The Spirit War (7 page)

Though the mountain looked like it was only a few miles away, the distance was deceptive. Knife’s Pass was an endless corridor between the lesser peaks, a straight, flat slab of rock large enough to march a legion down walled in by two featureless stone walls.
Ahead, the Shaper Mountain rose over everything else, filling the end of the pass, but no matter how fast they ran along the smooth road, it never seemed to come any closer.

The sun was high overhead when the end of the road finally came into sight. Gin was panting hard, his feet swollen after running full out for miles on the hard stone. Slorn slowed the pace, and Miranda started to thank him on Gin’s behalf when she realized that Slorn had not slowed for them.

Just before the towering spire of the Shaper Mountain took over everything, the mountains fell away. The ground simply stopped, leaving an enormous gap of empty air between them and the Shaper Mountain. As they got closer, Miranda saw that it was a canyon. The divide cut between the rest of the mountains and the Shaper’s peak like a sword stroke. At the very bottom, a deep blue, freezing cold river glittered in the noon sun, but it was so far away that Miranda couldn’t even hear the sound of the water, only the endless wind howling between the cliffs.

The road, however, did not stop. A bridge of arching stone just wide enough for two carts running side by side spanned the enormous divide, linking Knife’s Pass to the mountain on the other side. The bridge was all one piece, a great length of curved rock that sprouted like a branch at one end from the stone under their feet and on the other from the roots of the Shaper Mountain itself. There were no railings, nothing to save a careless traveler from plummeting into the ravine, but the bridge itself was free of ice, and Slorn’s wagon stepped onto it without hesitation.

With a nervous swallow, Miranda followed, leaning with Gin into the wind that threatened to toss them both into the canyon below. She was so focused on not falling that she didn’t notice Slorn had stopped until she was past him. She turned around, nudging Gin back until they were pressed against the wagon.

“What’s wrong?” she shouted over the wind.

Slorn looked down at her from his seated position on the wagon’s roof, his small bear ears blown flat by the wind. “Things might get a little tense in the mountain,” he said. “No matter what happens, I need you to stay calm and follow my lead.”

Gin began to growl. “What do you mean ‘tense’?”

“You’ll see soon enough,” Slorn said, starting his wagon forward again. “Just stay with me and everything will be fine.”

Gin snorted, sending a poof of white vapor into the air that was instantly snatched by the wind. “If he thinks we’re just going to roll over—”

“Gin!” Miranda said sharply.

The hound shut his mouth, and Miranda pushed him forward. She didn’t like this any more than he did, but they’d come too far to stop now. All she could do was press herself flat against the ghosthound’s back and follow Slorn’s wagon across the final half of the ravine.

The bridge ended at a sheer wall in the mountain’s side, the smooth stone road butting up against an unnaturally straight, unnaturally square cliff. The wind here was stronger than ever, buffeting them against the cliff face. Miranda kept low on Gin’s back, her eyes darting up the mountain for another path, but there was nothing, just the bridge and cliff. She was about to ask Slorn where to go next when a loud crack sounded over the wind. More cracks followed until the ravine sounded like a breaking glacier, and then, all at once, the cliff opened.

An enormous slab of stone twice as wide as Gin was long swung into the mountain with a long scrape, revealing a cavern larger than anything Miranda had seen before, including the Relay chamber below the Council. For a moment, she just stood, gawking at the sheer size of it, the perfect smoothness of stone so white it seemed to glow as it arched up to the domed ceiling. It was only when Gin began to growl that she realized they were not alone.

Just inside the stone door, a sternly handsome older man with a long, white beard stood with his arms crossed, as though he’d been waiting. Two younger men flanked him on either side. They were all strangely dressed. The two younger men wore what looked like work shirts and simple trousers, but the cloth was nice enough to take the front window in the best Zarin shops. The old man, however, was dressed in a padded silk robe finer than any Miranda had ever seen.

It was the old man who broke the silence. He lifted his chin, eyes narrowing as he looked Slorn over from boots to ears. “Heinricht.”

“Guildmaster,” Slorn answered, his deep voice strangely flat.

