Spirit’s End

CHAPTER 6

Sara sat down on the edge of her desk, studying Eli through the trail of smoke rising from the pipe she was working between her lips.

“You’re looking well,” she said at last. “Better than the last time I saw you. Though, considering the last time I saw you, you were being pulled through one of the League’s white portals, that’s not saying much.” She paused. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what actually happened in Osera.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Eli said flatly. He nodded at the poster-covered wall behind her. “I see you’ve been keeping up with me.”

“Of course,” Sara said with a smile. “I’ve been following your career since the very beginning. I’m very proud of you, Eliton.”

“Proud?” Eli said, cocking an eyebrow. “That’s not something a thief usually hears from his mother.”

Sara shrugged. “I refuse to dismiss brilliance simply because it falls outside of the preset moral structure.” She took a deep draw and held it before finally letting the smoke out in a puff. “Unlike some.”

Eli didn’t have to ask who she meant. “So,” he said, “how hard is old Whitefall laughing now that the Council gets to keep my bounty?”

Sara shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t pay attention to money. But if you’re worried about your trial, don’t be. You’re going to serve your debt to society under my care.”

Eli sank into the chair. “Lucky me.”

“Least I could do,” Sara said, taking the pipe from her mouth and placing it in the ash-filled bowl beside her. “You’re my son, after all.”

Eli rolled his eyes. “You can lay off the caring mother act, Sara. Do you think for a second I believe you had me brought here for a tender reunion? You left before I was old enough to remember what you looked like.”

“I didn’t go anywhere,” Sara said hotly. “It was Etmon who took you away.”

“And you who made no effort to visit,” Eli countered. “I’ve seen you, what? Six times in my entire life? Counting today?” He shook his head. “You never even remembered my birthday. If you wanted to play the doting parent card, you should have started laying the groundwork years ago. You can hardly expect me to go all misty eyed now.”

“What, you’re angry that I wasn’t there to tuck you in at night? Tell you stories and give you kisses?” Sara scoffed. “Grow up, Eliton. What was I supposed to do? Abandon my research so I could make you eat your carrots and teach you the alphabet? Look around. You are sitting at the center of the largest spirit experiment ever attempted. I am doing amazing things here, things no one even thought to attempt of until I came along. I am reinventing what it means to be a wizard, stretching spirits in ways no one thought possible, and you’re in a huff because I wasn’t a good mother?” She shook her head in disgust. “Any woman can be a loving mother, Eliton. There’s no one else in the world who can do what I do.”

“So what do you want me for, then?” Eli said. “You seem to have your hands full as it is. Why take on a criminal?”

Sara smiled. “You’re a little more than a criminal, Eli Monpress. Don’t forget, I saw you stop the sea itself and make an entire fleet disappear with a single motion not two days ago.”

“Everyone has their time to shine,” Eli said, careful to keep his expression bored.

Sara saw right through him. “All you do is shine, or so I hear,” she said, smiling down at him as she swung her legs, clunking her low heels against the back of the desk. “You forget. I’ve been keeping tabs on you for years. I knew something was different about you almost from the beginning. Even if I hadn’t had a personal interest in you, the stories of your thefts were too grandiose to ignore. Even after accounting for the sort of exponential embellishment one expects in such tales, your exploits went far above even the flare for the dramatic you inherited from your father. And then there’s the matter of Miranda.”

Eli frowned. “Miranda?”

“Banage’s little pet is no slouch wizard,” Sara said grudgingly. “She has the loyalty of several very large spirits and the personal power to back that up, not to mention her unassailable dedication to the Court. The perfect apprentice for Etmon, truly.” Sara smiled brightly. “She’s the child he always wanted you to be.”

“How lucky for them,” Eli said, though the words came out more sulky than he’d meant. Thankfully, Sara didn’t seem to notice.

“When I first heard she was chasing you to Mellinor, I thought it was over,” she went on. “Other than Banage himself, Miranda’s the best the Court has to offer. But I was wrong. You ran circles around her, even to the point of convincing the Great Spirit Mellinor to move into her body.”

“You’ve got that bit backward,” Eli cut in. “She convinced me.”

“But you gave her the idea,” Sara countered. “No Spiritualist would ever think of using their own mortal shell to hold a spirit.”

When he didn’t deny it, Sara slid off her desk. “Almost from the moment of your birth, I knew you’d be a strong wizard,” she said, walking toward him. “How could you fail to be, with your parentage? But what you do goes beyond wizardry, Eliton. I can’t explain the way the world reacts to you, or how the spirits talk of you, when they’ll say anything at all.” She leaned over him, eyes flashing. “That sparks my curiosity.”

