The Spirit Thief Part 4

Marion's face went white as cheese. She thanked the man and hurried back to Miranda. "Lord Renaud is back," she whispered.

"So I heard," Miranda said. "But let's a.s.sume for the moment that I know nothing about this country. Who is Lord Renaud?"

"King Henrith's older brother."

"Older brother?" Miranda frowned in confusion. "Is he a b.a.s.t.a.r.d or something?" brother?" Miranda frowned in confusion. "Is he a b.a.s.t.a.r.d or something?"

"Of course not!" Marion looked mortified.

"Then why did Henrith become king, and not him?" None of the research she'd done on Mellinor had mentioned any variance in the normal lines of succession. Of course, she hadn't had time to do much research in her rush to beat Eli.

"Lord Renaud was first in line for the throne, but then there were, um"-she glanced pointedly at Miranda's rings-"problems."

"I see," Miranda said quietly, following her gaze. "You know, in most countries, having a wizard in the royal family is considered a blessing." Marion winced at the coldness in her voice. "He was banished as a child, then?"

Marion shook her head. "That's usually the way, but not this time. You see, no one knew he was a wizard until a few days after the prince's sixteenth birthday. The old king was furious when he found out, of course, and he banished Lord Renaud to the desert on the southern edge of Mellinor."

"Sixteen is far too old for a manifestation," Miranda said, drumming her fingers against the stone doorway. "A wizard child can hear spirits from birth. It's obvious by the time they can talk that something is off. A prince, especially an heir to the throne, is hardly raised in obscurity. How did no one know?"

"The queen covered up for him," Marion said sadly. "It was no secret that she loved him the most. She wouldn't let the servants near him. She took care of him herself, dressed him and mended his clothes, prepared his meals, and so forth. We a.s.sumed it was because Renaud was the crown prince, since she never did any of that for Henrith. Now, of course, we know the real reason."

Miranda arched an eyebrow. "So how did it come to light?"

"The queen had a weak heart," Marion said sadly. "It got worse as she grew older, and finally there was nothing the doctors could do. She died on Renaud's birthday. They say the prince went mad with grief after that, his mother had been his whole world, and with him going on like that, there was no hiding what he was. He was banished before the week was out, and Henrith was made crown prince in his place." Marion leaned on the wall beside Miranda. "Of course, this all happened years ago, well before I came to the palace. I've seen Lord Renaud only once, when the king drove him out of the city."

Miranda eyed the packed crowd. "The return of a banished prince, no wonder everyone's making such a fuss. Well," she said and straightened up, "strange goings on or no, I need to get my spirits on that note or we'll be right back where we started. Follow me."

She walked up to the wall of backs and, without fanfare, began to elbow her way through. Marion wiggled along behind her, apologizing profusely to the angry people in their wake.

"I could have asked them to move," she huffed, squeezing between two guardsmen. "Despite the circ.u.mstances, you are are a guest of the masters." a guest of the masters."

Miranda shook her head. "From what I've seen of Mellinor, announcing I'm a Spiritualist would be the same as shouting 'fire.' I don't want to cause a stampede."

As they neared the throne room doors, the press of people grew even tighter, and Miranda's and Marion's progress slowed to an agonizing crawl.

"This is ridiculous," Marion gasped, pressed against Miranda's shoulder by a pack of guardsmen. "We'll never get through."

Miranda pursed her lips, thinking, and then her eyes lit up. "Let me try something."

She closed her eyes and slumped forward slightly, letting her body relax. With practiced ease she retreated to the deepest part of her mind, the well of power her spirits sipped from, the well that was usually kept tightly shut. She breathed deeply, relaxing her hold just a fraction. The effect was immediate.

The crowd around them shivered and stepped away. It was only a step, but it left just enough room for her and Marion to push through all the way to the golden doors. As soon as they reached the throne room's threshold, Miranda clamped down again. The small knot of people behind them gave a slight shiver and pressed in again as if nothing had happened.

Marion looked over her shoulder with wide eyes. "What did you do?"

"I opened my spirit," Miranda said.

"Opened your..." If possible, her eyes got wider.

That was all Miranda had meant to say, but, after that awed display, she couldn't help showing off just a little. "Opening the spirit reveals the strength of a wizard's power," she whispered. "Remember when I told you that a wizard's true power is control? That's because all wizards are born with more spirit, more energy than normal people. However, that energy is generally locked away shortly after birth by the child's own self-defense mechanisms. Having your spirit wide open all the time makes you vulnerable. Spirits are attracted to power, you see, and not all of them always mean you well. With training, wizards can learn to open their spirits, sometimes a little, sometimes all the way, depending on how much power you need to display. This is a vital part of getting a spirit's attention when you start really working with them."

