The Spirit War(167)

“Eli Monpress!” she shouted, interrupting Master Banage midsentence. “Come out now. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Everyone turned in surprise to see what she was pointing at. Across the room, the slumped man heaved a long sigh and looked up.

“Nothing gets by you, does it?” Eli said.

Miranda ignored him, turning to the admiral. “That man is the thief Eli Monpress,” she said. “He must be arrested at once.”

The admiral stared at her, his face strained and white as paper. “Lady Spiritualist,” he said at last. “I fear you are mistaken. That is Lord Eliton Banage, best friend and adviser to King Josef Liechten of Osera.”

For several seconds, Miranda was too shocked to speak.

“Banage?” she said at last. “Eliton Banage?” She turned back to Eli, who was on his feet by this point, neatly picking his way toward them through the lines of the wounded. “Of all the…” She almost couldn’t find the words. “Slanderous, outrageous, presumptuous—” The list dissolved into enraged sputters. “How dare you try and hide behind the name of the most respected wizard on the continent! I don’t care if we’re at war or if the Empress is coming up the stairs as we speak, I’m taking this criminal in right now. Master Banage!” She turned to face her Rector. “I’ll handle this. He won’t…”

Her voice trailed off when she saw Master Banage’s face. He was standing perfectly still, his eyes open so wide she could see the whites all the way around. He was staring at Eli like another man might stare at a corpse suddenly come to life.

“There is no slander,” Banage said, his voice thin and almost trembling. “It’s been a long time, Eliton.”

“Fifteen years,” Eli said, stepping up to stand beside Josef.

Miranda couldn’t even speak. She just stood there, looking from Banage to Eli and back again. “Impossible,” she whispered. “Impossible. There is no way—”

“Miranda,” Banage said, his voice suddenly as sharp as a razor. “Go downstairs and command the front until I return.”

Miranda blinked. “What?”

“Now,” Banage snapped.

She stared at him stupidly as the command sank in. Then, without a word, Miranda obeyed. She turned and walked down the stairs, the click of her boots and the moans of the wounded the only sound in the tower. She didn’t stop walking until she reached the edge of the sea wall. She stood on the precipice, staring out into thick fog, her mind whirring so fast she didn’t even notice Gin until the ghosthound pressed his nose into her back.

“Eli is Master Banage’s son.” The words tumbled out of her before she could stop them.

“Really?” Gin said, sitting down beside her. “I always thought they smelled kind of similar.”

“This has to be some kind of joke,” Miranda went on as though she hadn’t heard him. “Master Banage is a man of duty and integrity. I’ve never heard him tell a lie, and I don’t even think he’s capable of stealing. Eli is the most irresponsible, conniving, sleazy excuse for a wizard I’ve ever met. How can they possibly be related?”

“Morality isn’t an inherited trait,” Gin said, flicking his ears. “Look at things objectively and it’s really not surprising. I mean, they’re both dark haired, tall for humans, thin built, and powerful wizards.”

Miranda didn’t even want to go down that path, but now that Gin had put the idea in her head, her mind would not stop finding similarities. The way Eli and Master Banage both talked with their hands, for instance, or the particular way their eyes would narrow when they were angry. The little details kept coming, piling up until even her outrage couldn’t overpower the mountain of evidence.

“Powers,” she muttered, flopping against Gin. “Why didn’t Master Banage just tell me?”

Gin snorted. “Can’t blame him. Can you imagine anyone willingly owning that thief as a son?”

Miranda rubbed her eyes. “I don’t even know anymore. I can’t believe—”

She stopped when she felt Gin’s paw nudge into her side. The ghosthound was looking over his shoulder. Miranda turned as well and saw one of the young Spiritualists, a girl whose name she couldn’t remember, standing timidly several feet away with a look on her face that screamed, I have an important message but I’m too shy to interrupt.

Miranda sighed. “What?”

“Spiritualist Lyonette,” the girl said, bowing low even though she and Miranda were technically the same rank. “Someone’s approaching from the city.”