“Be here tomorrow at dawn, packed for a long journey,” Sara said, sticking her pipe back in her mouth. “I’ll give you the rest when I explain the plan to everyone.”
“Everyone?” Miranda said.
“Yes,” Sara said, looking at her as though she were stupid. “Dawn tomorrow, don’t be late.”
And that was all the answer Miranda could get.
Hours later, Sara was still in her office. She sat at her least cluttered desk, reading through the day’s stack of observations while distractedly eating a bowl of fish soup that one of her assistants had brought down hours ago. The soup was congealed and cold, but Sara didn’t seem to notice, shoving a spoonful around her pipe and into her mouth whenever the thought of eating could get past the dozen other issues demanding her attention. She was just scraping the bottom of the bowl when the door to her office slammed open.
She dropped her spoon with a frustrated huff. “If this is about tank seven,” she said, spinning around in her chair, “I already know. There’s no reason…”
Her words trailed to a stop as she got a look at the man who’d barged into her room. He stood in the doorway, tall and impossibly imposing in his severe red robes. His black hair was touched with gray at the temples while his clenched fingers, wrists, and neck were laden with enough gems to make a king jealous. He looked angry enough to spit nails, and his blue eyes were flashing murder, but Sara couldn’t help smiling as she leaned back to take him in.
“Hello, Etmon,” she said, blowing a thin line of blue pipe smoke into the air between them. “It’s been too long.”
If possible, his fists clenched tighter still. “Not long enough.”
Sara’s smile widened. The sight of him was nostalgic enough, but the sound of Etmon Banage’s furious voice made her feel twenty years younger. “This seems to be my week for unexpected visitors,” she said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“You never change, do you?” Banage said. “Still asking questions you already know the answers to just to make me say it. I’m here to tell you that my apprentice will not be accompanying your goons on whatever scheme you’re plotting. I lent her to the Council at the request of Lord Whitefall to assist in the capture of Eli Monpress, not so that you could use her as spiritual muscle whenever you had a problem your undertrained, impotent Council wizards couldn’t handle.”
Sara bit down on her pipe. “Don’t get angry, Etmon. It’s bad enough seeing you in those ridiculous red bed- sheets your little social club requires without your face changing to match. And for your information,” she added quickly, cutting off Banage’s furious retort, “I am doing nothing improper. Your little Miranda is going to help my people set a trap for the thief, among other things.”
“It’s the ‘other things’ that concern me,” Banage said through gritted teeth. “I knew I was taking a risk letting Miranda get anywhere near the Council, but Whitefall assured me you would keep your claws out of her affairs. Miranda is a strong wizard and a fine Spiritualist who’s been through a great deal in the last year. I won’t have you abusing her sense of duty to trick her into doing your dirty work.”
“As if I could,” Sara snapped, her anger rising to meet his. “She’s as moral and dutiful and closed-minded as any of your flock. You don’t have to worry about her.”
“Don’t tell me what to do with my own people!” Banage roared. “You’re sending her to the edge of the Council to make some kind of deal with Izo the Bandit King. Have you finally lost what little grip on reality you ever possessed?”
“You’re one to talk about reality,” Sara said. “Seeing as you live in some black-and-white fantasy where we catch thieves without dealing with the underworld.”
Banage sneered, and Sara blew out a long huff of bitter smoke. “Anyway,” she said, “the deal is done. The girl already agreed to go, and as a servant of the Council, she’s legally obligated to see the job through. So if that was the only reason you had for honoring me with your presence this evening, I’m afraid you’re out of luck, old man. Run on home to your tower and let me get back to my work. You know, the stuff that’s actually important.”
“Oh, yes,” Banage scoffed. “I forgot. Your work is more important than anything else.” He thrust a jeweled finger at her. “I’m taking this to Merchant Prince Whitefall.”
“Go ahead,” Sara said. “He’ll just side with me. Council matters are my playground, Etmon. Go back to your tower and your fawning, self-righteous Spiritualists. Tell you what, when we catch Eli, I’ll bring him by and you can preach him to death.”
Banage whirled around, his fists clenching in rage, and Sara heaved a frustrated sigh.
“Why did you even come?” she muttered. “You knew it would be like this.”
Banage didn’t look at her. “Because,” he said quietly. “Fool that I am, I still believe that, someday, you will remember your oaths.”
“What, to the Spirit Court?” Sara’s eyes narrowed. “Or to you?”
Banage didn’t answer. He walked out of her office without another word, slamming the door behind him with a crash that made Sara wince. She glared at the closed door for a long time, furiously puffing on her pipe until the bowl was nothing but dead ash. Shaking her head at the wasted time, she emptied her pipe into the dregs of her cold soup and got back to work.
CHAPTER
7
Nico gasped at the thin, cold air and pulled her coat tighter across her shoulders. She walked with her face down, her boots crunching over the crust of ice on the rocky slope. They were far north, beyond the Council Borders, farther even than Slorn’s Awakened Wood, on the cold, high slopes of the Sleeping Mountains. An impressive distance, considering it had been only three weeks since Eli had driven them out of Home before dawn. That much wasn’t unusual. Eli was always in a rush when he had a job in mind, but this time keeping up had been much harder.
It doesn’t have to be.
Nico grimaced. The farther north they went, the stronger the voice became.
Why do you do this to yourself? The voice echoed loud and clear through her head, as though the speaker were standing behind her eyeballs. All I ask is honesty, Nico. Embrace what you are and you can have everything back, your strength, your senses, everything.
Nico stomped her aching legs down and focused on the sound of frozen pine needles as they crunched under her boots. “How much farther?”
“Not far,” Eli said. He was well ahead of her, walking lightly between the scrubby evergreens like he didn’t know what tiredness was.
“So you keep saying,” Josef grumbled, keeping pace with Nico. “Is this another of your moving houses?”
“No,” Eli said. “Or I don’t think so. I’ve never actually been here before.”
Josef stopped and stared at him. “Then how do you know where we’re going?”
“I don’t,” Eli said cheerfully. “Not many do, past this point. It’s not exactly on a map.”
Josef sneered up at the mountains surrounding them. “Fantastic. Three weeks on a death march just to get lost in the mountains.”
“I’m not lost,” Eli said sharply, turning around to face them. “We are exactly where we should be. And if the stories I’ve heard are correct, we shouldn’t be able to go much farther before our hosts find us.”
Josef opened his mouth to ask another question, but stopped midbreath. He dropped to a crouch, his hand flying to the hilt of the massive sword on his back. A second later, Nico heard it too, the faint crunch of something moving in the woods. Something large. She dropped to a crouch beside Josef, ignoring the protests of her aching legs. Looking around, she could see nothing but trees and stones and empty country, the same as she had seen for the past two days. But she knew something was there, a darker shadow beneath the shaggy pines, watching them. Beside her, she heard Josef draw the Heart. Off to her left, something growled.
“Ah,” Eli said brightly. “That would be them now.”
