The Spirit War

CHAPTER 7

Miranda stomped five steps across her cell, hit the stone bars, turned on her heel, and stomped five steps back to the wall. She slapped her hand against the smooth, featureless stone before turning around to start all over again. Five steps, slap. Five steps, slap. Miranda gritted her teeth. The endless stomping was stupid, a waste of time and energy, and yet she could not stop. If she didn’t do something with all the rage inside her, she would explode.

Across the hall, Gin shoved his nose through the stone bars of his cell, orange eyes narrowed to slits against the constant white glow that seeped from the mountain’s stone. “Do it,” he snarled. “It’s past time for patience.”

Miranda shook her head and glanced at Slorn. He was sitting as he had been since they’d arrived, cross-legged at the center of his cell. His dark bear eyes were closed against the whiteness, his breathing was deep, and his face was slack, as though he were asleep. It was his ears that gave him away. They stood taut on his head, shifting to follow every sound Miranda made.

He’d been like this since the Guildmaster had locked them in here two days ago, completely silent, no matter how many questions she asked. It was his silence that made her angrier than anything else. She’d followed him here like a little dog, licking up every bit of information he’d thrown her, but now that he’d landed her in prison, he wouldn’t even talk to her. Just thinking about it made her shake with fury, but as much as she wanted to follow Gin’s urging, Miranda held back. It wasn’t the bars that kept her in. Gin could have broken them, she was sure, or any of her spirits could have, for the Shapers had not taken her rings. Once she was free, she was pretty sure that she could find her way out of the mountain if it came to that, but she didn’t try to leave. She couldn’t. Angry as she was, she’d followed Slorn to this mountain to help right whatever was going wrong with the world. Now that they were finally here, she wasn’t about to give up and leave just because things weren’t going like she wanted. Of course, that didn’t mean she was going to forgive Slorn for clamming up on her when she needed him most.

Across the hall, Gin pressed his nose against the stone bars, his tail lashing across the wall behind him. Miranda shook her head again, more firmly this time. Gin snorted and looked away, grumbling to himself. Miranda just took a deep breath and went back to her stomping. It might not help anything, but at least it gave her something to do. So she walked, watching her worn boots slap against the glowing white stone, five steps forward and five steps back.

She was still going two hours later when Slorn finally spoke.

“He’s coming,” Slorn said.

Miranda nearly tripped over her own feet. “What?”

On the other side of the stone lattice, Slorn was getting up. Gin was on his feet as well, his quivering nose pressed against the stone bars. Miranda ran to the edge of her own cell. They’d gotten their food an hour ago, so it couldn’t be time yet for the guard to return. But if she strained she could hear the distant sound of footsteps. One person, coming this way.

Miranda pushed away from the bars and started waking her rings, stirring each spirit. Mellinor was already awake when she touched him. He waited at the bottom of her consciousness, a deep, quiet pool, ready if needed. Gin was pacing in his long cell, his patterns shifting in tight swirls. He kept his head down and his teeth bared, ready to jump the second Miranda gave the signal. Only Slorn was calm. He stood at the door to his cell, arms folded behind him, waiting patiently as the steps came closer.

By the time the footsteps reached them, Miranda was ready. She clung to the barred door, rings flashing, but when the person came around the corner, she blinked in surprise. She’d expected another guard, but it was the Guildmaster himself who walked into view.

He wore a silk robe even finer than the one he’d worn the first time Miranda saw him. He did not look Slorn in the eye when he stopped in front of the bear-headed man’s cell, but his voice was the essence of calm as he addressed them, opening the cells with a wave of his hand.

“The Teacher will see you now.”

And with that, the Guildmaster turned on his heel and marched back the way he’d come. Slorn stepped out of his cell, falling into pace behind the old man. A moment later, Miranda did the same. Gin brought up the rear, stalking along with his head down and his ears flat, growling deep in his throat.

When they’d first entered the mountain, the Guildmaster had taken them down to their cells through a maze of white glowing tunnels. This time, he led them up, following a wide, inclined tunnel that seemed to curve in on itself in a tightening spiral. He did not speak. Neither did Slorn. Miranda had several things she would have liked to say, but she kept her mouth shut as well. After all, it wasn’t like she was going to get an answer.