"But," Marion said and frowned, thoroughly confused, "I thought you said you couldn't control people?"

"Well," Miranda smiled smugly, "what I just did is more of a trick on my part than any kind of real magic. Normal people can't feel a wizard's spirit even if it's open full blast-not consciously, anyway. However, I've found that with just the right feather touch even the most spirit deaf will feel a slight pressure without knowing they feel it, and step away."

"So," Marion shivered, "that feeling just now, like someone was stepping on my grave, that was you?"

"Yes," Miranda said, nodding. "A bit unconventional, but dreadfully handy."

"Must be," Marion said. "What would happen if you opened it all the way?"

"Let's say it would be very uncomfortable for everyone involved." Miranda smiled. "Come"-she grabbed the librarian's hand and pushed through the last line of people separating them from the throne room-"let's do what we came here to do. We've wasted too much time as it is." She tallied the time inwardly and winced. The note was probably dead asleep by now. Still, any clue, anything at all, and this would all be worth it.

Though the crowd was better dressed, the throne room was every bit as packed as the hall outside, and buzzing just as intently. Miranda stood on tiptoe, looking around for the Master of the Courts or anyone who could help her, when she heard the solemn sound of metal on stone. It must have been a signal, for all at once the whispers died out and the crowd fell silent. All attention was now on the tall, slim figure climbing the steps of the dais. When he was one step from the empty throne, he stopped and turned to face the crowd. As his face came into view, Miranda caught her breath.

After Marion's story, she wasn't sure what she was expecting. A bitter, weather-worn exile, perhaps, or a smug, spoiled prince enjoying his triumphant return. Whatever she'd expected, the man standing on the dais was nothing like it. He was, however, undoubtedly a prince. Tall and handsomely dressed in a dark-blue coat, he projected the confidence of someone used to being obeyed. A waterfall of golden hair hung down his back, swaying gently as he bowed low to the crowd. His fine-featured face was almost feminine in its beauty, and Miranda swallowed despite herself. He certainly didn't look like someone who'd spent the last ten years exiled in the desert.

The golden prince looked out over the sea of people, a benevolent and humble expression on his lovely face. He held up his hands in a welcoming gesture. Miranda could almost feel the crowd leaning forward to drink him in as he began to speak.

"Citizens of Mellinor!" His voice rang out through the enraptured room. "I come before you as a criminal and an exile. Many have asked me how, seeing this, I come to stand before you today, and so, first, before you all, I must confess. Eleven years ago, I was banished for being born a wizard, in accordance with the ancient law. Yet, despite this, and because of the deep love I bear this country, for the past eight years I have disobeyed my father's order and lived among you. For Mellinor's sake, I have lived nameless, a pauper among paupers. I was here four years ago when my younger brother, Henrith, took the throne, and I cheered him in the streets alongside you, without jealousy or malice. Until yesterday, I was content to live forgetting the duty I was born to and denying the curse that took my crown if that was what was needed to stay here, in my home. But yesterday, when I heard of the atrocious crime that had been committed, not just against the throne of Mellinor, but against my own flesh and blood, I could stay silent no more."

Renaud leaned forward, his ringing voice heavy with contempt. "You have heard by now that the wizard thief Monpress, wanted throughout the Council Kingdoms for a list of crimes too long to read here, has kidnapped our king. This crime must not go unanswered."

A great cry rose up at this, and Renaud leaned into it, letting it grow. When the noise reached a fevered pitch, Renaud threw out his arms, and silence fell like a knife.

When he spoke again, his words were choked with sorrow. "My friends, I come to you with no expectations, no pleas, nothing but the offer of my service. It was my wizardry that forced this burden upon my younger brother. Let it be my wizardry that ends it. As I was once your prince, I beg you now, let me face this criminal and help save my brother, the only family I have left. Let me serve him as I could not serve you, and I swear to you, I swear on my life that Mellinor will have her king again!"

He threw his fists in the air, and the crowd erupted. The n.o.bles around Miranda clapped and cheered, but their polite noise was drowned out by the crowd in the hall, who hadn't seen such drama in years, if ever. Even the somberly dressed masters were milling about looking impressed despite themselves, and some of the younger ones were cheering just as loudly as the servants.

Marion bounced up and down on her toes. "Oh, isn't it exciting?"

"Quite." Miranda scowled. Something about Renaud's smile as he shook the waiting masters' hands didn't sit well with her. Marion gave her a quizzical look, but Miranda had already begun elbowing her way through the well-dressed crowd.

