Underlord (Cradle #6)(63)

“Are you all right?” Mercy asked. Harmony was Charity's grand-nephew. She had watched him grow up. It must have gouged out her heart to be right there and unable to save him.

Even though the Heart Sage should have absolute control over her own thoughts and feelings, she was still human.

Charity looked away, revealing an unusually troubled expression. “Lindon could not have stopped me from saving Harmony. Nor, I think, would he have wanted to. I could not see into Ghostwater clearly at the end, but I believe it was Harmony that pushed their conflict to the level of a feud. You know he could be...competitive.”

Harmony had shattered a statue and denounced her publicly, breaking off their engagement when she had defeated him in swordsmanship in front of a crowd. It had been embarrassing, but also a relief.

Harmony had not lived up to his name.

“Someone stopped you?” Mercy asked. Who even could?

“I suspect Ghostwater's owner is still alive,” Charity said grimly, and Mercy's eyes widened.

Northstrider, the legendary dragon-eating Monarch. He had been a walking myth since before Mercy's own mother had risen to power.

“Poor Harmony,” Mercy said. She hadn't liked him much, but she had known him. She didn't want to think of him locked in a crumbling world.

Charity nodded. “Whoever was at fault, the Blackflame boy still intervened with the Akura clan. He needs to know that he cannot get away lightly.”

Mercy held out the axe. “Take this back. Please stop sending the Seishen Kingdom Underlords after him. That's not teaching him a lesson, that's just cruel.”

The rain running down Charity’s face made her look more real than she often did. More mortal. She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Do you think I am a cruel person?”

“No, I don't mean that. But...I think you can be, if you want to be.”

“I did not send young Meira and the prince after Lindon as a punishment. I am finding the best competitors for the Uncrowned King tournament. Eithan Arelius' two apprentices are the most appropriate opponents for the two Seishen Underlords. It will push them all forward, resulting in a net gain for us. Indeed, it has already done so.”

Mercy's guilt turned to anger. “Yerin was badly hurt.”

“Advancing will heal her. I cannot imagine a better incentive to reach Underlord quickly.”

Mercy was familiar with Charity's Book of the Silver Heart. It contained seven techniques of shadow and dreams, so Charity lived in a world of abstractions. Of thoughts and visions. Her plans were so far beyond Mercy that Mercy could never comprehend them, but she tended to lose sight of other human beings.

Mercy's anger faded as quickly as it had come, as it usually did. “I would call that cruel. And no matter how you look at it, you put two Underlords against two Truegolds. That's not a fair competition.”

“You were there.”

“I don't count,” Mercy said bitterly. There was a lot to enjoy about her exile from the family, but it was tough to relish the feeling of helplessness. And yet, if she were to take advancement resources from Lindon and Yerin, she would feel like a rich woman robbing a pauper.

“Of course you do,” Charity said. “And the Truegolds acquitted themselves well. If the roles were reversed, with your friends at Underlord and their enemies at Truegold, how do you think their skirmish would have gone?”

“Yerin and Lindon would have left them in pieces,” Mercy said with a sigh. They could be ruthless, at times, but no more so than her own family.

Charity reached up to run a hand down her owl's back. Maybe the spirit was more than a technique after all, because it leaned in to the motion, cooing softly. The rain passed straight through it. “Kiro has a noble bloodline and the finest tutors his nation can afford, but he is at the end of his mentality and his talent. He may reach Overlord someday, but barring a substantial evolution, that will be his limit. Meira's talent and skill are exceptional, but she is blinded by obsession. She has created chains in her own mind that are difficult to break. I would like to use them to push your teammates to advance, which would fill my quota. Or perhaps they will be pushed to the brink instead and exceed my expectations of them. Who can say?”

“It seems like a lot of suffering,” Mercy said, looking out over the tents full of wounded. The rain had slackened slightly, and the food Eithan's servants brought had done much for the atmosphere. And maybe for the injuries; Mercy heard fewer groans now than before.

“They compete because there is a limited opportunity, and everyone wants it badly enough to spill blood for it. Not because I make them.”

Mercy looked at her skeptically. That was not a strong argument. “When you throw a steak between two starving dogs, is it their fault for fighting over it?”

She turned, brushing water from her forehead, and looked in the same direction: at the many tents. “I concede that I may have leaned too hard on your friends in part because of your relationship to them.”

Another thorn jabbed into Mercy's heart. She wanted to be outraged, but she wasn't entirely surprised. That was as much Mercy's fault as Charity's; the Sage could afford a heavier hand, because Mercy could embrace her former power and save Lindon and Yerin whenever she wanted. Mercy's mother would encourage such tactics.

“Therefore,” Charity continued, “I acknowledge that I owe you a favor. Call it in as you wish.”