Sara reached out and touched his chin, gently lifting his head until he was looking at her. Eli let her move him, meeting her studying look with a flat glare.

“Something happened to you, didn’t it?” Sara said. “After you ran away, but before you became a thief. The signs were there from the first time I heard the name Eli Monpress, but Mellinor sealed it. You command Great Spirits like they’re pebbles. I want to know how you do it.”

“Easy,” Eli said breezily. “I ask. It’s amazing how obliging the world can be when you’re not being an overbearing, pompous jerk.”

“Really?” Sara said. “And did you just charm the Lord of Storms into letting you use his portals as you see fit?”

Eli shrugged. “The Lord of Storms is another matter, isn’t he?”

“I don’t think he is,” Sara said, straightening up to reach for her pipe again. “Something’s watching out for you, Eliton. Something bigger than any spirit, and that intrigues me greatly. So, I’m going to make you a deal.”

“A deal?” Eli asked, incredulous.

Sara just smiled as she blew the embers in her pipe back to life. “I may not have spent much time with you, but even I remember how you always did love a deal.”

“Go ahead then,” he said, smiling back. “Dazzle me.”

Sara gave him a droll look and took a fresh draw of smoke. “I’m prepared to offer you a clean slate,” she said after she’d blown the smoke at the ceiling. “Officially, you’ll be hung as a thief for your crimes against the noble members of the Council. This is a huge waste of time, but in order for Alber to keep his precious bounty system flowing, I’m afraid you have to die, at least in the public eye. It’s amazing how much of politics is nothing but theater.” She stopped for a long sigh. “Anyway, after the farce, you’ll come here and live with me as a part of my team. I’ll get you a nice salary, a suite in the citadel, and anything else you desire within reason. You’ll be an agent, not a prisoner, and you’ll answer only to me. Otherwise, you’ll have complete freedom within the Council.”

“That’s quite the large piece of bait,” Eli said. “What will it cost me?”

“Only the truth,” Sara answered. “I have dedicated my entire life to the study of spirits. What are they really? Why do humans have power over them? Why are we blind? So many questions, but no matter how hard I press, there are some things spirits won’t talk about. That’s where I think you can help me. I think you know the answers, or enough of them to point me in the right direction.”

“And that’s what you want?” Eli said. “Answers?”

“That’s it,” Sara said, nodding. “Help me, Eliton. Work with me. Tell me what you know and I’ll make all your problems with the Council go away. Together we might finally be able to unravel the mysteries that have held wizardry back, and who knows? You are my son, you might even enjoy it.”

“I doubt that,” Eli said, settling back into the chair again. “I don’t care much for work of any sort. But let me ask you a question, Sara. Supposing you’re right, and I am so greatly in the know, what’s to stop me from letting you fake my execution and just vanishing through a portal as soon as it’s done?”

Sara laughed. “Because, silly boy, you’re still here. If you could have escaped you would have done it ages ago.”

Eli’s smile grew wider. “And what if I’m bluffing?”

“Then you proved you care enough about me to bluff your way into this conversation,” Sara said. “And as much as such a thing would warm my heart, I’m not so blinded by mother love to think you’d waste your time on sentiment.”

Eli looked away. He didn’t have anything to say to that.

Sara took a final puff and tapped out her pipe in the bowl. “Either way, the offer stands,” she said, sliding the pipe into the pocket of her long jacket. “I don’t care about justice or restitution or any of that backward-looking nonsense. You could be the worst murderer in the Council and it wouldn’t matter a jot. All I want are answers. You don’t even have to stay here if you don’t want to. Tell me what I want to know and I’ll let you go free tonight.”

Eli almost laughed at that. “How lucky the Council is to have such a loyal servant. Would you open the Whitefall treasury for me as well?”

“If you wanted,” Sara said. “Don’t be mistaken, Eliton. The Council needs me far more than I need it. I have no qualms about doing whatever is needed in order to reach my goals.”

“I don’t doubt that for a moment,” Eli said. “Thank you for the generous offer, Sara, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline for the time being. Let me think it over in my cell for a bit and I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”

Sara scowled. “What makes you think this conversation is done?”

“Because I’m not going to give you anything,” Eli answered. “That means any further effort on your part would be a waste, and one of the few things I can remember about you is how much you deplore wasting your time.”

Sara’s mouth twitched. “Fair enough,” she said. “Sparrow!”

The door clicked open and Eli winced as a canary-yellow coat came into view.

