So you don’t see Sha Miara? Lindon thought, still wary of speaking her name out loud.
[I told you I’d never heard of her.]
And Northstrider?
Dross sighed and brought Lindon into another memory. Just Lindon, this time.
He and the imitation Suriel drifted above an endless ocean, only instead of floating on nothing, they stood together on a blue Thousand-Mile Cloud.
“Northstrider,” Suriel said. “Path of the Hungry Deep.”
She spread her hands and a viewing construct appeared beneath them. Showing him deeper into the water, where a man plunged with his arms crossed. Northstrider.
“He consumed sacred beasts in the deepest places in the world. Used to take their powers with him when he fought on the surface.”
Lindon took an involuntary step back as Dross canceled the vision.
[Lindon, are you okay?]
Lindon’s head spun.
He could remember Suriel’s visit clearly. So clearly. They had plunged down together into the water. She had taken him to real places in the world, not making up visions. And all the details were different.
His left hand plunged into his pocket, feeling the warm marble there.
The glass ball still comforted him, its blue candle-flame burning steadily. He focused his spiritual perception on it, basking in the familiar feel of order and restoration. It made him think that everything was right with the world.
[Lindon?]
Lindon took a breath and faced Dross, calmer than he had been a moment before. He didn’t doubt his own memory. Too many things would make no sense if the visit from Suriel hadn’t occurred as he saw it.
“Apologies, Dross,” he said. “I was confused.”
Yerin and Mercy now looked concerned, and they were whispering to one another.
He turned to them. “Is there a way to protect memories?”
“If she was a messenger from the heavens,” Eithan said, “then you would think she could do anything. But yes, it is common practice to alter or conceal memories to prevent them from being stolen or recorded.”
“But I’ve never heard of a technique to alter a memory for everyone except you,” Mercy said. “If the memory was changed, you should remember the altered version too.”
She seemed contemplative, not doubtful.
Eithan raised a hand. “I, for one, need no further proof. I trust you completely, my student.”
Lindon was touched for a moment, but he could feel a second statement on its way.
“Also, I had figured it out myself.”
Yerin turned to him with doubt clear on her face.
“Many Heralds and Monarchs have made strange comments about the Ninecloud team or one of the competitors. Sha Leiala hasn’t shown herself openly in years, the Celestial Radiance ability to transfer power to an heir is something of an open secret, the Luminous Queen has made several interesting addresses in recent months that suggest immaturity…”
Eithan paused and glanced around to make sure their eyes were on him. “…and you mentioned her name to us about two years ago. I value you so highly that I remember every word you have ever spoken.”
Lindon hoped that wasn’t true, but he took a deep breath. “Gratitude. Thank you, Eithan.”
Mercy spoke as though each word was being pulled from her. “I’m…really sorry, Lindon, really sorry, but…I can’t…it’s hard to take that on faith. I believe you that your memory was altered! But you were Copper at that point, weren’t you? You didn’t know what a Monarch was, so…how could you tell you weren’t just seeing an Underlady?”
He hadn’t even had a dream of Copper at that point, but otherwise he understood her point. He was about to argue for himself when she continued.
“Please don’t be offended when I check for myself.”
Mercy closed her eyes, and suddenly the room grew darker as shadow aura surged. Madra licked out of her, black and unformed, and the ghost of a violet book loomed over her. It was made of bright, Forged madra, and it had an intricate layer of script-circles on its cover.
“Uncle Fury!” she called.
There was a long pause as no one responded.
Unveiling herself and spewing madra while trying to attract Fury’s spiritual attention was similar to screaming and waving her arms in the middle of a silent theater audience. Everyone around her would be bothered, including most likely Fury himself.
Lindon slid up to Yerin’s side. “Pardon,” he muttered, “I’m sure she knows best, but isn’t there a more…polite…way to contact a Herald?”
“Bleed me if I know.”
“Uncle Fury!” Mercy shouted again. “Please! We have a—”
A gust of wind blew in from the suddenly open window. The tree’s leaves whipped, an empty chair tumbled across the floor, and Yerin’s hair was blown into Lindon’s eyes.
Akura Fury stood in the center of the room.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, muscled like a heroic statue, and his black robe hung open to reveal several inches of bare chest. His liquid-shadow hair drifted up as though caught by a current, and his red eyes shone from the shadows.
He raised one hand. “Hey, Mercy! Sorry, but this isn’t a great time. We’re pretty busy right now.”
“Is Sha Miara a Monarch in disguise?”
Red eyes crawled away from Mercy.
Fury shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He licked his lips. He looked up to the ceiling as though hoping heaven would give him the answer. Finally, he raised a hand to scratch at the back of his head.
“Noooo…?”
It was the least convincing cover-up Lindon had ever heard.
The Herald could tell, because he made a frustrated sound. “I guess that secret is coming out already. No one’s going to keep quiet now that Monarch lives are on the line. Still don’t…talk about it too much, okay?”
Yerin threw up her hands. “How are we supposed to fight a Monarch?”
“She’s limited to Underlord,” Fury explained. “The rest of you have the possibility of advancing, but she can’t. She had to give up her prizes, all the other Ninecloud competitors on her team were weaker than usual, and the Court paid a fortune in compensation to the rest of us. Plus, it was supposed to be a way to avoid paying out on the grand prize, but now…”
He ran both hands through his hair as though he was about to pull it out. “Listen, I really don’t have time for this. I’m leaving in the morning, and I’m taking most of the family fighters with me.”
Mercy’s face fell, and she leaned more heavily on her staff. “We haven’t even gotten to the Uncrowned yet.”
“I know.” Fury looked more disappointed than Mercy. “Our timeline’s been moved up, and we want to get in position before the dragons or anybody else. But hey!” He perked up. “At least it should be fun. There’s a Dreadgod!”
Mercy and Yerin exclaimed at that, but Fury was already dangling out the window. He poked his head back in and looked from Lindon to Yerin. “Oh, right! Great fight, kids! Great fight! We should spar sometime!”
He smiled brightly and vanished in another mighty gust of wind.
“Don’t fight him,” Mercy advised. “He doesn’t hold back as well as he thinks he does.”
“What’s he saying about the Dreadgods?” Yerin asked, and Mercy shrugged.
Eithan sighed, and Lindon realized he hadn’t said a word while Fury was around. “There’s been buzz for quite a while now about the Wandering Titan stirring. But I think I may not be the most informed on the subject. Lindon?”
Lindon had gone so far astray from the message he had originally intended to relay that it took him a few seconds to reorganize his thoughts.
“The judge of the Uncrowned King tournament took me aside tonight.” He waited to make sure they understood who he was talking about, and Mercy and Yerin both looked at him in obvious shock. Eithan leaned forward, toying with a pair of scissors.