The Spirit War (35 page)

15

I
t was full dark when Gin pushed through the last crowd of soldiers and under the gate that separated the Spirit Court’s district from the rest of Zarin. Miranda clung to his back, staring bleakly at the wide, suddenly empty streets. The colored lamps were lit and swinging gently in the night air, but no one was around to enjoy the light. From the moment they entered the Spirit Court’s district until Miranda slid off Gin at the foot of the Tower, they didn’t see a single soul.

Stomach sinking, Miranda started up the stairs. She’d always known that the Rector Spiritualis controlled the Tower, but it was an academic, abstract sort of knowledge. She’d seen it in action only once, at her trial. Even so, she never would have imagined something like this.

The Tower was completely sealed. Its enormous red doors lay abandoned on the ground, shed like outgrown scales. In their place, a wall of white stone rose smooth as river rock from the ground. It was as though the entire Tower had become a solid stone pillar, and though she walked all the way around the base, Miranda could find no way in.

“Try knocking?” Gin suggested.

Feeling more than a little foolish, Miranda reached out and rapped her knuckles on the stone. Nothing happened. She pulled her hand back, frowning, and then she reached out again, with her left hand this time, knocking with the heavy gold band on her ring finger, the one set with the Spirit Court’s perfect circle. The gold made a lovely ringing sound when it touched the Tower, and the stone began to twist. The Tower wall rumbled softly, opening like a flower to reveal a tunnel just large enough for Gin to squeeze through.

With one final glance at the empty street, Miranda stepped inside. Gin followed on her heels. The moment his tail was clear, the Tower closed behind them.

They came out in the Spirit Court’s grand entry hall, which looked exactly as it always had except that the grand doors were now grown over with stone and the center of the room was full of huddled people. Spiritualists sat in circles on furniture pilfered from other parts of the Tower. Several had their fire spirits out, and the warm, flickering light filled the void left by the missing windows, giving the room a primal, cave-like feel.

She was scarcely inside when someone shouted, “Miranda!”

She looked up to see a young man break away from the main group and run toward her, waving.

“Jason!” she cried, recognizing him at once.

He stopped in front of her, grinning wide in the light of the will-o’-the-wisp that floated in his wake. Miranda smiled back. She and Jason had been in the academy together and taken their oaths on the same day. He’d gone on to apprentice for some distant Tower Keeper after that, and they saw each other only rarely. Still, they’d always been friends.

“I’m happy to see you,” she said.

“Not as happy as we are to see you,” he said. “Hello, Gin.”

Gin blinked slowly, which was as nice a greeting as one could expect from a ghosthound.

“The Rector said you’d entered the city this morning,” Jason said. “I have to admit, when you didn’t show up at once, some people worried you’d gone over to the Council. I knew better, though. That bunch of traitors are as bad as Hern.”

“No one’s as bad as Hern,” Miranda said. “Where’s Master Banage?”

“Upstairs,” Jason said, nodding toward the grand staircase. “Powers, I’m glad you’re here. The Rector has been looking grimmer than usual.” Jason lowered his voice. “I don’t think he expected quite so many of the old guard to turn on him.”

Miranda frowned. “How many are here?”

“A little over a hundred,” Jason said. “We’re mostly Journeymen Spiritualists down here. The Tower Keepers are upstairs in the private rooms for the most part, or the library.” His hands moved as he talked, and the will-o’-the-wisp followed his fingers like an eerie, blue-green firefly. “We’ve got close to eight hundred Spiritualists still unaccounted for, though I don’t know what’s taking so long. It’s been three days since the Rector called us in. That’s enough time for a determined Spiritualist to get to Zarin from anywhere on the continent.” Jason bit his lip. “You don’t think they’ve all gone over to the Council?”

“No,” Miranda said, shaking her head. “I just came from there. Blint’s in charge, and he had only three hundred a few hours ago. Hern’s old cronies, mostly, but that’s no surprise. They always did prefer politics to spirits.”

“Three hundred,” Jason said with a dismayed sigh. “Still, where’s everyone else?”

Miranda shrugged. “Probably waiting to see how things play out before they cast their lot.”

“Cowards,” Jason said, sneering.

“Maybe,” Miranda said. “But they’re still Spiritualists.” She turned and started toward the stairs. “Speaking of which, I’m going to see Master Banage.”

