has their mind intact. If you presume to call my contract with Miranda Enslavement again, then I will exercise that free choice you claim to value so highly to drown you where you stand. And none of those weak flickers you wear so gaudily on your fingers would be able to stop me.”
Hern blanched, and Banage let him squirm for a moment before turning to Miranda. “Spiritualist Lyonette, please control your spirit.”
Miranda had a choice answer for that, but a look at Banage stopped her tongue. As much as she would love to let Mellinor do what the spirit was aching to do, any hope of beating the charges against her would vanish if she didn’t stay to the right side of Court law, which meant no drowning. With great effort, she tugged at Mellinor’s connection, and the spirit reluctantly pulled back, but his cold light never lost its focus on Hern until the last wisp of water vanished.
“You have all heard the charges,” Banage said. “The accused will now exit the chamber while the Court deliberates.”
Dismissed, Miranda climbed off the stand and marched across the open floor, doing her best to ignore the whispers that followed her. Behind her, she could hear Hern chatting with the Spiritualists around him, his voice ringing confident and cheerful over the hum of the crowd. Her heart sank in her chest as she walked through the double doors the apprentices held open for her, returning to the dark waiting chamber.
“That pompous idiot,” Gin growled, pacing in cramped, little circles through the long waiting room while the apprentices secured the door behind them. “You should have let Mellinor drown him.”
Miranda didn’t answer. She plopped down on the bench against the far wall and put her head in her hands. On her fingers, her rings were awake and asking questions, buzzing through their connection. With great difficulty, she sent them firm, reassuring waves of confidence. Everything would be fine. Slowly, her rings quieted, the smaller spirits first, and finally the larger ones. Even Mellinor settled down under the pressure. Tired from his earlier anger, he burrowed deep into the corners of Miranda’s mind where she rarely went, his mood dark and brooding and well suited to her own.
When they were all still, Miranda lifted the pressure and sat back, staring up at the high windows. She rarely lied to her spirits, but she wasn’t above withholding a truth, especially one that had not come to pass yet, and things
She closed her eyes. Even thinking it felt foolish. Everything would be all right? She didn’t see how they could have gone worse. She’d needed to make a glorious defense. Instead, she’d lost her calm and let Hern lead her in circles away from her carefully prepared arguments. Miranda gritted her teeth. She’d let him play her for a fool from the very beginning, from that first night in Banage’s office when she’d read his name on the petition.
Miranda leaned back, letting her head thunk against the cold stone wall. She’d been such an idiot. All this time, she’d truly believed that if she could only tell her story, show them Mellinor, prove that Hern’s case was completely unfounded, then the Tower Keepers would be on her side. Yet she could see them now in her mind’s eye, the robed figures, their faced turned toward each other, whispering, their ringed hands drumming impatiently on the stands. They hadn’t come to Court today to be convinced, to test innocence. There’d been no questions, no demanding of proof, no calls for witnesses, nothing. The Tower Keepers who came today had come to see an unpleasant bit of necessary business through, just as Banage had warned her. She clunked her head against the stone wall again, a little harder this time. Stupid, that’s what she’d been. Stupid and naive, thinking things would be the way she wanted just because that’s how she believed they should be.
She could hear Gin’s claws on the stone as he paced. He’d been right that night in the garden. Coming here today, naked like this, with only her spirits and her word behind her, it had been a prideful thing to do. She had gone in with her head held too high to see the shaky ground beneath her feet, and now…
Miranda raised her hands quickly, pressing her fingers hard against her eyes to block the wetness that threatened to roll down her cheeks. She could not be weak, not now. But Hern’s voice, smooth and triumphant as he announced the punishment, was circling through her mind.
Her hands began to tremble. She had known from the beginning that this was the risk she was taking, but, at the same time, she had not truly understood what was at stake. Banishment she could handle. Rank could go as well, and everything else. But her rings? She turned her hands over, pressing the stones of her rings against her cheeks. She could feel her spirits moving inside them, turning as they slept. Each one was tied to her by a promise, a sacred pledge she’d thought would last until her death. Could she lose that?
