The Spirit Rebellion(33)

“There.” Miranda pointed at the high windows.

“It’s too narrow,” Gin snapped. “We won’t get through.”

“Well, try anyway,” Miranda said, getting a death grip on his fur.

Gin growled and dropped into a crouch. She could feel his muscles tensing, gathering strength, and then, in a single, explosive motion, he jumped. Miranda had never seen him jump like this. It felt as if they were flying. They soared over the benches, over Hern, who could only watch openmouthed, lifting his flame-ringed hands too late. Gin and Miranda flew past Banage, and Miranda turned to catch one last glimpse of her mentor. What she saw, however, was not what she’d expected. Despite the fiasco going on in his Court, Banage had not moved. He simply sat there at his seat, watching her. Then, without warning, he smiled, and his spirit welled up around her.


She’d felt him open his spirit wide before, but this was different. The stones on his chain of office glowed like sunlight, and Miranda’s bones hummed with power. Not just Banage’s power, but the power of the Rector Spiritualis, the wizard tied to the interconnected spirit of the Spirit Court’s tower and the great sleeping spirits that lay beneath Zarin itself.

Banage flicked his fingers and the room shook with an enormous groan. It lasted only a second, but it was enough. Ahead of them, the too-narrow window they were flying toward suddenly slid away, the milky white glass that was never meant to open dropping down to let them through. It didn’t stop there, though. Next, the stone that ringed the window began to peel outward, the white marble bending and curling like an opening flower, creating a hole just large enough for Gin. Miranda barely had time to gawk before they were through, soaring out of the tower and into the clear morning air.

For one glorious moment they flew high and free with all of Zarin spread out before them. Then, in a slow, inevitable arch, they began to fall. Miranda felt Gin’s legs kick, then begin to scramble in the empty space, and she realized something was wrong. They were too high, even for Gin, and falling at the wrong angle.

For a single, breathless moment, they tumbled in free fall, the sky and ground swapping places in sickening circles as they hurdled the three stories down toward the cobbled courtyard. Miranda gripped Gin’s fur and opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came. Instead, Mellinor poured out of her. Later, thinking back, she could never recall if she had asked him or if the water spirit had acted on his own, but she had never been so happy to see the impossibly blue water.

Mellinor plummeted ahead of them in a great wave, falling to the pavement below and forming a vast pool of water. She watched, her terror overcome by amazement, as the water shaped itself into a great, floating well a dozen feet deep, or tall, depending on how you saw it, and Miranda realized she had better hold her breath.

Gin hit the pool with a great splash, and it was all Miranda could do to hold on as the force of the water threatened to scrape her off the ghosthound. But Mellinor caught her, his water absorbing the impact. She regained her seating just as Gin’s feet touched the ground. The water held them a moment longer, until Gin had his balance, and then, with a heady rush, Mellinor poured back into Miranda. She went stiff, gasping for breath as the water spirit returned to her, and she would have fallen off if her fingers had not already been tangled in Gin’s fur so tightly. Then Mellinor was back where he always was and they were standing in the courtyard, dry and safe, with the sound of spirits clamoring above them.

Gin didn’t give Miranda time to assess the situation. As soon as the water was gone, he burst forward, nearly running over a handful of gawking people. Miranda could only hold on and keep her head down as the ghosthound jumped the wall that separated the Spirit Court from the rest of the city. No one tried to stop them as they ran through the busy streets and made a beeline for the southern wall.

“We’ll hit the south fields,” Gin said, his voice barely audible over the rush of the wind and cries of the people forced to jump out of their way. “Make a show. Then when Zarin’s out of sight, we’ll circle back east and lose ourselves in the farmland. Lots of hiding places there. We can rest and decide where we’re actually going.”

Miranda nodded against his fur, happy to let him decide. She looked down at her fingers knotted in Gin’s fur, at the rings that pressed into her skin. Then she looked back over her shoulder at the great tower of the Spirit Court standing straight and white over the city. She regretted it immediately as a surge of emotion choked her throat, and she ducked her head, burying her face in Gin’s neck. She did not look at anything again until they were far, far away.