Spirit’s End

CHAPTER 5

Miranda leaned back in the padded chair and ground her palms into her eyeballs. Powers, she was tired. Six hours of sleep was not enough for this nonsense. All she wanted to do was lie down and never get up, but she couldn’t rest now, not when there was still so much to be done.

From the moment she’d gotten back to the Tower after leaving Mellinor, Miranda had been trying to figure out what to do about a disappearing star. The problem was overwhelming, mostly because she knew so little about the stars or the Shepherdess who ruled over them.

The Shaper Mountain had told her stars watched over other spirits that were like them, sort of like a Great Spirit but on a much larger scale. She knew that most of them were ancient, though not as ancient as the Shaper Mountain, and that they had a great deal of free will and awareness compared to the smaller spirits. Other than these few basics, though, she knew nothing. She didn’t know where to find the stars, how many existed, or even how to recognize one if she saw it. With so little to go on, Miranda had had no choice but to start at the beginning and proceed methodically.

Before she could worry about what a star’s disappearance meant, though, she had to know if this was an isolated incident. Had something happened to the Deep Current alone, or was this a larger epidemic? And how would she know if it was? She needed more information. Specifically, she needed to know how many stars there were and where to find them. Once she knew that, she could figure out which ones had disappeared (assuming the Deep Current wasn’t an isolated incident), and then she could start looking for patterns.

Identifying and locating the stars had seemed like a simple and reasonable starting point. Surely, if stars were so important, they would be well-known. All Miranda had to do was ask her spirits. Her rings had been with her every step of the way; they understood the need. But while her spirits were perfectly willing to break the Shepherdess’s edict of silence (yet another mystery she intended to unravel), what they’d had to say hadn’t actually been very helpful. In hindsight, Miranda shouldn’t have been surprised. Spirit politics were about as transparent as baked mud.

“I don’t see why you’re so upset about it,” Kirik crackled from his place in the lamp at her elbow. “It’s not like we need to know who our stars are. They’re supposed to watch over us.”

“Well, excuse me for expecting a large and intelligent spirit to know who was in charge,” Miranda grumbled, glaring at the flame. “You’d think you would at least know whom to complain to.”

“That’s what Great Spirits are for,” Kirik flickered. “I don’t even think I have a star, actually. Any fire that big would burn the continent to ash. I’m probably under the watch of one of the great volcanoes down south.”

Miranda’s glare grew belligerent, and the fire puffed up. “What? It’s not like it’s ever been an issue before now. And I’d know my star when I saw it. You can’t miss the mark, after all.”

“You missed it on Eli,” Miranda huffed.

“That was different,” Kirik said, his crackle defensive. “You humans keep your spirits closed up all the time.”

Fortunately, not all her spirits were so willfully ignorant. Her stone spirit Durn, for example, had named his star right off. Too bad it was one of the few Miranda already knew: Durain, the Shaper Mountain.

But while the stars were universally powerful, they seemed to have wildly different policies on how to manage the spirits under their care. Some were very involved, like the Shaper Mountain, or another Durn had named, Gredit, the Lord of the Bears. Others seemed downright indifferent, like the Great Ghosthound. From what Gin had told her, the Great Ghosthound cared for nothing but the hunt, and would even kill other ghosthounds who got in his way. Gin seemed to take this as a matter of course.

“He’s a ghosthound,” he said at Miranda’s look of horror. “What else can you expect?”

“Nonsense,” she said. “You wouldn’t act that way.”

“I’m not like other ghosthounds,” Gin said, tucking his nose under his tail. “That’s why I’m with you.” And that was all he’d say about the matter.

So it had gone all morning. Miranda had grilled her spirits one by one, and while she’d learned things about them that she’d never thought to wonder over before, like how her mist spirit Allinu was actually a member of the Wind Courts and thus had no star at all, she got precious few of the answers she was actually after. Around lunch, she’d finally given up on her own spirits and gone for the one source of information she had left—the Spirit Court’s Restricted Archives. That’s where she was now, three fruitless hours later.