“Mr. Monpress and I are done for the moment,” Sara said. “Could you escort him to his room?”

“My pleasure.” Sparrow leaned over and snatched up the rope that bound Eli’s hands. “Together again!” he said cheerily. “Do I have to drag you this time, or will you deign to walk?”

“I’ll walk, if it’s all the same to you,” Eli said, standing up. “It’s much easier now that Mellinor’s not trying to drown me.”

“I’m sure,” Sparrow said. He smiled at Sara and turned Eli around, marching them out of the office. The last thing Eli saw was Sara reaching for the box of blue Relays on her desk before the heavy door closed, blocking her off completely.

Sparrow gave him a little shove, and Eli picked up the pace. As they walked across the broad wooden platform, he arched his neck to get a good look at the details he’d missed on the way down. They were at the center of a large cavern below the Council Citadel. It was almost certainly not natural. He’d never seen a cave with walls this straight, but there were no chisel marks on the stone. Wizard-made, then, he realized with a low whistle. He’d thought only Shapers could craft things this large. Sara had been busy indeed.

But high as the ceiling was, Eli wasn’t even standing on the floor. Sparrow was leading them down a suspended walkway that ran between a grid of strange, large, metal objects. Each one was enormous, made of black metal and cylindrical. They spread out in all directions in a grid that ran all the way to the walls.

As Sparrow led him away from Sara’s office, which Eli could now see was built into an enormous version of the metal cylinders around them, he leaned sideways and peered over the walkway edge. Despite the light of the lamps burning on the railing, the black cylinders vanished into the thick shadows far sooner than they should have, leaving him nothing to guess how far down they went or where the cavern’s floor lay.

He would have looked longer, but Sparrow nudged him forward, guiding Eli down one of the many suspension bridges that branched off of Sara’s office.

“So,” Sparrow said as they walked in the dark, their boots thumping on the suspended wood. “Why did you turn yourself in?”

“Who said I turned myself in?” Eli said. “This is quite an involuntary incarceration.”

“So you just fell out of the sky?” Sparrow laughed. “Well, you picked a good time to do it. Word is that Den the Warlord was killed in that scuffle in Osera. The Council’s going to need the cash on your head to pay that tab when the king comes to collect. Say, didn’t the king of Osera used to be your swordsman? That must be terribly awkward.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eli said cheerily. “My only experience with kings is stealing them.”

“Of course,” Sparrow said. “How could I forget? You should know that they’re keeping your capture very hush-hush at the moment. The Merchant Prince has put the soldiers who caught you on lockdown, but that’s only a temporary sop. The Council is a sieve for information. I wouldn’t be surprised if the story wasn’t all over the continent by day after tomorrow. After all, it’s not every day you catch the greatest thief in the world.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Eli said, his voice echoing strangely off the dark metal cylinders. “But what makes you think I care about how Whitefall’s handling my capture?”

“Just didn’t want you to blow your escape early,” Sparrow said. “I know you like to make an impression. If you escape tonight, before anyone knows the Council has you, it would be a waste.”

“Escape?” Eli scoffed. “Impossible. I am a model prisoner. Though I must say you’re being an uncommonly thoughtful jailor.”

“I’m a very thoughtful man,” Sparrow said, bringing them to a stop at a gap in the railings. “Watch your step, please.”

They descended down a narrow stepladder into the dark. The great tanks rose around them like iron trees, dark and foreboding. Every noise Eli made seemed muffled, and the farther he climbed, the worse it got. It was like the deeper they went, the more the silence swallowed them, until, finally, they reached the cavern floor.

Eli’s boots hit the stone without a sound. Far overhead, the lanterns on the walkway shone like lights from a distant shore, but down here there was nothing. Only a blackness so heavy it pressed the air from Eli’s lungs.

Tugging his rope, Sparrow led Eli between the tanks. He tapped each one with his fingers as they passed, like he was counting. Eli tried counting, too, but he lost it quickly. The air around them was so oppressive it was actually distracting. It took all his attention just to walk without falling. They went on like this for close to a minute before Sparrow stopped without warning and began feeling around on the floor with his foot.

When he’d found what he was looking for, Sparrow kicked his leg up before bringing his heel down on something large, metallic, and hollow. The blow landed with a muffled clang, and almost at once, something scraped in answer. The grind of stone on metal was shockingly loud in the dense silence as the floor in front of them slid away to reveal a darker, circular patch of blackness two feet across.

“Right,” Sparrow said. “In you go.”

“Down there?” Eli said, leaning over to peer into the abyss.

