Rachel Aaron - Spirit’s End

He reached for his tea, mentally adding up the cost of stone and timber. But as his fingers closed around the delicate porcelain teacup, the thing jerked away. “What did we talk about?” it said. “Gently, please.”

And then there were the other changes to deal with.

Alber gritted his teeth. “My apologies.”

“Just mind your fingers,” the cup said with a sniff, which was impressive since it didn’t have a nose. “I’m over a hundred years old, you know.”

Alber knew this very well. The cup had been reminding him of it every time he so much as tipped it the wrong way. He took a careful sip and set the cup on its saucer as gently as a mother with her new baby. When he managed to get his fingers back without further comment, Alber added find less-talkative teacup to his mental checklist. This led to a fit of nostalgia for happier days when his citadel was still in one piece and he didn’t have to worry about talkative teacups.

“Sir?”

Alber looked up to see a page standing at his tent flap. “The Rector is here.”

Whitefall nodded and the boy hurried off, leaving little swirling eddies of wind behind him. Alber shuddered despite himself. That was another thing he was never going to get used to, seeing things like wind. When the change had first come, he’d been sure he’d gone mad. A few minutes later it had become clear that, if he was going mad, he wasn’t going alone. Everyone, young and old, wizard or not, could suddenly see and hear an entire new world.

The initial panic had lasted about a day, after which people finally seemed to realize their talking doors weren’t going to eat them alive. Once that was out of the way, the shift to the new normal was almost terrifyingly swift. After all, there were still goods to sell and farms to mind, even if the goods were demanding a say in their handling now. Still, life rolled on, and the Spirit Court had played an invaluable part in making sure it rolled smoothly. Which was, of course, the entire reason he’d asked the Rector for this meeting.

The tent flap whispered again, politely this time, he noticed, and Alber turned to smile as the new Rector of the Spirit Court entered his tent. She was quite young for a Rector, not yet out of her twenties and a bit too pretty for most of the Council to take seriously, which was always their mistake. Even his limited experience had taught him that Miranda Lyonette never took anything less than absolutely seriously.

She was dressed for official business today in her crimson robes with the heavy chain of her office around her neck, the rings gleaming on her fingers with an unnatural light he no longer dismissed. “Rector Lyonette,” he said, taking her hand. “Thank you for the pleasure of your company.”

“Merchant Prince,” the Rector said, inclining her head.

He escorted her to the velvet folding chair at the end of his makeshift desk. As she sat, he couldn’t help but notice there was something else in her, something large and blue. Alber walked around his desk and sat down, watching her covertly. He’d gotten used to the way humans looked now, but no one he’d encountered had the large presence in their chests that the Rector did. He was trying to puzzle out what the strange, fluctuating light behind her eyes meant when he realized the Rector had caught him staring.

He bit his tongue at being caught like a gawking schoolboy, but to his surprise, the Rector looked amused. “You can look if you like,” she said. “Mellinor’s a bit of a shock to most people, but I promise he’s not dangerous unless you give him cause to be.”

“I don’t mean to pry,” Whitefall said.

“Prying is fine,” the Rector said, laughing. “Curiosity’s a good thing in a new world. And he’s a sea, in case you were wondering.”

Whitefall nodded politely, wondering how in the world anyone got a sea in their body. Maybe such things were common for Spiritualists? “Does he always…”

“Live in me?” the Rector finished. “Yes. Well, we had a bit of a gap for a while, but everything shook out in the end.”

She beamed like this was the best possible news. Whitefall smiled back weakly and decided it was time to retake control of the conversation. After all, he hadn’t put off his meeting with the Council Trade Board so he could talk about seas.

“I’m sorry Sara couldn’t join us,” he said, getting down to business. “Prior obligations, I believe, what with things being how they are.”

That wasn’t a total lie. Sara had actually gone missing. This in itself wasn’t terribly unusual. The woman would often vanish without a trace for days on end if something caught her curiosity, and the new changes to the world were certainly curious. He’d been a bit surprised by her going this time, though, considering how she’d been mortally wounded not three days before. Then again, Sara never was one to let a little thing like a punctured lung stand between her and her work. Fortunately, the Rector took the news of Sara’s absence in stride.

“I understand,” Miranda said with a strange scowl. “Better for both of us, actually. I don’t much care to see Sara, either.”

That suited Whitefall just fine. Sara’s absence made this next bit easier.

“Rector Lyonette,” he said, leaning forward. “I asked you here rather than calling the full Council because I’d like to offer you a bit of a personal apology. Our two organizations haven’t exactly been on the best of terms in recent times, and I feel that, as Merchant Prince, I demanded things I should not have.”

That was a total lie. He had been completely reasonable right up to the cliff Banage had pushed him off. But swallowing your pride was as much a part of being Merchant Prince as the parades, and Alber had been a politician long enough to know the power of a little applied groveling.

“I was overzealous in the pursuit of what I thought would make my lands safer,” he continued. “And in the process, I fear I may have injured one of the oldest and most mutually beneficial relationships in my Council’s history.”

“You did,” Miranda said, though there was no anger in her voice. She was just stating a point. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t rebuild that trust.”

She looked at him and smiled. “I told you, it’s a new world, Whitefall. Everything’s different now. If you asked me here to reforge the ties between my Court and the Council of Thrones, then you don’t have to apologize. We are glad to offer our hands in friendship to anyone, provided they agree to the standards we have always set.”

“The right treatment of spirits,” Whitefall said, nodding.

“The fair and open treatment of spirits,” Miranda corrected. “The right treatment is expected of everyone. Anything less makes the Court your enemy.”

Whitefall sighed. “I find I grow tired of secrets, Rector Lyonette. From this day forward, I give you my word that my Council and its member countries will abide by your rules to the letter. In return, however, I would ask your assistance regarding the recent—”

“Of course,” Miranda said. “You just went from a Council of human kingdoms to a Council whose lands are now shared by Great Spirit dominions and the Wind Courts. Of course you need our help, and we give it gladly. My Court is at your disposal, Merchant Prince. We’re a little undercapacity at the moment, but we’ve had a surge of new applicants now that being a wizard isn’t a necessity of membership. I’ll assign a liaison to you first thing when I return. Bring all problems to him and we will do our best to help teach your people how to ease any difficulties you encounter. After all”—her smile grew into a grin—“we do have a little experience mediating between humans and spirits.”