The Spirit Rebellion(143)
“Your concern is touching,” Monpress said, “but I’ve still a little unfinished business here. Anyway, even your quiet escapes are too flashy for me.”
“Suit yourself,” Eli said. “See you around.”
“Hopefully not,” Monpress answered, but Eli and Josef were already splashing across the soggy square. They vanished down a side street headed toward the north gate, where the panicked crowds of people, who had fled to the city border the first time the city went mad, were now surging through the newly opened doors and over the walls, which had shrunk back to their original size and shape on the duke’s death.
When the thief and his swordsman had vanished completely into the dark, Lelbon and Monpress exchanged a polite farewell and went their separate ways, Lelbon down the road toward the river, and Monpress, very quietly, into the citadel. That was the last Gaol saw of either of the Monpress thieves.
CHAPTER 24
Gin raced through the streets and toward the burning square, Miranda clinging to his back, urging him on. Minutes ago, she’d felt the pressure of the duke’s Enslavement vanish completely. Since then, everything had been in chaos. The spirits of the city were rioting in their new freedom, and the entire town seemed to be moving as it saw fit. Mellinor’s water was everywhere, putting out fires, moving through the streets, but the water’s spirit was too large for her to touch now, and their link felt thin and distant. By contrast, her rings felt closer than ever, the connection woven thick and heavy up and down her arms.
A wind rose as she rode, stiff and cold and smelling of the sea, though they were a hundred miles inland. It grew stronger as they went until Miranda could feel it through her clothes, pressing on her skin like a weight. Unbidden, Gin began to slow down, falling from a run to a trot, then a walk, then nothing, standing still on the broad street that opened into the square at the front of the citadel.
“What’s wrong?” Miranda whispered. “Keep going.”
“I can’t,” Gin growled. “The wind is blocking the way.”
Miranda glanced up, staring at the empty road ahead. The wind was to their back now, buffeting ghosthound and rider from side to side. Then, all at once, the air fell still. High overhead, the clouds peeled back, brushed aside to reveal the moonlit sky, and in the stillness, the air grew lighter. Miranda smelled wet stone, salt, and sea storms, and then, without warning, the West Wind itself was upon them.
Though she couldn’t see it, Miranda didn’t need to. Playing host to Mellinor had made her an expert at feeling the special nature of the Great Spirits. Still, even if she’d never met one before, she would have known the West Wind for what it was. There was simply nothing else the enormous spirit surrounding her could be. It was the essence of a sea wind, endless, wet, salt laden, and powerful, blowing ever upward. It covered the city, missing nothing, and yet Miranda could feel its attention focus on her as an approving ripple, almost like a chuckle, ran through the enormous, invisible river of power.
“A pleasure to meet you at last, Spiritualist,” the West Wind said. “You and Mellinor have undone a great wrong against the spirits of this place. For this, you have our gratitude.”
Miranda nodded, dumbstruck. The wind’s voice was like a gale in her head. The words ricocheted off the buildings, garbled, and yet there was no mistaking them for anything other than what they were. When she did find her own voice at last, however, she asked a question.
“What of the duke?” she said. “Did Eli succeed?”
“He did,” the wind said, “and disappeared shortly thereafter. I am sorry, Spiritualist.”
Miranda felt like the wind had punched her in the stomach. She slumped over, letting the crippling feeling of defeat work its way through her. There went her reputation, her ticket back into the Spirit Court. There went her career. Why had she let Eli go off on his own?
“Don’t look that way,” the wind said. “I had Lelbon promise you great rewards for your assistance here, and I keep my word. Already I have sent winds to the Spirit Court Tower in Zarin to speak with the Rector Spiritualis. Banage and I have met before, and I am sure he will listen with an open mind. I have also sent winds to each tower to inform the Keepers of your deeds today, and the great debt I owe you.” Miranda felt something in the wind slide, and she could almost imagine that the West Wind was smiling. “Surely, such words of praise will smooth over any remaining rough politics.”
Miranda could only nod stupidly. Most Spiritualists had only heard of the West Wind in stories. To actually be directly contacted by such an enormous and powerful spirit would be the experience of a lifetime. They’d forgive just about anything for a chance to curry its good favor.