“ ’Fraid so,” Sparrow said. “I suggest you get climbing, because in another five seconds I’m just going to push you and be done with it.”

Eli gave him a nasty look that was sadly lost in the dark. Finding the ladder with his feet, he started to climb down. But just as his head was about to vanish through the hole, he felt Sparrow’s cool hand close on his shoulder.

Eli froze, waiting. For one long second, he thought Sparrow really was going to push him, but nothing happened. Instead, Sparrow’s smooth voice whispered in his ear.

“She offered me a deal, too,” he said. “I took it.”

“Really?” Eli said, keeping his voice calm. “How’s that working for you?”

It was too dark to tell properly, but Eli got the distinct impression Sparrow was baring his teeth. “I just spent two weeks chasing a girl, a dog, and a bear-faced man through howling wilderness. Before that, I spent nearly as long trying to lay a trap for you in a city full of savages. I almost died both times. This was nothing out of the ordinary. How do you think it’s working?”

“Right,” Eli said. “I get it. You don’t like it here. But why are you telling me? I have absolutely no intention of taking up Sara’s offer.”

“Neither did I,” Sparrow said, patting him on the shoulder. “Keep that in mind, Mr. Monpress.”

Sparrow’s grip vanished after that, and Eli resumed his descent. It was so dark he couldn’t see an inch in front of his face. He navigated by touch alone, climbing the rough metal bars down, down, down, until, after thirty rungs, his feet hit stone.

The sound of his boots hitting bottom must have been the signal Sparrow was waiting for, because as soon as he stepped down, Eli heard the metal door fall shut.

“See you tomorrow for breakfast.” Sparrow’s voice was muffled as he stomped on the metal again, locking it in place. “Meanwhile, enjoy the company.”

“Company?” Eli shouted. He held his breath, but no answer came. Either Sparrow was waiting to see what he would do or he’d left too quietly for Eli to hear. Both were likely. Gritting his teeth, Eli turned away from the known enemy to face the unknown.

What kind of company had Sara arranged for him? Probably something to keep him too busy to escape, pit of snakes or something of that sort. Well, Eli smirked, he’d dealt with pits of snakes before. He just needed to—

A soft scrape cut his thoughts off cold. The sound was very close, maybe a foot away. Eli dropped to a crouch without thinking, his hands going for Karon’s burn before he remembered it wasn’t there. Dropping his arms with a silent curse, Eli put his back to the wall. He was staring into the inky black, ears straining as he considered his very limited options, when a light flared.

He blinked at the sudden brightness, covering his eyes. When he could see again, he dropped his arms and risked a glance to see who, or what, had caused the light.

Etmon Banage was sitting on the floor across from him, a candle flame flickering in the air above his palm. “Eliton?” he said softly, blue eyes going wide.

Eli cursed again, loudly this time. Why couldn’t it have been snakes? As the Rector Spiritualis started to get up, Eli flopped back against the metal rungs and wondered what he’d done to deserve his horrible, horrible luck.

After dropping the thief into the second half of this impromptu family reunion, Sparrow turned to more pressing matters. He jogged back to Sara’s office at the chamber’s heart, dropping his speed to nothing the second it was in sight. His footsteps became like cat feet, and even his breathing slowed to a whisper. Utterly silent, Sparrow removed his garish coat and hung it on the railing, leaving him in only a plain white shirt and brown trousers.

Without his coat to announce his presence, none of the dense clusters of technicians so much as glanced at him as he let himself into the lower level of Sara’s primary tank. Usually, when he entered the more delicate areas of Sara’s operations, the wizards made a great show of snubbing him. They hated that a spirit-deaf criminal had better access to Sara, greatest wizard of the age, than they did. Now his presence didn’t even draw a sideways look, not even when he walked directly behind them. Their obliviousness was almost enough to make Sparrow smile. His curse was the joy of his life, sometimes.

Unseen and unnoticed, he walked right down the middle of the room, passing workbenches filled with glass decanting pipes and trays of empty crystal spheres. Everything here was spotlessly clean, from the polished metal walls and floor to the white coats and gloves of the wizards to the sanded tables themselves. Sara’s wizards worked in pairs; one held a glass pipette filled with a tiny amount of water so blue it almost seemed to glow. The other held an empty glass ball just below the pipette’s sharp mouth, catching the blue water as it dripped. As each drop fell, the wizards whispered together.

“Quiet, quiet, quiet.”

The words sounded more like droning than human speech, but the wizards always looked so intense while they said it that Sparrow suspected there must be a great deal of mental effort involved. That seemed to be the case with most wizardry, actually. Yet another reason to be glad he didn’t have to worry about any of that nonsense.