After ten minutes of climbing, the curving tunnel ended at a wide, circular platform. Miranda looked around, confused. It looked like a dead end, but even as she started to bring this point to the Guildmaster’s attention, the high ceiling slid away with a soft scrape, revealing a long tunnel up through the mountain. Forgetting her dignity for a moment, Miranda gaped openly at the enormous hole that had suddenly appeared above her. It seemed to go up forever, a curved tunnel of pure, glowing white stretching as far as she could see.

She was still gawking when she heard Gin take a hissing breath. A second later, the floor began to vibrate under her boots, and then it started to lift. Miranda gasped and flung out her arms for balance, but it was Slorn who caught her hand and kept her from falling. The bear-headed man held her eyes just long enough for a small, subtle wink before letting her go as the stone platform under their feet rose smoothly into the glowing tunnel. The platform picked up speed as they went, moving faster and faster until Miranda could feel gravity pulling on her bones. Then, as quietly as it had started, the platform slowed. A new, stronger light flashed overhead as a door opened in the side of the tunnel as their platform slid to a gentle stop before the largest, most beautiful hall Miranda had ever seen.

The sheer size of it took her breath away. The hall stretched out forever, larger than the Spirit Court’s hearing chamber, larger than the throne room at Mellinor, larger than the cave below the Council, larger, in fact, than any room she’d ever seen. The stone was the same glowing white as the lower levels, but where it had been smooth down below, here the rock was carved in subtle patterns that played with the stone’s light. Fat pillars dozens of feet across sprouted like trees from the polished floor at regular intervals, rising up to meet the arc of the carved ceiling high, high overhead. The walls curved as well, following the natural slope of the mountain. There were several large doors leading to smaller halls that branched into unseen rooms, but the largest of all was at the other end of the hall, directly across from where they stood. There, a great door pierced the wall of the mountain itself, opening out onto a large, circular balcony that looked down on the sleeping mountains, their snow-covered peaks glittering in the light of the full moon.

Miranda caught her breath. Locked in the mountain, she hadn’t even realized it was night. She also hadn’t realized that the moving platform had taken them so high. They must be close to the mountain’s peak.

The Guildmaster stepped off the platform and into the hall, walking briskly across the carved, glowing stone. Miranda pulled her coat tight around her shoulders and followed. The hall was nearly empty, but those few Shapers who were milling between the great stone pillars stopped to stare as the Guildmaster led his prisoners past them and through the middle of the great, white hall.

Miranda stole glances at Slorn as they walked, but the bear-headed Shaper’s face was carefully neutral. Still, the Guildmaster was far ahead, and she decided to risk it.

“What is this place?” she whispered, careful not to look at him.

“The Hall of the Shapers,” Slorn answered, just as quietly. His muffled voice sounded almost wistful.

Before Miranda could ask what that was, the Guildmaster stopped. They were standing directly in the center of the hall, between the moving platform that had brought them up here and the balcony door. The hall’s center was marked with a circle of raised stone carved in looping patterns that made Miranda’s head swim. The Guildmaster stepped into the circle and motioned for them to do the same. When they were all inside, the Guildmaster stepped out again.

“I don’t know why the Teacher bothers,” he said. “I only hope you do not disappoint him, Heinricht.”

Though he hid it well, Miranda could hear the lingering resentment in the Guildmaster’s voice, and she got the feeling he wasn’t used to being excluded from whatever was about to happen. Slorn, however, looked almost relieved.

“I am already outcast and imprisoned,” he said. “What more can he do?”

The Guildmaster’s face darkened. “Do not take these things lightly. The Teacher’s decision is final, but even he is not without mercy.” The old man leaned in, dropping his voice. “For once in your life, Heinricht, bow your stubborn head and ask the Teacher’s forgiveness. Let me welcome my son home once again.”

Slorn met the Guildmaster’s gaze. “I will do what I have to, father. Just as I always have.”

Miranda’s eyebrows shot up, but before she could comment, the Guildmaster made a sharp gesture and the floor below their feet began to move. She scrambled for balance as the entire circle of stone began to rise upward, taking them with it. She caught one last glimpse of the Guildmaster as the old man’s face fell, collapsing from anger to a look of deep sadness. Then he was gone, hidden by the rim of the rising stone pillar.

