending under his impenetrable skin.