Nonsense, love, Benehime said, taking his hand. What would you do with such a thing? Besides—she kissed his cheek—no one could ever want you more than I do. Now come, it’s time to go home.
“But we just got here!” Eli said, trying to tug his hand away.
Before he’d finished his sentence, they were back in Benehime’s white nothing.
Now, she said, sitting him on the little silk bed she’d ordered the silkworms to spin just for him. Wait here and don’t move. I have to take care of something, but I won’t be long.
Eli glared. “Where are you going? And why can’t I come with—”
Eliton.
Benehime’s voice was sharp, and Eli shut his mouth sulkily. She smiled and folded her hands over his.
I’ll be back soon, she whispered, kissing his forehead. Wait for me.
Eli squirmed away, but the Lady had already vanished, leaving him alone in the endless white. He sat down with a huff and began picking at his pillow with his fingernails while he counted the seconds in his mind. When he’d sat just long enough to be sure she was really gone, Eli reached out with a grin and tapped the air. At once, a thin, white line appeared. It fell through the empty space, twisting sideways as it opened into a hole just wide enough for him to crawl through. Grin widening, Eli leaned forward and slipped through the veil after the Shepherdess.
She was easy to follow. Everywhere the Shepherdess went, the world paid attention. All he did was follow the trail of bowing spirits. The first few times he’d tried this she’d caught him easily, but Eli had learned over the past few months that if he kept himself very quiet, Benehime didn’t always see him. And so, keeping himself very still and very silent, Eli slipped through the world until he saw the Lady’s light shining through the veil. He stopped a few feet away, lowering himself into the dim shadows of the real world before opening the veil just wide enough to peek through.
What he saw on the other side confused him. When the Lady had left so suddenly, he’d thought for sure she was going to some spirit crisis. A flood maybe, or a volcano. Something interesting. But peeking through the tiny hole, he didn’t see anything of the sort. Benehime was standing in a large, dirty study, her white feet resting on a pile of overturned books. In front of her, a thin, old man sat on a single bed. The sheet was thrown back as though he’d gotten up in a hurry, but his eyes were calm as he faced the Shepherdess, his large jeweled rings burning like embers on his folded hands.
Eli frowned. Why was Benehime visiting a Spiritualist? She disliked the stuffy, meddling wizards even more than he did. Yet the man was almost certainly a Spiritualist. No one else wore jewelry that gaudy. And the study they were standing in was clearly the upper level of a Spiritualist’s Tower. It looked just like his father’s, Eli thought, though Banage would never let his room get so cluttered. He never allowed anything to fall short of his expectations, the old taskmaster. Eli glowered at that, but before he could fall into thinking about all the things his father had done wrong, the old Spiritualist spoke.
“You’re her, aren’t you?” he said, his voice full of wonder. “The greatest of the Great Spirits?”
I am no spirit.
Benehime’s voice was so cold and cruel it took Eli several seconds to recognize it. She leaned over as she spoke, bending down until her eyes were level with the old man’s. Her presence saturated the air, cold and heavy as wet snow, but the man didn’t even flinch.
Who told you?
“Doesn’t matter now,” the Spiritualist said, waving his hand, his rings glittering with terror in the Lady’s harsh, white light. “You’re here, and I have questions.”
Typical human arrogance, Benehime said, crossing her arms. To think I would answer your questions.
“If we are arrogant, it is you who made us so, Benehime,” the old man said, his voice growing every bit as sharp and cold as hers. “We are your creation, after all. Or, should I say, your distraction.”
Benehime sneered, her beautiful face twisting into a terrible mask. It seems the whispers of treason were grossly understated. I came here to silence a spirit who didn’t understand my very simple doctrine of silence and find a full-blown rebellion. Tell me, human, when those spirits who’ve stupidly thrown their lot in with you were spilling my secrets, did they also tell you that the price for such knowledge was death?
“And what do I have to fear of death?” the Spiritualist said. “I am old, my life well lived. I have spent sixty years in duty to the spirits. I consider it an honor to die asking the questions they cannot.”
With that, the old man pushed himself off the bed. He creaked as he stood, rings burning on his fingers as his spirits poured their strength into his fragile old limbs. When he spoke again, his voice was threaded with the voices of his spirits.