She turned to Slorn. “Father?”

“Yes,” Slorn said.

She gave him a look of disbelief. “Your own father locked you up?”

“He is Guildmaster first,” Slorn said. “There will be those among the Shapers who will say he is being too lenient with me, letting me see the Teacher. I am an oath breaker, after all. Shapers are sworn to the Mountain for life, but we ran when Nivel became a demonseed. It doesn’t matter that they would have killed her if we stayed; we both broke our oath as Shapers.”

Miranda folded her arms across her chest. “You could have told me.”

“I could have,” Slorn said. “I could have told you a lot of things, but anything I told you in the cell I would also have told the Teacher.”

“What do you mean?” Miranda said. “There was no one there but us.”

“This is the Shaper Mountain,” Slorn said. “It is always listening.”

Miranda frowned. “Who is the Teacher, then?”

“You’ll know when you see him,” Slorn said.

Miranda bit her lip. She was getting pretty sick of these half answers, but Slorn would say nothing more. In the end, all she could do was watch in silence as the stone above them lifted away, and the rising pillar vanished into the hall’s ceiling with a soft scrape.

They were in another vertical tunnel. Glowing stone surrounded them on all sides, filling the air with cold, white light. The pillar of stone under their feet seemed to have no end. It rose slowly, pushing them farther and farther up into the mountain. Miranda arched her neck, trying to see where they were going, but she saw nothing except the endless white. Still, things were changing. The air was growing colder and thinner, the light brighter.

Just as Miranda was starting to feel light-headed, the platform began to slow. Stone scraped overhead and the white walls of the tunnel fell away, leaving them standing in a brilliant white glare. Miranda covered her face, blinking furiously. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the brilliance, and she saw that they were standing in another enormous, white chamber.

It was smaller than the Hall of the Shapers below, but there were no pillars here, no supports of any kind. Just a perfect circle of stone, white and brilliant as the morning sun on fresh snow, and nothing else.

“There’s no one here,” Miranda whispered. “I thought you said we were going to see the Teacher.”

“Just wait,” Slorn said. “He likes to make an entrance.”

Miranda didn’t see how. The white chamber had no doors save for the stone platform they were standing on. But as she opened her mouth to ask Slorn what he meant, the light went out.

She gasped and nearly fell into Gin. For a heartbeat, the chamber was pitch black. And then, as suddenly as it had vanished, light returned, and everything changed.

Color flooded the walls, a wave of brilliant green, brown, and blue that washed over the stone, leaving mountains, forests, and sky in its wake. The floor underfoot came alive with pinks and yellows, blues, whites, and soft greens, all flowing together in a wash before separating out into thousands of flowers. Suddenly, they were standing in a high mountain field. A stream sprung to life a few feet from Gin’s tail, bouncing merrily down a bed of smooth white stones. Mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks taller than any Miranda had ever seen. Clouds drifted across the perfectly blue sky overhead, and the bright sunlight turned her hair fiery red, but when she held her hands up to the light, there was no warmth in it. The rushing stream threw off no spray and, despite the waving flowers under her feet, she could still feel the cold stone through the soles of her boots.

She looked at Slorn for some explanation, but he was staring across the valley at the mountains beyond. Or, rather, at the one mountain that rose above all others. Almost half again as tall as the next tallest peak, the Shaper Mountain stood before them in all its majesty. Its summit scraped the clear blue sky like a white knife. Its snowy slope was the same as Miranda had seen from Knife’s Pass, but there was no sign of the windows and balconies of the Shapers, nor was there any sign of Knife’s Pass itself. The road should have been directly below them, but it wasn’t. The ravine and the bridge were also missing, leaving the smaller mountains whole and uncut all the way to the Shaper Mountain’s feet. The little mountains were dotted with high mountain meadows just like the one they stood in, little verdant patches, peaceful and blooming in the golden sunlight.

Miranda blinked and turned to Slorn, waiting for some sort of explanation, but Slorn said nothing. He just stood there, staring at the sky, his brown bear eyes open as wide as they could go. Frowning, she turned to Gin, but the ghosthound wasn’t any better. He was crouched at her feet as close to her as he could get, his orange eyes wide as dinner plates.

“Gin?” she whispered.