“Of course,” Jason said. “Good to have you back!”

She waved as he jogged back to the main group to share the good news. Miranda started up the shadowy staircase, Gin slinking behind her.

The climb to Banage’s office was surprisingly short. It was the Tower’s doing, Miranda was sure. Things had always been a little strange inside the stone pillar the Spiritualists called home, but what else could one expect from a tower raised in a day by Shapers? After her unwilling stint in the Shaper Mountain, Miranda was surprised the Tower didn’t move more. Even so, despite the shorter-than-expected climb, she was still out of breath when she reached the landing outside of Banage’s office where Spiritualist Krigel, Assistant to the Rector Spiritualis, was waiting.

“Took you long enough,” he said.

“Sorry,” Miranda panted. “I didn’t even know there was a war until this morning. Where’s Master Banage?”

Krigel jerked his head toward the closed door.

Gin sat down without being asked, stretching out down the long staircase. Krigel gave the dog a nasty look, and Miranda took the opportunity to slip past the old Spiritualist, pushing open the door to Banage’s office as quietly as she could.

The office of the Rector Spiritualis had changed dramatically. The first thing she noticed were the windows. The large panes of clear glass were still there, but they looked out into a wall of solid white stone. Still, the office was not dark. White light radiated from a small, unflickering flame burning at the bottom of a large, metal bowl on the floor. Miranda recognized the fire immediately. It was Krinok, a rare type of chemical fire spirit Master Banage had
rescued from a rogue Tower Keeper turned Enslaver back when she was still his apprentice. Krinok’s harsh, white light threw everything into sharp, monochrome relief, but even that couldn’t drown out the light coming from Banage himself.

The Rector Spiritualis was sitting on his desk, which was uncharacteristically empty. For the first time Miranda could remember in many years, he was dressed not in the formal red robes of the Rector’s office, but in a plain, somber suit. Over that, around his neck, the regalia of the Rector Spiritualis shone like a collar of light. The heavy necklace with its golden chain of jewels glowed in a rainbow of colors, humming with power. Even standing at the door twenty feet away, Miranda could feel the enormous pressure of the Rector’s connection to the Tower and, woven into and through that, the power of Banage himself. She took a deep breath, her own spirits waking to the familiar weight of Banage’s soul, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was home.

“Miranda,” Banage said, opening his eyes. “It is good to see you. I wish the circumstances were better.”

“Whatever the circumstances,” Miranda said, walking across the room to stand before him, “it is good to be back.”

Banage smiled, a slight turn of his thin mouth. “Sit,” he said softly, “and tell me what you have seen.”

With a deep breath, Miranda sat cross-legged on the stone floor and told him.

She started from the moment she left Zarin, chasing Sara’s tip about Eli north with Tesset and Sparrow. She told him about entering Izo’s camp and the Council’s deal with the Bandit King. She told him about catching Eli and losing him again. She told him about Slorn and the wondrous things the bear-headed Shaper could do. After that, things got harder. She told him about Sted, about the demon and the League. She told him what she had seen
in the arena after Josef beat Sted and about working with Alric to defeat the creature Sted became. Then, after a couple of deep breaths, she told him as best she could about the thing she’d seen in the woods beyond Izo’s camp, the creature made of shadows and hunger, eating the world. Even as she told him, the afterimage of the hideous shape flickered across her vision, forcing her to turn away. When she had control of herself again, she looked her master in the eye and told him how that vision had cemented her decision to go with Slorn to the Shapers. She told him about their arrival at the mountain, her imprisonment, and what she’d seen in the mountain’s memory. She told him about stars, the spirits lifted above all other. She told him all the mountain had told her about the Shepherdess, the sleeping spirits, everything. The world the mountain had shown her was still clear in her mind, the great valley changing between life and death and the endless night sky filled with strange, sparkling lights, but describing it was harder than she imagined. Still, in fits and halts, she told him the whole naked, disjointed truth Slorn had asked her to spread.

She finished in a great rush, panting as the weight of the secrets lifted from her chest. She paused, waiting for the questions that were sure to come, but Banage just sat back and motioned for her to continue.

