The Spirit Rebellion (7 page)

“I’m glad you think so,” the ash snapped, sliding away from Hern in a sulk. “Considering it was your fault I got burned.”

Hern shrugged. “You knew the risks when you took the oath. Come, enough complaining. What news do you bring?”

The ash made a grumpy sound, but it gathered itself into a neat pile and began its report. “I put myself in Banage’s office, just as you told me. Sure enough, he had the girl brought straight to him. They had quite the
argument.” The ash rippled wistfully. “Now
those
are Spiritualists. Such conviction, and the spirit the girl had in her, I haven’t seen the like since I was rooted in my own forest.”

Hern kicked the tray, and the ash quickly got back on topic. “Banage did just what you said he would. He made the offer and left out all the particulars.”

“And?” Hern prompted.

“And she didn’t take him up on it,” the ash finished. “He cut her off and sent her away before she could deny him outright, but I get the impression she’s not the kind to take the easy road.”

Hern leaned back in his chair, feeling very pleased with himself. “She’ll fight for certain, then. I’d bet money on it.”

“You’ll have to if you want to win,” the ash said. “It’s one thing to scare old Tower Keepers into signing a paper, but something else again to get them to vote against her in front of the whole Court. You’re going to need to put your gold where your mouth is before this is over, I think.”

“Ash doesn’t think,” Hern snapped. “Leave the details to me. Anyway, money won’t be an issue. The duke will be coming into town tomorrow, and this is as much an issue for him as it is for me. In the meanwhile, I want you to go to every Tower Keeper who came into town for this event and invite them over. I feel the need to throw a party.”

“
Every
Tower Keeper?” the ash said. “Master, I’ve been out all day. I can’t spend all night crawling through town bringing your invitations to
every
Tower Keeper. It’s impossible, I—”

“Allio,” Hern said, drumming his fingers on his chair, his rings glittering in the light. “I have twenty-one other
spirits making demands on my energies. It’s very tiring, and I’ve been thinking I should cut the dross. Now, more than ever, is the time to prove yourself useful. After all, I think I have already been kinder than most, keeping you as my spirit even after the unfortunate burning incident. What a shame if I were forced to give you up now, just because you weren’t willing to put in a little extra effort, don’t you think?”

The ash swirled on the platter, making little hissing noises. After a few turns, it stopped and lay flat in a defeated heap. “Of course, Master,” it said softly. “I wouldn’t dream of disappointing you.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Hern said with a cool smile. “Off with you, then.”

The ash bowed and slithered off the platter, disappearing over the balcony’s edge with a soft rasp. Hern, however, was already up, walking into his parlor and yelling for his housekeeper to wake up and prepare the kitchen, for he was going to have guests. Once the old woman was roused, Hern locked himself in his office and pulled out the notes he’d prepared for just such an occasion. Making Banage compromise to save his favorite had been sweet, but this promised to be far sweeter, and his face broke into an enormous grin as he leaned over and began to write out his speech.

By the time the first of the Tower Keepers arrived, he was well into his conclusion and feeling more confident than ever that here, at last, was his chance to take something precious from Banage once and for all. When he dropped his pen and went out to greet his guests, he was all confident smiles and charm, and for once, not a bit of it was faked.

T
he sun was barely over the valley edge when Eli emerged, yawning and disheveled, from the house on legs. As he climbed down the rickety steps, he noticed with surprise that the house was about fifteen feet farther down the dry riverbed from where it had stood the night before. Eli paused a moment, wondering whether he should be concerned that he’d slept right through the move, but he let it go with a shrug. Such things were to be expected when you visited Slorn.

On the flat stretch of sand where the house had stood yesterday, Slorn was already hard at work. He was standing still, stroking his muzzle with long, patient fingers. All around him, laid out in a rough circle with the bear-headed man at its center, was an enormous collection of sewing materials. There were bolts of cloth, enormous spools of thread, skeins of yarn, scissors, buttons, needles, everything you could think of to make a coat. For the most part, Slorn just stood there, still as a statue,
but every few minutes he would walk over to one of the objects, a length of silk, say, or a pin poked in a wad of dyed wool, and stare at it hard, like it was the only thing worth looking at in the entire world. He didn’t seem to notice Eli, not even when the thief walked up to the edge of his circle and cleared his throat. Eli, quickly tired of not being noticed, left the craftsman to his flotsam and went to look for his swordsman.

