Part 2 (1/2)
”Is he?” the man at the woodpile said and whirled around. ”Wonderful!” The next moment, he was crouching beside King Henrith, a huge grin on his face. ”h.e.l.lo, Your Majesty! How have you enjoyed your kidnapping so far?”
The king looked up at him, noting the s.h.a.ggy dark hair, thin build, and boyish grin that, in any other circ.u.mstance, would have been infectious. He looked just like his wanted poster. ”Eli Monpress.”
The grin grew wider. ”You've heard of me! I'm flattered!”
At that, the king's fear was overwhelmed by indignation. ”Of course I've heard of you!” the king bl.u.s.tered, blowing the dirt out of his beard. ”We caught you trying to steal my horses this morning!”
”Yesterday morning, actually.” Eli looked sideways across the fire at the knife-covered man. ”I'm afraid Josef may have hit you a little too hard.”
”I hit him perfectly,” Josef said, not looking up from his rabbits. ”He's not in pain, is he?”
Eli looked down at the king. ”Are you?”
Henrith paused, considering. His head didn't hurt. He remembered being hit and the shooting pain on the balcony, but now he felt nothing, just uncomfortable from the ropes and the strange position. He looked up at Eli, who was still waiting for his answer, and shook his head.
”See?” Josef said. ”Perfect.”
Eli sighed dramatically. ”Well, after that display, I suppose I'd better introduce my a.s.sociates.” He reached down and took the king's head in his hands, turning him toward the tall man with the blades. ”That man of perfection you see mutilating the bunnies for our supper is our swordsman, Josef Liechten, and this little bundle”-he turned the king's head to the left, toward the girl, who was back to poking the fire-”is Nico.”
That was apparently enough for introductions, for Eli let the king's head go and plopped down in the dirt beside him, leaning on his elbow so his eyes were level with the king's.
”Why are you doing this?” the king whispered, wavering between rage and genuine bewilderment.
”I'm a thief.” Eli shrugged. ”I steal valuable things. What could be more valuable than a king to his country?”
”Why me, then?” Henrith wiggled himself semi-upright. ”If money is what you're after, why not go after a larger country, or a richer one?”
”Trade secret,” Eli said. ”But since you're being such a good sport about all this, I will tell you that we're not working for anyone. There's no great scheme, no big plot. Just pay our price and we can all go home happy.”
Henrith supposed that was a relief. ”What's your price, then?”
”Forty thousand gold standards,” Eli said calmly.
The king nearly choked. ”Are you mad? We can't pay that!”
”Then I guess you'll just have to lie here forever.” Eli gave him a little pat on the shoulder, and then stood up and walked over to where Nico was poking the fire, leaving the king to wiggle futilely in the dirt.
”Of course,” he added, almost as an afterthought, ”you wouldn't have to pay it all at once.”
”What,” the king scoffed, ”set up an installment plan? Would you leave a forwarding address, or should I just send a company of armed men every month?”
”Nothing so complicated.” Eli walked over and kneeled down again. ”How about this? You write a letter to your Master of the Money, or whatever you call him, and tell him to put aside a mere five thousand gold standards. Surely even Mellinor can gather such a small sum without too much difficulty. We'll make a switch”-he waggled his long finger at the king-”you for the money, and the rest of the debt can be pledged to my council bounty.”
Henrith's face went blank. ”Pledged to what?”
Eli gawked down at him. ”The Council of Thrones' bounty account.” He leaned down, looking incredulous. ”Do you even know how bounties work?”
The king started to answer, but Eli rolled right over him. ”Of course not, you're a king. I doubt you've even been to a council meeting. You've probably never even left your kingdom.” He sat down again, muttering under his breath, ”Council of Thrones, pah. More like Council of Junior-Adjuncts-No-One-in-Their-Own-Kingdom-Wanted-Around.
”All right,” Eli said when he was settled. ”So you know the Council of Thrones takes care of things no single kingdom can handle-large-scale trade disputes, peace negotiations, and offering bounties on criminals wanted for crimes in more than one kingdom.” Eli reached into the pocket of his faded blue jacket and pulled out a folded square of paper, which he shook out proudly. It was his wanted poster, the same one the king had seen in the rose garden back when Eli had been his prisoner, and not the other way around.
Eli held the poster up. ”Only the biggest criminals, those considered to be a danger to every member kingdom of the Council, are listed on the Council wanted board, and that means the bounties have to be in amounts that can get the attention of whole kingdoms, not just small-time bounty hunters.
