by Rachel Aaron
“I didn’t ask you to learn its life’s story,” Miranda said, exasperated. “Was it there?”
“Yes,” Eril said. “From what I could see through twenty feet of water, the reef looked fine.”
Miranda heaved a sigh that was half relief, half frustration. She put her list on the table and leaned over, carefully marking a check beside the reef’s name.
“That’s everyone,” she said. “Not that it means anything with such a small sample.”
Eril blew after her as she stomped back to her chair and flopped into it.
“Maybe I’m overreacting,” she grumbled, rubbing her temples. “Maybe Mellinor just happened to fall onto an isolated incident and stars aren’t vanishing after all.”
Eril blew through her hair. “I wouldn’t say that just yet.”
“Why not?” Miranda asked, looking up. “You said the reef was fine.”
“The reef was,” Eril said, spinning in a little circle. “But I blew over a lot of country on my way down, including the rain forest.”
“The Allva,” Miranda said. She’d never been that far south, but she’d seen maps enough to know roughly what the wind was referring to. “Go on.”
Eril spun faster and dipped, fluttering Kirik’s flame. “Before I threw my lot in with you, I used to spend most of my time flying for the Lord of the South. I flew over that forest a lot, and I remember there was this one tree that was bigger than the others. Much bigger.”
Miranda shrugged. “The forest’s Great Spirit?”
“No, bigger,” Eril said. “There are trees there that stand taller than this tower, but this tree was twice the size of any other. It was enormous, a king of the forest. A king of all trees.”
“A star,” Miranda said, eyes wide.
“I think so,” Eril said, his breeze dipping in a nod.
“What do you mean you think so?” Miranda said, crossing her arms. “I thought you could see this kind of thing.”
“I can, if I’m looking,” Eril said defensively. “The South Wind’s not like the Lord of the West. Illir encourages his winds to look at everything, but when you blow for the south, well, you don’t put your air where it isn’t wanted, if you get my meaning. I had no business with the tree, so I didn’t look at it. That’s why I took a detour this time.”
Miranda smiled. “You wanted to look at the tree.”
“I was curious!” Eril cried.
“That’s fine,” Miranda said, putting up her hands. “So, now you’ve had your look. Is the tree a star or isn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” Eril said. “It wasn’t there.”
Miranda froze. “Was it cut down?”
“No,” Eril said. “There was no sign of the tree at all, just an enormous hole in the ground.”
Miranda sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. “It was a star,” she said. “A forest star, and now it’s missing.”
“Can’t say for sure,” Eril said, blowing across Miranda’s face. “But that’s the conclusion I came to. Also, whatever happened to it, it happened recently. The upturned dirt was still fresh.”
Miranda hopped up and strode to the table, leaning over to write “Allva tree” on her list of stars, along with a thick, black X. “You asked the trees, didn’t you? What did they say happened?”
“I tried to ask the trees,” Eril said. “But I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. The whole forest was in a panic.”
Miranda’s head whipped toward the wind’s voice. “Panic? What do you mean panic?”
“Panic panic,” Eril said. “The way they were carrying on, you’d think a demonseed had built a tree house in their branches.” The wind puffed against her. “If that’s what losing your star does to you, then I’m glad the winds don’t have one.”
Miranda turned away from the table and began to pace. Now that she thought about it, Mellinor had said the sea spirits were panicking when he took over for the Deep Current. If loss of a star sent its spirits into an uproar comparable to demon panic, then this situation was even more dangerous than she’d initially thought. What would happen if the Shaper Mountain vanished? Or Kirik’s great lava spirit? Would the mountains quake and the volcanoes erupt?
“I hate to say this,” Eril put in, “but do you think Eli might be to blame?”
“How do you figure that?” Miranda asked.
“He is a thief,” the wind whispered. “And things are missing.”
Miranda could only blink in amazement. “You think Eli Monpress is stealing stars?”
Eril puffed up around her. “It’s not that far a stretch. He’s the favorite, after all. Nothing is beyond his reach.”
