The Spirit War(34)
Sara shot up from her seat. “I knew it!” she shouted. “I knew this was all just a ploy to—”
“Sara!” Whitefall’s voice echoed through the chamber.
Sara flinched and shut her mouth. Across the room, Banage looked positively triumphant. Whitefall, on the other hand, looked dogged.
“Sara’s achievements support the Council,” the Merchant Prince said, picking his words carefully. “The Relay is what keeps the countries tied together. It’s what makes them need us. Therefore, we need her, and she needs the freedom to innovate.”
“Then it’s time to weigh which need is greater,” Banage said, crossing his arms. “Sara’s secrecy or my Court. I know you are a man who plays with words, Alber, so I will say this as plain as possible. If you want our help, you must change your ways. I will lead the Court toward whatever end supports its purpose. Black as you paint the Empress, her crimes against the spirits are as yet only possibilities. Sara’s crimes are far closer to home. You need my Court? Prove you are worthy of it. Tear down the wall of secrecy Sara has built. Allow my people to inspect the Relay and all other works of Council wizardry, and swear to fix whatever abuses we find. Show the Spirit Court that you deserve our loyalty, and we will follow the Council wherever you need us.”
Sara’s face was scarlet with rage as Banage finished, yet she said nothing. Tesset could see why. Whitefall’s hand was at her wrist, his long fingers pressed into the pressure point. The Merchant Prince was calm, his eyes half lidded as they regarded Banage. Tesset leaned back, watching the old man with interest. When Whitefall had nearly lost his temper earlier, Tesset had been worried he’d misjudged the man. Now he saw with satisfaction that the earlier bluster had been a feint, a ruse to draw out Banage’s real objective just as a swordsman feigns injury to trick his enemy into revealing his finishing strike. But now that he knew what Banage really wanted, Whitefall didn’t seem quite sure what to do with it. Tesset watched him carefully, waiting to see how he would counter. However, when the Merchant Prince finally did answer, even Tesset didn’t see the blow coming.
“I’m afraid you leave me no choice,” Whitefall said, drawing a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. “Give this to him.”
Tesset stepped forward and took the paper. He walked across the chamber to Banage, who accepted the note with a suspicious glare before dropping his eyes to read.
“What is this?” he asked as Tesset returned to his position behind Sara.
“It’s a conscription notice,” Whitefall answered.
“Conscription?” Banage roared. “What is the meaning of this?”
“You’ve put me in a bind,” Whitefall said, his voice growing cold and sharp. “I would like nothing more than to throw open the Council and let the Spirit Court scour every inch of it, but I don’t even need to ask to know Sara’s response. You know as well as I do that her word is final when it comes to Council wizardry, and yet you bring me this impossible request. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted this to fail.”
Banage stiffened. “I want only what I have always wanted,” he said. “Humane treatment for all spirits. If you will not let my Spiritualists inspect the Council’s practices, then I no longer have suspicions. I now know that the Council of Thrones is abusing spirits, and you can’t possibly think I would ally my Court with such a shameful organization.”
“Be that as it may,” Whitefall said. “Take a closer look at that paper in your hand. Like it or not, every member of your order is also a citizen of this ‘shameful organization,’ and it is my right, as written under section three of the Council edict, to order citizens of the Council to war for our mutual defense. If you and your wizards do not comply in full, then, by Council law, I have no choice but to declare you traitors.”
Banage’s face grew very pale, and Whitefall leaned forward. “Don’t be a fool, Etmon,” he hissed. “It doesn’t have to be like this. Join me willingly and I will do everything I can to keep your spirits from harm. I swear it.”
Banage looked the Merchant Prince directly in the eye, but he did not speak. Instead, he raised the conscription notice in the air between them and ripped it cleanly in two.
Whitefall watched tight lipped as the torn paper fluttered to the polished floor. “You realize you’ve just committed treason.”
“One cannot commit treason against an authority he is not part of,” Banage answered. “The Spirit Court was doing its duty centuries before you even imagined the Council of Thrones. We do not answer to you.”