“Humans are spirits as well,” the wind said. “And the Empress is not called Immortal for show.”
The blood drained from the Rector’s face. “Then the obedience I saw?” he whispered. “The war spirit’s devotion?”
“Any devotion you saw is the result of the obedience stars command,” the wind said. “She is no Enslaver, so I doubt you would feel anything wrong, but the truth of her control is almost worse. Enslavers are human. They can be defeated. They can die. But the Empress is immortal, her life held sacred by the White Lady. Her control over the spirit world is complete, eternal, and inescapable. To disobey a star is to disobey the Shepherdess herself.”
The West Wind grew cold enough to make Miranda shiver. “The Empress comes here to bring the whole world under her control, but I am the West Wind. I am freedom itself. The winds have no star; we have no need of one. It is not our nature to serve, but if the Empress comes here, we won’t have a choice. Nothing will. So I am asking you as a spirit, as the voice of all spirits on this continent who as yet have no idea of what they are about to lose, fight the Empress.”
“How?” Miranda said. “My spirits couldn’t go against the Shaper Mountain even to set me free. What can we do against the Empress?”
“Your spirits could not,” the wind said. “But you are different. Even a star cannot change the laws of magic. Immortal though she may be, the Empress is still human, and no human spirit can force another. That’s why she needs an army to beat her human opponents the old-fashioned way, and that’s why you humans are the only ones who can stop her and save us.”
Miranda looked at Banage, but he was gripping the Tower wall, his face deathly pale. “How could I have been so mistaken?” he whispered. “All this time I thought spirits obeyed the Empress out of love and respect, as our spirits obey us.”
“That is our own fault,” the wind said. “We are forbidden from speaking of the stars to humans. It is the Shepherdess’s will that you stay ignorant. Really, I shouldn’t even be talking to you, but the secret’s already out, told by a star, no less.”
“Wait,” Miranda said. “The Shaper Mountain told you about us?”
“No,” the wind said coyly. “But I always find out. The wind is everywhere, Miranda. You should know that by now.”
“Our path is clear,” Banage said, straightening up. “We must fight. Star or not, the Empress is human. Though she’s not technically an Enslaver, I think we can all agree that controlling spirits by force is an abuse the Court cannot tolerate.”
“We must warn the Council and get down there as soon as we can,” Miranda said, looking up at Illir. “You said she was landing in Osera?”
“Yes,” the wind said. “And precious little stands in her way.”
“Then we will ride at once,” Banage said.
“Hurry,” the wind whispered.
“Wait!” Miranda cried as the wind turned. “Why did you not ask our help earlier?”
“I could not,” the wind sighed. “All spirits are forbidden from interfering in a star’s affairs by order of the Shepherdess. The Shaper Mountain might have told you about stars, but talking about them and asking for help in fending one off are entirely different matters. Were it not for this message, or, more correctly, for the wizard who sent it, I couldn’t have asked your help in this at all.”
Banage scowled. “What wizard is powerful enough to command you to break the Shepherdess’s law?”
The wind turned, and Miranda got the feeling it was smiling. “I believe you call him Eli Monpress.”
The tower fell utterly silent. Miranda and Banage stood stunned, unable to speak, and the wind used this gap to make his exit. As the pressure of the Great Spirit faded, Miranda clenched her hands into angry fists.
“Always,” she muttered. “I swear, he’s always at the center of everything that goes wrong in the world.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Banage said quietly, running his hands over his face. “We have to get to Osera.”
“At least the Council will be with us now,” Miranda said. “If we’re going to fight the Empress, then we have no more quarrel with Whitefall.”
“I fear it’s too late for that,” Banage said. “Look down.”
Confused, Miranda grabbed the wall and leaned out, peeking over the Tower’s edge. It was a terrifying view. She’d never really appreciated how tall the Tower was until she was looking straight down it with nothing but her own grip for an anchor. Still, it wasn’t the height that made her flinch back.
Directly below, the Spirit Court’s district was no longer empty. Soldiers in Council white circled the Tower on every side. There had to be a quarter legion of infantry down there with another squad of archers on the rooftops to back them up. But worse than the soldiers was the line of wagons set up across the main boulevard and watched over by a small figure standing beside a man wearing a pink coat so vivid Miranda could see it from the Tower’s peak.
“Sara,” she hissed, leaning back.
Banage nodded. “They’ve been setting up since shortly after dawn. Apparently, Whitefall has decided he cannot afford to harbor traitors.”
“But we haven’t done anything except sit here!” Miranda cried.
“We,” Banage stopped. “I refused to help. Whitefall’s played the game of nations long enough to know that those who won’t be allies will eventually be enemies. He’s taking us out early rather than risk us at his back while he’s fighting the Empress.”
“What are we going to do?” Miranda said. “We have to get to Osera. They have to get to Osera, while there’s still an Osera to get to.”
“Then we’ll have to hope they’ll listen to reason,” Banage said.
Miranda bit her lip. “I hate to say this, master, but they’re never going to believe you’ve changed your mind.”
“They’d also never believe I’d tell a lie to save my skin,” Banage said. “Being intractable has its advantages as well as its pitfalls.”
Miranda gaped at him in disbelief. “Master Banage,” she whispered. “Was that a joke?”
Banage looked almost affronted. “I have been known to tell them on occasion,” he said, starting down the stairs. “Come, we don’t have time to stand around with our mouths open.”
Shaking her head in wonder, Miranda hurried down the stairs after her master as the Rector Spiritualis called for the Tower to spread the word. The Spirit Court was going to war.
“How much longer does Myron mean to make us wait?” Sara grumbled, trailing smoke as she stalked back and forth in front of her wagon. “He has an entire city full of soldiers. How long can it take to surround one tower?”
“I think the good general is dragging his feet on purpose,” Sparrow said, buttoning his garish pink coat against the wind. “He doesn’t care much for wizard business, after all.”
“And I don’t care for standing around,” Sara snarled. “We were supposed to crack the Tower at ten. It’s nearly noon.”
“Well, here’s your chance to tell him yourself,” Sparrow said, nodding at the knot of armored men riding toward them.
Sara turned and marched toward the riders, biting her pipe as the leader, Myron Whitefall, the Council’s general, dismounted.
“Are you done wasting my time?” she cried over the clatter of the horses.
“Only if you’re done wasting mine,” Myron answered. “I have a war to prepare for, Sara. The Empress could arrive as early as next month. I don’t have men to waste on your marital spats.”
Sara lifted her chin. “Try fighting the Empress without the wizards that I’m going to get by cracking this Tower and then say that again, Myron.”
Myron’s reply was predictably nasty, but Sara wasn’t listening anymore. Sparrow had touched her arm. She turned, and her eyes widened. “I don’t believe it.”
“What?” Myron snapped. “That you’re a waste of Council resources and—”
His voice sputtered out as Sara hurried away. She ran to the front of her wagons and stopped, watching in amazement as the blank face of the Tower peeled open like a curl of shaved wood and Banage himself stepped