“What does that mean, anyway?” Miranda asked. “Whose favorite is he?”
The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Kirik answered. “He is the star the Shepherdess favors above all others,” the fire crackled softly. “Her beloved.”
Miranda closed her eyes. Now that was a terrible prospect: Eli Monpress, boyfriend to the most powerful force in the world. But the more she thought about it, the more the idea rang hollow. When she remembered Eli as she’d last seen him, all she could see was his defeated face as the white arms wrapped around his neck and dragged him through the hole in the world. That was not the face of a smug thief getting what he wanted.
“I don’t think we can blame this one on Monpress,” she said at last. “Whatever else he may be, Eli’s never been an enemy to the spirits. And besides”—her face broke into a smile—“it doesn’t raise his bounty. He’d never waste his time on anything that didn’t make his number bigger.”
“Come on,” Eril said, “his bounty can’t be everything.”
“Want to bet?” Miranda asked, but there was no laughter in her voice. “I worry Eli may be a victim, just as much as any of the others,” she said quietly. “I also worry that the thief may be in over his head this time.”
“Well,” Eril huffed, “if the favorite’s not behind this, then what’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Miranda said. “But I mean to find out.”
Her wind moaned. “How? We’ve tried everything.”
“Nonsense,” Miranda said. “We haven’t even begun to try.” But even as she said it, Miranda was keenly aware that she didn’t know where to look next. She could keep plowing through the archives and hope she got lucky, but time was so short, and there were still shelves and shelves to go. The Conclave was tomorrow. If she was going to have sufficient proof to convince the Council to act by then, she needed something faster. But what? Her spirits and the Shaper Mountain were the only ones who dared to break the Shepherdess’s edict of silence, and even Gin couldn’t run to the Shaper Mountain and back before the Conclave, which brought her right back to the archives.
Miranda’s thoughts were still circling madly through the same dead ends when, out of the blue, she realized she was overlooking an important source of information. The idea hit her like a slap, and she froze, frightening Eril, who was still hovering above her. He hissed, but Miranda barely noticed, she was too busy examining the new idea from every angle, looking for the flaw. But the more she thought about it, the more sense it made, and soon the only flaw she could find was that it had taken her so long to think of this.
Grinning widely, Miranda hopped to her feet, scaring Eril again.
“Mistress,” he said, “what’s wrong?”
“Not a thing,” Miranda said. “Just a change of plans. It’s clear now that I can’t do this on my own, not with the resources I have.”
“But what else is there?” Kirik asked, orange flame leaning out of the lamp.
Miranda grabbed her list off the table and shoved it into her pocket. “I’m going to ask the West Wind.”
“The West…” Eril’s voice trailed off, horrified. “You can’t just call down the West Wind like some common spirit!”
“Why not?” Miranda said, holding out her hand so her fire spirit could return to his ring. “We brought the Court to Osera fo
r him. He owes us. Besides, Illir’s a confirmed meddler. If anyone can get us answers, it’s him.”
“Confirmed meddler?” Eril blustered as Kirik’s fire flowed out of the lamp into the ruby on Miranda’s thumb. “He’s one of the Wind Lords! Mistress, I mean no offense, but you’re human. You don’t understand. If something’s big enough to affect stars, then the Shepherdess is involved. Even if Illir does know what’s going on, he’s not going to risk her anger by telling you.”
“That may be,” Miranda said, “but it doesn’t stop me from asking, does it? Anyway, I don’t think Illir is much of a fan of the Shepherdess. Maybe he’ll be more helpful than you think.”
The records fluttered as Eril spun in nervous circles.
“Relax,” Miranda said. “I’m not going to be sending you to him.”
“You’re not?” The wind in the room fell off as Eril’s circling stopped. “Oh, well, that’s different.”
Miranda rolled her eyes and held out his pendant. Eril returned in a rush, but just before he reached his pearl, he paused. “Remember,” he said nervously, “I had—”
“Absolutely no part in this,” Miranda finished for him. “I know, Eril. I’ll take full responsibility. Now get in. We’ve wasted enough time as it is.”
