Still, she was careful not to let her unease show, smiling warmly as she steered Gin to a stop at the base of the tower steps.
“Spiritualist Krigel,” she said, bowing. “What’s all this?”
Krigel did not return her smile. “Spiritualist Lyonette,” he said, stepping forward. “Would you mind dismounting?”
His voice was cold and distant, but Miranda did as he asked, sliding off Gin’s back with a creak of protesting muscles. The moment she was on the ground, the young, robed Spiritualists fanned out to form a circle around her, as though on cue. She took a small step back, and Gin growled low in his throat.
“Krigel,” Miranda said again, laughing a little, “what’s going on?”
The old man looked her square in the eyes. “Spiritualist Miranda Lyonette, you are under arrest by order of the Tower Keepers and proclamation of the Rector Spiritualis. You are here to surrender all weapons, rights, and privileges, placing yourself under the jurisdiction of the Spirit Court until such time as you shall answer to the charges levied against you. You will step forward with your hands out, please.”
Miranda blinked at him, completely uncomprehending. “Arrest? For what?”
“That is confidential and will be answered by the Court,” Krigel responded.
“Powers, Krigel,” Miranda said, her voice almost breaking. “What is going on? Where is Banage? Surely this is a mistake.”
“There is no mistake.” Krigel looked sterner than ever. “It was Master Banage who ordered your arrest. Now, are you coming, or do we have to drag you?”
The ring of Spiritualists took a small, menacing step forward, and Gin began to growl louder than ever. Miranda stopped him with a glare.
“I will of course obey the Rector Spiritualis,” she said loudly, putting her hands out, palms up, in submission. “There’s no need for threats, though I would like an explanation.”
“All in good time,” Krigel said, his voice relieved. “Come with me.”
“I’ll need someone to tend to my ghosthound,” Miranda said, not moving. “He is injured and tired. He needs food and care.”
“I’ll see that he is taken to the stables,” Krigel said. “But do come now, please. You may bring your things.”
Seeing that that was the best she was going to get, Miranda turned and started to untie her satchel from Gin’s side.
“I don’t like this at all,” the ghosthound growled.
“You think I do?” Miranda growled back. “This has to be a misunderstanding, or else some plan of Master Banage’s. Whatever it is, I’ll find out soon enough. Just go along and I’ll contact you as soon as I know something.”
She gave him a final pat before walking over to Krigel. A group of five Spiritualists immediately fell in around her, surrounding her in a circle of red robes and flashing rings as Krigel marched them up the stairs and through the great red door.
Krigel led the way through the great entry hall, up a grand set of stairs, and then through a side door to a far less grand set of stairs. They climbed in silence, spiraling up and up and up. As was the tower’s strange nature, they made it to the top much faster than they should have, coming out on a long landing at the tower’s peak.
Krigel stopped them at the top of the stairs. “Wait here,” he said, and vanished through the heavy wooden door at the landing’s end, leaving Miranda alone with her escort.
The young Spiritualists stood perfectly still around her, fists clenched against their rings. Miranda could feel their fear, though what she had done to inspire it she couldn’t begin to imagine. Fortunately, Krigel appeared again almost instantly, snapping his fingers for Miranda to step forward.
“He’ll see you now,” Krigel said. “Alone.”
Miranda’s escort gave a collective relieved sigh as she stepped forward, and for once Miranda was in complete agreement. Now, at least, maybe she could get some answers. When she reached the door, however, Krigel caught her hand.
“I know this has not been the homecoming you wished for,” he said quietly, “but mind your temper, Miranda. He’s been through a lot for you already today. Try not to make things more difficult than they already are, for once.”
Miranda stopped short. “What do you mean?”
“Just keep that hot head of yours down,” Krigel said, squeezing her shoulder hard enough to make her wince.
Slightly more hesitant than she’d been a moment ago, Miranda turned and walked into the office of the Rector Spiritualis.
The office took up the entirety of the peak of the Spirit Court’s tower and, save for the landing and a section that was set aside for the Rector Spiritualis’s private living space, it was all one large, circular room with everything built to impress. Soaring stone ribs lined with steady-burning lanterns lit a polished stone floor that could hold ten Spiritualists and their Spirit retinues with room to spare. Arched, narrow windows pierced the white walls at frequent intervals, looking down on Zarin through clear, almost invisible glass. The walls themselves were lined with tapestries, paintings, and shelves stuffed to overflowing with the collected treasures and curiosities of four hundred years of Spiritualists, all in perfect order and without a speck of dust.