Authors: Rachel Aaron
“As you no doubt know, our lands are soon to be under siege by a foreign power,” Whitefall said calmly as Sara returned to his side. “Any hope of survival rests on our ability to stand together. To that end, I asked Banage for his help in the fight against the Empress. He refused. The rest you can see.”
So that was it. Miranda swallowed.
“With all due respect, Merchant Prince,” she said, turning away from the window, “the Spirit Court exists to protect spirits from human abuse. We do not go to war.”
Whitefall’s eyes narrowed. “And whose land do you dig your heels into to make that statement? When the Council falls and the Empress makes slaves out of every man, woman, and child, do you think she will spare the Spiritualists?”
Miranda stiffened. “Every Spiritualist swears an oath to protect their spirits, to use them only in self-defense. They are not weapons.”
Whitefall sighed. “So that’s a ‘no’ for you as well, then?”
“I am a Spiritualist of the Spirit Court,” Miranda said. “I follow the will of my Rector.”
Whitefall leaned back in his chair. “And I suppose that appealing to your sense of duty to your country would be a waste of time? No point in reminding you how many of your countrymen will die when the Empress rolls us over because we cannot stand up to her wizards.”
“Or how she owes the Council her life, at the moment,” Sara added, resting her hands on her narrow hips.
Miranda swallowed against her suddenly dry throat. “I owe you my life and my freedom,” she said, picking her words carefully. “But you should know by now, Sara, I choose my oaths over my life every time. But even if helping you didn’t violate my pledge to guard my spirits, I would still say no. I am sworn to follow the will of the Rector. If Master Banage has already refused as you said, then his refusal is the Court’s refusal. Though,” she glared accusingly at Tower Keeper Blint, “apparently some Spiritualists understand their obligations differently.”
Blint rolled his eyes in disgust. “Spare me,” he said. “I’ve followed Banage longer than you’ve worn your rings, little girl. Long enough to see the cliff his absolute refusal to compromise is leading us toward. This is the real world, Miss Lyonette, not some morality play. Standing firm on the letter of our oaths may sound noble, but the reality is that the Empress is coming, and her wizards have no qualms over using spirits in the fight. We will all perish if we do not meet her in kind.”
“So because our enemy abuses her spirits, we must abuse ours?” Miranda cried. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m merely stating fact,” Blint said. “The army with spirits defeats the army without. The Spirit Court represents nearly all of the wizards within the Council Kingdoms. If we all follow Banage and bury our heads in the sand, the Council will be defenseless.
The Empress will conquer everything, and if you think she will let an organization like the Spirit Court remain when these lands are hers, then you are delusional.”
Miranda clenched her fists, her rings glowing like torches on her fingers. “I will not abandon my oaths,” she said fiercely. “And I will not abandon Master Banage.”
Sara and Blint both started to speak, but the Merchant Prince cut them off with a wave of his hand. He turned in his chair to look at Miranda directly, and when he spoke, his voice was kind and genteel. “I understand you’ve been through a lot lately, and this may all be a bit much. Please know that I admire your loyalty. I wish I had someone on my staff half as willing to stand up for me as you do for Banage, but a lot has changed since you last left Zarin.”
He stood up and walked around his desk, taking Miranda gently by the arm as he turned her back to the window. “Look there,” he said softly, pointing down, toward the streets. “Do you see those soldiers?”
Miranda nodded. She could hardly miss them. The streets of Zarin were full.
“Three days ago I called in the pledges for the first time in Council history,” Whitefall said. “Three days, Spiritualist, and already we have so many men ready to defend their homes. Every country in the Council is sending its army to help defend the whole against the Empress. Several of those men down there are conscripts, boys taken from their mothers’ skirts. Most have never even seen the coast they are going to defend.” He looked down at her, his eyes sad. “Banage told me he would not force the spirits to fight a war that has nothing to do with them, but those young men are here to fight a war that ostensibly has nothing to do with them either. Even so, here they are. They have come to fight because their countries have spent the last two and a half decades benefiting from the Council, and the time has come to pay.”
Miranda stiffened. “The Spirit Court is not part of the Council of Thrones.”
