Eithan's smile dimmed. “Yes, well...we'll see in four more years, won't we?”
They walked until they reached the base of the spiraling bone tower Lindon had seen in the distance. Cassias abruptly stopped, polishing the silver bracer on his arm with the corner of his sleeve—it was his Goldsign, but the man cared for it like jewelry. He adjusted his collar, brushed dirt from his pants, checked his sword in its silver sheath, and looked at his reflection in the bracer.
“You look almost as good as I do,” Eithan said, waving him on. “Go on. I can handle family business at least as well as you can.”
Cassias gave him a doubtful look, but still hurried into the tower.
“His wife and son are in there,” Eithan said, which fired Lindon’s imagination. Cassias had mentioned his wife half a dozen times over the journey here, calling her the strongest Highgold in the empire, but Lindon had taken that as the praise of a husband.
Now that he knew they rated everything, he wondered if maybe she was the strongest Highgold in the Blackflame Empire. And if that were true, where did Cassias rank?
“…so he will be distracted for at least a day or two,” Eithan continued. “That’s enough about the family business, let’s get to what really matters.”
The doors to the tower swung back open, and Cassias stuck his head out. “I heard that.”
Lindon wondered, not for the first time, if there were some way to get the powers of the Arelius bloodline for himself. Cassias had told him no, he had to be born into the family, but Lindon didn’t stop wondering.
Eithan must have heard Cassias, but he didn’t turn back, guiding their group away from the tower and back toward the main building. “Number one-thirteen,” he said, and a man separated himself from the crowd of blue-clad servants around them, going to his knees before the Underlord.
“I want you to prepare Underground Chamber Number Three for entry. Also, take Fisher Gesha to the Soulsmith quarters.” He ushered Gesha forward, and she scuttled up to join the servant. Her coffin-sized wooden chest was strapped to her back, dwarfing her, but she carried it as though it were hollow.
“Fisher Gesha is an honored guest from the Desolate Wilds,” Eithan said, and the servant glanced up in evident surprise. “However,” Eithan continued, “she is to be treated as a guest from anywhere else.”
Servant One-Thirteen bowed without a word, letting the Underlord and the rest sweep past him. Fisher Gesha nodded to Lindon, and he saluted her back, fists pressed together.
Lindon had every reason to believe his Soulsmithing lessons were to continue, but separating from a friendly face in this strange city still made him nervous.
Eithan glanced up at the sky, held a hand in the air for no reason that Lindon could tell, and then reversed direction. He took them back out to the base of the First Patriarch’s statue, putting one hand on Lindon’s shoulder and one hand on Yerin’s.
“Are we posing for a portrait?” Lindon asked, seeing no other reason why they should arrange themselves in front of a statue while Arelius servants streamed by.
“Not for a portrait, no,” Eithan said, and turned his smile on an old man walking through the crowd.
This man stood tall and straight, though he must have been at least eighty, his white hair flowing down his back. His white robes were intricate and flawless, and like every other set of clothes Lindon had seen since stepping off Sky’s Mercy, they seemed to have never encountered a single stain or speck of dust.
His face was clean-shaven, and he held his hands behind his back as he came to a stop in front of them. The wind snatched at his sleeves and the hem of his robe, but it didn’t touch his hair, which led Lindon to take a closer look.
The pale strands gleamed slightly in the light, and each hair seemed somehow thicker than normal, now that he looked closely. After a second of inspection, he realized what he was seeing: metal wire.
The Goldsign of the Jai clan.
“Jai Daishou!” Eithan said happily. “What brings you down the mountain on this fine autumn morning?”
Jai Daishou kept his gaze fixed on Eithan, never so much as glancing at Lindon or the servants streaming around him. “I was told you would arrive today, and I wanted to offer my greetings in person.”
“How generous of you! Please, allow me to introduce the two newest members of my family. This is Yerin, the top-ranked student of the outer family, and Lindon. The second-ranked.”
A feather-light touch brushed across Lindon’s spirit, and the old man’s wrinkles creased into a frown. “Second.”
“I ranked them myself! Lindon, Yerin, this is Jai Daishou, the seventh Underlord of the Blackflame Empire.”
“And Patriarch of the Jai clan,” Jai Daishou added, his frown deepening.
“Ah, that’s right. He is also the Patriarch of the third-ranked of the three great clans.” Eithan’s smile was sunny.
Jai Daishou examined the other Underlord for a long moment. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but your family’s performance in the city has slipped while you’ve been gone. I can only imagine what it’s like over the rest of the empire, without your personal supervision to guide them.”
Lindon rubbed sweaty palms on the inside of his pocket, keeping his eyes down lest he attract the Jai Patriarch’s attention. Of all the things he had expected to happen when they landed, he had never imagined he would end up between two Underlords in conflict.
He flicked a glance at Yerin, but she was glaring at Jai Daishou openly, arms crossed and Goldsign quivering.
“I’m quite pleased with how the family performed in my absence,” Eithan said.
Jai Daishou’s attention briefly touched on Lindon and Yerin, and he let out a soft noise of disapproval. “An Underlord should have higher standards.”
“Really?” Eithan sounded baffled. “I’ve always thought my standards were too high. Well, let me know if the Arelius family can help you defend your territory in the upcoming days. Jai Long can be quite a threat…unless, of course, you intend to take action yourself.”
That sounded to Lindon like the only genuinely pleasant comment Eithan had made over the whole exchange, but Jai Daishou bristled as though Eithan had insulted his children. “The Highgolds of the Jai clan are more than capable of dealing with an exile.”
“I’m relieved to hear it! I knew you wouldn’t be forced into action by a single Highgold.” The Jai Underlord’s face darkened further, but Eithan laughed harder than Lindon thought was appropriate, eventually tapering off and wiping a tear from his eye. “Ah, it’s refreshing to have such a friendly conversation.”
Jai Daishou had the look of a man about to set a house on fire.
Eithan gave his opposite a shallow bow. “I know it’s been brief, but I appreciate you seeking an audience with me so quickly. When I have more time, I’ll be happy to pay your Jai clan a visit in return.”
He turned, dragging Yerin and Lindon with him, and started walking away before Jai Daishou had a chance to say anything. Lindon couldn’t stop himself from glancing back, to see how the enemy Underlord would take the insult.
The Jai Patriarch folded his hands behind his back again.
Then, suddenly, Lindon’s body weighed five times as much. Air rushed from his lungs as his knees slammed into the stone of the courtyard, his head bowing as though a giant palm pressed on his spine.
He gritted his teeth and spent all of his madra to Enforce his body. Even with his full strength, he only lifted his head a fraction.
It wasn’t just Lindon. Everyone was on the ground; children cried, splayed out on the stone. A wagon had dumped over, spilling garbage onto the street, and most people he could see were gasping for breath.