”As you see,” he said, tapping the numbers under his portrait, ”my head, dead or alive, is currently worth twenty thousand gold standards. This price is guaranteed by five countries, each of which pledged a little of its hard-earned money to entice men like yourself to try and catch me. Since you've made such a fuss over how you can't pay the whole amount of your ransom at the moment, I'm going to cut you a deal. All you have to do to buy your freedom is top what those countries have offered by pledging your ransom to my bounty. Minus, of course, the five thousand in cash we'll be taking with us. Still, that means the kingdom of Mellinor will be responsible for the remaining thirty-five thousand only in the unlikely event of my capture. Now,” he said, folding the poster back into a square, ”I think that's more than fair. What do you say, Mr. King?”
The king didn't have much to say to that, actually. This was either the worst kidnapping in history or the best Council fundraiser he'd ever seen.
”So,” he said slowly, ”Mellinor pledges the thirty-five thousand to your bounty, we give you five thousand in cash, and you let me go. But,” he said and paused, desperately trying to find some sense in what was happening, ”that will bring your bounty to fifty-five thousand gold standards. It doesn't make sense at all. You're a thief! Won't having a higher bounty make stealing things more difficult?”
”Any thief worth the name can steal steal,” Eli snorted. ”I, however, am not just any thief.” He straightened up. ”I'm Eli Monpress, the greatest thief in the world. I'm worth more gold dead than most people will see in two lifetimes, and this is only the beginning.” He leaned down, bringing his eyes level with Henrith's. ”A bounty of fifty-five thousand puts me in the top ten percent of all criminals wanted by the council, but so far as I'm concerned, that's nothing. Child's play. One day,” he said, smiling, ”I'll be worth one million gold standards.”
He said it with such gravity that the king couldn't help himself, he burst out laughing. He laughed until the ropes cut into his skin and his throat was thick with grit from the dirt floor. Eli just watched him convulse, a calm smile on his face.
At last, the king's laughter receded into gasps and hiccups, and he slumped to the floor with a sigh. ”One million million?” he said, chuckling. ”Impossible. You could buy the Council itself for that much. You'd have to kidnap every king in the world!”
”If they're all as easily gotten as you were,” Eli said with a grin, ”that won't be a problem.” He gave the king a pat on the head, like he was a royal puppy, and stood up. He stepped over the sprawled king and crouched down behind him, where the king's hands were tied.
The king wiggled, trying to get a look at what Eli was doing. But the thief put his boot on the king's side, keeping him still while he reached down and brushed his fingers over the rope at the king's hands and ankles. ”Thank you very much,” Eli said. ”You've been most helpful. I think he's got the point, though, so you can let him go now.”
Henrith was about to ask who he thought he was talking to when the rope at his hands wiggled like a snake. He jumped as the rope untied itself and fell into a neat coil at his side. Eli reached down and picked the rope up, leaving the king slack-jawed on the floor.
”Good-natured rope,” the thief cooed, holding the coils up. ”It's always such a pleasure to work with.”
He left the king gaping in the dirt and went over to a corner where a small pile of leather packs leaned against the wall, well away from the fire. He tucked the rope carefully into the pack on the top and began to dig through the others, looking for something.
Henrith sat up gingerly, squeezing his hands to get the feeling back and trying not to think too hard about what had just happened. By the time he got the blood flowing in his fingers again, Eli was back, this time shoving a pen nib, ink pot, and a sheaf of slightly dirty paper into the king's hands.
”All right, Your Majesty,” he said, grinning. ”If you would write a letter detailing what we talked about, I'll make sure it gets sent to whoever deals with this sort of thing. Be sure to stipulate that you will not be returned until I see my new wanted poster-that part is key. With any luck, this will all be over in a few days and we'll never have to see each other again.”
He clapped the king on the shoulder one last time and stood up. ”Nico,” he said. ”I'm going to find someone who wants to carry a letter. Would you mind watching our guest? I want to make sure he doesn't get any ideas that might come to a sad conclusion.”
The girl nodded absently, never looking up from the fire. Eli gave the king a final wink before opening the cabin door and walking out into the sunlight. The swordsman, who had long finished skinning his rabbits, picked up his iron sword and followed, leaving the king alone in the small, dark hut with the girl.
Her back was to him, and King Henrith flexed his newly freed hands again. The door was only a few feet away.
”Whatever you're thinking, I wouldn't suggest it.”
The sudden edge in her voice nearly made him jump backward. He froze as she turned to look at him. When her brown eyes locked with his, the feeling of oblivion came roaring back. Suddenly, it was very hard to breathe.
”Write your letter,” she said, and turned back to the fire.
He took a shuddering breath and spread the paper out on his knee. With one last look at the girl's back, he leaned over and began to write his ransom note.
”That was stupid,” Josef said, closing the rickety door behind him.
”Why do you say that?” Eli asked, scanning the treetops. They were standing in the small clearing outside of the forester's hut that Eli had ”repurposed” for this operation. High overhead, sunlight streamed through the treetops while hidden birds called to one another from their branches. Eli whistled back.