imperceptible gesture with his fingers. The servants took their cue, closing the chamber door with a soft crack, leaving the three most powerful people in Zarin alone.
“So,” Whitefall began politely. “Would it be a waste of my breath to ask you to sit?”
“It would,” Banage answered, his blue eyes flicking from Sara to the Merchant Prince. “Let’s not dance about, Whitefall. What do you want?”
“It’s less what I want and more what we need, Banage,” Whitefall said, lacing his fingers together. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now, but I’ll tell you formally: War is coming. Twenty-six years after we drove her fleet back to the ocean, the Immortal Empress is on the move again, and we have precious little time. If our continent is to survive this assault, we must stand together. All of us. Even you.”
Banage’s eyes narrowed. “The Spirit Court is a peaceful organization dedicated to the protection of the spirit world. We do not go to war.”
“And I am head of a trade coalition dedicated to beneficial coexistence and mutual profit,” Whitefall said with a shrug. “These are times of extraordinary threat. We must all reach outside our normal parameters.”
“And you’re demanding my help?” Banage sneered.
“I’m asking for it, yes,” Whitefall said. “I’m asking for everyone’s help.” He leaned forward, cool affection gone. He was staring earnestly at the Rector Spiritualis, and when he spoke again, his voice was full of real emotion. “I shouldn’t have to explain this to you, Etmon. You fought with us in the last war against the Empress, you know how bad things could get. We may never have seen eye to eye on everything, but I know you care about what we’ve built. This war could destroy all of that—the Council, the Spirit Court, everything. The Empress isn’t coming to expand her borders or seek a treaty. She’s coming to conquer. If we’re going to stop her, we must find a way to work together.”
He ended with his hands on the table, eyes locked on Banage. On his side of the room, the Rector Spiritualis sighed.
“I understand what you’re saying, Alber,” he said quietly. “But the Spirit Court is not a political organization. We have worked together with the Council many times to our mutual benefit, but war is different. We serve the spirits, the land itself, and the land does not care who rules it. I cannot ask my Spiritualists to violate their oaths and put their spirits in danger to defend your borders.”
“This isn’t about borders,” Whitefall said, his voice growing heated. “Do you think the Immortal Empress is going to let the Spirit Court continue to operate? You were with Sara and me on the beach at Osera when her wizards dropped their flaming war spirits on our heads. Do you think a woman who uses that kind of force is going to sit back and let you keep running your towers as you see fit?”
Banage lifted his chin. “Perhaps.”
“Perhaps?” Whitefall repeated sharply. “That wasn’t how you felt last time.”
“It is because I fought then that I cannot ask my wizards to fight now,” Banage said. “How many times must I say it? Our duty is to our spirits, not your Council. Our oaths are built on a trust deeper than anything your spirit- deaf mind can imagine. I lost two spirits in the war with the Empress. I will not make my Spiritualists go through that pain as well.”
“We all lost friends in the war,” Whitefall said. “I lost an entire legion in one night alone when Den the Traitor turned against us. Every single one of those men had a soul, had a mother, had a family. Are you saying your spirits’ lives were worth more than theirs?”
“Men fight for countries,” Banage said. “They choose to risk death in the name of their cause. But spirits have no countries or causes. This is their world, we are the interlopers. We have no right to drag them from their sleep into our petty conflicts. You are a leader of men, Alber. It is right for you to be concerned with their struggles. But I am a custodian of the Spirit World. If I compromised that position for human interests, I would be unworthy of the name Spiritualist.”
Whitefall heaved an enormous sigh and collapsed back into his chair. “What will it take, Etmon? What can I do to bring you over?”
Banage tilted his head, and his eyes took on a gleam that Tesset knew well. He’d seen it on every fighter: the look that came just before the finishing blow.
“The Spirit Court exists to ensure the greatest good for all spirits,” Banage said. “I was very young when we first fought the Empress, and I thought, as young people do, that the enemy was evil because she was our enemy. That we were right and she was wrong. But I am no longer young or naive, and I’m no longer sure that I am on the right side.”
“That is very close to treason,” Sara said, but she fell silent when Whitefall put out his hand.
“We are the right side, Banage,” Whitefall said earnestly.
“Are you?” Banage said, his eyes flicking to Sara. “Then why does the Council hide its business with spirits down in its bowels? Why is its head wizard allowed to do as she pleases without Spirit Court oversight?”
Sara shot up from her seat. “I knew it!” she shouted. “I knew this was all just a ploy to—”
“Sara!” Whitefall’s voice echoed through the chamber.
Sara flinched and shut her mouth. Across the room, Banage looked positively triumphant. Whitefall, on the other hand, looked dogged.
“Sara’s achievements support the Council,” the Merchant Prince said, picking his words carefully. “The Relay is what keeps the countries tied together. It’s what makes them need us. Therefore, we need her, and she needs the freedom to innovate.”
“Then it’s time to weigh which need is greater,” Banage said, crossing his arms. “Sara’s secrecy or my Court. I know you are a man who plays with words, Alber, so I will say this as plain as possible. If you want our help, you must change your ways. I will lead the Court toward whatever end supports its purpose. Black as you paint the Empress, her crimes against the spirits are as yet only possibilities. Sara’s crimes are far closer to home. You need my Court? Prove you are worthy of it. Tear down the wall of secrecy Sara has built. Allow my people to inspect the Relay and all other works of Council wizardry, and swear to fix whatever abuses we find. Show the Spirit Court that you deserve our loyalty, and we will follow the Council wherever you need us.”
Sara’s face was scarlet with rage as Banage finished, yet she said nothing. Tesset could see why. Whitefall’s hand was at her wrist, his long fingers pressed into the pressure point. The Merchant Prince was calm, his eyes half lidded as they regarded Banage. Tesset leaned back, watching the old man with interest. When Whitefall had nearly lost his temper earlier, Tesset had been worried he’d misjudged the man. Now he saw with satisfaction that the earlier bluster had been a feint, a ruse to draw out Banage’s real objective just as a swordsman feigns injury to trick his enemy into revealing his finishing strike. But now that he knew what Banage really wanted, Whitefall didn’t seem quite sure what to do with it. Tesset watched him carefully, waiting to see how he would counter. However, when the Merchant Prince finally did answer, even Tesset didn’t see the blow coming.
“I’m afraid you leave me no choice,” Whitefall said, drawing a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. “Give this to him.”
Tesset stepped forward and took the paper. He walked across the chamber to Banage, who accepted the note with a suspicious glare before dropping his eyes to read.
“What is this?” he asked as Tesset returned to his position behind Sara.
“It’s a conscription notice,” Whitefall answered.
“Conscription?” Banage roared. “What is the meaning of this?”
“You’ve put me in a bind,” Whitefall said, his voice growing cold and sharp. “I would like nothing more than to throw open the Council and let the Spirit Court scour every inch of it, but I don’t even need to ask to know Sara’s response. You know as well as I do that her word is final when it comes to Council wizardry, and yet you bring me this impossible request. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted this to fail.”
Banage stiffened. “I want only what I have always wanted,” he said. “Humane treatment for all spirits. If you will not let my Spiritualists inspect the Council’s practices, then I no longer have suspicions. I now know that the Council of Thrones is abusing spirits, and you can’t possibly think I would ally my Court with such a shameful organization.”
“Be that as it may,” Whitefall said. “Take a closer look at that paper in your hand. Like it or not, every member of your order is also a citizen of this ‘shameful organization,’ and it is my right, as written under section three of the Council edict, to order citizens of the Council to war for our mutual defense. If you and your wizards do not comply in full, then, by Council law, I have no choice but to declare you traitors.”
