by Will Wight
A clever deception.
The two in the canyon were bowing and sweating by the time the Skysworn landed. That showed wisdom, but Renfei still considered striking the Lowgold Blackflame dead.
It would certainly simplify matters in the future.
But in the end, her honor won out: Truegolds did not strike down Lowgolds to make their lives easier.
“Name, sect, and rank,” she demanded.
“I am Gesha of the Fishers,” the old woman said. “A guest of the honored Arelius family. As for my rank, I—”
“Not you,” Bai Rou said, his burning yellow eyes on the boy.
Sweat dripped from the young man’s forehead, and he didn’t dare to glance up at the two Skysworn. “This one is Wei Shi Lindon, an adopted disciple of the Arelius family. This one apologizes, but he can’t be sure of his rank. Among the outer disciples, this one believes he is ranked second, but he is only aware of two in total.”
“The Arelius family has thousands of outer family disciples,” Renfei said, her voice dry. If he was trying to deceive her by saying he didn’t know his rank, he wasn’t working hard enough. “Who is your master?”
“This one is honored to be the disciple of Eithan Arelius, though regrettably, this one’s master is not in the city at the moment. He has gone to the capital. This one would be honored to lead you to—”
She interrupted him. “Wei Shi Lindon Arelius, in the name of the Emperor, the Skysworn are taking you into custody. You will not be tried or punished until a representative of your clan can be found to speak for you.” That was the end of what she was required to say, but she added, “Eithan Arelius has no authority in this matter—we speak with the voice of the Emperor himself. A Blackflame cannot be allowed to run wild.”
Lindon looked distinctly uncomfortable, like a child caught in a lie, and only then did Renfei remember how young he was. Not even eighteen, she was sure.
Which made him all the more dangerous.
“Excuse me if this one misled you, but this one has only recently begun learning the Path of Black Flame, with the guidance of the Patriarch. This one is not a member of the Blackflame family.”
“You might as well be,” Bai Rou muttered.
They shackled his spirit, reducing his power. He was more cooperative than most of Renfei’s prisoners, though he did repeatedly insist that they tell his family what happened to him.
He might as well not have bothered; the Arelius family never needed to be informed about anything. Renfei’s only report would go straight to the Emperor.
The Blackflames had returned.
***
Emperor Naru Huan spread his wings as he walked through an ornate doorway. He had a fifteen-foot wingspan, but all the doors in the palace were made to accommodate the Goldsign of the Path of Grasping Sky. Etiquette dictated that he brush both sides of the frame with his outer feathers, demonstrating that anyone else would have to give way. When two members of the Naru clan met in a doorway, the lower-ranked had to defer.
No one had walked past Naru Huan in almost twenty years.
Servants closed the door behind him as he entered his home, a luxurious complex of black wood, red paint, and golden dragon statues. He had three joined towers within the imperial palace, all for himself, his wives, and his servants. Palaces within palaces.
He still remembered a time when it had been his job to scrub these floors.
Naru Huan paused on the inside of the doorway. Ordinarily, three servants were stationed here to take his robes of office, his slippers, and the heavy circlet woven into his hair in lieu of the imperial crown.
He opened his Copper sight, which was tuned to wind after his long years on his Path. The entire complex was a placid lake of pale green.
The air was still. No one moved inside.
Madra spun within him, faster and faster. He had no need to call his guards; anyone who could sneak into his home was a greater opponent than they could handle.
Green swirled as the wind stirred. He raised a hand.
A man walked around the corner, where he’d been seated and still a moment before. Long, yellow hair streamed behind him, and his outer robe was threaded in intricate patterns of blue silk. He was fifteen years younger than the Emperor, though they both looked about thirty: Overlords aged even more slowly than Underlords.
Eithan Arelius grinned and plucked a grape from a bunch that he must have stolen from Naru Huan’s table. He popped it into his mouth.
“Welcome home,” Eithan mumbled through a mouthful of grape.
Naru Huan glared at him. “Where are Our loyal servants?”
He usually had people to ask questions for him—Emperors were never supposed to demonstrate a lack of knowledge.
“Someone altered the schedule last night,” Eithan said, shaking his head. “It seems everyone believes it is someone else’s shift.”
The Emperor had never expected his security to hold up to Eithan Arelius; it had been a joke for generations that if the Arelius family wanted the throne, they would have it. Their bloodline gifts were so dangerous that, if they hadn’t shown such a complete lack of ambition, one of the Blackflame Emperors would have exterminated them centuries ago. Total awareness combined with access to the Empire’s maintenance facilities gave them the keys to all secrets on the continent.
But the Emperor should never be left unattended because of a shift change. He’d have to order some adjustments to security.