He didn’t have to go far. Josef was on the opposite side of the house, where the dry river had cut below the tree-lined bank. Nico was with him, as always, perched on a flat white stone with her chin in her hands, watching. She was wearing an outfit that must have been Pele’s at one point, a girl’s cut sleeve shirt and matching large-pocketed pants that actually fit, for once. It was a nice change from her usual threadbare attire, but her hard look warned off any compliments Eli might have made before she turned her eyes back to Josef.

For his part, the swordsman paid his audience no attention whatsoever. Despite the cold morning air, Josef was shirtless. He’d taken off the bandages as well, and the wounds from his fight with Coriano stood up in red, puckered lines against his pale, scarred skin. The Heart of War was in his hands, its black, dull blade like a hole in the morning light. He held it out in front of him, the muscles in his arms straining against the weight, as though he’d been holding it like that for a long, long time. Then, without warning, Josef pulled the blade back and swung. The enormous sword moved lightning fast, almost too fast for Eli’s eyes to keep up with it, flying toward the thin trunk of a sapling. Just before it hit, the blade stopped with a whistle of terrified air, its notched,
dull edge quivering less than a hair’s width from the sapling’s smooth white bark. The tree creaked and shuddered, dropping a snow of tiny, white-green leaves to join the growing pile at its base.

“It’s a good thing Slorn’s on the other side,” Eli said, taking a seat next to Nico. “I don’t think he’d like you scaring his trees naked.”

Josef pulled back the Heart to its first position. “Daily training is the breath of swordsmanship.”

“Profound,” Eli said. “But can’t you breathe on something less excitable?”

Josef lowered his sword and looked at him. “Do you mind?”

Eli shrugged and leaned back on the warm stone, watching in silence as Josef prepared to take another swing. As the swordsman moved, Eli couldn’t help but notice how Joseph’s injuries seemed to be dragging on him. Though Josef never flinched or showed any sign of pain, there was a hitch in his movements at the point in the swing when his arm stretched too far, a certain pause in his steady breaths that made Eli supremely uncomfortable.

“Josef,” he said hesitantly, “we’re going to be here for another day at least; why don’t you take a break? Enjoy the scenery or something?”

“I am enjoying it,” Josef said as he swung his sword again at the poor, terrified sapling.

“Why are you training so hard, anyway?” Eli said. “Don’t most swordsmen let their old wounds heal before they start prepping to get their next ones? You beat Coriano. Can’t you let it go for just a little bit?”

Josef stopped midswing and plunged the Heart into the sandy creek bed.

“Eli,” he said, leaning hard on the hilt of his sword, “do you know how I beat Coriano?”

Slightly taken aback, Eli guessed, “Thoroughly?”

“I used the Heart,” Josef said, nodding to the blade. “So, though he is dead and I am alive, I lost. It was the Heart who beat him, not me.”

“But the Heart can’t move without you,” Eli pointed out.

“Don’t mistake the Heart’s power for mine,” Josef said bitterly. He straightened up, pulling the blade out of the sand and returning it to first position. “All my life, I’ve had one goal: to push myself as far as I can go. To be the strongest I can be. If I let the Heart win all my battles for me, then what’s the point of even holding a sword?”

The question didn’t require an answer, and Eli didn’t offer one. Point made, Josef turned his attention back to his sword, preparing for the next swing. Seeing that any further conversation was pointless, Eli shoved his hands in his pockets and walked back toward the house in search of breakfast.

An hour later he was bathed, dressed, and helping himself to a plate of fruit, bread, and whatever else he could find in Slorn’s pantry when Josef and Nico finally came in. The girl took a seat on one of the stools along the wall, but Josef walked straight through the kitchen to the large water barrel, grabbing a bucket from the shelf as he passed. He dipped the bucket in the barrel, filling it to the brim with the cold water and, after a bracing breath, proceeded to dump the whole thing over his head. Eli jumped back with a yelp, dancing away from the flying water as Josef gave himself a shake.

