Underlord (Cradle #6)(65)

Mercy stayed silent. Charity's words battered at her.

“If you returned without being forced, it would go a long way toward demonstrating your maturity. You are not the only one who has had trouble facing the truth of yourself on the brink of becoming an Underlady.” The face of a Sage cracked, and then Charity was a concerned aunt looking down at her niece. She placed a hand on Mercy's arm. “And you must surely be frustrated by these restrictions. Such a weak soul. A body you can barely control. Come back.”

Mercy pulled away, thoughts whirling.

She liked it on her own, but she still wanted to go back. Was she fooling herself by thinking she could accomplish anything out here?

“I can’t lead anyone,” she finally said, “if I’m always fighting for mother’s approval like the rest of them.”

Charity tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, still looking at Mercy with motherly concern. “The revelation is nothing more than a trigger. It means accepting who you are, not who you will always be. You can still grow and evolve afterwards.”

“But I don't accept myself the way I am.”

The peaceful sounds of the rain settled around them, along with the murmur of the people in the tents nearby. Those had gradually transformed from the cries of the wounded to the laughter and muttered conversation of a feast.

Charity shook her head, letting out a long sigh. “I suppose I understand. We all need to see the world outside the family sooner or later. But it's a shame.”

Shadows started to devour Charity from the feet, slowly moving up. Mercy sensed nothing; either this was one of her mysterious Sage powers, or her madra control was at such a level that she could completely avoid Mercy's senses. Probably both.

“Fury has yet to make his selection for our primary team, but you were to lead, and I had chosen Harmony to be the second. If your brother Pride can replace you, that still leaves an empty space for Fury. And one for me.”

The shadows had reached her neck, and her face started to fade away. “And I can fill that slot however I want…”

Her vivid purple eyes faded last, along with the echo of her voice.

Mercy shivered. “That's spooky, Aunt Charity, stop that. And what do you mean?”

She was probably still around, veiled and invisible, but Mercy could neither see nor sense anything.

Only the wind answered her.

“Aunt Charity? ...Charity?”

The silver-and-purple owl fluttered and flew away.





Chapter 13





Since flying was temporarily forbidden, it took Eithan all day to lead Lindon through the massive camp outside the city walls and to Fisher Gesha. By the time they arrived, the sun was setting.

Dross had spent the entire journey trying to guess what his gift was and trick Eithan into giving him hints. His guesses had ranged from ‘a mind sword’ to ‘an egg that hatches into a monster.’

During their time in the Night Wheel Valley, Fisher Gesha had finished constructing her barn…and, in fact, had mounted it on massive purple spider legs like the ones she used to walk. Her mobile Soulsmith foundry had roamed around to provide service to the entire Blackflame camp.

Now, the barn sat with its legs withdrawn amidst the packed sea of refugees around Blackflame City.

Eithan ignored the 'Closed for Business' sign and pushed through the door, striding in as though into his own home.

Gesha stood hovering in the middle of the room on her spider-drudge, which was suspended from the ceiling by its own extended legs. She held a lens up to one eye, through which she examined a dangling Remnant's corpse. It looked like a donkey fashioned of rainbows, and it bled motes of multicolored essence up into the air. If not for the scripted strips of cloth she'd wrapped all over it, the dead matter would have dissolved completely.

The tiny woman spoke without looking. “Are you trying to get beat, hm? Closed! The sign says closed! I do not work at night.”

When she did finally look at them, her one eye magnified because of the lens over it, she seemed disappointed. “If a customer was rude enough to come in at this hour, I would give them a beating. Who should I beat now?”

Eithan gestured grandly to Lindon. “By all means, satisfy yourself! But meanwhile, I have an experiment for you.”

Gesha's drudge released the ceiling one leg at a time, driving its spiked feet into grooves in the walls as it slowly made its way down. Its central body remained steady as it lowered.

After only a breath or two, the construct reached the ground and skittered over to Eithan. The legs extended, raising Gesha until she could squint into Eithan's face from equal height. “You have another Underlord for me to shoot, do you?”

That caught Lindon's attention, but Eithan laughed it off. “I'm afraid I'm not up to anything quite so much fun. Dross, it's time.”

Dross spun out of Lindon, his single eye shining. [Oh! Is it a horse? I bet it's a horse.]

Eithan reached into his outer robe and pulled out a shallow, slender box. It was so wide that Lindon wondered how Eithan could possibly keep it in a pocket without it showing.

It was impossible, he realized. And this wasn't the first time that Eithan had pulled something seemingly out of thin air.

He was either hiding these things somehow, or he had a void key of his own. And drawing from his pocket was his way of disguising the key itself.