The Restrictive Archives dealt exclusively with the Court’s interactions with stars. Of course, they were never called stars, either by the spirits or the Spiritualists who’d written the records, but the truth was plain if you knew what to look for. She’d skimmed the archives the morning before Master Banage had ordered the Court to Osera; now she dug in deep, plucking out the details the dry reports did their best to dance around—names, places, and, most important, the star’s past relationships with the Court. It was slow work, but thanks to her stint working for the Council before she’d chased Eli up north to Izo’s, Miranda had gotten surprisingly good at picking the important bits out of bureaucratic writing.

Despite this advantage, however, she had precious little to show for her hours. Her list of stars, so optimistically penned on a piece of paper as long as her arm, had a grand total of ten names on it, four of which she’d known before she started her research: the Shaper Mountain, Eli, the Immortal Empress, and the Deep Current that Mellinor had replaced. From her own spirits she’d added Gredit, the Lord of the Bears, her moss spirit Allinora’s star, a huge cave lichen that supposedly lived in the Empress’s lands, and the Great Ghosthound, whose actual name Gin hadn’t mentioned, probably because he didn’t know it. And there was one more, a surprise confession from Skarest, her lightning bolt, who claimed none other than the Lord of Storms himself as his star.

“You’re telling me the Lord of Storms is actually a storm?” Miranda said, aghast. “How? I mean, he’s human. I’ve seen him.”

“So have I,” Skarest crackled from his ring. “That’s how I know he’s my star, not that he’s ever done anything for me,” the lightning bolt finished sulkily.

“How does a storm, and a star no less, run a human organization like the League?” Miranda wondered out loud, tapping her fingers on the table.

“I don’t know,” Skaraest said. “He’s different from the other stars, though.”

Miranda frowned. “How so?”

The lightning dimmed a moment, and then he spoke in a humming whisper that ran up Miranda’s arm, making her hair stand on end. “The Lady’s mark is different on him than on the Shaper Mountain. The Mountain’s mark is like a stamp pressed onto the surface of the older spirit. But the Lord of Storms bears the Lady’s mark on every part of his essence. Like it’s woven in.”

“What do you mean woven in?” Miranda whispered back.

“I can’t explain it any better,” the lightning crackled in frustration. “Even if you could see it, I don’t think you’d understand. I don’t understand it myself. One thing is certain, though. Whatever the Lord of Storms was before the Shepherdess touched him, he’s hers now. When the Lady made him, she gave him a purpose, and it wasn’t to take care of lightning. Does that makes sense?”

“It will if I think on it a moment,” Miranda said, working this new information through her head. “The Lord of Storms is the demon hunter, master of the League. If the Shepherdess made him for a purpose, it must have been that. Of course”—her voice turned bitter—“he certainly doesn’t seem to give much effort to demon hunting, judging by what we saw at Izo’s and how he’s let Nico run around loose. If he’s not doing his bit as your star, either, I don’t know what he does with his time.”

“I don’t want to know,” Skarest said with a shiver. “He’s very dangerous, mistress. Wherever this investigation leads, please don’t cross him. I won’t be able to act if you do.”

“I have no plans to,” Miranda assured him.

But that had been three hours ago, when she’d known eight stars off the top of her head without so much as opening a report. Since then, she’d managed only two more: Ell, the mother river far to the south, and Frejesll, the great coral reef off the pirate islands. The slow pace made her want to kick things. She’d promised Mellinor she’d find out what was going on with his disappearing star. If she was going to keep that oath, she needed to get everything rolling before she lost her powers as Rector and access to the Court’s aid. At this rate, she’d still be looking up names when the Conclave convened tomorrow.

Miranda glanced again at her pathetically short list. Of the ten names she had, three—the Empress, the Deep Current, and Eli—were certainly gone. Three out of an unknown number wasn’t much to go on, but her spirits had all insisted that they didn’t feel that their stars were gone.

Of course, none of them had ever been without their stars, but Durn had been adamant that they would know if something had happened. That meant the Shaper Mountain, Kirik’s unknown star, the Lord of Storms, Allinora’s lichen, and Gin’s ghosthound were all still around, at least for now. Discounting the stars she knew were gone, that left two on her small list still unaccounted for: the mother river and the coral reef.