The dog didn’t even look at her. “Can’t you see it, Miranda?”

She frowned. “What?”

Next to her, Slorn took a shuddering breath. “I thought… I mean, I always suspected, but I never imagined it would be so large. So… endless.”

“What?” Miranda asked again, growing supremely annoyed.

“The world,” a deep voice rumbled. “Or what it was.”

Miranda jumped before she could stop herself. The voice came from under her feet, vibrating up through her legs from the stone below the fluttering illusion of flowers. Beside her, Gin lowered his head with a soft whine.

“Tell me your names.” The words buzzed through Miranda’s body, more vibration than sound, but they carried an authority she could feel in her bones.

“Teacher,” Slorn said. “I am Heinricht Slorn.”

“I know who you are,” the mountain said, for Miranda knew it could be no other. “I remember all my children, even the ones who desert me. I am eager to hear what excuses you’ve thought up to convince me to take you back, but for now, tell me, who is this woman?”

Miranda stepped forward. “I am Miranda Lyonette, a Spiritualist of the Spirit Court. This is Gin, my—”

“I do not need the lesser spirits’ names,” the mountain rumbled dismissively. “They know their place. But I am curious as to how the core of a great water spirit came to live inside a human. Mellinor, can you still speak?”

“I can.”

Miranda steeled herself as Mellinor’s spirit surged forward, rising in a plume of deep blue water from her fingers, which she held out for him.

“I see you have escaped your prison,” the mountain said.

The water dipped in a bow. “With Miranda’s assistance, great mountain.”

“A strange arrangement, to be sure,” the mountain said. “But then, you water spirits always did flow down the easiest route.”

“I did what I had to,” Mellinor said.

The meadow flickered as the mountain laughed. “As do we all, inland sea, as do we all. I am satisfied. You may return to your human shore.”

The water retreated, and Mellinor flowed back into Miranda, who lowered her arm cautiously. Something odd was going on, besides the obvious. Mellinor was being surprisingly deferential. Her sea spirit wasn’t rude, but he was a Great Spirit and he didn’t tend to let others forget that. This meekness was very out of character. Perhaps it was because the mountain was so much bigger than Mellinor’s diminished form? But he’d shown no such deference to the West Wind.

“Now,” the mountain said. “To business. Why have you come home, Heinricht? Or do I call you Heinricht anymore? You are as much bear as man, now.”

“I am still myself,” Slorn said. “And I came home because I had no more reason to run. Nivel is dead. Her seed has been taken by the League.”

“I am sorry,” the mountain said.

As the stone spoke, the flowering grass began to dance in an unfelt wind. All over the valley, the sunlight faded, and Miranda looked up to see dark clouds rolling in from the south. Within moments, the meadow was covered in a thin, misty rain. But though she could see the rain falling, hear it hitting her shoulders, she was not wet.

“What’s happening?” she whispered.

“The Teacher is grieving,” Slorn answered.

“Of course I grieve,” the mountain said. “Nivel was my student before she was your wife.”

“Then you should know she continued to abide by your teachings,” Slorn said bitterly. “Even after you would have murdered her.”

The soft rain became a downpour as Slorn finished, and the ground shook with the mountain’s anger.

“It was the demon who murdered your wife,” the mountain said. “Not I. Nivel died the moment the spirit eater took her. All you achieved by running was to delay the inevitable, putting all of us at risk in the process.”

Slorn bared his sharp teeth. “The end might have been inevitable, but our work was not in vain. Nivel lived for ten years with that seed inside her, and even then it was not the demon who killed her. She was murdered by a rogue League member who took her seed for his own. Had he not appeared, she would still be alive, doing your work.”

“And what work of mine could a demonseed do?” the mountain said. “Demon-panicked spirits cannot be Shaped.”

“The first affirmation of all Shapers is the collection of knowledge,” Slorn answered. “That’s the pledge you have us make, and Nivel and I never forsook it. We spent those ten years researching demonseeds. Through our work, Nivel lived eight years longer than any seed on record.” He reached into his coat, taking out a small, leather-bound book. “I have here detailed observations,” he said, holding the book up in the phantom rain. “Mine and hers, from the day we left the mountain to the day I surrendered her seed to the League. I believe our research contains more information about the demon than any spirits have ever collected before, including the League, and I am prepared to give all of this knowledge to you. With the Shapers’ help, we could save countless lives, maybe even one day reverse the demon infestation.”