“No,” Whitefall said. “But the Rector has had a place at our meetings since the beginning. The Court has benefited from the peace and prosperity of the Council as much as any country. Maybe more. But even if the Court was as fully aloof as you claim, you and Banage and every Spiritualist who serves the Court were born on what is now Council land. Spiritualists you may be, but that membership doesn’t change the fact that you are all citizens of the Council, and you are beholden to the same rules that govern everyone else.”
Miranda stepped away. Though the Merchant Prince had not said it, she could read his meaning plainly. “You mean to conscript us too?” she said softly.
“Not ‘mean to,’ ” Whitefall said. “I have. I delivered the order to Banage himself, and then he tore it up, threw it in my face, and sealed his Tower. Do you know what we call that, Spiritualist Lyonette?”
Miranda began to tremble. “Treason?”
“Treason.” Whitefall nodded. “It is a mistake to think that your duty to the Court outweighs all others, my dear. Tower Keeper Blint here understands that. So do the other Spiritualists who have chosen to fight for their homes and way of life. They understand that if we continue to divide ourselves, the only person who will triumph is the Empress.”
“Merchant Prince,” Miranda said. “I understand what you’re saying, but if Master Banage refused, I’m sure he had good reason.”
“Really?” Whitefall said, his voice low. “How sure?”
“Absolutely,” Miranda said, drawing herself up. “You may call it treason, but we must follow our oaths to the Court and our spirits above all other obligations. Master Banage understands this better than any Spiritualist I’ve ever known.”
“I’m sure he does,” Whitefall said. “That’s why I’m sending you back to him with a compromise.”
Miranda blinked. “What?”
“A compromise,” Whitefall said, his stern face breaking into a smile. “I realize you Spiritualists don’t have much knowledge of the concept, but they can be very useful.”
“But you just said Master Banage was a traitor,” Miranda said, staring at him.
“He is,” Whitefall said. “But he doesn’t have to remain one. Listen, child, no one wanted things this way less than myself. Banage is a hard man. I thought if I laid things out in hard terms he would see reason, but all I managed was to divide the Court, which was the last thing I wanted.” He tightened his hand on her arm. “I don’t want Spiritualist defectors. I want the Spirit Court—the
whole
Court—fighting with us against a common enemy.”
He turned Miranda around to face him, looking down at her with a sad, serious expression. “I am not a proud man,” he said quietly. “I am not afraid to eat my own words if that’s what’s best for the Council. If the Spirit Court will agree to help us in this war, I swear that they will be kept in a purely supportive roll—no fighting, no risk to your spirits, no danger to your oaths. In addition, I am prepared to give Banage something he’s been angling at for a long time: a Council law making Enslavement illegal.”
“Illegal?” Miranda said.
Whitefall nodded. “Think of the possibilities. The Court will no longer have to deal with rogue wizards alone. You’ll be able to call on Council law to demand backup from local officials. The Court will have authority like it’s never had before. Plus, you will save your Spiritualists from a division that could doom your entire organization without compromising your ideals,
and
you’ll help me keep our necks out from under the Empress’s boot. Now”—he smiled—“is that a compromise that could interest you?”
Miranda bit her lip. It was a good offer, a potentially fantastic offer, but… “I’m not the person who can make that decision.”
“I know,” Whitefall said. “Sara says you owe us a debt. I’m calling it in. Take my compromise to Banage. I’ve tried sending him messages, but he won’t open his Tower for anything. That said, I’m betting he’ll open it for you. Make my case to your master and I’ll wipe your obligation to Sara and the Council clean. There is no downside for you in this, Spiritualist Lyonette. Even if Banage refuses, you’ll still be with him, and your debt to us will still be forgiven. What do you say?”
Miranda thought the words through carefully. “Just support?”
“Just support,” Whitefall said, nodding.
“All right,” Miranda said at last. “But I want everything in writing first.”
Whitefall smiled. “Very shrewd, but I expected no less.” He walked back over to his desk and drew out a thick stack of papers. “I had the clerks draw it up the moment Sara told me you were on your way.”
Miranda took the papers. The offer was all there, just as he’d said. Copied in triplicate, she noticed with a sigh, but what else could you expect from the Council?
