The Spirit Thief

CHAPTER 8

He was alone, which struck Miranda as unusual, and he bowed as graciously as any servant as the door drifted shut behind him.

“Lady Spiritualist,” he said, “I’ve very much looked forward to meeting you.”

Miranda stood up and bowed as well, hoping Mellinor had no special deviations from common court etiquette. “Lord Renaud, I appreciate your taking the time to see me. There are several things—”

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Renaud said, rolling right over her. “The masters told me you’ve been up since you got here.”

Miranda stiffened. “I appreciate your concern, but time is of the essence. If we are to save your brother, I must have access to the king’s original ransom note.”

“Oh, it’s far too late to question the spirits, if that’s what you’re after.” Renaud smiled sweetly.

“I’ll make my own decision on that,” Miranda said flatly. “The spirits in that note are our only connection to Eli. If you will not give it to me, then tell me where to find it and I will fetch the note myself, but do not waste my time, or your brother’s, with assumptions about my methods.”

Renaud’s smile did not waver. “I’m afraid that simply won’t be possible.”

“Excuse me?” Miranda’s glare seemed to lower the temperature in the room. Lord Renaud continued as if nothing had happened.

“The court of Mellinor was in a panic when you arrived, and the officials you bullied into permitting your free reign of this kingdom had no right to grant you the freedoms they did. Now that I have restored order, I’m afraid your assistance in this matter is no longer needed.”

“Forgive me, prince,” Miranda said, “but it is not your place to decide my duties. Panic or no, my aid was requested by officials acting on the king’s behalf. My duty lies with Henrith now, and only his rescue or death can relieve me of it.”

“Your dedication is admirable,” Renaud said. “But Mellinor will deal with Mellinor’s problems.”

“A bold statement.” Miranda eyed him. “But how will you go about it? A wizard dangerous enough for a twenty thousand gold bounty is not one to be taken lightly. No matter what boasts you make, you are going to need my help if you plan to face him.”

Renaud paused and flicked his eyes pointedly to Marion. The girl, who was trying to make herself as small as possible, froze. He made a slight shooing motion with one finger, and Marion, palace trained as she was, leaped to obey. After a series of overly polite curtsies, she hurried past him and out of the room. Only when the door was shut completely did Renaud continue.

“That’s better.” Renaud smiled. “As I was saying, your statement might be true, if we intended to fight him. The masters and I went over the ransom note as soon as it arrived, and we found Eli’s demands to be quite reasonable.”

Miranda stared blankly at him. “You’re joking.”

“I can assure you I am not,” Renaud said, meeting her gaze levelly.

“Five thousand in cash and thirty-five in bounty pledges? In what world is that reasonable?”

“Is my brother not worth five times as much?” Renaud’s glare sharpened.

“You can’t just give that, that thief what he wants!” Miranda sputtered.

Renaud sighed. “You see, this is precisely why we cannot accept your help. How could we trust our king’s life to someone who values it so cheaply?”

Miranda flinched, getting a firm grip on her rage. “It’s not about the money,” she said, calmly now. “Don’t you see this is exactly what he wants? Think about it: by demanding you pledge thirty-five thousand to his bounty, Eli ensures that Mellinor has a hefty stake in keeping him uncaught. He’s using this country as a safety net. If you just give in like this, think about what kind of signal you’ll be sending other would-be thieves. Eli is an innovator, but he’s not the only wizard thief. If he is successful, others will surely follow his lead. Doing this could make Mellinor a target for years to come, and your policy against wizards leaves you helpless.”

“But you forget,” Renaud said, folding his hands behind his back, “Mellinor has its own wizard now.”

“Being born a wizard doesn’t mean you have the skills to fight one. What if Eli double-crosses you? Did you think about that? If he decides to take the money and not return your king, do you really think you could stop him?”

“Your concern for our well-being is touching,” Renaud said, “but such matters are no longer yours to worry about.” He walked casually to the door and held it open. “You’ll find whatever provisions you need in the kitchens. If that dog of yours is half of what they say, you should be able to make it over the border by nightfall.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I sincerely suggest you make all haste. I might not feel so generous tomorrow, should you be caught on our lands.”

Miranda stood her ground. “I am not one to be dismissed so easily.”

“But you are a member of the Spirit Court,” Renaud said, “and you are bound by your oaths not to interfere in internal kingdom affairs. You could be stripped of your position if you push this much further.” His smile turned cruel. “Isn’t that so, lady Spiritualist?”

It was all Miranda could do not to strangle the smug lordling with his own flowing hair. Her spirits picked up her tension and began to murmur in their gems. For a wild moment, she was on the edge of opening up and showing him the difference between a Court-trained Spiritualist and a self-taught brat. Slowly, methodically, she clamped down on the impulse. She turned and walked out of the room, but when she reached Renaud, she stopped and whispered in a low, cutting voice, “This isn’t over.”