The old man’s expression wavered, and for a moment he looked almost heartbroken. Then the stern frown was back, and he flicked his fingers. At the signal, the two men stepped forward, each carrying a pair of iron cuffs. Slorn held out his hands as the men lay the cuffs on his arms, one at the wrists, one farther up at his elbows. They held the cuffs in place as the iron rings fastened themselves with a dull clank.

“Wait just a moment,” Miranda said, sliding off Gin’s back. Forget staying calm, this was ridiculous. “What’s going on? What are you doing?”

“They’re arresting me,” Slorn said, lowering his bound arms.

“As you knew we would,” the old man said, his voice as deep and solid as the mountain beneath their feet. “You knew the punishment for leaving, Heinricht. Why did you return?”

“Nivel is dead,” Slorn answered. “I’ve come back to honor my duty as a Shaper and return our knowledge to the Teacher.”

One of the men who’d cuffed him looked at Slorn with a sneer. “What knowledge could a deserter have for the Teacher?”

“Knowledge has no faction, Krevich,” the Guildmaster said.

The young man blushed and bowed his head, but the Guildmaster didn’t look at him. His eyes never left Slorn. “You may bring
your knowledge to the Teacher. As for the outsider you’ve brought”—his eyes flicked to Miranda—“leave. This is no place for Spiritualists.”

“Spiritualist Lyonette brings knowledge as well,” Slorn said before Gin’s growling could get any louder. “My story would be incomplete without hers.”

The Guildmaster’s face darkened, but he turned and walked away without another word, his beautiful silk robe moving with him. The men grabbed Slorn and marched him inside, the sound from their boots echoing through the beautiful cavern. After a moment of hesitation, Miranda followed, guiding Gin into the Shaper Mountain as the enormous door swung closed behind them.

“And there they go.”

Sparrow slid down the icy rock and tossed the spyglass to Tesset. “I told you this was going to end in tears.”

Tesset caught the spyglass and stowed it carefully in his belt pouch. “No one’s crying yet.”

“Sara will when she hears that her sea on a leash and pet bear are gone for good,” Sparrow said. “Assuming she could do something so human as cry.”

Tesset didn’t reply. Sparrow shook his head and pulled his now-ratty coat closer. It didn’t help. The wind on the cliffs above Knife’s Pass was cold enough to freeze his bones. “No point in dragging it out,” he said, fishing the Relay link out of his pocket. “Let’s face the music.”

He twirled the Relay link until it turned bright blue. Since Sparrow didn’t have enough spiritual presence to wake up an awakened sword, Sara had created his link to activate when it was shaken. She’d given him a huge lecture about this when she’d handed it over. Fortunately, Sparrow hadn’t wasted his time listening.

It took Sara an uncommonly long time to answer the Relay.
When her scratchy voice finally did speak, she sounded harried and annoyed.

“Well?”

“No luck,” Sparrow said. “Papa bear and Banage’s darling were swallowed by the mountain. We couldn’t catch them, which should come as no surprise, seeing how you failed to provide us with either a walking cart or a ghosthound.”

Sara’s voice grew thoughtful. “So they
were
going to the Shapers.”

“Of course they were,” Sparrow snapped. “Where else would they be going up here?”

“With Slorn, you never know,” she said. “Anything else to report?”

“Yes,” Sparrow said. “We’re coming home. I’m sick of being poorly dressed and freezing. And since there’s nothing left for us to—”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sara said with a puff from her pipe so vivid Sparrow could almost smell the smoke. “The job’s not done. This Empress situation is getting out of control. I need Slorn and the Spiritualist girl’s sea more than ever. Actually, Tesset, are you there?”

“Yes, Sara,” Tesset said, straightening up.

“I want you to come back to Zarin. I’m headed down to the desert for a few days and I need someone here whom I can trust to deal with Myron.”

Tesset arched an eyebrow. “Myron?”

“The Whitefall in charge of the army,” Sara said, yawning. “He seems to think I’m made of Relay points.”

“Isn’t there someone else?” Tesset said, scratching his stubbly chin. “It’s a long walk back to Zarin just to run interference on a Whitefall.”

“No one he’ll like,” Sara said. “He’s a military man. He’ll like you. And that’s an order, so stop questioning it.”

Tesset furrowed his brows, giving the matter careful consideration.
“It will take me a few days,” he said at last. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Sara sighed loudly. “Just do your best.”

