Miranda clenched her fists, her rings glowing like torches on her fingers. “I will not abandon my oaths,” she said fiercely. “And I will not abandon Master Banage.”
Sara and Blint both started to speak, but the Merchant Prince cut them off with a wave of his hand. He turned in his chair to look at Miranda directly, and when he spoke, his voice was kind and genteel. “I understand you’ve been through a lot lately, and this may all be a bit much. Please know that I admire your loyalty. I wish I had someone on my staff half as willing to stand up for me as you do for Banage, but a lot has changed since you last left Zarin.”
He stood up and walked around his desk, taking Miranda gently by the arm as he turned her back to the window. “Look there,” he said softly, pointing down, toward the streets. “Do you see those soldiers?”
Miranda nodded. She could hardly miss them. The streets of Zarin were full.
“Three days ago I called in the pledges for the first time in Council history,” Whitefall said. “Three days, Spiritualist, and already we have so many men ready to defend their homes. Every country in the Council is sending its army to help defend the whole against the Empress. Several of those men down there are conscripts, boys taken from their mothers’ skirts. Most have never even seen the coast they are going to defend.” He looked down at her, his eyes sad. “Banage told me he would not force the spirits to fight a war that has nothing to do with them, but those young men are here to fight a war that ostensibly has nothing to do with them either. Even so, here they are. They have come to fight because their countries have spent the last two and a half decades benefiting from the Council, and the time has come to pay.”
Miranda stiffened. “The Spirit Court is not part of the Council of Thrones.”
“No,” Whitefall said. “But the Rector has had a place at our meetings since the beginning. The Court has benefited from the peace and prosperity of the Council as much as any country. Maybe more. But even if the Court was as fully aloof as you claim, you and Banage and every Spiritualist who serves the Court were born on what is now Council land. Spiritualists you may be, but that membership doesn’t change the fact that you are all citizens of the Council, and you are beholden to the same rules that govern everyone else.”
Miranda stepped away. Though the Merchant Prince had not said it, she could read his meaning plainly. “You mean to conscript us too?” she said softly.
“Not ‘mean to,’ ” Whitefall said. “I have. I delivered the order to Banage himself, and then he tore it up, threw it in my face, and sealed his Tower. Do you know what we call that, Spiritualist Lyonette?”
Miranda began to tremble. “Treason?”
“Treason.” Whitefall nodded. “It is a mistake to think that your duty to the Court outweighs all others, my dear. Tower Keeper Blint here understands that. So do the other Spiritualists who have chosen to fight for their homes and way of life. They understand that if we continue to divide ourselves, the only person who will triumph is the Empress.”
“Merchant Prince,” Miranda said. “I understand what you’re saying, but if Master Banage refused, I’m sure he had good reason.”
“Really?” Whitefall said, his voice low. “How sure?”
“Absolutely,” Miranda said, drawing herself up. “You may call it treason, but we must follow our oaths to the Court and our spirits above all other obligations. Master Banage understands this better than any Spiritualist I’ve ever known.”
“I’m sure he does,” Whitefall said. “That’s why I’m sending you back to him with a compromise.”
Miranda blinked. “What?”
“A compromise,” Whitefall said, his stern face breaking into a smile. “I realize you Spiritualists don’t have much knowledge of the concept, but they can be very useful.”
“But you just said Master Banage was a traitor,” Miranda said, staring at him.
“He is,” Whitefall said. “But he doesn’t have to remain one. Listen, child, no one wanted things this way less than myself. Banage is a hard man. I thought if I laid things out in hard terms he would see reason, but all I managed was to divide the Court, which was the last thing I wanted.” He tightened his hand on her arm. “I don’t want Spiritualist defectors. I want the Spirit Court—the whole Court—fighting with us against a common enemy.”
He turned Miranda around to face him, looking down at her with a sad, serious expression. “I am not a proud man,” he said quietly. “I am not afraid to eat my own words if that’s what’s best for the Council. If the Spirit Court will agree to help us in this war, I swear that they will be kept in a purely supportive roll—no fighting, no risk to your spirits, no danger to your oaths. In addition, I am prepared to give Banage something he’s been angling at for a long time: a Council law making Enslavement illegal.”