The crack of the doors interrupted her thoughts, and Miranda had just enough time to scrub her eyes before two red-robed Spiritualists entered the waiting room. They didn’t look at her, only opened the doors and stood at either side, waiting for her with downcast faces. Miranda got up from the bench with a terrible feeling of dread. Had the Tower Keepers reached their decision so soon? Surely not. It had been barely ten minutes. Could they even take the vote that quickly? Yet the young Spiritualists stood waiting to escort her, and Miranda had no choice but to take her place between them. Without a word, they led her up the stairs into the bright light of the Court, and with every step she took, Miranda felt her hope grow fainter.
This time, her walk through the Court was very different. She was the same, marching in with her head high and her face a calm mask over her fear. She was still a Spiritualist after all, at least for the next few minutes. The circular room, however, had changed in the short time she’d been waiting. Before, the first two rings of seats had been nearly full. A slim showing, but still, people had been there. Now, the great Court was almost empty. Only a few Spiritualists sat sprinkled across the benches, mostly faces she knew, Banage’s supporters. Everyone else seemed to have left after the vote. Probably too cowardly to stay and watch the aftermath, she thought darkly.
Hern was there, of course, lounging in his chair like a patron at a boring play, though he did look up to give Miranda a smile, which she did her best to ignore, focusing instead on Master Banage. For once, however, the sight of her mentor brought her no comfort. Even beside the snowy whiteness of his collar, his face looked pale and worn. For the first time his hair looked more gray than black, and his blue eyes were sad and tired when they met hers. If she’d had any hope about the verdict, it died then, but she walked to the stand the same as ever, straight and proud, with Gin stalking behind her like a silent, silver mist.
“Spiritualist Lyonette,” Banage said when she had climbed the steps and taken her place on the stand. “You have heard the accusations brought against you and given your answer. Your case has been debated by the leading members of the Spirit Court, and we have come to our decision by majority vote. Are you prepared to hear our verdict?”
Miranda gripped the brass railing that surrounded the stand. “I am.”
Banage looked down at the desk in front of him. “Spiritualist Lyonette, this assembly finds you guilty of conspiring with the criminal Eli Monpress for the purpose of obtaining the Great Spirit Mellinor under false pretense and in violation of your oaths. As punishment, you are hereby banished from our assembly. Your titles and privileges within the Court, including all pacts, promises, or agreements made in its name, are now considered void. You will surrender your bound spirits and leave this city at once.”
Master Banage’s voice was soft and calm, yet every word struck Miranda like a hammer, rattling her mind until all she could do was stare at him dumbly. She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see two young Spiritualists she didn’t recognize walking toward her, one with a large pile of sand stalking behind her like a tiger, the other walking beside what looked like a centipede made of stone.
They were moving slowly, and Miranda had plenty of time to look down at her hands. Her rings glittered on her fingers, each one shining with its own tiny light, innocent, completely unaware of what was about to happen. Mellinor, however, knew things were wrong. He moved under her mind, a shadow under the water that was her conscious, restless and thrashing. Miranda closed her eyes, feeling the pull of her spirits, the bond of the vows she had made them, the vows that had just been pronounced void. It felt the same as ever, an iron cable tying her soul to her spirits.
Standing there on the stand with the Spiritualists advancing toward her, Miranda faced her choice. Truly faced it, for the first time. Honor the Spirit Court or honor her spirits. When she saw her situation like that, laid bare of all its pomp, she realized she’d already chosen. All that was left was to act.
The thought terrified her, but not nearly as much as it would have an hour ago. After all, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Eli’s whispered in her head,
The approaching Spiritualists were an arm’s length from Gin’s tail when Miranda turned to face them.
“Eril,” she said softly, “distraction.”