“And what am
I
supposed to do?” Sparrow said. “Surely you have more members of the Whitefall family who need corralling.”

“I do,” Sara said. “But you’ve got your orders.”

“Sara!” Sparrow cried. “The bear man I get, but Miranda? I understand she has fantastic powers or whatever, but you and I both know you only pulled her into this to make Banage steam. Why should I have to risk my neck just so you can stick it to your—”

“Sparrow.”

Sparrow snapped his mouth shut. He knew that tone in her voice.

“That’s better,” Sara said. “Tesset, report to Zarin. Sparrow, your orders stand. Secure the Spiritualist and the Shaper and bring them to me.”

“And how am I supposed to do that without Tesset?” Sparrow said. “In case you forgot, Miss Lyonette doesn’t feel too kindly toward our office at the moment. Even if I get to her, she’s not going to just come back. What do you want me to do, arm wrestle the ghosthound?”

“You’re charming,” Sara said. “Figure it out.”

Sparrow flopped back against the icy rock in disgust, but the link’s light was already fading. Sara had severed the connection.

He shoved the orb into his pocket with an exasperated huff. “Can you believe this?”

“That Sara is being unreasonable?” Tesset said, buttoning his coat. “Of course. What Sara have you been working for that this behavior comes as a surprise?”

“And you’re just going to abandon me?” Sparrow said, his voice pathetic.

Tesset didn’t even have the decency to look hurt. “I’m going to
do my job, as are you. I couldn’t help you in the Shaper Mountain anyway. It can see me, remember? Just make sure you get a good look around or Sara will never forgive you.”

“Right, right,” Sparrow said, rubbing his eyes. “She must be distracted not to mention that angle. This Empress thing really has her on edge.”

“If the Immortal Empress doesn’t put you on edge, you’re a fool,” Tesset said, lacing his boots tight. “Good luck.”

Sparrow nodded, but when he looked up, the older man was already gone, jogging down the path and picking up speed with every tireless step. With a frustrated groan, Sparrow pushed himself up from the rock. He shrugged off what was left of his brocaded coat and tossed it on the ground. Then, dressed only in his drab pants and shirtsleeves, he began to walk along the ledge toward the Shaper Mountain, fading instantly into the gray landscape.

CHAPTER

4

E
li sat on the prow of the schooner, sulking at the blue ocean that spread out in all directions. Ahead of him, the shadowy peaks of the islands of Osera dominated the horizon. Eli sulked at them too. They’d made record time to the coast, thanks to him. Not an hour after Josef had announced they were suddenly and inexplicably going to Osera, Eli had found an express carriage. After a little excessive bribery, the driver somehow found time in his schedule to take them from just south of Zarin to the port at Sanche in a little over a day and a half. At the port, Eli had found a private fishing schooner willing to take them to Osera the very next morning, well before the commercial ferries. It was nothing short of a miracle that they were on the ocean at all right now, but Eli might as well have saved his miracle making for all the thanks he got.

Josef had been in high dudgeon since they’d left the bounty office. He hadn’t said more than a syllable at a time the whole trip. This wasn’t remarkable in and of itself, but considering that Eli was bending over backward to get them to Osera for as yet unknown reasons, the swordsman’s silence irked him more than usual.

Eli sighed and fought the urge to scratch under his wig. They
were deep in civilized lands now, where people actually read bounty posters, and he didn’t have the luxury of running around like he usually did. The golden wig wasn’t enough to fool anyone who was actually looking for him, but it was fine at throwing off the casual glances. It was also unbearably hot. Even sitting on the prow with the sea wind in his face and the slightly fishy shade provided by the lofted nets, Eli could feel the sweat crawling down his scalp. But no matter how bad it got, he kept his hands on the railing. The ship wasn’t big, and the sailors had enough to talk about with Josef’s swords. The last thing they needed was for bored, curious fishermen to start wondering why the blade-covered man’s business partner was wearing a wig.

He was just starting to work himself into a really foul mood when something soft touched his arm. Eli jumped and nearly fell off the boat. He grabbed the railing and turned to see Nico standing beside him.

“Don’t do that!”

“I said hello,” Nico said, sounding a little hurt.

Eli took a deep breath. “Sorry. What can I do for you?”