She ran to catch up. "Lady! Where are you going?"

"To hold him to his words," Miranda said, pushing past a pair of old ladies waving their lacy handkerchiefs at the prince. "He says he wants to help, so I'm going to make him give me that note."

Marion shrank from the nasty looks they were getting, but before she could start apologizing, a boy in page's livery popped out of the crowd right beside Miranda.

"Lady Spiritualist," he said, bowing nervously. "Lord Renaud wishes to meet you right away."

"Well," Miranda said. "That saves some trouble. Lead on."

The page turned and led them away from the crowd to a small door just off the back half of the main throne room. This opened into a small, richly decorated parlor. As soon as they were inside, the page vanished back into the crowd, letting the door close softly behind him.

"Well," Miranda said, dropping into one of the silk couches, "that was all very neat. We were swept up and tucked away before we could cause trouble." She glanced at Marion, who was still standing by the door, looking slightly dazed. "Your Renaud seems to have gained quite a bit of influence in a very short time for a banished wizard prince. His speech wasn't that that good." good."

"Prince is the key word there, I think." Marion sighed, padding across the carpet to take a seat on one of the straight-backed, carved wooden chairs under the window. "With the king gone, Mellinor's been headless. Since our founding, we've never been without a king for more than a day. There's no precedent at all, so it's no wonder the masters are in a panic. I shouldn't say this, but they'd probably follow the king's dog at this point if it could prove a royal lineage." She glanced at the door. "Lord Renaud sure picked the right time to come back. Only in a situation like this could his status as a prince outweigh his stigma as a wizard."

"How very convenient for him," Miranda said thoughtfully.

Marion paled. "Please don't take offense, lady. Stigma's the wrong word. I-"

"It's fine." Miranda smiled. "Don't apologize. You've given me a lot to think about."

"It's just..." Marion pulled at her dress. "I've never had to think about things from a wizard's-Spiritualist! Spiritualist's point of view, and-"

She stopped midbabble and sprang out of her chair. Miranda looked at her, confused, but Marion shook her head fiercely and pointed at the door before dropping into a low curtsy.

A second later, Prince Renaud himself swept into the room.

CHAPTER 8.

He was alone, which struck Miranda as unusual, and he bowed as graciously as any servant as the door drifted shut behind him.

"Lady Spiritualist," he said, "I've very much looked forward to meeting you."

Miranda stood up and bowed as well, hoping Mellinor had no special deviations from common court etiquette. "Lord Renaud, I appreciate your taking the time to see me. There are several things-"

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Renaud said, rolling right over her. "The masters told me you've been up since you got here."

Miranda stiffened. "I appreciate your concern, but time is of the essence. If we are to save your brother, I must have access to the king's original ransom note."

"Oh, it's far too late to question the spirits, if that's what you're after." Renaud smiled sweetly.

"I'll make my own decision on that," Miranda said flatly. "The spirits in that note are our only connection to Eli. If you will not give it to me, then tell me where to find it and I will fetch the note myself, but do not waste my time, or your brother's, with a.s.sumptions about my methods."

Renaud's smile did not waver. "I'm afraid that simply won't be possible."

"Excuse me?" Miranda's glare seemed to lower the temperature in the room. Lord Renaud continued as if nothing had happened.

"The court of Mellinor was in a panic when you arrived, and the officials you bullied into permitting your free reign of this kingdom had no right to grant you the freedoms they did. Now that I have restored order, I'm afraid your a.s.sistance in this matter is no longer needed."

"Forgive me, prince," Miranda said, "but it is not your place to decide my duties. Panic or no, my aid was requested by officials acting on the king's behalf. My duty lies with Henrith now, and only his rescue or death can relieve me of it."

"Your dedication is admirable," Renaud said. "But Mellinor will deal with Mellinor's problems."

"A bold statement." Miranda eyed him. "But how will you go about it? A wizard dangerous enough for a twenty thousand gold bounty is not one to be taken lightly. No matter what boasts you make, you are going to need my help if you plan to face him."

Renaud paused and flicked his eyes pointedly to Marion. The girl, who was trying to make herself as small as possible, froze. He made a slight shooing motion with one finger, and Marion, palace trained as she was, leaped to obey. After a series of overly polite curtsies, she hurried past him and out of the room. Only when the door was shut completely did Renaud continue.

"That's better." Renaud smiled. "As I was saying, your statement might be true, if if we intended to fight him. The masters and I went over the ransom note as soon as it arrived, and we found Eli's demands to be quite reasonable." we intended to fight him. The masters and I went over the ransom note as soon as it arrived, and we found Eli's demands to be quite reasonable."