He wound through the gauntlet of droning wizards to the heavy, padded door at the room’s far end. Sparrow pulled the handle gently, opening the heavy contraption just enough to slip through. The door didn’t make a sound as it swung, but Sparrow knew better than to congratulate himself on this. This door was Sara’s, and it wouldn’t have made a sound if he’d kicked it off its hinges. Any noise at all was anathema for the door to the Quieting Room. Beyond the silent door there was nothing but darkness and a set of padded stairs leading down. Sparrow followed them, his soft boots falling as silently as everything else.

From the doorway, the Quieting Room looked little bigger than a closet, but it went down forever, digging deep below the cavern’s floor into the heart of the black granite outcropping that supported the citadel above. It was also dark, nearly as dark as the space between the tanks with the same stiflingly, oppressive feel. Sparrow suspected the two were related, but he’d never gotten curious enough to risk the lecture Sara would give him if he asked. Instead, he used the quiet to his advantage, creeping down through the dark until the stair opened up into a second, smaller cavern about the size of a large bedroom.

Unlike the cavern above, which was irregular, this cave was perfectly round, ringed in on all sides by smoothly cut stone. Its ceiling was smooth, too, save for the hole that let in the spiral stair, but this cave had no floor. Instead, a pool of water filled the room to its edges, the liquid black in the dark, sinking down farther than Sparrow could see.

The spiral stair stopped just above the water, and at its base was a small, suspended platform held inches above the pool’s surface by the stair’s thick, central support. Below the platform, the water’s surface was still as glass. Stiller than anything in nature had a right to be, except for one part.

Sara was kneeling at the platform’s edge with her hands hovering just above the water’s surface. Beneath them, the water was bubbling, and the commotion showed off its true color, a deep, deep blue. Such a motion should have sent ripples through the entire pool, but the rest of the glassy water didn’t so much as wobble as Sara lifted her hands, bringing a small ball of water up with her. She cupped the water in her hands, moving it gently as a mother with a new baby to the hinge-lidded silver bucket sitting on the platform beside her.

She lowered her hands into the bucket’s wide mouth, letting the blue water fall before snatching her fingers back and closing the bucket’s lid as fast as she could. She snapped the latch shut and reached for a metal wire that hung from the stairs above. Threading the wire through the hooks on the bucket’s sides, Sara began to murmur commands. The wire obeyed, curling itself around the bucket before it began to rise into the dark, the thin wire curling in on itself to prevent any jostle from touching its precious cargo.

Sara watched the bucket rise until it vanished, and then she turned on her heel, fixing her glare on Sparrow.

He flashed her his best smile and sat down on the stairs.

Sara’s glare intensified, but she didn’t speak. Instead, she walked to the edge of the platform and reached out to pull a lever set into the stone wall. At once, the cavern’s silence was broken by the hushed scrape of metal as a protective sheet emerged from the walls. The metal slid into position like a thrusting knife, sliding under the platform to cover the pool with a protective shield. Only when the metal cap was safely in place and the water completely separated from the air above did Sara turn to face her servant.

“The Quieting Room is not a place to play, Sparrow,” she said, her voice cutting. “Are you even aware of how much damage you could cause?”

“I’m very well aware,” Sparrow said, resting his elbows on the stair above him. “You tell me every time. Of course, if you would stop hiding down here every time you got angry, I wouldn’t have to come after you.”

“I’m not angry,” Sara said, grabbing the ledger from its hook on the wall to record the water she’d just sent up. “Just disappointed.”

Sparrow shrugged. “Why? It wasn’t like you were expecting him to come running into your loving arms.”

“No, but I had hoped he would show a hint of interest,” Sara said, pencil scratching furiously. “I’d hoped that my son would have enough natural, inborn curiosity to at least listen with grace before saying no. Even the Lyonette girl showed some enthusiasm about learning the secrets of the world before turning me down. If he can’t exhibit more interest about magic’s inner workings than a closed-minded, hide-bound Spiritualist, I fear there’s no hope for him at all.”

“Maybe it’s not as bad as you think,” Sparrow said. “There is always the chance Mr. Monpress is sentimental enough to let his abandonment issues stand in the way of his rightfully inherited curiosity.”

“Powers forbid,” Sara said, slapping the ledger back into place. “If I have to play mommy, this is going to be a very long week.”

“If that’s how you feel, why did you put them in the same cell?” Sparrow said. “Banage is only going to make things worse, you know. And then there’s the part where you’re leaving two of the most powerful wizards in the world alone together.” He shook his head with a tsk. “Sounds like a recipe for disaster on all fronts.”

