Miranda eyed the packed crowd. “The return of a banished prince, no wonder everyone’s making such a fuss. Well,” she said and straightened up, “strange goings on or no, I need to get my spirits on that note or we’ll be right back where we started. Follow me.”
She walked up to the wall of backs and, without fanfare, began to elbow her way through. Marion wiggled along behind her, apologizing profusely to the angry people in their wake.
“I could have asked them to move,” she huffed, squeezing between two guardsmen. “Despite the circumstances, you are a guest of the masters.”
Miranda shook her head. “From what I’ve seen of Mellinor, announcing I’m a Spiritualist would be the same as shouting ‘fire.’ I don’t want to cause a stampede.”
As they neared the throne room doors, the press of people grew even tighter, and Miranda’s and Marion’s progress slowed to an agonizing crawl.
“This is ridiculous,” Marion gasped, pressed against Miranda’s shoulder by a pack of guardsmen. “We’ll never get through.”
Miranda pursed her lips, thinking, and then her eyes lit up. “Let me try something.”
She closed her eyes and slumped forward slightly, letting her body relax. With practiced ease she retreated to the deepest part of her mind, the well of power her spirits sipped from, the well that was usually kept tightly shut. She breathed deeply, relaxing her hold just a fraction. The effect was immediate.
The crowd around them shivered and stepped away. It was only a step, but it left just enough room for her and Marion to push through all the way to the golden doors. As soon as they reached the throne room’s threshold, Miranda clamped down again. The small knot of people behind them gave a slight shiver and pressed in again as if nothing had happened.
Marion looked over her shoulder with wide eyes. “What did you do?”
“I opened my spirit,” Miranda said.
“Opened your…” If possible, her eyes got wider.
That was all Miranda had meant to say, but, after that awed display, she couldn’t help showing off just a little. “Opening the spirit reveals the strength of a wizard’s power,” she whispered. “Remember when I told you that a wizard’s true power is control? That’s because all wizards are born with more spirit, more energy than normal people. However, that energy is generally locked away shortly after birth by the child’s own self-defense mechanisms. Having your spirit wide open all the time makes you vulnerable. Spirits are attracted to power, you see, and not all of them always mean you well. With training, wizards can learn to open their spirits, sometimes a little, sometimes all the way, depending on how much power you need to display. This is a vital part of getting a spirit’s attention when you start really working with them.”
“But,” Marion said and frowned, thoroughly confused, “I thought you said you couldn’t control people?”
“Well,” Miranda smiled smugly, “what I just did is more of a trick on my part than any kind of real magic. Normal people can’t feel a wizard’s spirit even if it’s open full blast—not consciously, anyway. However, I’ve found that with just the right feather touch even the most spirit deaf will feel a slight pressure without knowing they feel it, and step away.”
“So,” Marion shivered, “that feeling just now, like someone was stepping on my grave, that was you?”
“Yes,” Miranda said, nodding. “A bit unconventional, but dreadfully handy.”
“Must be,” Marion said. “What would happen if you opened it all the way?”
“Let’s say it would be very uncomfortable for everyone involved.” Miranda smiled. “Come”—she grabbed the librarian’s hand and pushed through the last line of people separating them from the throne room—“let’s do what we came here to do. We’ve wasted too much time as it is.” She tallied the time inwardly and winced. The note was probably dead asleep by now. Still, any clue, anything at all, and this would all be worth it.
Though the crowd was better dressed, the throne room was every bit as packed as the hall outside, and buzzing just as intently. Miranda stood on tiptoe, looking around for the Master of the Courts or anyone who could help her, when she heard the solemn sound of metal on stone. It must have been a signal, for all at once the whispers died out and the crowd fell silent. All attention was now on the tall, slim figure climbing the steps of the dais. When he was one step from the empty throne, he stopped and turned to face the crowd. As his face came into view, Miranda caught her breath.