The Spirit Rebellion(34)

Etmon Banage eased his spirit a fraction, and the stones that Miranda and Gin had just gone sailing through folded in again, the window sliding back into place as though it had never moved. Below him, the solemn chamber was in complete uproar. Hern stood by the empty stand, his hands still wreathed in his blue fire spirit, shouting orders. The other Spiritualists weren’t listening. They were busy withdrawing their retinues and helping the poor pair who had tried to confront Miranda get back on their feet.

When Hern realized he was getting nowhere, he marched to the foot of the great bench and glared upward.

“Banage!” he shouted. “Have you gone soft in the head? Why did you let a convicted criminal escape?”

“That window is a priceless part of our tower,” Banage answered matter-of-factly. “The ghosthound was going through it, one way or another. Would you rather I let it be broken?”

“Don’t play that line with me,” Hern growled, pointing a finger wreathed with blue flame. “You knew. You knew she would try to escape!”

Banage arched his eyebrows at the younger man. “You were the one who pushed her into the corner, Hern,” he said. “Miranda is a strong, proud Spiritualist. Is it surprising she pushed back?”

Hern gritted his teeth and lowered his hands, the flames sputtering out. “It makes no difference; she’s a traitor and a criminal now. We’ll hunt her down sooner or later.”

“Perhaps,” Banage said, unfastening his stiff collar. “But your involvement in this matter is at an end, Hern. I suggest you put it out of your mind.”

Hern glared at him. “What do you mean? I’m not finished until that girl’s rings are dust.”

“The pursuit and apprehension of traitors is the sole purview of the Rector Spiritualis.” Banage removed his heavy chain next and handed it to Krigel, who had stepped forward to help him. “Rest assured, I will give this matter the attention it deserves.”

Hern glared murder at him. “I will not let you bury this,” he said, his voice taut. “Do not think this is done, Etmon!”

“I would never allow myself such luxuries,” Banage answered, but Hern was already off, marching through the chaotic hall, his robes flying behind him like fantastic wings. A handful of the remaining Tower Keepers fell in behind him, leaving the room nearly empty.

“Well,” Krigel said when they were gone, “that was a fine fiasco.”

“Yes,” Banage said, sinking back down into his chair. “I seem to have a talent for making troublesome enemies.”

Krigel sniffed. “Any man who wasn’t Hern’s enemy would be no friend of mine.”

Banage nodded absently, staring up at the window.

Krigel followed his eyes. “If you don’t mind my saying, sir, that was very unlike you. What possessed you to do it?”

“What,” he said, “let her escape? It certainly wasn’t the proper thing to do.” He paused, and a thin smile spread across his lips. “Let’s just say it felt more right than letting Hern win.”

“I see,” Krigel said. “And are you saying that as the Rector Spiritualis or as her master?”

“Both,” Banage said. “She made her choice and she chose her spirits. I can’t say I would respect a Spiritualist who chose otherwise, not as mentor or as Rector. Now”—he stood up—“back to work. Tell me, which traveling Spiritualist reported in last?”

“That would be Zigget,” Krigel said. “He stopped in last week and left promptly a day later to investigate reports of spirit abuse by pirates on the Green Sea.”

“Good,” Banage said, nodding. “Notify anyone who asks that Zigget is now in charge of catching Miranda Lyonette and bringing her to face trial.”

“But he’s on a boat by now,” Krigel said. “Even relaying through the towers, it will take weeks to inform him of his new assignment.”

“Too bad,” Banage said. “I suddenly have the strong feeling that no one but Zagget is right for this job.”

“It’s Zigget, sir,” Krigel said.

“Whatever.” Banage shrugged, looking around at the scattered papers and overturned benches. “Put him on it and make sure Hern knows, and get someone in here to clean this up.”

“Yes, Rector.” Krigel bowed.

Banage patted him on the shoulder and walked down the stairs and out of the chamber, running his hand along the wall as he went. Beneath his fingers, the stone tower whispered that the white dog and its master were already outside the city, running south and east across the plains. Smiling, Banage pulled back his hand and started up the stairs, feeling much better than he’d expected to feel.