“I’ll take this to Banage at once,” she said, tucking the papers under her arm. “But I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
“With Etmon, I never do,” Whitefall said, sitting down at his desk. “Nice meeting you, Spiritualist.”
Miranda bowed from the waist, turned on her heel, and left. The men in the waiting room sneered at her as she pushed past them, but Miranda didn’t even notice. Her head was reeling with everything that had happened. This morning she’d been preparing for the potential pitfalls of telling the story of the Shaper Mountain to Sara, now she was bringing the Council’s compromise to Master Banage with war looming over them, and there was still the issue of
the demons, the stars, and the Shepherdess. She didn’t even know what crisis to focus on anymore but, pressing the papers hard against her chest, she knew where to begin. First she had to find Master Banage and explain everything. Once all the cards were on the table, he would know what to do.
That thought alone was enough to calm her mind as she marched down the stairs toward the citadel yard where Gin was waiting to take her home to the Tower.
Tower Keeper Blint turned to face the Merchant Prince, brandishing his rings as he did. “You do realize you just gave Banage back his greatest weapon?”
“A calculated risk,” Whitefall said, leaning back in his chair. “And the best choice, given our options. She certainly wasn’t going to turn against Banage, and you can’t force a Spiritualist to work. That left locking her up, which I don’t have the resources for at the moment, or sending her running home to sulk with her master. At least this way I can get an offer through that stone wall of his, and who knows, the old zealot just might take it.”
“He won’t,” Blint said. “Banage would die before he compromised his integrity.”
“We also thought he would die before he split his precious Court,” Sara said. “But he laid down the line and shed you Tower Keepers without so much as a look back, didn’t he? But you saw the girl’s eyes light up when Alber offered to outlaw Enslavement. The Court’s been after that apple for
years
. It might just be enough to convince Miranda that the Council’s position is in the right, and she can be very persuasive when she thinks she’s on the moral side of things.”
“It will take more than an apple and an earnest girl to talk Banage out of that Tower,” Blint said, his voice dripping with
superiority. “The Rector Spiritualis is a slave to his pride. I don’t even know why you want him along. He’ll just get in our way.”
“With all due respect to you and your Tower Keepers, Blint,” Whitefall said in a tired voice, “you’d better hope Sara’s right. It’s no secret that Lyonette and Banage are the two strongest wizards in the Court. They are weapons we cannot afford to lay by, however much trouble they may be. If sending the girl doesn’t work, we’ll just have to try something else. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other people to mollify today.”
Blint opened his mouth, but he closed it again as Sara swept by to open the door. Duly dismissed, Blint stomped out. Sara followed right behind him, stepping out of the way as the pages showed in the royal ambassador from some country she couldn’t be bothered to remember.
As ordered, Sparrow was waiting in the hall for her. He was freshly washed and dressed, and his hair was pulled back in a long, blond snake of a braid over the shoulder of his impressively garish orange coat. He stood aside for Blint with a flourish as the Tower Keeper stomped down the stairs and then turned to Sara, smiling as he handed her a lit pipe.
“Thank the Powers,” she muttered, snatching the pipe from his hand and putting it to her mouth with a deep draw that she held for nearly half a minute. “At least something’s going right,” she said, letting the breath go at last. “Do you have it?”
“Of course.” Sparrow pulled a worn leather book from his sleeve. “Just as I told you.”
Sara snatched the book with greedy fingers, her eyes widening with delight as she flipped through the pages. “Not as good as the man himself,” she said. “But I’ll take what I can get.”
“You’re welcome,” Sparrow said pointedly as they started down the stairs.
Sara blew a line of smoke at him. “Did you manage to plant the point?”
“Not an hour ago,” Sparrow said. “Just before we entered the city.”
“And she didn’t notice?” Sara asked, taking in a fresh lungful of smoke.
Sparrow looked affronted. “Who do you think you’re dealing with?”
“Just checking,” Sara said. “I’ve been far too much in the company of idiots lately.”
“That’s the risk you take working with the Council,” Sparrow said cheerfully. “Are you sure about this Miranda thing? I mean, I went through all that trouble to get her in debt to us, I’d hate to think we let her off the hook too easily.”