voluntary. I want only the willing, and there will be no punishment or shame for those who do not wish to accept the Lord of Storms’ offer. Those who do wish to help may come down now to receive the League’s gift of power. However”—the sudden sharpness in her voice interrupted the scrape of benches—“before anything is given or received, each of you must stand before the Court and reaffirm your oath as a Spiritualist.”
The Spiritualists began to mutter angrily, and Miranda put up her hand. “I don’t ask this because I doubt your loyalty or resolve. I wouldn’t be standing here if that were the case. But the League’s powers go far and beyond the normal scope of our Court. If this is to work, we must be above reproach. We must be exactly what our oath requires: servants of the spirits. With that in mind, I want everyone who means to work with the League to reaffirm that loyalty, starting with myself.”
She placed both hands on her chest, rings out, just as she had when she was a raw apprentice so many years ago. Now as then, she lowered her head before the Tower and the Court and spoke the words that had guided her life from that moment on.
“I pledge my life to the unseen world,” she said, her voice ringing loud and clear. “My soul to the protection of those who suffer. On my life and my soul I swear to never stand quiet before abuse or stay my hand when my strength may aid the world’s good. I pledge my life and my soul to the spirits, and those who aid me I will bind in solemn promise: power for service, strength for obedience, a servant to the Court and the spirits it defends until the end of our days. This is my oath, and may my life be forfeit before ever I am forsworn.”
As she finished, she raised the solid gold band on her left hand and kissed the center of the perfect circle. Oath spoken, she turned back to the Lord of Storms.
His hand landed on her head like a vise, and her body trembled as a pulse of electricity shot through her. It crawled over her skin, more intense than painful, and then, as fast as it started, it was over. The pressure on her skull vanished, leaving only a faint tingling. She glanced up, confused.
“That’s it?”
The Lord of Storms sneered. “What did you expect, a speech? Unlike you lot, we don’t waste time with ceremony.”
Miranda swallowed. Surely there was more than that. Her skin was tingling, but otherwise she felt no different than before.
“It’s there,” the Lord of Storms said, answering the question she hadn’t asked. “All you have to do is hold out your hand and think of where you want to go.”
Sheepishly, Miranda obeyed, stretching out her arm as she’d seen Alric do. The moment her fingers rose in front of her, the white line appeared. It fell like a knife, cutting a door in the air that opened onto the beach by Osera. Miranda blinked in amazement. She’d done little more than picture the destination in her mind, but there was the sea, choppy and dark blue under the overcast sky.
As she stared at it, her vision began to blur. On the other side of the white cut was the stretch of shallows where she’d lost Mellinor, and later, Eli. The sea spirit was out there still, deep below the water, but he wasn’t hers. Not anymore. And the thief…
Miranda dropped her hand, and the line vanished, fading as quickly as it had appeared. She scrubbed her eyes covertly, though there was no way the Lord of Storms could have missed the tears. But when she glanced up, he wasn’t even looking at her. By this point the room was full of the sound of shuffling as the Court came down from the benches to the floor to take part, and he was watching the approaching line with a look of growing annoyance.
“Make them speak quick, girl,” he growled, leaning against the railing. “I mean to be back on the hunt within the hour.”
Miranda nodded and motioned for the first Spiritualist to step forward. The woman, a Tower Keeper from the south, spoke her oath with pride and did not even flinch when the Lord of Storms touched her head. When he lifted his hand, she looked him straight in the eyes.
“How do we find those in panic?” she said, all business.
“Listen,” the Lord of Storms said. “You’ll hear it.”
The woman nodded and stepped aside to let the next Spiritualist take her place. As Miranda watched, the Tower Keeper closed her eyes and tilted her head like she was straining to hear a distant sound. Almost at once, her eyes popped back open and she held out her hand. The white line appeared instantly, and a blast of icy wind hit Miranda in the face as the Tower Keeper stepped through the cut and into a world of snow, ice, and something terrible. A screaming, howling fear. The hole closed as soon as she was through, cutting off the cold and the sound as though they’d never been.
By this point, the next Spiritualist, a journeyman as Miranda herself had been before the events in Osera, had finished his oath and received the Lord of Storms’ gift. He staggered as the Lord of Storms released him, and Miranda jumped to catch the young man before he fell.
“Easy,” she said, helping him regain his balance.
The Spiritualist shook his head. “How do you stand it?” he whispered. “Can’t you hear the fear?”
Miranda couldn’t. She actually hadn’t heard anything out of the ordinary since the Lord of Storms touched her. Her frustration must have been plain on her face, because the Lord of Storms laughed.
“What?” he barked. “You think all human souls are the same just because you’re all shaped alike? Don’t be stupid. My gift fits each person differently. Even in the League we have people who are better at some aspects than others.” He nodded to the young Spiritualist who was still shaking in Miranda’s grip. “That man has large ears, so to speak. If you weren’t so blind, you’d see the difference for yourself.”
“So my ears are small, then?” Miranda snapped, helping the Spiritualist over to the wall.
“Not very,” the Lord of Storms said, motioning for the next person to hurry up and come forward. “Come on, come on. Move.”
The next Spiritualist waited until Miranda nodded before stepping forward and reciting his oath. The Lord of Storms grabbed his head the second he finished and released it almost as quickly, pushing the man away with a quick jab.
“Next!”
The line moved quickly after that, with each Spiritualist stepping forward just long enough to give their oath before the Lord of Storms grabbed them. Some were like the first Tower Keeper. They seemed to get the powers instinctively and jumped into action, opening their portals to places of trouble without a word of explanation or training. Others were like the young Spiritualist, staggering away, as pale as death.
These Miranda led to the growing group gathered on an empty stretch of floor by the benches. Krigel was already there, helping them sit, encouraging them to talk. Miranda watched him with a worried frown, but she couldn’t get away. The Lord of Storms drove the line forward, and she had to move quickly as well, witnessing the oaths one after the other. She was about to ask for a reprieve when a voice spoke in her ear.
“Don’t worry about it.”
She jumped and turned to see Alric standing behind her, a thin smile on his lips.
“It’s the way of the Lord of Storms’ power,” he said softly, his eyes on his commander as the Lord of Storms grabbed the next Spiritualist’s scalp. “Some take to it like fish to water; others take longer to come around. It’s the same within the League.”
“Shouldn’t we be explaining something?” Miranda said. “It seems downright foolish for the Lord of Storms to give his gift and not teach people how to use it.”
“That’s how it’s always been,” Alric said with a shrug. “The League’s gift isn’t some boon or mystical power. It’s a sliver of the Lord of Storms’ own soul. Think of it as piggybacking on his strength. He’s not making something new so much as breaking up what he already has. That’s why he doesn’t explain how it works. His powers come to him as natural as breathing comes to us, and he could no more explain them than you could explain how you make your heart beat. But this is the way it’s been since the beginning, and it works. You yourself were able to make a portal with little more than a cursory explanation, after all.”
Miranda scowled. “It’s reckless.”
“Storms aren’t known for their caution and forethought,” Alric said, smiling. “Of course, if you don’t like it, you could always go to a different spirit for aid.”
Her scowled deepened, and Alric chuckled. “Don’t worry, Rector,” he said. “Even your tremblers over there will come around in time. For now, we should focus on getting as many of your Spiritualists into the field as possible. There’s so much panic at the moment I can hardly hear myself think.”
