That was it, no instructions, no threats, just the number written out in small, neat capitals across the lower left corner. Miranda scowled and slid the card back across the table. “I assume he means forty thousand in council gold standards.” She smiled. “A king’s ransom, indeed.”
“We can’t pay it,” the Master of the Exchequer groaned, clutching his bony hands together. “That’s an entire year’s revenue for a small country like ours. We don’t even have that much cash on hand in our own currency, let alone Council standards.”
“But we must have our king back, whatever the cost,” Oban said, landing his fist on the table. “King Henrith is young. He has yet to take a wife or produce an heir, and he’s the last son of House Allaze. We’ve never had any kings other than House Allaze. There’s not even a protocol for this sort of thing. If he vanished, our country would fall into chaos, and that would cost us far more than forty thousand standards.”
Miranda tapped her finger against the polished arm of her chair. “A difficult problem,” she said, “and one that could have been easily avoided. It seems that Mellinor is paying the price for its long unfriendliness toward wizards.”
“It is the law,” said the solemn old man to Oban’s right, the Master of the Courts. “The oldest law in Mellinor, decreed by our first king, a law that we are breaking, I might add, by talking to you.”
“But your first king was a wizard, wasn’t he?” Miranda leaned forward, enjoying the pinched look on their faces. Ruffling stuffy politicians was one of the best perks of her job. “Come now, gentlemen, you can hardly expect an agent of the Spirit Court not to be up on her magical history.”
“If you know that much,” the Master of the Courts growled, “then you already know why he closed Mellinor to your kind. King Gregorn was disgusted by the misuse of power he witnessed at the hands of greedy, arrogant wizards, and he sought to create a country where people could live without fear, where no wizard would threaten us. For that purpose, he led his family and followers to the edge of what was then a great inland sea. In a tremendous act of magic, King Gregorn banished the sea and created a new land, made by magic, yet free of wizardly corruption. This act of selfless bravery took his life. That is why, for four hundred years, we have honored his sacrifice by upholding his law.” The old man closed his eyes. “For Gregorn’s direct descendant to be held for ransom by some wizard thief”-he took a shuddering breath-“it’s only slightly worse than enlisting a wizard to rescue him.” He lifted his chin to face Miranda, glaring snowstorms at her from under his bushy eyebrows. “Rest assured, young lady, were we not in such dire straits, you would never have made it into this castle.”
“Had I been in this castle,” Miranda said dryly, “you wouldn’t
All three men glowered, and she gave them a scalding look. “I think you’ll find that wizards have changed in the years since your country was founded. The Spirit Court exists to maintain a balance between the power of man and spirit, and to prevent wizards from abusing their gifts. So, as you see, the Spiritualist’s purpose and your Gregorn’s dream are dissimilar in method but not in substance. We both want to keep the world safe from people like Eli.”
The overdressed men shifted uncomfortably, and Miranda saw her chance. “Here’s my offer,” she said. “I will get your king back for you, and, in exchange, you will let me work unhindered. When I return your monarch, you must promise me that he will allow envoys from the Spirit Court and consider welcoming our Spiritualists into his kingdom.”
The officials put their heads together for a moment, and then the Master of the Courts nodded. “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Lyonette, but we do not have the luxury of time. Your terms are acceptable. We must have our king.”
Miranda stood up with a triumphant smile. “In that case, gentlemen, let’s get to work.”
An hour later, when Miranda had wrung almost every provision she wanted out of the old men, they adjourned. After being shown to her room, she threw down her pack, grabbed a handful of bread off the dinner tray, and went to find Gin. This proved an easy task, for he was lounging in the afternoon sun right where she’d left him, surrounded by a gawking circle of stable boys at the main entrance to the castle.
Miranda approached with a grin, scattering the boys like sparrows. “Time to work, mutt.”
Gin sat up slowly, stretching his paws. “You’re in a good mood.”
“There may be hope for this country yet.” She smiled.
The dog snorted. “What about that artifact thing Banage made us rush down here for? Find out anything about that?”
“The bureaucrats didn’t mention it, so I felt no need to bring it up,” she said. “Gregorn’s Pillar is only dangerous to wizards, and the only one of those we have to worry about is off having a slumber party with the king. Besides, I don’t think I could have spoken ill of their honored founder and lived to tell about it. Though, mind you, I could tell them a few things about their precious
“So why didn’t you?” Gin yawned, showing all of his teeth.
“Telling people what they don’t want to hear gets us nowhere,” Miranda said. “My duty is to catch Eli before he can mess things up more than he already has, not force old men to change their prejudices.
“His smell is everywhere.” Gin’s nostrils flared. “He was probably scouting the palace for days before he let himself get caught. The smells are all knotted together, though, so I can’t tell where he made his final exit.”
“So much for doing things the easy way,” Miranda said and sighed, running her hand through her curly hair. “All right, we’ll do this by the book. I’ll start with the throne room and work my way down. You check the grounds and try not to scare anyone too badly.”
“Shouldn’t you get some rest?” Gin said, eyeing the sinking sun. “I can take two days of hard travel, but we don’t want you flopping over like last time.”
“That was an isolated incident.” Miranda said, bristling. “No breaks. We’re finally in the same country as that thief, possibly the same city. I’m not going to risk letting him slip away again, not when we’re this close.”
“You’re the boss,” Gin said, trotting across the courtyard. “Don’t get carried away.”
“That’s my line,” Miranda called after him, but the enormous hound was already slinking away behind the stables, sniffing the ground. Miranda shook her head and fanned out her fingers, nudging her rings awake.
“Time to get to work,” she muttered, smiling as the stones began to glow. With a final look at the setting sun, she turned and tromped up the castle stairs. With any luck, she’d have Eli by the time it rose again.
CHAPTER 3
Down below the stable yard, quivering away from the ghosthound’s fearsome scent, a rat darted through a narrow crack in the castle’s foundation and made a break for the wall. It bounded through the ornamental gardens as if all the cats in Mellinor were on its tail, though nothing followed it in the dim evening light. What terrified the rat was not behind it, but inside it, pressed like a knife against its brain. It hit the castle battlements at full speed and began to climb the rough white stone, running vertically as easily as it had run along the ground. The knot of guards at the castle gate didn’t notice as the rat crested the wall behind them and, without so much as pausing for balance, launched itself into the air. For a terrifying moment, the rat scrambled in free fall, then, with a clang that made the guards jump, landed on a drainpipe. The rat clung to the pipe, stunned for a moment, and then the pressure was back, the inescapable voice pressing down on its poor, fright-addled mind, and it had to go on. The rat scurried down the drainpipe to the cobbled street. Keeping to the gutters and dark places people forget to sweep, it