Miranda stared blankly at him. "You're joking."

"I can a.s.sure you I am not," Renaud said, meeting her gaze levelly.

"Five thousand in cash and thirty-five in bounty pledges? In what world is that reasonable?"

"Is my brother not worth five times as much?" Renaud's glare sharpened.

"You can't just give that, that thief thief what he wants!" Miranda sputtered. what he wants!" Miranda sputtered.

Renaud sighed. "You see, this is precisely why we cannot accept your help. How could we trust our king's life to someone who values it so cheaply?"

Miranda flinched, getting a firm grip on her rage. "It's not about the money," she said, calmly now. "Don't you see this is exactly what he wants? Think about it: by demanding you pledge thirty-five thousand to his bounty, Eli ensures that Mellinor has a hefty stake in keeping him uncaught. He's using this country as a safety net. If you just give in like this, think about what kind of signal you'll be sending other would-be thieves. Eli is an innovator, but he's not the only wizard thief. If he is successful, others will surely follow his lead. Doing this could make Mellinor a target for years to come, and your policy against wizards leaves you helpless."

"But you forget," Renaud said, folding his hands behind his back, "Mellinor has its own wizard now."

"Being born a wizard doesn't mean you have the skills to fight one. What if Eli double-crosses you? Did you think about that? If he decides to take the money and not return your king, do you really think you could stop him?"

"Your concern for our well-being is touching," Renaud said, "but such matters are no longer yours to worry about." He walked casually to the door and held it open. "You'll find whatever provisions you need in the kitchens. If that dog of yours is half of what they say, you should be able to make it over the border by nightfall." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "I sincerely suggest you make all haste. I might not feel so generous tomorrow, should you be caught on our lands."

Miranda stood her ground. "I am not one to be dismissed so easily."

"But you are a member of the Spirit Court," Renaud said, "and you are bound by your oaths not to interfere in internal kingdom affairs. You could be stripped of your position if you push this much further." His smile turned cruel. "Isn't that so, lady Spiritualist?"

It was all Miranda could do not to strangle the smug lordling with his own flowing hair. Her spirits picked up her tension and began to murmur in their gems. For a wild moment, she was on the edge of opening up and showing him the difference between a Court-trained Spiritualist and a self-taught brat. Slowly, methodically, she clamped down on the impulse. She turned and walked out of the room, but when she reached Renaud, she stopped and whispered in a low, cutting voice, "This isn't over."

"No," Renaud whispered back. "I believe it is."

Miranda stomped past him and into the still-crowded throne room, boot heels clicking angrily against the marble. The waiting masters scrambled to get out of her way, which made her feel a hair better, until she heard Renaud politely call after her: "Good day, Spiritualist."

She didn't give him the satisfaction of looking back.

Renaud waited until the Spiritualist was completely out of sight before he shut the door. "Are you sure that was wise?" asked an amused voice from the corner.

Renaud jumped before he could stop himself. "Must you do that?"

Coriano was already sitting on the silk couch when the prince turned, his boots propped up on the low table and his wrapped sword laid across his knees. He gave Renaud a smile and waved at the chair across from him. "Sit."

Renaud remained standing. "You were saying?"

Coriano shrugged and put his hands behind his head. "I was just asking if you didn't come across a little too brash with the whole 'I might not feel so generous tomorrow' bit. I gave you all the information you'd need to trap her with her own vows. There was no need to push her further. Old man Banage taught her how to put up a cold front, but anyone can see she's got a mean temper inside. After that display, I wouldn't be surprised if she really did leave tonight, just to spite you."

"She won't," Renaud said. "One thing I do know about Spiritualists is that they all share the same debilitating sense of duty. If she's been sent here to do a job, she won't leave until it's done." He eyed the man cautiously. "Why do you care? I thought all you wanted was Eli's swordsman."

"Yes." Coriano's bored voice hid a dangerous edge. "But that will be hard if you flub your part sporting with something as volatile as Spiritualist pride." The swordsman's gloved fingers drifted gently along the wrapped hilt of his sword and he gave the prince a sideways look. "You're not the only one who's been waiting for his chance, wizard. If you play games with this, we will gut you before you see us coming."

"Everything is on schedule," the prince said, the words grinding through his gritted teeth. "You mind your end and I'll mind mine."

"Fair enough." Coriano stood up. "We're about to have company, so I'll take my leave. I'll be back when the flag flies, so have my fee ready. Double rate, of course, but considering you'll be the one collecting Eli's bounty when this is over, it hardly matters."