“It was the best of a few bad options,” Sara said defensively. “I have only one cell capable of holding a wizard of Eliton or Etmon’s power.”

“And only one cell that Alber doesn’t know about,” Sparrow added. “Really, Sara, it was very unmotherly of you to lie to the boy like that, acting like Whitefall was already on board with your plan to fake an execution and hire the world’s most notorious thief.”

“It was necessary,” Sara said with a shrug. “I didn’t have time to get Alber’s permission. I’ll bring him around later, after I’ve got Eliton well in hand. Did you drop the hints like I told you?”

“I did,” Sparrow said. “He is fully informed that there will be no audience for his escape until at least tomorrow. But do you really think that will be enough to keep him in? Not to cast doubt on your skill as a jailor, but Eli Monpress has a reputation for being difficult to contain.”

“I’m well aware of my son’s prowess,” Sara said proudly. “Just as I am equally aware of his near pathological need for attention. Monpress will stay put until he’s sure his escape will draw the proper level of attention, and by that point I’ll have brought him around.”

“And what of Whitefall?” Sparrow asked.

Sara shrugged. “I’ve taken care of the witness. Alber can live in ignorance a little longer.”

Sparrow shook his head. “You can lock up soldiers all you like. Whitefall always finds out. The man is a hunting hawk when it comes to secrets in his castle, and he is not going to be happy you kept this from him.”

“What do I care about Alber’s happiness?” Sara said. “He can rage all day, but in the end, the truth is that he needs the Relay, which means he needs me, and I need Eliton. And it’s not like this secret is hurting him. I only need to keep Monpress’s capture quiet for a day, two at most, just enough for me to gather the proper leverage to make him accept my ridiculously generous offer.”

“I don’t know if any leverage will be enough,” Sparrow said. “He loathes you quiet openly.”

Sara shrugged. “He’ll come around. Eliton’s a thief at heart, and all thieves have their price. Fortunately, I have the feeling my leverage is about to improve dramatically. A little birdie told me that the Lyonette girl has been using her newfound power as Rector to investigate certain very large spirits.”

Sparrow nodded as expected, face neutral, but alarm bells were sounding in his mind. Knowing Sara, she’d probably gotten the information from an actual bird, and he wasn’t about to go chasing bird tips again. Never trust an animal with a brain the size of a walnut to make an accurate assessment.

“Word is that she’s calling down the West Wind itself,” Sara continued. “Considering the Spirit Court’s position—the Rector imprisoned for treason, its membership split, and a Spiritualist not three years out of her apprenticeship holding the reins—you’d think the girl would be focused on Court matters, not poking after spirits who’ve been stable for hundreds, maybe thousands, of years. I want to know what emergency has upset her priorities.”

“Which means you want me to find out,” Sparrow finished.

“What else do I keep you for?” Sara said with a shrug.

“How is this going to help with the Monpress problem?”

“Eliton’s proven on several occasions he has a soft spot for spirits, and the Spiritualist girl,” Sara said. “I’m sure you’ll find something we can use. Now, I suspect the girl’s behavior has something to do with the events in Osera and the disappearance of her sea spirit, but I can’t be sure. The Relay point I had you plant on her isn’t responding anymore, so I’m afraid we have to do things the hard way. Go find out as much as you can about what’s going on. I’ll expect a full report tomorrow morning.”

Sparrow could feel his body tightening with long-checked anger. “And it didn’t occur to you that, after months on the road, followed by a war in Osera, I might not be up for sneaking around the Spirit Court?”

“It did,” Sara answered, leaning over to glance at the water record again. “But I don’t much care. I ask no more of you than I ask of myself.”

Sparrow crossed his arms over his chest. “And what if the standard you set for yourself is inhuman?”

“Then I would be dead,” Sara said. “Which, as you can see, I’m not. Now stop complaining, and don’t even think of shirking. Remember”—she reached into her coat—“I can always find you.”

As she spoke, she drew a small, round object out of her inside pocket, and Sparrow’s chest began to constrict. Between Sara’s fingers was a Relay point. It looked like all her others, a small glass sphere on a chain, but where the other points were blue, this one was a deep, deep crimson. Her fingers tightened on the glass as he watched, and suddenly it felt like someone had dropped a weight on his lungs. The pain sent spots dancing across his eyes, and it was all Sparrow could do to keep from doubling over.

“Really, Sara,” he said, fighting to keep the effort out of his voice. “A threat? We’ve been together almost ten years now. I thought we were past all that.”

