The Spirit War(50)
“Think what could happen if we could safely remove seeds from their hosts without killing them. Demonseeds would come forward willingly to be cured instead of running. The League would no longer have to hunt the seeds down or risk fighting them. Who knows? Each seed is an identical shard of the demon of the Dead Mountain itself. If we learn more about them, we might find a way to stop the Dead Mountain from sending them out, maybe even a way to get rid of the demon altogether. This knowledge, Nivel’s knowledge, could be the beginning of the research that saves us from the demon forever.”
The mountain rumbled as Slorn finished, a long, grinding slide of stone on stone that rattled Miranda’s teeth. She barely noticed. This was it. This was why they’d come all this way. If the mountain got behind Slorn’s plan, then this could well be the birth of an age of safety and freedom greater than anything the Spirit World had ever known. Not just freedom from the crippling fear she’d felt at Izo’s and in the throne room at Mellinor, but also freedom for the seeds themselves. Unbidden, her mind flicked to Nico. Despite the company she kept and the wound she’d given Gin, Nico didn’t deserve to be eaten by the demon. Neither had Slorn’s wife. No spirit deserved it, and today she would make sure that, if the first steps toward ending the demon’s infection of the world were not taken, it would not be because she did not try.
All around them, the scenery was changing. The flowering meadow withered and turned brown. Deep snow appeared on the mountain’s slopes, and the sky grew dark as raw iron. Though the air had not changed, Miranda felt colder than ever. Still, she did not move until, at last, the mountain spoke.
“I am very sorry, Heinricht,” it said, “but you have wasted your time. I don’t know why you even thought to start this line of questioning, other than sentimentality. You should know better than any that demons are the sole realm of the Shepherdess and her League.”
“But there’s no reason we can’t help.” The words burst out of Miranda before she could stop them. “I’ve seen the League in action, and they are marvelous, but they would have lost at Izo’s if not for Slorn and Mellinor’s help.”
“Who gave you leave to speak, human?” the mountain thundered, sending snow tumbling down its slopes. “Slorn is in disgrace, but he is still a Shaper. You are nothing to me. Why do you think you can raise your voice here?”
“Miranda!” Gin hissed, pressing his paw on her foot.
“No,” Miranda said hotly, shaking her leg free of Gin’s grip. “I’ve had enough of this. I may not be a Shaper, but I am a spirit. It’s my world too. Why shouldn’t I do whatever I can to help it?”
“It is not your place,” the mountain rumbled.
“It is my place!” Miranda shouted back. “I am a Spiritualist! I am sworn on my life and my soul to protect the spirits from harm, and that’s what I intend to do. You say this is League business, but I think it is reckless and ridiculous to leave the entirety of our well-being in the hands of a League we cannot call or control.”
“The League is the only reason our world still exists, wizard,” the mountain said.
“And I am grateful!” Miranda cried, shaking off Slorn’s warning hand. “But if they, if you truly wanted to save the world rather than just preserve the status quo, you’d accept our help. If Slorn’s knowledge truly can change the way we deal with demonseeds, if there’s even a chance that this could prevent what happened in the mountains outside Izo’s camp from happening again, then how can anyone say it is not worth trying?”
Miranda stopped, panting. She hadn’t meant to say it that way, but the tirade had burst out of her. Gin was whimpering at her feet, his muscles tensed to grab her and run, even though there was nowhere to run to. Overhead, snow drifted silently from the gray sky, filling the valley in soft drifts until it was up to Miranda’s knees. The snow hid the mountain like a veil, but nothing could dim the mountain’s white, terrible presence. When the stone voice spoke again, its words were even colder than its icy slope.
“And what would you have me do, Spiritualist? Bring seeds here, into my stone, among my people, so that Heinricht can have his little experiments?” It gave a rumbling huff. “You are the one who is being ridiculous. Understand this, if you can: Letting a seed grow, even under controlled circumstances, is the most dangerous, reckless undertaking possible. Even if all of your postulations are correct, and some miraculous cure was found for the demonseeds, it would still not be worth the risk to my stone, my spirits, my people, or my standing with the Powers to pursue it. We have a system ordained by the Shepherdess for the protection of her flock. The Lord of Storms and his League have held back the demon since it was imprisoned. That is enough. Let it alone.”