The Spirit Eater (22 page)

“What?” Eli cried. “Is the pain making you delusional? You can’t even hear spirits and you’re telling me your sword is promising to un-fillet your back?”

“Something like that,” Josef whispered. “The Heart also says that it has a lot more experience in keeping swordsmen alive than you do, and that you should mind your own business.”

Eli jerked back. “And does it have anything else to add?”

“Yes.” Josef’s voice began to slur and fade. “Don’t move me for two days.”

“Two days?” Eli shouted. “We’re supposed to sit here and watch you bleed for two days?”

But Josef didn’t answer. He lay on the bed, eyes closed, his chest moving in long, shallow breaths beneath the Heart of War, which lay across his chest from chin to knees with his white-knuckled hands stil clutching the hilt. With a long, angry sigh, Eli pushed away from the bed and began shoving the first-aid supplies back into the trunk. Nico watched, biting her lip as Eli walked over to the dusty wine stand, grabbed a bottle at random, and flopped down on the floor.

When it was clear he was more interested in digging the old cork out with one of Josef’s throwing knives than giving her vital information, Nico asked the burning question. “Where are we?”

“Safe,” Eli said, popping the cork at last. “Well, safer. We’re still in the Sleeping Mountains, though not as far north as we were, and much farther east, about fifty miles from the coast. This is one of Giuseppe Monpress’s many hideouts. The old fox set them up years ago as refuges of last resort in case things got too hot, which explains the extravagant furnishings.” He cast a disapproving eye at the richly appointed wine rack. “He could never stand to be without his luxuries. We’re still technically inside Council lands, but no patrols come up here.”

Something about the way he said that made Nico distinctly uncomfortable. “Why not?”

Eli took a long drink from the bottle. “Because this is bandit land,” he said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “The Council can claim it all they want, but without influence in the area, it’s all talk. Izo is the real power here.” He took another swig. “Bastard has a bounty higher than mine.”

“Will he be a problem?” Nico said.

“Shouldn’t be,” Eli answered, leaning back against the cabin wall. “Not unless we make trouble for him, which we might have to.” A strange expression passed over his face. “I didn’t just choose this place because it was safe and far away. This is also the closest spot I knew to where Sted is.”

Nico’s eyes widened. “It worked then! You learned where Sted is!” She couldn’t believe it. Her plan had worked! But Eli didn’t look happy.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Among other things.”

Nico flinched at the bitterness in his voice. The black arm began to ache beneath her coat, and Nico clutched it as subtly as she could. It didn’t matter, though. Eli was staring into his bottle with a focus so intense, she got the feeling he was not looking at the wine so much as avoiding looking at her. A cold, heavy feeling settled at the base of Nico’s stomach, and she scooted closer to Josef, tilting her head down so she didn’t have to watch Eli staring anywhere but her.

You always knew he would turn on you. The Master’s voice was soft and coy. It was only a matter of time.

Nico put her head on her knees. Outside, the sun sank lower. It was going to be a long two days.

Benehime stood in her white nothing, a furious scowl on her perfect white face as she stared at the man hanging suspended by his thumbs in the air before her.

You presume too much! she hissed, her voice like cut glass as she paced back and forth in front of the Lord of Storms’ dangling body. I told you to stay away. I told you to let it be. And still you disobey!

On her last word, she slapped him across the face. Wherever she touched him, his body broke apart into black, flashing clouds. The Lord of Storms cried out, his voice more gale than scream.

You are my creation! she roared. Mine to do with as I see fit! To use in what work I choose! A tool does not act without its master, or have you forgotten what you are?

She lowered her hand, and the Lord of Storms slowly pulled himself back together. But when his face reformed from the thunderheads, his murderous expression was even harsher than hers.

“It is you who has forgotten, Shepherdess,” he growled through gritted teeth. “You knew the Daughter of the Dead Mountain was still alive. You knew, and you let her wander free, all because of your shameful intoxication with that thief! Have you forgotten what happened the last time she awoke? Have you forgotten your duty?”