“You’re a wonderful houseguest, you know that?” Eli
said, wiping the water off the table. Josef just shrugged and helped himself to an apple from Eli’s plate. He leaned against the heavy wooden table as he ate, staring through the window. Outside, Slorn was still standing in his circle of sewing materials, his bear head warped to monstrous size by the wobbly glass.

“He gives me the creeps,” Josef said quietly, taking a bite out of what had been Eli’s apple.

“How so?” Eli said. “Is it because of the—” he made a gesture, outlining a muzzle in the air in front of his face.

“More than that.” Josef looked around at the small, tidy kitchen. “This whole place has been giving me the creeps since we came in. Rugs that slide out of the way before you step on them, cabinets shutting themselves when they’ve been left open. It’s not natural. And then there’s the constant feeling that we’re being watched.” Josef grimaced. “It’s like the whole house is alive.”

Well, Eli thought, munching a block of yellow cheese, it had been bound to come up sooner or later. He was only glad he didn’t have to give this explanation in front of Slorn. The bear-headed man was a stickler for particulars, and Josef explanations required lots of glossing over.

“Not alive,” Eli said, “
awake
. Like an awakened sword, only this time it’s cabinets and plates.” He held up his empty breakfast plate. “Awakening an entire house is pretty extreme, but that’s Slorn for you.”

Josef gave him a flat look that was dangerously close to not caring, and Eli tried again. “I know ‘wizard stuff’ isn’t exactly your forte, but try and follow me here. You know about awakened blades, right? Well, this is an awakened house. Unlike a sword, though, a house isn’t just one spirit, but hundreds, maybe thousands, all
working together. That’s how it moves. The legs work with the supports, which work with the nails, which work with the hearth. None of these could move the house on its own, but together they’re far more powerful. The secret is getting them to work as a team. It’s called ‘spirit unity,’ and it’s a very secret and well-guarded Shaper wizard technique. Even I don’t know exactly how Slorn does it, especially with so many small, sleepy, mundane spirits. I’ve tried asking, but he bites my head off every time I bring it up, something about respecting Shaper secrets.”

“So Slorn’s a Shaper,” Josef said, looking out the window. “I’ve heard stories, but I’ve never met one.”

“And you’re not likely to,” Eli said with a shrug. “They keep to themselves. Of course, technically, you still haven’t met one. Slorn’s an ex-Shaper.”

Josef’s eyebrows shot up. “What, did he get kicked out?”

“Kicked out or left on his own.” Eli said. “I don’t know which for sure. But I do know it had something to do with how he got that head.”

They both looked out the window where the bear-headed man was still working, this time kneeling in the sand and drawing something with a long stick, muttering to himself.

“How
did
he end up like that?” Josef said softly. “Did the Shapers curse him or something?”

“Powers, no,” Eli said, laughing. “There’s no such thing as a curse. Slorn’s head is his own doing, though, again, I don’t know the particulars. I’ve known Slorn for a long time, but he’s tight-lipped about the past. He’s had that head the whole time I’ve known him, though. All I
know is that it used to be the head of the great bear spirit that watched over these woods. The bear and Slorn made some kind of deal, and Slorn ended up with a bear’s head but a man’s body and mind. I don’t know why he did it, but I know one thing for sure.” Eli pointed two fingers at his eyes. “Those black eyes of his aren’t just for show. They’re bear eyes, real ones, and they can see as spirits see.”

Josef gave him a curious look, clearly not comprehending how impressive this was, so Eli explained further. “You know how wizards are humans who can hear the voices of spirits, right? Well, even the best wizards can’t see the spirit world. We can feel it sometimes, especially if the spirits are very strong, but we can’t see it. It’s like we as a species lack that sense, like our eyes are only half functional, seeing only half of the world. That’s why spirits are always complaining about human blindness, because to them, we are blind. Most spirits don’t even see as we do. Like this table.” He knocked on the heavy wood he was leaning against. “It has no eyes, no sense of vision as we think of it; yet to it, we’re the blind ones. But Slorn’s different.” Eli turned to gaze out the window. “He can see as they see, and that gives him a tremendous advantage as a craftsman. The things he makes are literally on an entirely different level from other goods, even other Shaper stuff, because Slorn is the only human crafter who can actually
see
what he’s doing.”