Miranda nodded and moved on to her cell. She told him about her solo imprisonment, Sparrow’s offer and their escape from the Shapers, the journey home, and learning about the war. Finally, she told him about the meeting with Sara, Blint, and Whitefall. She handed him Whitefall’s written promise as she told him the details of the Merchant Prince’s compromise. Banage took the paper with a strangely closed look on his face, reading it over as Miranda’s long story finally came to an end.

When it was done, she leaned back, exhausted. Though in all her
years with the Court, all the missions she’d done in its name, none had taken so long or so much to tell. With the windows blocked, it was impossible to tell how long she’d been speaking. It felt like hours. However long it was, Banage had not moved at all. He was still sitting on his desk, his stern face warped into a mask of itself by the strange light of the mantel and the bright white fire on the floor.

“I’m not surprised Slorn stayed,” he said at last. “How very like him to pit his stubbornness against a mountain.”

Miranda looked up. “You know him?”

“Some,” Banage said. “He’s hard to avoid when you involve yourself in the politics of spirits to any depth. He’s a good wizard, though, and a good man. You made the right choice to go with him.”

Miranda let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Thank you, Master Banage.”

Banage nodded. “So,” he said. “The mysterious Shepherdess who commands all spirits. I’d heard snippets, hints, but you can never get a spirit to talk plainly about such things. To hear it from the Shaper Mountain is something indeed, though I suppose demons large enough to make Alric panic can get even Great Spirits talking about things they’d rather not.” He started chuckling, like this was some kind of joke, and looked over at Miranda. “You never bring good news, do you?”

“You never send me anywhere easy,” Miranda protested.

Banage smiled. “You would be wasted on easy things.”

“It seems nothing is easy anymore,” Miranda said with a deep sigh. “It feels like the world is falling apart. Enormous demons, the League in panic, spirits growing sleepier, the Shaper Mountain talking about the Shepherdess with her stars and favorites and how this world isn’t as it was. Two weeks ago, I didn’t even know for sure if the Shepherdess existed. Now I’m terrified that she’s not doing
whatever it is she’s supposed to do. How can we do our job and protect the spirit world when we know so little?”

Banage shook his head. “As my spirits love to remind me, humans are creatures of blindness and ignorance. We must always remember that although we tend to see this world as ours, we are only tiny pieces of the larger whole and there is only so much we can change. The demons, for instance, we must leave to the League. We certainly cannot fight them, not without risking our spirits. Even if we were willing to face them, we would only be defeated. As for the rest, we can only do what we have always done. The Court will stand by its oaths and do what it can to protect the spirit world from whatever threatens it—wizard, star, or Shepherdess.”

“Master Banage,” Miranda said, her throat going dry. “With all these threats, I have to wonder, perhaps we should take the Merchant Prince’s compromise.”

The Rector’s head snapped to look at her.

“He promised it would only be defense,” Miranda said quickly, before she lost her courage. “Look around, we are alone. The Spirit Court is splitting in two. How can we stand firm when we are so divided?”

“We are not divided.” Banage’s voice cut the heavy air like a bitter, burning knife. “The true Court is here. Those who choose political ambition over their oaths are not Spiritualists.”

“But this is the Immortal Empress!” Miranda cried, her voice pleading. “If this were just a war between countries, I would not question your decision, but the Empress is different. Her first attack was terrifying enough to make the warring kingdoms forget their bickering and unite as a Council to face a common foe. But even united, it took everything we had to turn the Empress away. Now she’s coming to finish the kill, and everything we have might no longer be enough. I don’t like Blint, but I understand where he and
every Spiritualist who went to the Council stands. They are fighting to defend their lives as they know them.”

“And there they betray their oaths,” Banage said. “Spiritualists do not fight for their own comfort, but for what is good and right for the spirit world.”

“How do we know the two aren’t the same?” Miranda countered. “Every child in the Council learns about the Empress’s invasion, and the terror trotted out more than any other are the stories of the Empress’s wizards. There are tales of them working together to control enormous spirits of fire and iron, monsters built only for war that fight until they’re torn apart. Those spirits
died
fighting for the Empress, and though I don’t know for sure what the empire wizards did to whip those poor spirits into such a frenzy, I’d wager Eli’s bounty that it wasn’t nice. Enslavement, or close to it. That is the enemy we face, and you’re saying we should just sit back and let her come? That it is politics to side with the Council and fight her? If anything of that sort went on here, we would mobilize the Court to stop it at once. Is it any different when it comes from across the sea?”