The Spiritualists in the benches had their spirits out now, and everywhere Miranda looked she was ringed in by spirits of every type and size beginning to move down out of the gallery to the floor.

“There.” Miranda pointed at the high windows.

“It’s too narrow,” Gin snapped. “We won’t get through.”

“Well, try anyway,” Miranda said, getting a death grip on his fur.

Gin growled and dropped into a crouch. She could feel his muscles tensing, gathering strength, and then, in a single, explosive motion, he jumped. Miranda had never seen him jump like this. It felt like they were flying. They soared over the benches, over Hern, who could only watch open-mouthed, lifting his flame-ringed hands too late. Gin and Miranda flew past Banage, and Miranda turned to catch one last glimpse of her mentor. What she saw, however, was not what she’d expected. Despite the fiasco going on in his Court, Banage had not moved. He simply sat there at his seat, watching her. Then, without warning, he smiled, and his spirit welled up around her.