“We are not pleased at the disrespect you have shown,” Naru Huan announced, his tone a dire pronouncement. “Our office is nothing—”
“No one’s listening,” Eithan assured him, eating another grape.
Naru Huan’s eyes flicked to the nearest bedroom, where he still saw no movement in the air. Which meant anyone inside was either unconscious or dead.
His calculated anger started to turn real, and the air of the hallway began to thicken.
Eithan held up his hands, the bunch of grapes dangling from one thumb. “Wait, wait, wait! She’s shopping, you hear me? Shopping! She’s with your sister, who owed me a favor.”
Naru Huan let out a breath, finally relaxing. He tugged the replacement crown out of his hair, tossing it onto a nearby table that existed solely for that purpose. “You could have warned me, Eithan. You can’t just pop up anywhere you want to.”
“It’s better when I don’t explain how I do it,” Eithan said, sighing around another grape. “Explanations ruin my all-knowing mystique.”
“If anyone knew you had entered the palace without my permission, I would have to take action against your family. When a Patriarch acts recklessly, he is not the only one to pay the price.”
“If I thought an official message would get me an invitation in a timely fashion, I would have sent you a message,” Eithan pointed out.
Every message the Emperor received became common knowledge in Blackflame City within a day. Every message he responded to became a political talking-point. “Inviting the Arelius Underlord to the palace would be a rebuke against the Jai clan,” Naru Huan said, struggling out of his heavy robes of office—never easy, thanks to the wings. “For now, we still need them to hold the west.”
“As long as you don’t need them to have an Underlord,” Eithan said, pulling a grape off with his teeth. “He initiated an open attack against me in Serpent’s Grave, and I was forced to take out the broom.”
“I’ve never heard that expression. I assume you mean an actual broom.”
“Of course I do. What better weapon is there for an Arelius Patriarch?” He squinted into the distance, thinking. “Maybe I could have the Soulsmiths make me a better one…”
“Well, if you had to fight him, you should have killed him,” Naru Huan said, sliding out of his slippers and walking around Eithan to get to the dining room. “I could have assigned you as the temporary guardian of the western territories while the Jai dissolved to infighting.” He stopped as he realized Eithan hadn’t followed him, turning on his hee
l to see what had happened. “What is it?”
The bunch of grapes hung forgotten from Eithan’s fingers. His smile was gone, and he stared at the Emperor as though ready to do battle on the spot.
Which would result in nothing more than a dead Underlord, so Naru Huan folded his arms and waited.
“I did kill him,” Eithan said.
The Emperor raised both eyebrows. “I have a dream tablet from him that arrived yesterday, demanding I punish you for your insolent actions in Serpent’s Grave, and requesting imperial assistance in establishing his authority over the city.”
Eithan looked like he’d accidentally killed his own mother. He paled, braced himself against the wall, his eyes distant and unfocused.
“Am I to understand that I just received accurate information before the Arelius Underlord? Let me just…” Naru Huan took a deep breath. “…breathe it in. This is a good day.”
He continued walking to the dining room, where a table was laden with fruit and delicacies. Eithan staggered after him like an animated corpse. “I killed him, Huan. I killed him myself.”
“You left an enemy alive,” the Emperor said in disbelief, pouring himself a glass of wine. “Do you know how to tell whether someone is dead? Would you like me to teach you?”
Eithan dropped the grapes, snatched the pitcher of wine away from Naru Huan, and started pouring it into his mouth. He only stopped to come up for air.
“I haven’t made a mistake like that in…no, it’s never happened. Well, I’m going to need a new plan now.”
That reminded Naru Huan of another matter—one he had planned to visit the Arelius family to address personally. His mood instantly soured.
“What part of that plan involves reviving the Path of Black Flame?” the Emperor asked, his tone dark.
Eithan waved a hand. “Oh, that.”
“That? I need an explanation, if only to know what you could possibly have thought you were doing. You had to realize I would take him from you immediately.”
“Teaching someone the Path is not illegal.”
“Neither is hanging yourself, but that doesn’t make it wise. He’s going to be isolated both for his own safety and to stop him from causing a panic, Eithan.” Naru Huan slammed his glass down, remembering at the last second to cushion it in wind madra so it didn’t shatter.
Eithan sighed and replaced the pitcher on the table. “That does bring us around to the reason I’m here. I have a request.”
That was about as surprising as the sun rising in the east: no one ever came to see the Emperor without a request. “The Skysworn already have him in custody. I can’t let a Blackflame go, Eithan. He’ll cause a riot.”
“Let him go? No, no, not at all.” His smile returned. “I want you to make sure he still has to fight.”
THE END
Cradle: Volume Three
Blackflame
Lindon’s story continues in…
SKYSWORN
Cradle: Volume Four
Available now!
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