The wind gave one final huff before returning to his pendant. The moment he was in, Miranda turned and started for the door.
She hit the stairs and began the climb to Banage’s office at the top of the Tower. Her office now, technically. Miranda blanched at the thought. Master Banage had sent her here for this, to find out what was happening in the world and bring the Court together so they could face it. Eril’s story blended with Mellinor’s in her mind. Stars disappearing, leaving their spirits in upheaval and panic. Two were bad enough, but if this kept going, it could do serious damage to the Spirit World she was sworn to protect.
Miranda set her jaw stubbornly. If Illir couldn’t tell her what was happening, she’d find someone else. She’d do whatever it took, but she would not let this go without a fight. She would not be forsworn in her duty, not when Master Banage had put so much faith in her, and not so long as she called herself a Spiritualist.
With that thought, a new burst of energy flowed through her body, and Miranda picked up the pace, taking the stairs two at a time, then three. She moved faster and faster until she was running full tilt up the Tower. So fast, in fact, that she didn’t even see the Tower Keeper until she ran into him.
Miranda stumbled back as she bounced off the robed man, her conviction forgotten in a wash of mortal embarrassment.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching to help the Spiritualist she’d knocked over, but her hands froze when Tower Keeper Blint’s cold eyes met hers.
The Tower Keeper took his time standing up. He pulled his formal robe straight and steadied his feet before dropping the shallowest bow he could get away with. “Rector, how fortunate. I had just gone to your office in search of you.”
He said her title like it was the worst insult imaginable, but then, for Blint, it probably was when he had to apply it to Miranda. Blint had been one of Hern’s cronies before the Gaol Tower Keeper’s crimes had been exposed. He’d also been the first to answer Whitefall’s call to betray the Court and the head of the Spiritualists who’d left for the Council. He’d never made any attempt to disguise his hatred for Banage or anyone who was loyal to him, especially Miranda. Of course, the dislike was mutual, and it was only Miranda’s respect for the decorum of the Court that kept her from pushing past the Tower Keeper without a word.
“You should have asked Spiritualist Krigel,” she said, her voice cooling to match his icy tone. “He could have told you I was in the library and saved you a trip.”
“Slipped my mind,” Blint said. “But I should have known you’d take full advantage of the perks of your ill-gotten power.”
Miranda sighed silently. She didn’t have time for this. “What do you want, Blint?”
“Nothing from you,” Blint said haughtily. “I came only as a point of procedure. Doctrine demands that the request for emergency session be delivered to the sitting Rector in person.”
He held out his hand, and Miranda glanced down to see a letter, bound and sealed, between his fingers. She took it without a word, cracking the wax with her thumbnail. The message itself was short, but by the time Miranda’s eyes reached the list of names at the bottom, she was angry enough to spit nails.
“A demand for an emergency gathering of the Tower Keepers to vote on a new Rector?” she cried. “You do know I’ve already called a Conclave, don’t you? The entire Court’s going to be here by tomorrow afternoon. You can’t possibly get enough Keepers in for an emergency session before then, so why even bother gathering the signatures?”
“To prove a point,” Blint snapped. “You might be Rector now, but the Court won’t tolerate Banage’s dictatorship any longer. The man is a traitor, and so far as I’m concerned, you are as well. It may be within your power to call a Conclave, but you wouldn’t be the first appointed Rector to use the emergency rules of the Conclave to bypass a vote and cement your position without the approval of the Tower Keepers.”
For a moment, all Miranda could do was blink at him. “What are you talking about?”
“The Conclave is the Spirit Court’s most sacred gathering,” Blint said. “Called only in dire emergency. It is also the only way for a nonelected Rector to legally maintain her seat beyond the mandated week by using the Conclave to declare a state of emergency.” Blint’s lip lifted in a sneer. “Really, Miranda, did you think we wouldn’t see through such a transparent play by Banage to keep his power even while he’s facing the Council’s justice? It’s a nice try, but it won’t work. That letter bears signatures from over half of the sitting Keepers, more than enough to force a—”
“Is that what you think this is about?” Miranda roared, crushing the letter in her fist. “You think… you actually believe that I called the Conclave because I wanted to keep my position as Rector? Are you paying attention to anything that’s been going on?”