“No,” Renaud whispered back. “I believe it is.”

Miranda stomped past him and into the still-crowded throne room, boot heels clicking angrily against the marble. The waiting masters scrambled to get out of her way, which made her feel a hair better, until she heard Renaud politely call after her: “Good day, Spiritualist.”

She didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking back.

Renaud waited until the Spiritualist was completely out of sight before he shut the door. “Are you sure that was wise?” asked an amused voice from the corner.

Renaud jumped before he could stop himself. “Must you do that?”

Coriano was already sitting on the silk couch when the prince turned, his boots propped up on the low table and his wrapped sword laid across his knees. He gave Renaud a smile and waved at the chair across from him. “Sit.”

Renaud remained standing. “You were saying?”

Coriano shrugged and put his hands behind his head. “I was just asking if you didn’t come across a little too brash with the whole ‘I might not feel so generous tomorrow’ bit. I gave you all the information you’d need to trap her with her own vows. There was no need to push her further. Old man Banage taught her how to put up a cold front, but anyone can see she’s got a mean temper inside. After that display, I wouldn’t be surprised if she really did leave tonight, just to spite you.”

“She won’t,” Renaud said. “One thing I do know about Spiritualists is that they all share the same debilitating sense of duty. If she’s been sent here to do a job, she won’t leave until it’s done.” He eyed the man cautiously. “Why do you care? I thought all you wanted was Eli’s swordsman.”

“Yes.” Coriano’s bored voice hid a dangerous edge. “But that will be hard if you flub your part sporting with something as volatile as Spiritualist pride.” The swordsman’s gloved fingers drifted gently along the wrapped hilt of his sword and he gave the prince a sideways look. “You’re not the only one who’s been waiting for his chance, wizard. If you play games with this, we will gut you before you see us coming.”

“Everything is on schedule,” the prince said, the words grinding through his gritted teeth. “You mind your end and I’ll mind mine.”

“Fair enough.” Coriano stood up. “We’re about to have company, so I’ll take my leave. I’ll be back when the flag flies, so have my fee ready. Double rate, of course, but considering you’ll be the one collecting Eli’s bounty when this is over, it hardly matters.”

“What are you talking about?” Renaud said. “You told me Josef Liechten had a ten thousand gold bounty of his own.”

“He does,” Coriano said, walking toward the servant’s door, his boots quiet as cat feet on the stone. “But that’s only if he’s brought in alive.” He gave Renaud a feral grin. “Some things are worth more than money, prince.”

“There, at least, we agree,” Renaud said, straightening his cuffs. When he looked up again, the swordsman was gone, the servant’s small door swinging shut behind him. A second later, a soft knock sounded on the door connecting the parlor to the throne room.

Renaud gathered his patience and opened it before the second knock landed. When he faced the waiting crowd of masters, his smile was the picture of sad sincerity.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “forgive me for making you wait. I had a lot to consider. I am sad to report that, for reasons of her own, the Lady Miranda has declined to aid us further.”

“You must be mistaken!” Master Oban elbowed his way to the front of the group. “She promised to help us!”

“The Spirit Court is a single-minded organization,” Renaud said gravely. “They care only for their laws and those who break them, not for the victims left behind. Honestly, we should have expected no less.”

“But,” the Master of the Exchequer clutched his ledger, “what are we to do?”

“There is only one solution,” Renaud said, “in order to save my brother. I will meet Eli and make the exchange without her.”

A swell of conversation erupted as everyone turned to his neighbor to remark at the selfless nobility of this gesture.

The Master of the Courts alone remained calm. “And, my lord, should the thief betray you?” He glanced at the Master of the Exchequer. “The bounty request has already been sent, and Council law says we cannot change it for any reason once our pledge has been entered in the official records. Your bold claim is noble, but Mellinor can hardly afford to lose our king, our prince, and forty thousand standards in one swoop.”

“That will not happen,” Renaud said, glaring at the old master. “The Spirit Court may be willing to gamble a country’s safety to catch a thief, but I am not one of their pet wizards. Though I was banished, I am a prince still, and my goal is the preservation of Mellinor. That is why, in all the world, I am the only wizard you can trust.”

A cheer erupted at this, and the old Master of the Courts was overwhelmed by the waving hands of the younger masters, who thought this was all very grand. Master Oban caught the eye of the Master of Courts and the two of them quietly retreated to a corner of the throne room.

“The tide in Mellinor is shifting,” the Master of the Courts said with a sigh when they were safely away. “I wonder if we shall like where it takes us.”

“Wizard or no, he’s a prince of House Allaze.” The Master of Security shrugged. “In four hundred years, they’ve never led us wrong. It’ll work out in the end, old friend.” He said, “You’ll see.”

The Master of the Courts stroked his gray beard thoughtfully. “I pray you are right.” He turned his eyes to the empty throne, standing high and alone on the marble dais. “We must all pray.”