Lindon had recovered enough to release a trickle of his spiritual sense without blinding everyone Jade and higher in the Valley below. What he considered a wisp of his perception still covered all of Sacred Valley.
Souls of every level lived here for the moment, from Foundation children all the way up to Heralds, though the vast majority were Gold. He felt Paths of every aspect, including some combinations even he couldn’t name without closer inspection. The architecture was strange to him too, ranging from living trees to mechanized buildings that burned scales to operate great gears.
Here and there, he heard people speaking his name, though not with the deliberate intention that meant they were trying to call him. Only idle mentions.
The sights were new to Lindon, evolving every day, and he wondered whether all this would last when he ascended. Even so, he was proud.
There was still something here.
The door burst open and his family barged in downstairs, complaining loudly.
“I don’t know how to run the Training Hall!” Kelsa said irritably. “Where is Ziel? He could have stayed behind! Every day, the students ask me, ‘Where is Lord Ziel?’ ‘Why did Lord Ziel leave us behind?’ ‘Lord Ziel would have given me the biggest room.’”
From his spot over Lindon’s shoulder, Dross sent a message down. [I could send them an illusion of Ziel if you’d like. My model of him is good, though he mostly hits people with hammers.]
Kelsa burst into the door at the top of the stairs, scowling in Dross’ direction. “Perfect. That’s exactly what they deserve. Some of these people are sixty-year-old Truegolds!”
Lindon decided not to point out that her foxfire tail was standing out stiffly, like an angry cat’s.
“Welcome home,” he said. “I take it my turn is coming up.”
Jaran clomped up the stairs after his daughter, muttering to himself, followed by Seisha with her arms full of scripted packages.
It was his mother who spoke first. “You were there too long yesterday. You should limit yourself to an hour today. It’s a traffic hazard.”
“We can barely walk down the street,” Jaran grumbled. “Everybody wants me to bring you their requests. This one wants a new weapon, that one has a sick child, and eight out of every ten wants to learn your sacred arts.”
“Wait, there were sick children?” Lindon asked.
Kelsa stared at her father. “That’s…We don’t need Lindon for that, we have medical care.”
Jaran scratched at the side of his face, where his scar used to be. “No, that’s just the sort of thing they say.”
“If people are sick—” Seisha began, but Jaran cut her off.
“No one’s sick, all right? Everybody’s healthy, it was a bad example.”
Lindon gave the surrounding buildings another quick scan to make sure no one was desperately calling his name to save their child, then changed the subject. “So training is going well?”
Kelsa gave him a pointed stare. “Training hasn’t changed since yesterday, and how am I supposed to know, anyway? You’re the one who knows everything. Some of the students are carving your advice into the stone to leave for future generations.”
“That’s…a bit of an exaggeration,” Lindon said.
Kelsa marched over to the window and pointed down.
Past the dark blue edge of their cloud base, Lindon saw several sacred artists bustling around a monument. They had begun etching symbols into the stone, and even from a quick glance, Lindon recognized his cycling advice from the day before.
“We should put a stop to that,” Lindon said.
[Yes. At least until we figure out how to phrase it better.]
“Exactly.”
Seisha’s drudge whistled, the brown fish bobbing excitedly around her packages. It looked almost the same as it ever had, though Lindon had upgraded it in every possible way. Not only was it the best drudge anyone below Archlord had ever used, it would also serve as a formidable defense for his mother.
Maybe too formidable. Though he hadn’t told his mother everything he’d installed, she could potentially take over most civilized lands using only her drudge.
“Gesha asked me to work on the welcoming display for the Seven-Year Festival next year,” Seisha said. “Once I have a functional design, I’ll need some other dream artists. What about those people on the island?”
The Silent Servants had settled to the west, amidst the ruins of what had once been Mount Venture. Their floating island now sat on the ground, and they had re-planted their pale tree, though it would take decades to grow to its former height.
Initially, Lindon had feared the result of a Dreadgod cult settling in. Or another Dreadgod cult, since Redmoon Hall remained as well.
But they had been cooperative during his one visit. Almost too cooperative, as though they had collectively decided to treat him as the new Silent King.
[If the mother of the Empty Ghost came to them with a request, they will compete with one another to see who can obey the fastest.]
Lindon adjusted his white arm, which was banded in halfsilver, wrapped in scripted cloth, and carried in a goldsteel-plated sling. “By all means, get their help. I think it will be good to have them interact with other people. But tell them what to do, all right? Don’t let them use their best judgment.”
He didn’t trust the reasoning of anyone who had willingly joined a Dreadgod cult. Also, he suspected they might not see anything wrong with stealing a few memories here and there.
Seisha gave a firm nod. “We’ll put them beneath Fisher Gesha.”
“Why would they listen to her?” Lindon asked.
Jaran grunted. “She’s the Soulsmith who trained you, isn’t she?”
Technically, that was true.
“Oh, right!” Kelsa cried. She straightened her spine and glared at Lindon. “Jai Chen is a Truegold now.”
Lindon avoided her gaze and pretended he didn’t understand the implication. “Congratulations. We’ll have to send her a present.”
“Don’t you think the present you already gave her was enough?”
With the hunger spear Lindon had gifted her, Jai Chen had been very motivated. She ranged all over Sacred Valley and the surrounding lands, hunting Remnants and rogue sacred beasts. Some of the students in the Twin Star Sect had started spreading legends about her.
Lindon wasn’t sure that was warranted. She was only Gold, and there were plenty of Lords around.
Although, if she kept up this pace, she wouldn’t stay Gold for long.
“Apologies,” he said to his sister. He shrugged his right shoulder. “It would be difficult for me to do any complicated Soulsmithing in this state.”
She threw up her hands. “What’s complicated for you?”
Lindon could indeed make a simple weapon for his sister with only the power he could safely use, but the idea itched at him. He didn’t want to make Kelsa a plain weapon. Even if it was a powerful one, like his mother’s drudge.
He wanted her to use something that represented the best of what he could do. Anything less felt like a waste.
[Pride,] Dross said gravely. [It is the downfall of many a sacred artist. You should humble yourself to create her a pathetic weapon that will embarrass you and bring shame to the name of your family for generations.]
“Yes!” Kelsa said. “You should!”
Lindon examined her more closely. “Pardon if I sound rude, but you don’t seem like yourself today.”
Kelsa’s eyes turned heated, and her tail thrashed as she wrestled with herself. Then she sighed and slumped into a nearby chair. “Apologies. You’re right. It’s just that they don’t want to hear from a Highgold. They want you.”
Lindon looked back to the window, where he saw Twin Star Sect flags flying all over Sacred Valley. The split star symbol of the sect was most common in pale blue and burnt orange, but he saw stars divided between sky-blue and blood-red, navy and dark scarlet, even black and white.