Free Spirit's Oath by Rachel Aaron Page B

Miranda knew her sister would never turn her away, no matter what their father said. With that thought, Miranda’s face broke into a smile, and she made a mental note to pay a quiet visit to Tima and her husband as soon as this Enslaver business was done.
    Her smile must have reassured him, because Banage smiled as well and put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing briefly before letting go. “Does that mean we have to start calling you something else?”
    “Of course not,” Miranda said. “I like my name. And what are they going to do if I keep using it? Disown me again?”
    “I guess you’re out of their power,” Spiritualist Krigel said.
    “I never was very much in it to begin with,” Miranda replied, turning back to the butcher yard. “Gin! Are you done?”
    There was a deep sigh, and then Gin hopped over the fence, red tongue sliding over his bloody muzzle. Miranda shook her head and climbed onto his back while Banage called his stone horse. Krigel stepped out of the way as they rode around to the main road, scattering the afternoon crowds as they made their way out of the Spirit Court’s district and up toward the northern gate.
    “Where are we going, mistress?” Gin said, his voice rumbling through her as they ran past the market.
    “Somewhere in the north, though only Banage knows for sure,” Miranda said, frowning. “And since when do you call me mistress?”
    Gin flicked his ears. “If your family is too stupid to claim you, I will. That was our agreement, wasn’t it? Power for service, strength for obedience, and your soul as my pack?”
    “There’s only one of me,” Miranda said with a laugh. “Kind of a small pack.”
    “You only need two,” Gin said, tongue hanging out as they reached the gate. “Hold on. I’m about to run off some of those pigs.”
    Miranda’s eyes widened, and she barely managed to secure her grip in time before Gin shot forward, racing down the road in a shifting silver streak. She adjusted to the speed soon enough, throwing her arms out with a laugh as they flew up the road with Master Banage’s stone horse hot on their heels, speeding on their way to do the Spirit Court’s good work.
    That's about it.

Also by Rachel Aaron
    T HE L EGEND OF E LI M ONPRESS
    The Spirit Thief
    The Spirit Rebellion
    The Spirit Eater
    The Spirit War
    Spirit’s End
     
    The Legend of Eli Monpress : Part I, II, & III (omnibus edition)

If you enjoyed SPIRIT’S OATH ,
look out for
THE SPIRIT THIEF
    T HE L EGEND OF E LI M ONPRESS, B OOK O NE
by Rachel Aaron
Chapter 1
     
I n the prison under the castle Allaze, in the dark, moldy cells where the greatest criminals in Mellinor spent the remainder of their lives counting rocks to stave off madness, Eli Monpress was trying to wake up a door.
     It was a heavy oak door with an iron frame, created centuries ago by an overzealous carpenter to have, perhaps, more corners than it should. The edges were carefully fitted to lie flush against the stained, stone walls, and the heavy boards were nailed together so tightly that not even the flickering torch light could wedge between them. In all, the effect was so overdone, the construction so inhumanly strong, that the whole black affair had transcended simple confinement and become a monument to the absolute hopelessness of the prisoner’s situation. Eli decided to focus on the wood; the iron would have taken forever.
    He ran his hands over it, long fingers gently tapping in a way living trees find desperately annoying, but dead wood finds soothing, like a scratch behind the ears. At last, the boards gave a little shudder and said, in a dusty, splintery voice, “What do you want?”
    “My dear friend,” Eli said, never letting up on his tapping, “the real question here is, what do you want?”
    “Pardon?” the door rattled, thoroughly confused. It wasn’t used to having questions asked of it.
    “Well, doesn’t it strike you as unfair?” Eli said. “From your grain, anyone can see you