The rain began to slack as he spoke, and the clouds rolled away, leaving the mountain gleaming white in the freshly washed sunshine. Its stone slope had not changed, and yet, somehow, Miranda got the feeling the mountain was sneering at them.

“You would give me knowledge of how to prolong a demonseed’s life?” the Teacher said.

“Yes,” Slorn answered. “I can already make manacles that retard the seed’s growth and cloth that hides the demon’s presence, allowing it to walk among spirits without terrifying them. But these are only crutches, stopgaps. With your help, I hope to find a way to reverse the seed’s conquest of the host, perhaps even remove the seed without—”

“Enough.”

Slorn stiffened. “What do you—”

“You wasted your freedom studying the wrong thing,” the mountain said. “Extending the seed’s life? Hiding it? Why would we want to do that? If you’d found a way to pinpoint seeds before they wake, that I could perhaps condone, but demonseeds are a menace, Heinricht, not something to be coddled and hidden.”

“Menace?” Slorn growled. “A feral dog is a menace. Demonseeds are the greatest disaster we’ve ever known waiting to happen. Each seed has the potential to become a demon every bit as dangerous as the one imprisoned under the Dead Mountain. I don’t know if you were paying attention, but it nearly happened a few weeks ago not far from your own slopes. To ignore such a danger, to refuse to learn as much as we can about its nature, to remain willfully ignorant of the greatest threat to the spirits that form this world, that is the menace, Teacher. And that is why Nivel and my research is so important.

“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.”

Miranda flushed and took a step forward, her mouth already open to challenge the mountain again, but Slorn’s hand on her shoulder stopped her cold. She looked back to see the bear-headed Shaper staring up at the mountain, his yellow teeth bared.

“Were you just a Great Spirit, I would accept that logic,” he growled. “But I am not the man I was ten years ago.” He raised his hand and placed his longer fingers across his muzzle, the tips pointed at his large, brown, bear eyes. “I have seen many things since I merged with the bear. Learned many things that spirits have been taught never to speak of. But I am not a simple spirit. I am human. A human who sees as we were never meant to see, and I see you now, Durain, Lord of the Mountains.”

“Stop,” the mountain said.

But Slorn did not stop. “I thought the spirits deferred to you because of your great age and size. Now I see I was only half right. I see her mark on your soul. You are a star, a chosen spirit of the Shepherdess, elevated above all others. You are right. It would be intolerably risky for the Shapers to work on this problem alone, but we don’t have to, do we? You can bring my knowledge to the Shepherdess herself—”

“Enough!” The mountain quaked, nearly knocking Miranda off her feet. Slorn stumbled too, but caught himself at the last moment. His eyes, however, never left the mountain.

“I begin to understand at last why the Shepherdess made your kind blind,” the mountain said, its voice deep and annoyed. “Even though you see, you do not understand.” The stone’s shaking fell off to a slight vibration, almost like a sigh.

“What don’t we understand?” Slorn said.

“Anything,” the mountain grumbled, lowering its voice. “To start, you’re right. I am a star of the Shepherdess, but the meaning of that title has changed over the long years.” Its voice grew wistful. “We old souls were the greatest spirits left at the beginning. When the Shepherdess came into being and was given charge of the sphere, we worked together. She gave us her mark, her authority, which she herself had been given by the Creator, and made us her overseers. We were her hands in the world, keeping order among those spirits of our own kind. My twin brother and I were tasked with watching the mountains, and it took us both, for in those days all the mountains were awake. But then the world changed. The demon appeared.”

The snow around the mountain began to swirl angrily. “Such a thing was supposed to be impossible. We gave up our freedom and entered the shell specifically to keep their kind out, and yet here was a demon, right among us. To this day, no one knows how it got in, but it destroyed half the world before the Shepherdess and her weapon, the Lord of Storms, cornered it. By that time the demon was so large the Shepherdess could not destroy it without breaking the world itself in the process. In the end, there was only one solution. It was my brother who made the sacrifice. He gave up his stone and his name to trap the demon so that we might live in peace. The Shepherdess took his body and buried the demon beneath it, fixing the prison in place with her seal. The moment the seal was in place, my brother’s verdant slopes were abandoned, and his corpse became what we now call the Dead Mountain.”