The river had been easy enough to check. Miranda had simply sent Spiritualist Brennagan to ask Rellenor. The Spiritualist had returned an hour later with an extremely long report. It seemed that the river, despite being sorely put upon by Mellinor’s salty presence and the constant strain of the boats and the narrow channeling of the docks and dire concerns about the amount of trash in her waters, was otherwise fine. Certainly not a spirit who’d lost its star. That left the coral reef far down south.

Going down to check it herself was out of the question, and this far from the coast there was no one in the Court with a coral spirit for a servant. In the end, she’d sent her wind, Eril. According to the archives, the reef was over five hundred miles from end to end, spanning the entire southwestern corner of the continent. If something had happened to it, her wind would be able to tell even from the air. She’d sent him as soon as she’d realized the reef was her last lead, but even Eril couldn’t fly down to the end of the continent and back in an hour. So, sick of records and with no way to check on a new star even if she did find another, Miranda decided it was time for a break.

One of the perks of being Rector was that she never had to fetch anything for herself. Miranda closed the record she’d been reading and called the apprentice who’d been assigned to her for today. The girl entered meekly, all wide eyes as usual. Miranda smiled her best “I don’t bite” smile and asked for something to drink.

The girl bowed and left, returning not five minutes later with an enormous tray loaded with sweet breads, cookies, biscuits, and a carafe of steaming hot tea. For a moment, Miranda wanted to ask the girl just how much she thought a Rector ate, but one look at the girl’s pale face decided her against needless antagonism. Thanking the girl profusely, Miranda poured herself a cup and tucked in.

Thirty minutes later she was feeling pleasantly stuffed and decidedly more optimistic. She was sipping her third cup of tea and working up the willpower to dive back into the archives when the window on the wall began to rattle. Miranda sprang from her chair, tea forgotten. Running to the other side of the room, she flung the window open. Eril blew in as soon as the glass was out of his way, scattering her papers in the process.

“That was fast,” Miranda said, bending down to snatch her list off the floor.

“Of course,” Eril said smugly. “It’s me, remember?”

Miranda smiled, and then grew serious. “What did you find? How is the reef?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Eril sighed, spinning into her hands. “It wouldn’t talk to me. I told you it wouldn’t. Even if I could get through the water, why should a reef talk to a wind?”

“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 for 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. She 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.

As the air calmed, Miranda took a deep breath and let herself relax a fraction, leaning back against the entrance to the stone stair as she waited for the West Wind to appear.

And waited.

And waited.

An hour later the afternoon sun was noticeably lower, but Miranda still hadn’t moved. After so long it had become a point of pride not to give an inch. Still, time was short, and she couldn’t stand here forever. After another twenty minutes had ticked by, Miranda was seriously considering making a try for the Shaper Mountain instead when she heard a sound behind her. It was a soft noise, like a bird landing on cloth. It wasn’t a sound that winds made, but Miranda turned anyway and nearly fell off the Tower in surprise.

An old man stood on the Tower’s peak just behind her. A white sheet was wrapped around his bony body, and a pair of spectacles sat on the bridge of his long nose. The cloth’s edges fluttered madly in the high wind, but the man himself seemed unaffected, standing casually despite his tenuous perch.

“Hello, Spiritualist,” he said, smiling at Miranda with the polite, slightly patronizing smile of a scholar who’d rather be doing something else. “I bring you greetings from my master.”

Snapping out of her surprise at last, Miranda crossed her arms at the West Wind’s human servant. “What are you doing here, Lelbon? I called Illir.”

“The Lord of the West is indisposed,” Lelbon said. “But I’m sure I can offer whatever assistance you require.” He glanced at the city below. “Should we go inside? The winds are keeping themselves low as a courtesy, but I’d hate to strain their hospitality. Especially with such a long drop.”

Miranda nodded and motioned for Lelbon to follow as she ducked back through the little door into the Tower. Light as a falling leaf, Lelbon hopped down after her.

“This way,” Miranda said, starting down the stairs. “Your master owes us a great deal. I hope you’re ready to answer some questions.”

“I will do everything in my power to meet your expectations,” Lelbon said, climbing down after her.

Miranda scowled inwardly at his neat dodge, but her face was all politeness again as she led the West Wind’s human representative into the Rector’s office and shut the door behind them.