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.
CHAPTER
6
Sara sat down on the edge of her desk, studying Eli through the trail of smoke rising from the pipe she was working between her lips.
“You’re looking well,” she said at last. “Better than the last time I saw you. Though, considering the last time I saw you, you were being pulled through one of the League’s white portals, that’s not saying much.” She paused. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what actually happened in Osera.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” Eli said flatly. He nodded at the poster-covered wall behind her. “I see you’ve been keeping up with me.”
“Of course,” Sara said with a smile. “I’ve been following your career since the very beginning. I’m very proud of you, Eliton.”
“Proud?” Eli said, cocking an eyebrow. “That’s not something a thief usually hears from his mother.”
Sara shrugged. “I refuse to dismiss brilliance simply because it falls outside of the preset moral structure.” She took a deep draw and held it before finally letting the smoke out in a puff. “Unlike some.”
Eli didn’t have to ask who she meant. “So,” he said, “how hard is old Whitefall laughing now that the Council gets to keep my bounty?”
Sara shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t pay attention to money. But if you’re worried about your trial, don’t be. You’re going to serve your debt to society under my care.”
Eli sank into the chair. “Lucky me.”
“Least I could do,” Sara said, taking the pipe from her mouth and placing it in the ash-filled bowl beside her. “You’re my son, after all.”
Eli rolled his eyes. “You can lay off the caring mother act, Sara. Do you think for a second I believe you had me brought here for a tender reunion? You left before I was old enough to remember what you looked like.”
“I didn’t go anywhere,” Sara said hotly. “It was Etmon who took you away.”
“And you who made no effort to visit,” Eli countered. “I’ve seen you, what? Six times in my entire life? Counting today?” He shook his head. “You never even remembered my birthday. If you wanted to play the doting parent card, you should have started laying the groundwork years ago. You can hardly expect me to go all misty eyed now.”
“What, you’re angry that I wasn’t there to tuck you in at night? Tell you stories and give you kisses?” Sara scoffed. “Grow up, Eliton. What was I supposed to do? Abandon my research so I could make you eat your carrots and teach you the alphabet? Look around. You are sitting at the center of the largest spirit experiment ever attempted. I am doing amazing things here, things no one even thought to attempt of until I came along. I am reinventing what it means to be a wizard, stretching spirits in ways no one thought possible, and you’re in a huff because I wasn’t a good mother?” She shook her head in disgust. “Any woman can be a loving mother, Eliton. There’s no one else in the world who can do what I do.”
“So what do you want me for, then?” Eli said. “You seem to have your hands full as it is. Why take on a criminal?”
Sara smiled. “You’re a little more than a criminal, Eli Monpress. Don’t forget, I saw you stop the sea itself
