Rachel Aaron - The Spirit War

“Fifteen years,” Eli said, stepping up to stand beside Josef.

Miranda couldn’t even speak. She just stood there, looking from Banage to Eli and back again. “Impossible,” she whispered. “Impossible. There is no way—”

“Miranda,” Banage said, his voice suddenly as sharp as a razor. “Go downstairs and command the front until I return.”

Miranda blinked. “What?”

“Now,” Banage snapped.

She stared at him stupidly as the command sank in. Then, without a word, Miranda obeyed. She turned and walked down the stairs, the click of her boots and the moans of the wounded the only sound in the tower. She didn’t stop walking until she reached the edge of the sea wall. She stood on the precipice, staring out into thick fog, her mind whirring so fast she didn’t even notice Gin until the ghosthound pressed his nose into her back.

“Eli is Master Banage’s son.” The words tumbled out of her before she could stop them.

“Really?” Gin said, sitting down beside her. “I always thought they smelled kind of similar.”

“This has to be some kind of joke,” Miranda went on as though she hadn’t heard him. “Master Banage is a man of duty and integrity. I’ve never heard him tell a lie, and I don’t even think he’s capable of stealing. Eli is the most irresponsible, conniving, sleazy excuse for a wizard I’ve ever met. How can they possibly be related?”

“Morality isn’t an inherited trait,” Gin said, flicking his ears. “Look at things objectively and it’s really not surprising. I mean, they’re both dark haired, tall for humans, thin built, and powerful wizards.”

Miranda didn’t even want to go down that path, but now that Gin had put the idea in her head, her mind would not stop finding similarities. The way Eli and Master Banage both talked with their hands, for instance, or the particular way their eyes would narrow when they were angry. The little details kept coming, piling up until even her outrage couldn’t overpower the mountain of evidence.

“Powers,” she muttered, flopping against Gin. “Why didn’t Master Banage just tell me?”

Gin snorted. “Can’t blame him. Can you imagine anyone willingly owning that thief as a son?”

Miranda rubbed her eyes. “I don’t even know anymore. I can’t believe—”

She stopped when she felt Gin’s paw nudge into her side. The ghosthound was looking over his shoulder. Miranda turned as well and saw one of the young Spiritualists, a girl whose name she couldn’t remember, standing timidly several feet away with a look on her face that screamed, I have an important message but I’m too shy to interrupt.

Miranda sighed. “What?”

“Spiritualist Lyonette,” the girl said, bowing low even though she and Miranda were technically the same rank. “Someone’s approaching from the city.”

“Someone?” Miranda said, frowning. “What kind of someone?”

“We’re not sure,” the girl said. “It’s hard to see with the fog, but it looks like two people leading ten wagons.”

“Two people leading ten wagons?” Miranda’s scowl deepened, and Gin began to growl. “All right,” she said, jumping off the wall. “Let me have a look.” Because, really, how much stranger could this day get?

The girl smiled in relief as Miranda and Gin walked to the head of the road. Sure enough, squinting through the mist Miranda could just barely make out ten wagon-shaped shadows coming down the mountain with surprising speed. Gin raised his nose, sniffing the air in a loud huff.

Miranda waited impatiently. “Well?”

“You’re not going to believe this,” Gin said, lowering his head with a snort. “And you’re not going to like it either.”

“What?” Miranda said pointedly.

Gin told her, and he was right, she didn’t like it one bit. Biting back a curse, she grabbed the Spiritualist girl and sent her up the stairs to warn Master Banage that things had, against all odds, gotten worse.

Eli hung back, keeping Josef between himself and Banage. The king and the Rector were talking strategy, something about leveraging Josef’s ability to sink palace ships, but Eli was too distracted to pay much attention to the actual plan. The Rector’s eyes never left Josef or the map, but Eli could feel the old man watching him without watching, just like he used to. Eli crossed his arms and glared pointedly out at the fog. He’d known the moment he decided to send Miranda the message that it would come to this. He didn’t regret calling for help, even this beat asking Benehime for aid, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

He was staring as hard as he could at the blank, gray spot where the beach should be when he heard someone enter the room. He looked up to see a girl about Miranda’s age, though with only a fraction of Miranda’s rings, standing in the doorway. She bowed nervously and went straight for the Rector, whispering in his ear. Banage’s already stern face fell into a deep frown as she spoke. When she finished he nodded and waved her away, turning to Josef with a dour look.

“It seems the Council is here.”

“Council?” Josef said expectantly. “Troops?”

Banage shook his head. “I imagine troops are coming, but right now you’ll have to content yourself with the Council’s head wizard.”

Despite his best efforts, Eli’s breath caught.

Thankfully, Josef didn’t notice. He was glaring at Banage, turning this latest development over in his head, looking for the trap. “I thought the Spirit Court split from the Council,” he said. “That’s what you told me.”

“We have,” Banage said. “But we face a common enemy. I should think you’d welcome the help.”

“That depends on the help,” Josef said.

“For that, you’ll have to ask her yourself,” Banage said, his voice cold. “The Court does not involve itself in her methods.”

Josef looked at the Rector with a curious scowl, but he started toward the door all the same. He paused when he reached it, looking over his shoulder at Banage, who had not moved.

“Go ahead,” the Rector said. “Eliton and I have things to discuss in private.”

Josef’s eyes darted to Eli, but the thief shook his head. It would have come to this sooner or later. Might as well be sooner.

Josef turned and started down the stairs, leaving Eli and Banage staring at each other. Thanks to the thick fog, the tower was very dark now. Eli could barely make out the wounded lying on the other side of the room. Banage, however, he could see clearly thanks to the light that was still emanating from his rings. Eli grimaced and looked away.

“If you’re here to arrest me, don’t bother,” he said. “I’m under the king’s protection. Last time I checked, Spiritualists don’t break local laws.”

“I’m not here to arrest you,” Banage said quietly. “Though I am happy you remember some of the doctrine I tried to teach you.”

“How could I forget?” Eli grumbled. “Sometimes I think you taught me to read only so I could study Spiritualist laws.” He paused, waiting for Banage to start raging, but the room was more silent than ever. The quiet stretched on and on until Eli could bear it no longer. “You wanted to discuss things in private,” he said, sitting on the edge of the table. “So discuss.”

Banage took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you come home that night?”

Eli didn’t have to ask which night he meant. “I had no reason to,” he said. “What was there for me to go home to? You didn’t want me unless I was ready to be an obedient Spiritualist.”

“That’s not true,” Banage said. “I was trying to teach you discipline. Responsibility. You were always powerful, and there are rules that—”

“Oh, yes,” Eli said, surprised at how bitter his voice sounded. “How could I forget? You cared more for rules than you ever did for me.”