For a split second, Blint’s haughty expression faltered. “I speak for all the Keepers—”
“Get out of my way,” Miranda said, pushing past him.
“Enjoy it now, Lyonette!” Blint shouted as she ran up the stairs. “Tomorrow I’ll see you stripped of your rings and kicked out of the Court for good! A fitting end for a traitor!”
Miranda stopped midstep and whirled around, drawing herself up to her full height. “Blint,” she said, “do yourself a favor. Shut up long enough to listen to your own spirits, and maybe then you’ll understand why I called a Conclave. Meanwhile, stay out of my Tower and stop distracting my Spiritualists from their duties with your idiotic petitions.”
“You can’t order me out of the Tower!” Blint shouted. “I’m a Spiritualist!”
“Really?” Miranda said, throwing the crumpled letter at his feet. “Then start acting like one.”
With that, she turned and stomped up the stairs, leaving Blint staring after her, his face turning redder with each step she took.
How dare he, Miranda seethed. How dare he think she was like him? All that man cared about was position. He wouldn’t care if the whole world was falling apart so long as he was wearing the Rector’s mantle. If it wouldn’t have meant the doom of the Court, she would have made Blint Rector right there on the steps just to get him out of her hair.
She sighed in frustration, slamming her boots down on the steps as she climbed. At least it would all be over soon. Those Spiritualists who hadn’t answered Banage’s call during the war were pouring in now for the Conclave. Tomorrow afternoon, the entire Court would be gathered, and the first thing they’d demand was a vote for a new Rector to be chosen. Good, Miranda thought, stomping harder. Let someone else deal with the Court. She had enough to worry about.
When she reached the last spiral before the Tower’s top, Miranda shoved Blint out of her mind and focused on running. Sh
e passed the door to Banage’s office, going instead to the wall on the other side of the landing. The stair leading to the Tower’s roof was exactly where Master Banage had left it the day they’d gone to Osera at the West Wind’s behest. Or maybe it was always there and Banage simply closed it off when it wasn’t needed. Whatever the truth, Miranda threw herself up the stairs gladly, opening the little stone door at the top with a touch of the Rector’s heavy ring.
As soon as the door was unlocked, the wind came barreling in. It blew the stone door wide open, nearly taking Miranda off her feet. Gripping the wall, she crept through the door and out onto the tiny ledge at the very top of the Spirit Court’s Tower.
She huddled there a moment, looking down on Zarin as it glowed in the bright afternoon sun. The wind buffeted her, nearly prying her off the Tower as it whipped her hair in all directions. Pressing herself against the stone by the door, Miranda waited, letting her now-tangled hair act as a weather vane. The wind shifted and blustered, muttering as it blew over her, but Miranda said nothing. She simply stood, letting the wind toss her until, at last, a strong western wind blew up. The moment she felt it, Miranda cried out.
“Hail Illir, Lord of the West!”
That got the wind’s attention, and the gust slacked just a little. Sensing her opportunity, Miranda continued. “I am Miranda Lyonette of the Spirit Court, and I ask an audience with the West Wind. If you serve the Lord of the West, then tell your master that I am calling in our debt. Ask him to come to the Spirit Court’s Tower. I will stand here until he arrives.”
Her words were gone as soon as she spoke them, snatched by the wind. But though she could not hear her own voice, Miranda felt its effect. All around her, the winds grew smooth, whispering to each other. They blew over her curiously, running over her body, over her rings.
Miranda stood tall and kept her calm. Being Eril’s mistress had taught her never to show weakness before a wind. They weren’t cruel, but it was their nature to delight in upsetting things. They respected strength and stability, however, and once it was clear she wouldn’t fall down, the curious winds stopped pushing her.