The Spirit War(33)
“It’s less what I want and more what we need, Banage,” Whitefall said, lacing his fingers together. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now, but I’ll tell you formally: War is coming. Twenty-six years after we drove her fleet back to the ocean, the Immortal Empress is on the move again, and we have precious little time. If our continent is to survive this assault, we must stand together. All of us. Even you.”
Banage’s eyes narrowed. “The Spirit Court is a peaceful organization dedicated to the protection of the spirit world. We do not go to war.”
“And I am head of a trade coalition dedicated to beneficial coexistence and mutual profit,” Whitefall said with a shrug. “These are times of extraordinary threat. We must all reach outside our normal parameters.”
“And you’re demanding my help?” Banage sneered.
“I’m asking for it, yes,” Whitefall said. “I’m asking for everyone’s help.” He leaned forward, cool affection gone. He was staring earnestly at the Rector Spiritualis, and when he spoke again, his voice was full of real emotion. “I shouldn’t have to explain this to you, Etmon. You fought with us in the last war against the Empress, you know how bad things could get. We may never have seen eye to eye on everything, but I know you care about what we’ve built. This war could destroy all of that—the Council, the Spirit Court, everything. The Empress isn’t coming to expand her borders or seek a treaty. She’s coming to conquer. If we’re going to stop her, we must find a way to work together.”
He ended with his hands on the table, eyes locked on Banage. On his side of the room, the Rector Spiritualis sighed.
“I understand what you’re saying, Alber,” he said quietly. “But the Spirit Court is not a political organization. We have worked together with the Council many times to our mutual benefit, but war is different. We serve the spirits, the land itself, and the land does not care who rules it. I cannot ask my Spiritualists to violate their oaths and put their spirits in danger to defend your borders.”
“This isn’t about borders,” Whitefall said, his voice growing heated. “Do you think the Immortal Empress is going to let the Spirit Court continue to operate? You were with Sara and me on the beach at Osera when her wizards dropped their flaming war spirits on our heads. Do you think a woman who uses that kind of force is going to sit back and let you keep running your towers as you see fit?”
Banage lifted his chin. “Perhaps.”
“Perhaps?” Whitefall repeated sharply. “That wasn’t how you felt last time.”
“It is because I fought then that I cannot ask my wizards to fight now,” Banage said. “How many times must I say it? Our duty is to our spirits, not your Council. Our oaths are built on a trust deeper than anything your spirit-deaf mind can imagine. I lost two spirits in the war with the Empress. I will not make my Spiritualists go through that pain as well.”
“We all lost friends in the war,” Whitefall said. “I lost an entire legion in one night alone when Den the Traitor turned against us. Every single one of those men had a soul, had a mother, had a family. Are you saying your spirits’ lives were worth more than theirs?”
“Men fight for countries,” Banage said. “They choose to risk death in the name of their cause. But spirits have no countries or causes. This is their world, we are the interlopers. We have no right to drag them from their sleep into our petty conflicts. You are a leader of men, Alber. It is right for you to be concerned with their struggles. But I am a custodian of the Spirit World. If I compromised that position for human interests, I would be unworthy of the name Spiritualist.”
Whitefall heaved an enormous sigh and collapsed back into his chair. “What will it take, Etmon? What can I do to bring you over?”
Banage tilted his head, and his eyes took on a gleam that Tesset knew well. He’d seen it on every fighter: the look that came just before the finishing blow.
“The Spirit Court exists to ensure the greatest good for all spirits,” Banage said. “I was very young when we first fought the Empress, and I thought, as young people do, that the enemy was evil because she was our enemy. That we were right and she was wrong. But I am no longer young or naive, and I’m no longer sure that I am on the right side.”
“That is very close to treason,” Sara said, but she fell silent when Whitefall put out his hand.
“We are the right side, Banage,” Whitefall said earnestly.
“Are you?” Banage said, his eyes flicking to Sara. “Then why does the Council hide its business with spirits down in its bowels? Why is its head wizard allowed to do as she pleases without Spirit Court oversight?”