Rachel Aaron: The Spirit Rebellion: The Legend of Eli Monpress: Book 2

“No matter how many times I see it,” Eli said, “I never get used to it.” He set off across the sand, dragging Josef, who was still gawking, along behind him.

Thanks to the legs, the house’s doorstep was a good five feet off the ground. The gap was covered by a set of rickety stairs that would have been suspect in a normal building, let alone a moving one.

“I hate this part,” Eli said, grabbing the rope banister as the house shifted again. “I’m already feeling seasick.”

“Just go,” Josef said, giving him a push. Eli grunted and stumbled forward, pulling himself up enough to knock on the door.

It was opened immediately by a scowling Pele.

“Took you long enough,” she said, stepping back. “Come in and don’t hang on the stairs. They’re set to go any day now.”

“Ever the charming and comforting hostess,” Eli said as he lurched into the house. Josef and Nico followed more gracefully, and Pele shut the door behind them.

They were standing in a tiny entryway lined with pairs of oiled boots and racks of heavy coats. Eli pressed himself against the wall, partially to make room for Pele to get by and partially to steady himself against the sway of the house as it rocked on its spindly wooden legs. If the motion bothered Pele, she didn’t let on; she simply turned and motioned for them to follow her down a long, narrow hallway riddled with doors to other rooms. They passed a sitting room stuffed with books, a small kitchen with a warm hearth and a heavy table piled with chopped vegetables, and even a stone-tiled bathroom complete with an iron tub and a barrel full of steaming water. As they walked, Eli could hear the house adjusting to accommodate their presence, the scrape of chairs scooting themselves under tables when they passed the kitchen, or open books slamming shut on the library desk. Josef must have heard it, too, for the swordsman’s hands went to rest on the blades at his hip. Eli let him be nervous. Explaining the complex ecosystem of Slorn’s house was more work than he had the patience for at the moment.

The long hallway ended at a closed door. Pele stopped and knocked softly. Almost instantly a deep voice inside rumbled, and Pele pulled the handle.

Almost too late, Eli remembered this was Josef and Nico’s first time visiting Slorn. A warning of some sort was probably wise.

“Remember,” he whispered over his shoulder as they stepped through the door. “Don’t stare.”

Josef gave him a confused look, but then they were walking through the door and his eyes went wide as Eli’s meaning became clear.

They were standing at the end of a long, well-lit room with a cheery fire in the hearth and a dozen lamps swinging from the tall rafters. Long as the room was, it was mostly taken up by a heavy table large enough to seat eight full-grown men, but which was currently covered with everything from pieces of driftwood to incredibly intricate parts of unknown machinery. At the table’s head, an enormous man sat hunched over, working an iron ingot between his enormous hands like a potter works clay. At first glance, he could have been one of the giant, northern woodsmen, but with one slight, important difference. At his shoulders, where his neck should have been, rose the furry head of a black bear.

It was a sharp change, human skin suddenly giving way to black fur, as though the man’s own head had been chopped off and a bear’s put in its place. But other than the horrible wrongness, it was a natural transition. The man part of him looked like any other man, and the bear part looked like any other bear. His nose was black and wrinkled and it quivered under his slow breathing. Yellow teeth glinted in a jaw that could crush a man’s head, but his dark, wide-set eyes were calm and thoughtful as they watched the iron yield to his hands. Although Eli knew what to expect, a shudder ran from his feet to his head. No matter how many times it happened, seeing Slorn was always a bracing experience.

“You’re staring,” said a gruff voice, more growl than speech. The bear looked up, his dark eyes passing over Eli’s shoulder to the man behind him. “I heard Monpress tell you not to do that.”

Eli heard the creak of leather as Josef’s hands tightened on the knives at his hip, and the bear-headed man made a low rumbling sound that was eerily close to a chuckle. “Don’t insult my house with those dull blades, swordsman. Unless you mean to draw the monster on your back, or the monster at your side”-his dark eyes flicked to Nico, who was pinned to Josef’s arm-“I suggest you calm down.”

Josef relaxed slightly, and the bear grinned, a disturbing sight. “Come,” Slorn said. He tossed the iron down and motioned to the bench. “Sit and tell me how I might get rid of you.”

“Now, Heinricht,” Eli said, plopping down at the table across from him, “is that any way to treat your customers?”

“I’m a craftsman,” Slorn said, resting his furry chin on his knuckles. “Not a shopkeeper. Get to the point.”

Eli leaned forward. “You see that timid little thing beside my swordsman?” he whispered conspiratorially. “I need you to make her a new coat.”

Slorn’s dark eyes flicked over to the girl who was huddling in the doorway, as far from the bear-headed man as she could get, her eyes wide and disturbingly bright. They stared at each other for a long minute, then Slorn gave Eli a tired glare.

“When you asked for a cloth that could hide a demonseed’s presence,” he said, “and manacles to hold it down, I made them. I did it in thanks for the great service you had done me, and I asked no questions. But the debts between us are paid, Monpress. I took the risk of letting you find me today out of respect for our history together, but understand that doing what you ask now will put me in a very tenuous position. What compensation have you brought to make it worth my while?”

Eli’s smile brightened, and he motioned to Josef. The swordsman hefted the sack of Mellinor’s gold, which he had lugged halfway across the known world for this purpose, walked over to the table, and set it down with a very satisfactory thump. Eli reached out and undid the leather strap, letting the gold spill out in a glittering cascade.

“A king’s ransom,” he said smugly. “Well, part of one. There’s enough in there to buy you a castle, though it’d be up to you to put legs on it. I think that should more than cover one little coat.”

Slorn looked at the pile and then at Eli. “I asked you what compensation you’d brought. All I see here is a lot of money.”

Eli’s smug expression faltered just a hair. “Surely even the great Heinricht Slorn needs to buy things on occasion.”

“If I wanted money ”-Slorn spat the word with disgust-“I could get more than this from far better company.” He leaned back, folding his arms over his massive chest. “What else did you bring?”

“False hopes, apparently.” Eli sighed. “Look, bearface, we’re in a bit of a bind.” His hand shot out and grabbed Nico’s wrist, pulling her out from behind Josef and pinning her arm to the table before she could react. He pressed it down, letting the sound of the manacle rattling against the wood make his point for him.

“I don’t have to tell you what that means,” he said softly, meeting Slorn’s dark, animal stare. “You made them. If you don’t want gold, tell me your price and I’ll steal it for you, but if you’re not going to help us, just say so and we’ll get out of your fur.”

Nico tugged her hand out of Eli’s grasp, but he didn’t look at her. He kept his eyes on the bear-headed man, who was scratching his muzzle thoughtfully.

“Perhaps we can come to an arrangement,” Slorn growled at last. “I’ve been doing some work on my own, and I think I can make your girl a coat better than the one before. Something made to withstand your”-he paused, looking them over-“harsh lifestyle. In return, however, I want you to do a job for me.”