“Your twin brother,” Miranda said, her face pale and her eyes wide. “You mean a mountain as large as you died to trap the demon?”

“Not died,” the Shaper Mountain said. “Not entirely, though you would not recognize him if you saw him now.”

The snow swirled, and Miranda shuddered as the weight of the mountain’s full attention landed on them. “I tell you this, Heinricht, so that you may understand what those ill-gotten eyes of yours see. I may be her star, but it is the Shepherdess who rules this sphere, not us. Star or no, I am as much a slave to the Lady’s will as any broken pebble.”

“But you are no pebble,” Slorn said. “You are the greatest spirit left in the world. And if you will do nothing—”

“You are a Shaper, Heinricht,” the mountain said. “It is your nature to see a broken thing and wish to fix it. But this is our world, not a broken sword. We cannot simply reshape it into something better. We must live as the Shepherdess commands and hope things change before we all grow too sleepy and stupid to care.”

Slorn frowned. “Too sleepy?”

“This world you know is a sad, diminished shadow,” the mountain said. “Every year, more spirits fall asleep and do not wake. Of all my mountains, only a handful still answer when I call. The spirits grow small and stupid. They forget what lies beyond, what came before. But those of us who were Shaped by the Creator himself, we remember. We know the truth…”

As the mountain’s voice faded, the landscape began to change. The snow slowed, and then stopped. The light shifted from slate gray to golden yellow as the icy clouds evaporated. Sunlight burst down onto the field, and the snowdrifts began to melt before Miranda’s eyes. As they melted, flowers pushed their heads through the ice, opening in tiny bursts of color as the shrinking snowbanks gave way to bright green grass. But the flowers died almost as quickly as they had bloomed, their petals dropping to the grass, which was now fading to dead brown. The mountains vanished beneath a blanket of snow yet again as the meadow withered. But no sooner was the snow on the ground than it began to vanish, and the cycle began again.

Each time it was faster. The meadow and the mountains flashed between snow and life, blooming flowers, withered grass, and crusted snow trading places in breathless transition. Miranda shrank back against Gin, clutching his fur, but the ghosthound offered no comfort. His orange eyes were shut tight, and he was whining deep in his throat as the landscape around them melted, greened, bloomed, withered, and froze over and over again until Miranda was nearly sick from change.

Unlike Gin, Slorn’s eyes were wide open. He was standing with his head tilted back, staring open-mouthed at the sky. Miranda swallowed and, against her better judgment, followed his gaze up. She was immediately sorry. The sky was changing just as fast as the world around them, flashing between day and night so rapidly it almost made her retch. But before she could look away, the cycle of dawn, day, dusk, and dark began to slow. At last, it stopped altogether, leaving her staring up at a night sky unlike anything she had ever seen.

She never knew how long they stared in silence. It felt like a lifetime. When she finally found her voice, the words came out more air than sound.

“What are they?”

“I don’t know,” Slorn answered just as quietly.

High overhead, cast around the crescent moon like scattered sand, points of light shone against the black velvet curve of the night sky. There were thousands of them, millions, more than Miranda could count if she spent the rest of her life doing nothing else. The twinkling lights seemed to gather at the middle of the sky, forming a road of light so beautiful and enormous, it brought tears to her eyes.

“This is my memory,” the mountain said, its voice drifting on the gentle wind. “Here at my center, I am free of what the Shepherdess would have us forget. Here I remember the world as it was before, when time moved forward, when there were seasons and lights in the sky beside the sun and the moon. Back when there was no need for a Shepherdess. Back when every spirit woke and slept as it chose, when there were no humans, no wizards, and we hunted our own demons.”

As the mountain spoke, the beautiful night sky full of lights faded. The valley faded, too, so did the mountains, and Miranda found herself standing beside Slorn and Gin in the plain white room.

“But that world is gone,” the mountain said, his disembodied voice echoing through the empty chamber. “Broken, eaten, lost forever. We live in the Shepherdess’s world now. If I question her methods, even to bring a new idea, even I could end up like Gredit.”

