“If you knew he was a wizard,” Miranda said slowly, “why did you leave him alone?”
“Well,” Oban said, wiping his bald head with a handkerchief, “as I said, it was our strongest cell. We took everything off him that looked magical. He didn’t have any rings or gems, nothing like that.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Of course, as soon as we knew the thief was out, we tried to get the king to safety. His Majesty was with us all the way to the throne room, and then he vanished. We searched all the secret passages, all the hidden stairs. By that point, the grounds were crawling with soldiers and every exit was watched. No one saw a thing.”
“This is our only clue,” said the small man to his left, the Master of the Exchequer. He took a small white card from his pocket and slid it across the polished table. “We found it in the rose garden shortly after the king vanished.”
Miranda picked up the card, holding it delicately between her thumb and forefinger. It was cut from a heavy white stock, like a calling card, and at the center, engraved in gold ink, was an extravagant, cursive M. Miranda scowled and flipped the card over. On the back, someone had written Forty thousand.
That was it, no instructions, no threats, just the number written out in small, neat capitals across the lower left corner. Miranda scowled and slid the card back across the table. “I assume he means forty thousand in council gold standards.” She smiled. “A king’s ransom, indeed.”
“We can’t pay it,” the Master of the Exchequer groaned, clutching his bony hands together. “That’s an entire year’s revenue for a small country like ours. We don’t even have that much cash on hand in our own currency, let alone Council standards.”
“But we must have our king back, whatever the cost,” Oban said, landing his fist on the table. “King Henrith is young. He has yet to take a wife or produce an heir, and he’s the last son of House Allaze. We’ve never had any kings other than House Allaze. There’s not even a protocol for this sort of thing. If he vanished, our country would fall into chaos, and that would cost us far more than forty thousand standards.”
Miranda tapped her finger against the polished arm of her chair. “A difficult problem,” she said, “and one that could have been easily avoided. It seems that Mellinor is paying the price for its long unfriendliness toward wizards.”
“It is the law,” said the solemn old man to Oban’s right, the Master of the Courts. “The oldest law in Mellinor, decreed by our first king, a law that we are breaking, I might add, by talking to you.”
“But your first king was a wizard, wasn’t he?” Miranda leaned forward, enjoying the pinched look on their faces. Ruffling stuffy politicians was one of the best perks of her job. “Come now, gentlemen, you can hardly expect an agent of the Spirit Court not to be up on her magical history.”
“If you know that much,” the Master of the Courts growled, “then you already know why he closed Mellinor to your kind. King Gregorn was disgusted by the misuse of power he witnessed at the hands of greedy, arrogant wizards, and he sought to create a country where people could live without fear, where no wizard would threaten us. For that purpose, he led his family and followers to the edge of what was then a great inland sea. In a tremendous act of magic, King Gregorn banished the sea and created a new land, made by magic, yet free of wizardly corruption. This act of selfless bravery took his life. That is why, for four hundred years, we have honored his sacrifice by upholding his law.” The old man closed his eyes. “For Gregorn’s direct descendant to be held for ransom by some wizard thief”—he took a shuddering breath—“it’s only slightly worse than enlisting a wizard to rescue him.” He lifted his chin to face Miranda, glaring snowstorms at her from under his bushy eyebrows. “Rest assured, young lady, were we not in such dire straits, you would never have made it into this castle.”
“Had I been in this castle,” Miranda said dryly, “you wouldn’t be in such dire straits.”
All three men glowered, and she gave them a scalding look. “I think you’ll find that wizards have changed in the years since your country was founded. The Spirit Court exists to maintain a balance between the power of man and spirit, and to prevent wizards from abusing their gifts. So, as you see, the Spiritualist’s purpose and your Gregorn’s dream are dissimilar in method but not in substance. We both want to keep the world safe from people like Eli.”
The overdressed men shifted uncomfortably, and Miranda saw her chance. “Here’s my offer,” she said. “I will get your king back for you, and, in exchange, you will let me work unhindered. When I return your monarch, you must promise me that he will allow envoys from the Spirit Court and consider welcoming our Spiritualists into his kingdom.”