Miranda glared at him. “After Renaud’s death, Mellinor rightfully demanded that the land Gregorn had stolen from him, what was now the Kingdom of Mellinor, be returned. However, there were, are, people living on that land, and millions of spirits who would perish if it returned to a sea. I could not let that happen. Yet a spirit without its land is a ghost with nowhere to go, and Mellinor had survived too much to die moments after winning his freedom. So we came to a compromise: Mellinor would leave the kingdom to its new inhabitants, and I would give him a new home using the only vessel large enough for a spirit of his power, my own body.”
“Your body?” Hern gave her a distasteful look, which he made sure everyone saw. “Highly unorthodox, and very dangerous for both spirit and Spiritualist. Your idea, I take it?”
“Yes,” Miranda said. “But then, wouldn’t any Spiritualist risk their life to save a Great Spirit?”
“Their own life, yes,” Hern said. “But have you thought of what happens if you die like that, Miss Lyonette? With a small ocean inside you?” He held up his hand, gesturing with his jeweled rings. “A stone is stable, durable, but humans are fragile creatures. That dog of yours could turn feral and eat you, and in the course flood all of Zarin.”
Gin growled savagely, but Miranda put her hand on his muzzle and yanked his fur until he stopped. When she felt sure he wouldn’t start again, she released her grip and answered Hern as calmly as she could. “I did my best with the options I had. I had to make a choice that night, and I chose to preserve as many lives as possible, spirit and human. What Spiritualist would do otherwise?”
“What Spiritualist, indeed?” Hern said, his voice growing coy and condescending. “You try to play to our sense of pity, to hide your true intention behind pure motives. But we are not so easily fooled as that poor, befuddled water spirit.”
Miranda blinked, astonished by this new attack, but Hern did not let up.
“Do you think we’ve looked the other way throughout your astonishing career?” he said, looking around the Court. “How could we? You came to the Court from a wealthy Zarin family, finished your training in two years instead of the standard three, and from the moment you took your apprentice’s oath, no one would suit you as a mentor save Etmon Banage himself, the new favorite to become Rector Spiritualis.”
Miranda clenched her fists. “I don’t see how any of this has any bearing on—”
“Don’t you?” Hern snapped. “Look again. Your entire life within the Court has been one of achievement and ambition. It’s no secret that Banage is grooming you to be his successor. The special missions he sends you on are all highly irregular, and we won’t even begin to talk about the misappropriation of Court funds in hiring a bounty hunter, one Coriano, to track down Monpress.”
An enormous swell of noise went up at this, and Banage banged his desk for order.
“Hern,” he said, “if you have a problem with my policies, you will bring them up with me personally. In this trial, you will limit your statements to the matter at hand.”
“Of course.” Hern’s tone changed again. He was all sincerity now. “I merely mentioned this ugly situation to give our good Keepers a rounded look at the character of the woman whose fate we are deciding.” He turned back to Miranda. “After all, when her history of ambition and disrespect for Spirit Court regulations are considered, should we really be surprised that, when the opportunity arose in Mellinor to bind a Great Spirit, something no Spiritualist has done since the oaths were codified, Miranda Lyonette seized upon it?”
Gin snarled, and this time, Miranda didn’t stop him. “This is ridiculous!” she cried. “How can you stand there and pull these lies out of thin air? However badly you think of me, what part of my story, of anything that has happened, could make anyone believe what you’re saying? If I were this ambitious monster you make me out to be, then surely I never would have just let Eli escape!”
“Ah,” Hern said, “but that was the deal, wasn’t it? Looking the other way in exchange for his help. Of course, you’d fail in your mission, but who could fault you for failing to catch the famously uncatchable Eli Monpress? Such a small blemish is easily overpowered by the prestige of being the master of a Great Spirit. Frame it that way and suddenly your plan is quite understandable. Just another shortsighted and selfish grab for power hidden under good intentions.”
Miranda looked around in disbelief as the Tower Keepers nodded. “Where is your proof?” she shouted. “My report, Mellinor’s own report, the truth itself, do these mean nothing to you?”