“So did I,” she said, rolling the red orb between her fingers. “But then you started complaining again. I ask very little, Sparrow. Just that you do your job. If that proves too difficult, I can always give you back to Alber. Now that the war’s done, he’s running short on favors. I’m sure he’d love to earn some back by offering his family another chance at the head of the only man to kill a Whitefall and live.”

“I’m very aware what a treasure my head is,” Sparrow said, his voice growing thin as he fought the pain. “No need to twist quite so hard, Sara dear.”

“Apparently, I need to twist harder,” Sara said. “You’re still here.”

Sparrow stood with effort. “Just on my way out.”

Sara nodded and finally slid the orb back into her pocket. Sparrow steeled his face against the rush of relief as the pressure on his chest vanished, determined not to give her the satisfaction of seeing him wince. Instead, he smiled as wide as ever and started up the stairs, slipping out the door as quietly as he’d entered.

The wizards outside took no more notice of him as he left than they had when he’d come in, but Sparrow took no joy in their ignorance this time. His mind was wholly focused on the lingering pain in his chest. It wouldn’t be too much longer, he told himself as the pain finally began to fade. He’d been patient for a long, long time now, playing his role, waiting for his opening. Now, at last, he was almost there. Banage had always been Sara’s weakness, the chink in her cold, logical armor. Her son was even worse, and now they were both here, together.

Considering how edgy Sara became at their mere presence, going so far as to use her control over him for the first time in years for a relatively minor disobedience, it wouldn’t be long before something pushed her out of her usual caution. Soon, very soon, one of the Banages would do something to make Sara angry enough to forget what she should never forget, and when that happened, Sparrow would be there.

By the time he made it back to where he’d left his jacket, Sparrow was smiling again. He pulled on the glaring yellow coat and yanked the collar up rakishly before shoving his hands into the magenta-lined pockets. Then, whistling, he started down the suspended walkway.

With every step, the plan in his mind grew clearer, simpler, the pieces clicking into place. By the time he reached the turnoff that led to the service door, his usual exit when Sara sent him to spy on the Spirit Court, everything was set, and he passed the turning without so much as a glance. Instead, he headed up the stairs toward the citadel proper.

When the time came, Sara wouldn’t have a chance to use her control, Sparrow thought as he reached the Citadel’s main floor. When he was done, Sara wouldn’t know what hit her. That thought made him grin until his face ached, drawing suspicious glances from the noble hangers-on that clogged the Council hallways. Sparrow happily ignored them, picking up his pace as he started up the stairs leading to the tallest of the Citadel’s seven towers, his whistling growing louder and more cheerful with every step.

The Lady’s summons came as they always had, quickly and without warning. And, as he had done since the beginning of memory, the Lord of Storms answered immediately, leaving Alric midsentence to open a door into her white world.

Her back was to him when he entered. She was standing by her orb, bent over the curve of the sky like a woman at her spinning wheel. Her white hands were deep inside, digging through the bedrock and magma that made up the foundation of the miniature world. He could see her fingers pushing against the veil as they moved, and he wondered, briefly, if the spirits felt her passing through them. He didn’t think so; otherwise the bedrock would be shaking the world to pieces in its rush to bow. Still, it was a strange sight, the Shepherdess up to her elbows in the world she’d been ignoring for so long.

If Alric were here, he’d probably be curious. He might even ask a question. The Lord of Storms knew his deputy was bold enough for it. But Alric was not here, and the Lord of Storms did not bother with questions. So long as the Lady’s actions didn’t interfere with his hunting, he didn’t much care what she did.

She dug for sometime before going stiff, and then her hands withdrew. The Lord of Storms stood at attention, watching with growing impatience as the Lady pulled something from the sphere. From where he stood, it looked like a root. Like a root, it was long and spindly with branches curling off in all directions, but no root was ever that beautiful, golden color. The thing in the Lady’s hand shone like a river of sunlight, hanging on her fingers with a weight far greater than the Lord of Storms would have expected given its size. A gold vein, he realized at last. An enormous one.

He mulled this over as the Lady lifted the vein to her lips, whispering sounds sweet as pure water across its beautiful surface. As the gold vein shook in delight, the Lady closed her hands, pressing the vein into the skin of her fingers. No, not her fingers. The Lady was holding something.

The Lord of Storms scowled. It looked almost like a soap bubble, a translucent, shimmering sphere no larger than the top joint of the Lady’s thumb. She pushed the gold vein into it as he watched. The Lord of Storms wouldn’t have thought the thing would fit into such a small, delicate space, but the vein entered willingly, singing to the Lady all the while in a heavy, ringing voice.