I forget nothing! Benehime began to stalk back and forth in front of him. Do you think I fear the demon? The little worm trapped under a rock he can never lift? In the five thousand years since I tore the spirit from the mountain and flung the dead stone on top of him, the creature has never managed to get so much as a tendril over the edge of my seal. The seeds he sends out are a nuisance, nothing more. And even if he succeeded, even if a seed managed to grow large enough to be a real threat, I would just trap the new demon as I trapped its father.

“And at what cost?” the Lord of Storms yelled, straining against the unbreakable force of the Lady’s will that held him in place. “I don’t know if you’ve taken time from your little one-sided love affair to notice, but this world isn’t what it was, Shepherdess! This isn’t some nuisance seed grown too big. If the Daughter of the Dead Mountain were to fully awaken and start feeding in earnest, we would need another great mountain to keep her down, and we both know you no longer have one to spare. Have you forgotten what’s at stake?”

He jerked against his bonds like he was trying to throw his arms out, but all he managed was to set himself swinging slightly in her hold. Still, from the way her eyes narrowed, it was clear Benehime didn’t need the gesture to know what he meant.

All around them, at the edges of her white world where she did not look, something was moving. Everything was still perfect, still flawless white, but beyond the white perfection, something pressed against the walls of her world. Long claws scraped at the barrier like knives against a sheet stretched taut, probing and searching for weakness. The movements were small, faint, gray shadows, but they were everywhere, pressing in on every inch of the Shepherdess’s domain.

“They never get tired, do they?” the Lord of Storms whispered. “That is the fate that awaits all of us if you forget your duty.”

I forget nothing, the Lady said, layering cold power into the words until he writhed beneath her voice, his body flashing between flesh and storm. But even her displeasure was not enough to keep the Lord of Storms from raising his head to met her eyes again.

“Everything I do.” He spat the words at her. “Everything I’ve ever done has been in your service. If you will not let me do my job, then dissolve me back into wind and water right now, because I won’t stop until all demonseeds, all threats to your domain, are crushed, even those who hide in your favorite’s shadow.”

Enough! The Lady’s voice echoed through the white nothing, and the Lord of Storm’s body dissolved into cloud, his cry of pain becoming a low rumble of thunder.

You would be so lucky if I dissolved you, she said, glaring at the thunderhead floating where the Lord of Storms’ suspended body had been only a second before. But you belong to me, and I have no desire to toss you aside just yet. I have been too soft with you for too long. Go and blow out your anger over the sea. We’ll see if some time as a mindless storm will help you remember the obedience you owe me.

She waved her hand and the thunderhead vanished. Baring her teeth at the place where he had been, the Lady whirled around and stalked back to her sphere.

In all her white world, the sphere alone was vibrant and colorful. Inside that perfect bubble, the world, her world, hung in suspended beauty.

Continents floated on a flat, glassy sea, their wrinkled faces covered with tiny forests, golden deserts, and rolling plains dotted with tiny grazing creatures. White-capped mountains rose from the forested hills, their snow-covered peaks cutting through the clouds like islands on a second, sky-bound sea. Deep beneath the oceans, sea trenches scored the heavy layers of stone that filled the lower half of the sphere, cutting down to the glittering red flow of the magma that pooled at the sphere’s lowest point.

Benehime’s eyes flicked past all this with the contempt born of long familiarity, darting past the mountains and the glittering rivers to a wild stretch of sea. The moment she focused on the sea, the Lord of Storms appeared above it. In his true form, he was the size of a small continent and utterly mad, a roving war of wind and water. As she watched, the storm spun in circles, eating the lesser clouds, whipping the sea into a froth. Storm surges forty feet high began to wash over the southern tip of the eastern continent, soaking the desert beneath a brine of terrified water. Benehime watched as a medium-sized city was washed under, and then she turned away in disgust.

Who was he to think he could tell her things she did not already know? She was the Shepherdess, had been the Shepherdess since the beginning.

Everything within the sphere was hers alone to direct, to control. In the balance of power between her and her brothers, this was her domain. She turned back to the sphere, looking not at the growing storm, but north to the wooded foothills of the white-capped mountains.