“Gredit?” Slorn said, stepping forward. “You know what happened to the Great Bear?”

“We all know,” the mountain said. “Before, stars were named so because they were the greatest, the only spirits large enough to watch over their own. But the Shepherdess picks her own stars now. Small spirits, creatures not even worthy of the name, elevated only because the Shepherdess found them beautiful. Even now she ignores the world to play her favorites against each other for no reason other than she likes to be fought over. Gredit, stubborn, noble old bear, thought he could make her see sense. To that end, he made the mistake of threatening her current favorite darling, and she killed him for it.”

Slorn made a keening sound deep in his throat. Miranda flinched. It was the most animal sound she’d ever heard him make.

“With my twin dead, I am the last of the great mountains,” the Teacher said. “I cannot leave my sleeping brothers without guidance. I cannot risk sharing Gredit’s fate, no matter how noble the cause. I do not know if the Shepherdess is mad or simply foolish, but she has shown that she will kill an ancient spirit if the fancy strikes her, and we do not have so many stars that we can throw them away on your theories, Heinricht. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Teacher,” Slorn said. “But I do not agree. I cannot accept that a Shepherdess who kills her flock when they question her is worthy of such worship.”

“Then you should keep that opinion to yourself,” the mountain rumbled. “I have heard your knowledge, Shaper. This hearing is adjourned. Go and make peace with your father. I cannot help you.”

“Wait!” Miranda cried, but it was too late. The mountain’s voice vanished without even an echo. A second later, the platform under their feet shook, and they began to descend. Miranda turned to Slorn, burning with questions, but one look at his face was enough to kill them on her tongue. She’d never seen him so angry. Behind her, Gin was still on the ground with his eyes closed, breathing the deep, measured breaths he used to keep himself calm when he was injured. Even Mellinor would not speak.

They emerged from the ceiling of the Hall of the Shapers to find the Guildmaster waiting for them with half a dozen Shapers spread out in a circle around the descending pillar.

“Heinricht Slorn,” the Guildmaster said. “The Teacher has declared you a threat to the safety of the mountain. You will be taken back to your cell, there to live out the rest of your natural life.”

“What?” Miranda said. “The mountain just said he couldn’t do anything. How is Slorn a threat?”

“Do not speak!” one of the Shapers shouted, but he stopped when the Guildmaster raised his hand.

“Outsiders do not have a voice within the mountain,” the Guildmaster said. Miranda glowered, but the old man wasn’t talking to her. He was talking to Slorn. “The Teacher did not like your knowledge, it seems.”

“Knowledge worth having is rarely pleasant,” Slorn answered. “But I am not convinced the Teacher has truly made his decision.”

The Guildmaster stiffened. “Was the Teacher not clear?”

“He was very clear,” Slorn answered. “But he showed us much before throwing us out. The Mountain has and will always be our teacher, and a teacher does not show his students the truth if he does not wish them to learn. If he truly had no use for Nivel’s and my work, or Miranda’s presence, he would never have called us up in the first place.”

“A wise observation,” the Guildmaster said. “Though you may spend the rest of your life waiting to learn the Teacher’s true intentions.”

“I am prepared,” Slorn said.

“But what about your companion?” the Guildmaster said, turning to face Miranda. “Is she ready? Or have you not told her yet?”

Slorn’s jaw clenched, and a tremor of fear ran up Miranda’s spine. “Told me what?”

“I’m afraid my son has done you a great disservice,” the Guildmaster said. “You see, no outsider who has seen the secrets of the Shaper Mountain is ever allowed to leave.”

“What?” Miranda shouted, turning to stare at Slorn. “What does he—”

The stone beneath their feet erupted, cutting her off. Great hands of white rock burst from the ground and clutched her body, crushing the air from her lungs. She fought the hold on instinct, but all she managed was to hurt her neck, the only part of her body she could still move. Slorn and Gin were caught as well, but when she snapped her head around to look at the Guildmaster, his old face was truly pitying.

“I am sorry,” he said. “But Shaper secrets must be maintained. Out of respect for the great good your order has done for the world, I promise that your life with us will not be uncomfortable.” He gave her a sad smile. “Good-bye, Spiritualist.”

Miranda opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of that, but the stone closed over her head before the words could form, yanking her down into the mountain.