“Not ‘mean to,’ ” Whitefall said. “I have. I delivered the order to Banage himself, and then he tore it up, threw it in my face, and sealed his Tower. Do you know what we call that, Spiritualist Lyonette?”
Miranda began to tremble. “Treason?”
“Treason.” Whitefall nodded. “It is a mistake to think that your duty to the Court outweighs all others, my dear. Tower Keeper Blint here understands that. So do the other Spiritualists who have chosen to fight for their homes and way of life. They understand that if we continue to divide ourselves, the only person who will triumph is the Empress.”
“Merchant Prince,” Miranda said. “I understand what you’re saying, but if Master Banage refused, I’m sure he had good reason.”
“Really?” Whitefall said, his voice low. “How sure?”
“Absolutely,” Miranda said, drawing herself up. “You may call it treason, but we must follow our oaths to the Court and our spirits above all other obligations. Master Banage understands this better than any Spiritualist I’ve ever known.”
“I’m sure he does,” Whitefall said. “That’s why I’m sending you back to him with a compromise.”
Miranda blinked. “What?”
“A compromise,” Whitefall said, his stern face breaking into a smile. “I realize you Spiritualists don’t have much knowledge of the concept, but they can be very useful.”
“But you just said Master Banage was a traitor,” Miranda said, staring at him.
“He is,” Whitefall said. “But he doesn’t have to remain one. Listen, child, no one wanted things this way less than myself. Banage is a hard man. I thought if I laid things out in hard terms he would see reason, but all I managed was to divide the Court, which was the last thing I wanted.” He tightened his hand on her arm. “I don’t want Spiritualist defectors. I want the Spirit Court—the whole Court—fighting with us against a common enemy.”
He turned Miranda around to face him, looking down at her with a sad, serious expression. “I am not a proud man,” he said quietly. “I am not afraid to eat my own words if that’s what’s best for the Council. If the Spirit Court will agree to help us in this war, I swear that they will be kept in a purely supportive roll—no fighting, no risk to your spirits, no danger to your oaths. In addition, I am prepared to give Banage something he’s been angling at for a long time: a Council law making Enslavement illegal.”
“Illegal?” Miranda said.
Whitefall nodded. “Think of the possibilities. The Court will no longer have to deal with rogue wizards alone. You’ll be able to call on Council law to demand backup from local officials. The Court will have authority like it’s never had before. Plus, you will save your Spiritualists from a division that could doom your entire organization without compromising your ideals, and you’ll help me keep our necks out from under the Empress’s boot. Now”— he smiled—“is that a compromise that could interest you?”
Miranda bit her lip. It was a good offer, a potentially fantastic offer, but… “I’m not the person who can make that decision.”
“I know,” Whitefall said. “Sara says you owe us a debt. I’m calling it in. Take my compromise to Banage. I’ve tried sending him messages, but he won’t open his Tower for anything. That said, I’m betting he’ll open it for you. Make my case to your master and I’ll wipe your obligation to Sara and the Council clean. There is no downside for you in this, Spiritualist Lyonette. Even if Banage refuses, you’ll still be with him, and your debt to us will still be forgiven. What do you say?”
Miranda thought the words through carefully. “Just support?”
“Just support,” Whitefall said, nodding.
“All right,” Miranda said at last. “But I want everything in writing first.”
Whitefall smiled. “Very shrewd, but I expected no less.” He walked back over to his desk and drew out a thick stack of papers. “I had the clerks draw it up the moment Sara told me you were on your way.”
Miranda took the papers. The offer was all there, just as he’d said. Copied in triplicate, she noticed with a sigh, but what else could you expect from the Council?
“I’ll take this to Banage at once,” she said, tucking the papers under her arm. “But I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
“With Etmon, I never do,” Whitefall said, sitting down at his desk. “Nice meeting you, Spiritualist.”
Miranda bowed from the waist, turned on her heel, and left. The men in the waiting room sneered at her as she pushed past them, but Miranda didn’t even notice. Her head was reeling with everything that had happened. This morning she’d been preparing for the potential pitfalls of telling the story of the Shaper Mountain to Sara, now she was bringing the Council’s compromise to Master Banage with war looming over them, and there was still the issue of the demons, the stars, and the Shepherdess. She didn’t even know what crisis to focus on anymore but, pressing the papers hard against her chest, she knew where to begin. First she had to find Master Banage and explain everything. Once all the cards were on the table, he would know what to do.
That thought alone was enough to calm her mind as she marched down the stairs toward the citadel yard where Gin was waiting to take her home to the Tower.
Tower Keeper Blint turned to face the Merchant Prince, brandishing his rings as he did. “You do realize you just gave Banage back his greatest weapon?”
“A calculated risk,” Whitefall said, leaning back in his chair. “And the best choice, given our options. She certainly wasn’t going to turn against Banage, and you can’t force a Spiritualist to work. That left locking her up, which I don’t have the resources for at the moment, or sending her running home to sulk with her master. At least this way I can get an offer through that stone wall of his, and who knows, the old zealot just might take it.”
“He won’t,” Blint said. “Banage would die before he compromised his integrity.”
“We also thought he would die before he split his precious Court,” Sara said. “But he laid down the line and shed you Tower Keepers without so much as a look back, didn’t he? But you saw the girl’s eyes light up when Alber offered to outlaw Enslavement. The Court’s been after that apple for years. It might just be enough to convince Miranda that the Council’s position is in the right, and she can be very persuasive when she thinks she’s on the moral side of things.”
“It will take more than an apple and an earnest girl to talk Banage out of that Tower,” Blint said, his voice dripping with superiority. “The Rector Spiritualis is a slave to his pride. I don’t even know why you want him along. He’ll just get in our way.”
“With all due respect to you and your Tower Keepers, Blint,” Whitefall said in a tired voice, “you’d better hope Sara’s right. It’s no secret that Lyonette and Banage are the two strongest wizards in the Court. They are weapons we cannot afford to lay by, however much trouble they may be. If sending the girl doesn’t work, we’ll just have to try something else. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other people to mollify today.”
Blint opened his mouth, but he closed it again as Sara swept by to open the door. Duly dismissed, Blint stomped out. Sara followed right behind him, stepping out of the way as the pages showed in the royal ambassador from some country she couldn’t be bothered to remember.
As ordered, Sparrow was waiting in the hall for her. He was freshly washed and dressed, and his hair was pulled back in a long, blond snake of a braid over the shoulder of his impressively garish orange coat. He stood aside for Blint with a flourish as the Tower Keeper stomped down the stairs and then turned to Sara, smiling as he handed her a lit pipe.
“Thank the Powers,” she muttered, snatching the pipe from his hand and putting it to her mouth with a deep draw that she held for nearly half a minute. “At least something’s going right,” she said, letting the breath go at last. “Do you have it?”
“Of course.” Sparrow pulled a worn leather book from his sleeve. “Just as I told you.”
Sara snatched the book with greedy fingers, her eyes widening with delight as she flipped through the pages. “Not as good as the man himself,” she said. “But I’ll take what I can get.”
“You’re welcome,” Sparrow said pointedly as they started down the stairs.
Sara blew a line of smoke at him. “Did you manage to plant the point?”
“Not an hour ago,” Sparrow said. “Just before we entered the city.”
“And she didn’t notice?” Sara asked, taking in a fresh lungful of smoke.
Sparrow looked affronted. “Who do you think you’re dealing with?”
“Just checking,” Sara said. “I’ve been far too much in the company of idiots lately.”
“That’s the risk you take working with the Council,” Sparrow said cheerfully. “Are you sure about this
