Rachel Aaron: The Spirit Rebellion: The Legend of Eli Monpress: Book 2

“I’m certain you did,” Banage said. “The charge is impossible. You might be a powerful wizard, but even you couldn’t hold a Great Spirit against its will.”

The calm in Banage’s voice made her want to strangle him. “If you know it’s impossible, why are we going through with the trial?”

“Because we have no choice ,” Banage answered. “This is a perfectly legal trial brought about through the proper channels. Anything I did to try and stop it would be seen as favoritism toward you, something I’m no doubt already being accused of by having you brought to my office rather than thrown in a cell.”

Miranda looked away. She was so angry she could barely think. Across the room, Banage took a deep breath. “Miranda,” he said, “I know how offensive this is to you, but you need to stay calm. If you lose this trial and they find you guilty of betraying your oaths, you could be stripped of your rank, your position as a Spiritualist, even your rings. Too much is at stake here to throw it away on anger and pride.”

Miranda clenched her jaw. “May I at least see the formal petition?”

Banage held the scroll out. Miranda stood and took it, letting the weight of the seals at the bottom unroll the paper for her. The charge was as Banage had said, written in tall letters across the top. She grimaced and flicked her eyes to the middle of the page where the signatures began, scanning the names in the hope she would see someone she could appeal to. If she was actually going to stand trial, she would need allies in the stands. However, when she reached the bottom of the list, where the originator of the petition signed his name, her vision blurred with rage at the extravagant signature sprawled across the entire bottom left corner.

“Grenith Hern?”

“He is the head of the Tower Keepers,” Banage said. “It isn’t unreasonable that he should represent them in-”

“ Grenith Hern ?” She was almost shouting now. “The man who has made a career out of hating you? Who blames you for stealing the office of Rector out from under him? He’s the one responsible for this ‘fair and legal’ accusation?”

“Enough, Miranda.” Banage’s voice was cold and sharp.

Miranda blew past the warning. “You know he’s doing this only to discredit you!”

“ Of course I know ,” Banage hissed, standing up to meet her eyes. “But I am not above the law, and neither are you. We must obey the edicts of the Court, which means that when a Spiritualist receives a summons to stand before the Court, no matter who signed it or why, she goes. End of discussion.”

Miranda threw the petition on his desk. “I will not go and stand there while that man spreads lies about me! He will say anything to get what he wants. You know half the names on that paper wouldn’t be there if Hern hadn’t been whispering in their ears!”

“Miranda!”

She flinched at the incredible anger in his voice, but she did not back down. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then Banage sank back into his chair and put his head in his hands, looking for once not like the unconquerable leader of the Spirit Court, but like an old, tired man.

“Whatever we think of Hern’s motives,” he said softly, “the signatures are what they are. There is no legal way I can stop this trial, but I can shield you from the worst of it.”

He lowered his hands and looked at her. “You are my apprentice, Miranda, and dear as a daughter to me. I cannot bear to see you or your spirits suffer for my sake. Whatever you may think of him, Hern is not an unreasonable man. When he brought this petition to me yesterday, I reacted much as you just did. Then I remembered myself, and we were able to come to a compromise.”

“What kind of compromise?” she said skeptically.

“You will stand before the Court and face the accusations, but you will neither confirm nor deny guilt.”

Miranda’s face went bright red. “What sort of a compromise is that?”

Banage’s glare shut her up. “In return for giving Hern his show, he has agreed to let me give you a tower somewhere far away from Zarin.”

Miranda stared at him in disbelief. “A tower?”

“Yes,” Banage said. “The rank of Tower Keeper would grant you immunity from the trial’s harsher punishments. The worst Hern would be able to do is slap you on the wrist and send you back to your tower. This way, whatever happened, your rings would be safe and your career would be saved.”

Miranda stared at her master, unable to speak. She tried to remind herself that Banage’s plans always worked out for the best, but the thought of sitting silently while Hern lied to her face, lied in the great chamber of the Spirit Court itself, before all the Tower Keepers, made her feel ill. To just be silent and let her silence give his lies credence, the very idea was a mockery of everything the Spirit Court stood for, everything she stood for.

“I can’t do it.”

“You must do it,” Banage said. “Miranda, there’s no getting out of this. If you go into that trial as a simple Spiritualist, Hern could take everything from you.”

“It’s not certain that Hern will win,” Miranda said, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly. “Tower Keepers are still Spiritualists. If I can tell the truth out in the open, tell what actually happened and show them Mellinor, let the spirit speak for himself, there’s no way they can find me guilty, because I’m not .”

“This is not open for debate,” Banage said crossly. “Do you think I like where this is going? This whole situation is my fault. If you had another master, this would never have grown into the fiasco it is, but we are outmaneuvered.”

“I can’t just sit there and let him win!” Miranda shouted.

“This isn’t a game, Miranda!” Banage was shouting, too, now. “If you try and face Hern head-on, you will be throwing away everything we worked together to create. You’re too good a Spiritualist for me to let you risk your career like this! You know and I know that you are guiltless, that your only crime was doing the right thing in difficult circumstances. Let that be enough. Don’t fool yourself into thinking that your fighting Hern on this will be for anything other than your own pride!”

Miranda quaked at the anger in his voice, and for a moment the old obedience nearly throttled her with a desperate need to do what Master Banage said. But Mellinor was churning inside her, his current dark and furious, his anger magnifying hers, and she could not let it go.

Banage must have felt it, too, the angry surge of the great water spirit, for she felt the enormous weight of his spirit settle on top of her as the man himself bowed his head and began to rub his eyes with a tired, jeweled hand.

“It’s late,” he said quietly. “A late night after many long days is no time to make weighty decisions. We’ll pick this up tomorrow. Maybe after a night’s rest you’ll be able to see that I am trying to save you.”

Miranda’s anger broke at the quiet defeat in his voice. “I do see,” she said, “and I am grateful. But-”

Banage interrupted her with a wave of his hand. “Sleep on it,” he said. “I’ve given orders for you to be under house arrest tonight, so you’ll be comfortable at least. We’ll meet again tomorrow for breakfast in the garden, like old times. But for now, just go.”

Miranda nodded and stood stiffly, mindful of every tiny noise she made in the now-silent room. As she turned to leave, she stopped suddenly. Her hand went to her pocket and fished out a white square.

“I’d almost forgotten,” she said, turning back to Banage. “This is for you.”

She laid the envelope on his desk. Then, with a quick bow, she turned and marched across the great stretch of empty marble to the door. Pulling it open, she plunged out of the room and down the stairs as fast as her feet could carry her.