I gave all the others: If you want to catch Eli Monpress, simply put yourself between him and what he wants. Because his only constant is that, once he decides something is his, he’s never able to let it go, not even to save his own skin.”
“Then,” Miranda said, “all those soldiers outside?”
“A necessary deception.” Coriano tilted his head. “Anything less than a full guard and you might have guessed something was wrong. I even let that librarian wander around in the hope that she would take you to the small stair, just to make it seem really authentic.”
Miranda’s face went scarlet, but before she could open her mouth, Eli grabbed her shoulder.
“Well done, then,” Eli said, pushing Miranda back and taking her spot beside Josef. “You’ve found me. However, you still haven’t caught me.”
“But it’s not you I’m after,” Coriano said. “It’s the man who follows where you lead.” A sudden flash of white cut the dark as Coriano drew his sword and aimed the point directly at Josef’s chest. “Master of the Heart of War, we have unfinished business.”
Josef brandished the dented, bloody support beam like a club in front of him, a broad smile breaking across his face. “Let’s finish it, then.”
“Are you mad?” Miranda grabbed Josef’s arm. “Weren’t you listening? Renaud could be claiming the pillar right now. We don’t have time for pride fights!”
“If you’re looking for the new king,” Coriano said, “he’s in the throne room. Back through the treasury hall and straight up the main stair four flights. The first door on the right will take you to the promenade hall, and you just follow the flags to the throne room itself. He’s got the entire contents of the treasury up there on my advice, so I could set my trap and he could work on his pillar in peace.”
Miranda’s hands began to shake. “You’re letting him work on the Pillar? Do you have any idea what that could mean?”
“No,” Coriano said, “and neither do you. Does it matter?”
“Of course, it matters!” Miranda’s voice echoed through the empty cavern. “You were there in the clearing. You should know better than most that the man has nothing but contempt for the spirits! If he gets that Pillar, there won’t be a spirit in the world that can stand against him, and every spirit he conquers will go as mad as that sandstorm. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
Coriano raised his white blade and brought the red-wrapped hilt to his lips. “The only spirit I care about is Dunea,” he whispered, “my River of White Snow, and all she cares about is beating him.” He pointed the tip of his sword at the hilt of the Heart of War poking over Josef’s back. “Everything else is meaningless.”
Miranda growled, but Josef stepped in front of her, his enormous back and the great sword strapped across it blocking everything else from view. The swordsman looked over his shoulder, and Miranda’s blood went thin at the look in his eyes. Even when he had waded out into the sea of soldiers with nothing but a stick of building material, he hadn’t looked as large or as deadly as he did now.
“Nico,” he said. “Protect Eli and the girl.” He turned back to face Coriano. “This is my fight.”
A cold hand grabbed Miranda’s and she looked down to find Nico dragging her out of the treasury.
“We’ll meet you upstairs,” Eli said, jogging after the women. “Don’t lose.”
Josef didn’t answer, but Miranda saw him grin as he turned to face Coriano, the beam brandished before him. Coriano raised his white sword in greeting as the enormous treasury door drifted shut, obscuring them from view.
“We can’t just leave him!” Miranda shouted, fighting Nico’s grip. “Shouldn’t we help? We could beat Coriano and go upstairs together!”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Eli grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. “Do you think Josef’s my servant? That I can just order him around?” He was breathing hard now, and his face was more serious than she had ever seen it. “ ‘Do not postulate where you do not understand,’ ” he sneered, his voice warped into a biting mimicry of her own. “Maybe it’s time you listened to your own advice, Spiritualist. Josef Liechten travels with me by his own choice. When he says ‘This is my fight,’ that’s what it means. His fight, not ours to interfere with because it doesn’t match what we want to do.”
“But he’s your friend!” Miranda shouted.