“Who are you?” the water said bitterly. “Who are you to stop our grief?”
“You know me, Rellenor,” Miranda said slowly, never letting up on her pressure. “I’m Miranda the Spiritualist, Mellinor’s shore. I can help you, but I need you to let go of some of your water before you destroy the docks.”
Laughter filled her mind, cold and bitter and stinking of mold. “What do I care?” the river cried. “My star is gone! All water flows through Ell. We rivers are only tributaries of the greatest water. The Mother River has been with us since before the beginning of this world, but now her voice is silent and her banks are dry. Without the connection of her water, I can no longer feel the other rivers, no matter far I reach. I am alone, human. What can I do but flood?”
The river’s voice rose as it spoke, building again into the heart-wrenching wail, and the water rose with it. Miranda ignored the icy swirls beating against her knees and slammed her will down harder.
“Stop!” she commanded, and then eased her voice into a plea. “Please, Rellenor, stop. It is your right to flood, but do the spirits around you deserve to be washed away? Lower your waters. The Spirit Court knows stars are vanishing, and we are doing everything in our power to bring them back.”
“Bring Ell back?” Scorn flooded the river’s voice. “Are all you wizards so arrogant? What can you hope to do? Ell is a star.”
Miranda pulled herself ramrod straight. “I am the Rector Spiritualis!” she shouted. “There is no spirit I will not serve, and no crime against them I will not seek to undo! So I have sworn, and so I will do until I die. Even if the Shepherdess herself stands in my way, I will do everything I can to bring your star and the others back to their places.”
The River seemed momentarily stunned by this outburst, and Miranda went on, softer now. “You flow through the city of wizards, Rellenor. You should know better than any spirit the tenacity of the Spirit Court. We will serve you well, I swear it, but please, please do not destroy the innocent in your grief. The loss of Ell is loss enough. Do not add these poor spirits as well.”
For a long moment the water hung, and then a watery sigh went through her, as cool and soft as evening rain.
“You humans are as stubborn as you are blind,” the river muttered as the brown water began to sink back through the floorboards. “But I have long flowed through the white city of the Tower, and those years have taught me better than to go against the Tower’s master. Still, you can do nothing, human. Ell is gone.”
Miranda reached down to plunge her hand into the retreating water. “I can’t speak for my race,” she whispered. “But I will not desert you, nor will any other Spiritualist. All you have to do is flow as you have always done and we will do the rest.”
“I don’t see much point.” The water’s voice was deep and bitter. “What good is flowing if you flow alone?”
“Just keep flowing,” Miranda said, gently lifting the weight of her spirit. “We will make things right. I swear it.”
The river didn’t answer; it just cried, folding itself back into its banks with soft sobbing sound. Miranda caressed it one more time before closing her spirit and shooting to her feet. She rushed past the brokers and out of the building, shoving the list of stars into her pocket as she went. Lelbon followed hot on her heels, his voice low and buzzing like a wasp in her ear.
“Spiritualist!” he hissed. “I realize you’re upset right now, but think about what you’re saying! The Lady’s own hand is in this! You can’t fight the Shepherdess’s will. If you charge ahead, she will cut you down. She cares nothing for humans save those she favors. You can’t just make promises—”
“What else was I supposed to do?” Miranda shouted, bursting into the street. “Look around!”
She flung out her arms, forcing Lelbon to stop and look. He did, his face paling.
The river district was a scene of chaos. A layer of slimy mud lay everywhere the river had flooded. Barges had been washed up into the street. Many had crashed through houses, dropped there by the racing water. People lay scattered as well. Some were lucky. They sat on muddy doorsteps, filthy and half drowned but alive. The still shapes washed into the gutters showed that others weren’t so fortunate.
“And Zarin was lucky,” Miranda said, taking quick, shallow breaths through her mouth to avoid the smell of the river bottom as it mixed with the growing smell of death. “How many rivers are there, Lelbon? How many of those places didn’t have Spiritualists standing by to calm the water? How many people will die today? How many spirits broken and drowned? And you still say I shouldn’t try?”
“I’m saying you shouldn’t go blithely to your death!” Lelbon cried, his wrinkled face drawing into a terrible scowl. “This is larger than you. Larger than the Court. There’s a line between honoring your oaths and throwing your life away. Even if you did somehow find a way to undo this, we’re not talking about some rogue Enslaver, Miranda. This is the Shepherdess, the Power whose will rules the world. Even the favorite couldn’t defy the Lady. What hope do you have?”
“I don’t intend to defy the Lady,” Miranda said. “In fact, in a roundabout way, I mean to ask for her help.”
Lelbon’s scowl fell into a look of utter bewilderment. Miranda didn’t blame him. The insane thought had struck her dumb as well. It had come just a second ago while she was running out of the building, but the more she thought about it, the more certain she was that this was the best chance they had. She might not be able to make everything right as she’d promised the river just now, but if this worked, she could make things better, and any improvement was worth taking a chance for at this point.
Miranda put her fingers to her lips. Grimacing at the stench, she took a deep breath and blew an ear- splitting whistle. It rang in the air, echoing off the low buildings. Across the city, another call rose in answer, a long, ghostly howl. Miranda grinned at the sound and turned back to Lelbon.
“I’m not the only one who cares for the preservation of this world,” she said. “But to get my help, I’m going to need to call in my favor from your lord.”
Lelbon sighed. “I thought I made it quite clear that Lord Illir could not—”
“He can do this much,” Miranda said. “All I need is transportation. The wind doesn’t even have to stay.”
Lelbon scowled. “And where would you be going?”
Miranda told him, and Lelbon’s eyes went wide as eggs. She set her jaw, ready to argue, but he just turned and raised his arm. A wind rushed down in answer, making his white robe flap like a flag. He whispered something to it, and the wind spun back into the sky. By the time Gin arrived, panting from the dash but looking rested and much improved, an enormous wind had come to Zarin, a great howling gale that nearly knocked Miranda off her feet.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Lelbon shouted over the wind’s roar.
“Not at all,” Miranda shouted back, climbing onto Gin’s back and clutching her legs around the ghosthound’s barrel chest. “But if I stay here I’ll fail for certain. What have I got to lose?”
Lelbon’s eyes narrowed, but he waved his hand. The second it moved, the great wind swept down, lifting Miranda and her ghosthound into the air. She dug her fingers into Gin’s fur, pulling herself down to his back as the ground sank away below their feet.
“This is going to be a long trip, isn’t it?” Gin growled, kicking his legs in the air. “Wish you’d told me about this before I ate.”
“If your belly wasn’t full of pig, you’d never have let me do this,” Miranda said. The wind bucked around them, and she pulled herself tighter to his back. “Hold on.”
“To what?” Gin cried, his orange eyes going wide.
All around them, the wind began to laugh, an enormous sound that made Miranda’s teeth rattle. And then, with a stomach-churning lurch, they were off, spinning through the sky north and west toward a distant, stormy shore and the lonely citadel where Miranda had pinned her last, desperate hope.
The Oseran royal carriage creaked to a halt a half mile outside Zarin’s towering south gate. The driver cursed and arched his neck, looking with dismay at the enormous clog of traffic running back from the gatehouse. Cursing again, he glanced down at the ring of king’s guards riding close escort. “Mind going to see what we’re in for?”
The guards exchanged a look, and then the youngest of the group turned his horse out into the fields beside the road, riding around the clot of carts, carriages, and angry farmers to see what the problem was.
“Why did we stop?”
