bad as Hern.”
“No one’s as bad as Hern,” Miranda said. “Where’s Master Banage?”
“Upstairs,” Jason said, nodding toward the grand staircase. “Powers, I’m glad you’re here. The Rector has been looking grimmer than usual.” Jason lowered his voice. “I don’t think he expected quite so many of the old guard to turn on him.”
Miranda frowned. “How many are here?”
“A little over a hundred,” Jason said. “We’re mostly Journeymen Spiritualists down here. The Tower Keepers are upstairs in the private rooms for the most part, or the library.” His hands moved as he talked, and the will-o’- the-wisp followed his fingers like an eerie, blue-green firefly. “We’ve got close to eight hundred Spiritualists still unaccounted for, though I don’t know what’s taking so long. It’s been three days since the Rector called us in. That’s enough time for a determined Spiritualist to get to Zarin from anywhere on the continent.” Jason bit his lip. “You don’t think they’ve all gone over to the Council?”
“No,” Miranda said, shaking her head. “I just came from there. Blint’s in charge, and he had only three hundred a few hours ago. Hern’s old cronies, mostly, but that’s no surprise. They always did prefer politics to spirits.”
“Three hundred,” Jason said with a dismayed sigh. “Still, where’s everyone else?”
Miranda shrugged. “Probably waiting to see how things play out before they cast their lot.”
“Cowards,” Jason said, sneering.
“Maybe,” Miranda said. “But they’re still Spiritualists.” She turned and started toward the stairs. “Speaking of which, I’m going to see Master Banage.”
“Of course,” Jason said. “Good to have you back!”
She waved as he jogged back to the main group to share the good news. Miranda started up the shadowy staircase, Gin slinking behind her.
The climb to Banage’s office was surprisingly short. It was the Tower’s doing, Miranda was sure. Things had always been a little strange inside the stone pillar the Spiritualists called home, but what else could one expect from a tower raised in a day by Shapers? After her unwilling stint in the Shaper Mountain, Miranda was surprised the Tower didn’t move more. Even so, despite the shorter-than-expected climb, she was still out of breath when she reached the landing outside of Banage’s office where Spiritualist Krigel, Assistant to the Rector Spiritualis, was waiting.
“Took you long enough,” he said.
“Sorry,” Miranda panted. “I didn’t even know there was a war until this morning. Where’s Master Banage?”
Krigel jerked his head toward the closed door.
Gin sat down without being asked, stretching out down the long staircase. Krigel gave the dog a nasty look, and Miranda took the opportunity to slip past the old Spiritualist, pushing open the door to Banage’s office as quietly as she could.
The office of the Rector Spiritualis had changed dramatically. The first thing she noticed were the windows. The large panes of clear glass were still there, but they looked out into a wall of solid white stone. Still, the office was not dark. White light radiated from a small, unflickering flame burning at the bottom of a large, metal bowl on the floor. Miranda recognized the fire immediately. It was Krinok, a rare type of chemical fire spirit Master Banage had rescued from a rogue Tower Keeper turned Enslaver back when she was still his apprentice. Krinok’s harsh, white light threw everything into sharp, monochrome relief, but even that couldn’t drown out the light coming from Banage himself.
The Rector Spiritualis was sitting on his desk, which was uncharacteristically empty. For the first time Miranda could remember in many years, he was dressed not in the formal red robes of the Rector’s office, but in a plain, somber suit. Over that, around his neck, the regalia of the Rector Spiritualis shone like a collar of light. The heavy necklace with its golden chain of jewels glowed in a rainbow of colors, humming with power. Even standing at the door twenty feet away, Miranda could feel the enormous pressure of the Rector’s connection to the Tower and, woven into and through that, the power of Banage himself. She took a deep breath, her own spirits waking to the familiar weight of Banage’s soul, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was home.
“Miranda,” Banage said, opening his eyes. “It is good to see you. I wish the circumstances were better.”
“Whatever the circumstances,” Miranda said, walking across the room to stand before him, “it is good to be back.”
Banage smiled, a slight turn of his thin mouth. “Sit,” he said softly, “and tell me what you have seen.”
With a deep breath, Miranda sat cross-legged on the stone floor and told him.
She started from the moment she left Zarin, chasing Sara’s tip about Eli north with Tesset and Sparrow. She told him about entering Izo’s camp and the Council’s deal with the Bandit King. She told him about catching Eli and losing him again. She told him about Slorn and the wondrous things the bear-headed Shaper could do. After that, things got harder. She told him about Sted, about the demon and the League. She told him what she had seen in the arena after Josef beat Sted and about working with Alric to defeat the creature Sted became. Then, after a couple of deep breaths, she told him as best she could about the thing she’d seen in the woods beyond Izo’s camp, the creature made of shadows and hunger, eating the world. Even as she told him, the afterimage of the hideous shape flickered across her vision, forcing her to turn away. When she had control of herself again, she looked her master in the eye and told him how that vision had cemented her decision to go with Slorn to the Shapers. She told him about their arrival at the mountain, her imprisonment, and what she’d seen in the mountain’s memory. She told him about stars, the spirits lifted above all other. She told him all the mountain had told her about the Shepherdess, the sleeping spirits, everything. The world the mountain had shown her was still clear in her mind, the great valley changing between life and death and the endless night sky filled with strange, sparkling lights, but describing it was harder than she imagined. Still, in fits and halts, she told him the whole naked, disjointed truth Slorn had asked her to spread.
She finished in a great rush, panting as the weight of the secrets lifted from her chest. She paused, waiting for the questions that were sure to come, but Banage just sat back and motioned for her to continue.
Miranda nodded and moved on to her cell. She told him about her solo imprisonment, Sparrow’s offer and their escape from the Shapers, the journey home, and learning about the war. Finally, she told him about the meeting with Sara, Blint, and Whitefall. She handed him Whitefall’s written promise as she told him the details of the Merchant Prince’s compromise. Banage took the paper with a strangely closed look on his face, reading it over as Miranda’s long story finally came to an end.
When it was done, she leaned back, exhausted. Though in all her years with the Court, all the missions she’d done in its name, none had taken so long or so much to tell. With the windows blocked, it was impossible to tell how long she’d been speaking. It felt like hours. However long it was, Banage had not moved at all. He was still sitting on his desk, his stern face warped into a mask of itself by the strange light of the mantel and the bright white fire on the floor.
“I’m not surprised Slorn stayed,” he said at last. “How very like him to pit his stubbornness against a mountain.”
Miranda looked up. “You know him?”
“Some,” Banage said. “He’s hard to avoid when you involve yourself in the politics of spirits to any depth. He’s a good wizard, though, and a good man. You made the right choice to go with him.”
Miranda let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Thank you, Master Banage.”
Banage nodded. “So,” he said. “The mysterious Shepherdess who commands all spirits. I’d heard snippets, hints, but you can never get a spirit to talk plainly about such things. To hear it from the Shaper Mountain is something indeed, though I suppose demons large enough to make Alric panic can get even Great Spirits talking about things they’d rather not.” He started chuckling, like this was some kind of joke, and looked over at Miranda. “You never bring good news, do you?”
“You never send me anywhere easy,” Miranda protested.
Banage smiled. “You would be wasted on easy things.”
“It seems nothing is easy anymore,” Miranda said with a deep sigh. “It feels like the world is falling apart. Enormous demons, the League in panic, spirits growing sleepier, the Shaper Mountain talking about the Shepherdess with her stars and favorites and how this world isn’t as it was. Two weeks ago, I didn’t even know