When the last golden gleam had vanished, the Lady lowered her hands and turned to face him. She looked tired, he thought, her white eyes nearly gray with fatigue. He scowled. It was dangerous for the Lady to tire herself. Dangerous for her and very dangerous for everyone else. Her temper was deadly when she was tired. Even so, her voice was surprisingly sweet when she spoke to him at last.

I have a task for you.

“I should hope so,” he said, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Your League held together well in my absence. We are ready to act.”

What do I care of the League? The Lady’s voice turned scornful. Did I not just say this was a task for you?

The Lord of Storms stiffened. “What would my Lady have of me?”

A hunt, the Shepherdess said, her white lips turning up in a slow smile. One you’ve been after for a long time now. She reached out for her orb, laying her free hand, the one that wasn’t still cradling the tiny pearl, on the vault of the sky. The time has come to rid the world of the demon’s protégé.

The rush of anticipation left him shaking. “You would let me hunt the Daughter of the Dead Mountain?”

I demand it, the Lady said. You’ve been very loyal, my sword. Even in your rebellion, everything you’ve done has been for me. As a reward, I give you leave to track down this threat at last. She turned, gazing at the world below her fingers. I would have my sphere clean of the demon’s filth before my brother returns.

The Lord of Storms blinked. The Hunter, of course. The days ran together when he was a storm even more than they did when he was a man. In the confusion, he’d forgotten that the Hunter’s day of rest was close at hand. Unlike her other brother, the Weaver, whom she despised, the Shepherdess honored the Hunter. It made sense that he should be the one to finally make her see what the Lord of Storms had been saying all along.

But even if she hadn’t come to her senses, the end would have been the same. Unlike his siblings, the Hunter was a warrior. He would never abide a demon at his back. He would slay the Daughter as soon as he entered the sphere, robbing the Lord of Storms of his rightful prey. But that crisis was averted. Finally, the Lord of Storms would hunt as he had been created to hunt.

“All shall be as you say, Lady,” he said, his deep voice rumbling with pleasure. “I will destroy anything that threatens your sphere.”

The Lady didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she turned away from her sphere and walked to him, reaching up to cup his face in her burning hand. Do it quickly, my Lord of Storms, she whispered, her fingers tightening on his face. Strike down the demon’s daughter and bring me her seed. Bring it to me. Do you understand? It must be large and powerful by now, far too great for your vault. Bring it here and I shall take care of it myself.

The Lord of Storms strained against her burning touch. He wanted nothing more than to take her permission and run, throwing everything into the hunt. But he’d been too long in the company of Alric’s prudence, and he knew the question he must ask just as surely as he knew how much he would regret the asking.

“What of the thief? He still favors the demon’s company. What would you have me do if he gets in the way again?”

Benehime’s fingers froze against him, and the Lord of Storms braced for her inevitable anger. But, though her eyes narrowed, she didn’t strike him or scream. Instead, she stepped back, regarding him with a fury so cold it froze the air.

The thief is nothing, she said, her voice like ice in his ear. Do what must be done. Get the seed, and do not return here or bother me again until you have it.

The Lord of Storms’ face split into an enormous grin of pure, mad joy. So simple, so beautiful, just as it had been at the beginning. At last, after so long, his Lady was back. “As you say,” he rumbled. “So it is done.”

The Lady nodded and turned away, walking back to her orb with small, tight steps, her shoulders set at a furious, bitter angle as she leaned over the sky again. The Lord of Storms barely noticed that she was upset. Already, he was lost in the hunt. With one swipe, he tore his way out of the Lady’s white world, reappearing in his Deputy Commander’s office with a crack of thunder.

To his credit, Alric didn’t jump. He simply turned and looked up. “Well?”

“We hunt!” the Lord of Storms roared, marching to the window. He flung it open, cracking the glass with his force, and leaned into the wind. Outside, those League members not on assignment were gathered in the yard for practice. They looked up as one at the sound of breaking glass and saluted when they saw it was the Lord of Storms. He grinned back, feral as a wolf.

“Drop everything and get to the hall,” he bellowed. “The League hunts the Daughter of the Dead Mountain!”

A shout went up, but the Lord of Storms had already ducked back inside. Behind him, Alric was on his feet, buckling what was left of his golden sword to his hip. “A good meeting, I assume?”

“The best we could have hoped for,” the Lord of Storms said, crossing the room in two long strides. “Come, we’ve work at last.”

Alric nodded and followed the Lord of Storms into the corridor to join the stream of League men already flowing toward the great hall.