She laid her hands lovingly along the curve of the sky. Angry as she was, there was opportunity here. The Lord of Storms had disobeyed her, raised his sword to her favorite, but he had also forced Eli to use the power she’d given him to travel her sphere freely for the first time in years. He’d shown he was willing to use gifts he’d sworn to her face he would never touch again in order to save his swordsman. What other slips might he be willing to make if pressed hard enough?

A smile spread across her white lips. Now that her darling had decided to play with things she’d warned him against, life was going to be a great deal more difficult for him. Usually, this would be the point where she stepped in to help, but not this time. This time, the Lady decided, she would make Eli come to her. This time, she’d let him stay on the hook, let things get as bad as they could get. Only when he was broken and defeated would he realize what he had thrown away. That, when he begged for her help, was when she would save him and bring him home at last to her side.

Benehime sank down beside her sphere, watching the northern forest where, somewhere, her favorite was sleeping. Behind her, ignored, the claws continued to slide over the edge of her white world while far, far away, too distant for any ears except her own, something screamed in endless hunger. Benehime turned her head and leaned forward farther still, deftly focusing her attention on the tiny world inside the sphere until it was all she knew.

Gin was growling deep in his throat. Miranda reached down and pinched him, hard, but that only sent the growl deeper into the dog’s chest and did nothing at all for the predatory glare the ghosthound fixed on the overdressed man riding in front of them. She pinched him one more time, then gave up, flopping forward against the prickly fur of the dog’s neck. The growling had been going on for nearly two weeks, but she couldn’t really blame Gin. She would growl at Sparrow too if she had the throat for it. Traveling with the man was insufferable.

“He’s too slow,” Gin mumbled through his long, clenched teeth. “He packs like an idiot, can barely set up a camp, wakes up too late, and he eats too much.”

“Why are you still complaining?” Miranda said. “It didn’t help yesterday; it didn’t help two weeks ago. What makes you think it’ll help now?”

“We’d have been there last week if that fool didn’t take two hours every morning getting his clothes right.” Gin’s fur bristled. “We’re in the middle of nowhere and that idiot acts like he’s going to a party every night. And he won’t stop flickering.” The dog shook himself. “If looking at him didn’t make me feel ill I’d eat him just to make it stop.”

Miranda rolled her eyes. That again. She’d stopped pressing the dog for an explanation of Sparrow’s “flickering” days ago, but getting him to stop complaining about it was like asking him to stop growling—impossible. She sat up again, looking over Gin’s ears at the path they’d been following since yesterday. Sparrow was well ahead of them, guiding his nervous horse between the thick trees like a Zarin dandy leading a shy partner through a new and intricate dance. He was certainly dressed the part. His plumed hat, orange silk coat, and chocolate-brown trousers tucked into gold-tooled boots would have been at home in any Zarin ballroom. Here in the ragged woods of the mountain foothills he looked like a misplaced tropical bird.

Gin shook his head, and the growling was back, stronger than ever. “Tell me again why we can’t just leave him in the woods.”

“Because as Sara’s second, he’s the highest-ranking Council official we’ve got,” Miranda said. “And he has all the papers we need to bribe Izo.

Trust me, I would have left him at the Zarin gate if I’d thought we could get away with it.”

“Sara would have done better to send more like the other man,” Gin said. “Save us all some time.”

Miranda agreed. The morning they left Zarin Miranda had been met at the gate by Sparrow and another, a man who called himself Tesset. She had no idea if that was his last name or his first, maybe neither. Sara’s goons seemed to be one-name-only kind of people. Unlike Sparrow, however, Tesset had shown up in sturdy travel clothes, a long, brown coat and worn-in boots, and carrying a small pack. She’d been a little concerned that he had arrived with no horse, but she’d found out quickly that the lack of a mount didn’t hinder him. The man could run forever, and Sparrow’s pace wasn’t exactly breathtaking.

Right now, however, he was nowhere to be seen. That wasn’t unusual. Tesset tended to disappear for hours, running ahead to scout the area and keep them on track. Miranda appreciated his skill, but his excursions meant she was alone with Sparrow and the inane conversations he started every few hours. If Tesset didn’t vanish without a word every morning, Miranda would have insisted on scouting with him just for a break.