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.”
CHAPTER 9
Miranda stormed into the stable yard, scattering the crowd of boys who had gathered to watch Gin eat the pig he had helped himself to from the swine pen.
“We’re leaving,” she said. “
Gin looked sadly at the pig, then pulled away with a sigh, licking his mouth clean as he trotted over. Miranda stuffed the bag of traveling food that she’d frightened out of the kitchen staff into her rucksack and slung it into position over Gin’s neck. Gin lay down with uncharacteristic meekness as Miranda clambered into her riding position.
“Get us out of here.”
The hound rose swiftly, but before he could spring forward a familiar voice called out: “Lady Miranda!”
Miranda looked up in surprise as Marion jumped down the castle steps and hit the stable yard at a dead run. She didn’t stop until she reached Gin, slamming into his foreleg rather than taking the time to slow down.
“Here,” she gasped, and thrust her hand out. Miranda reached down and plucked the creased slip of paper from her fingers. As she unfolded it, her face lit up. “How did you get this?”
Marion grinned from ear to ear. “All important papers go to the library for storage. Sometimes being a junior librarian does have its advantages.”
“Won’t you get in trouble?” Miranda frowned. “You know I probably won’t be able to get this back to you before they notice it’s gone.”
Marion shook her head violently. “So long as the king comes back, I don’t think they would care if I raided the whole treasury.”
Miranda smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “I won’t forget this.”
Marion waved and pushed off the ghosthound’s leg.
Waving back, Miranda gave Gin the go-ahead. The ghosthound sprang forward, leaving the boys gawking as he disappeared over the gates in a cloud of dust.
“How convincing should I be?” Gin said as they jumped the final gate of the city.
Miranda glared darkly at the rolling countryside as it streaked by. “And what makes you think we’re not actually leaving?”
She could feel Gin’s chuckle through his fur. “You don’t normally lose this gracefully. The castle isn’t on fire, so far as I can see.”
