“Sha Relliar is my uncle,” she said. “I will not stand the disrespect.”
Reigan Shen prowled the edges of the meeting space like he was tracing the borders of a cage. “You will stand it, because you failed to prepare him appropriately for this attack. After I told you.”
Inwardly, Sha Miara quailed before the other Monarch’s anger. She remembered his rise to power from her grandmother’s time, and he was stuck in her mind as a dangerous man to anger.
But none of her ancestors would show weakness openly, so her disguise was intact as she responded. “I cannot and will not devote all my resources to defending myself when the Weeping Dragon has left such a wreckage of my home. The people need help. We agreed that Lindon’s attack on Ninecloud was a distant possibility in any case.”
“It was,” Shen growled, “and yet our sight has failed us at every turn. It’s almost as though someone has read the future and told him how to outmaneuver us.”
“Tragic,” Emriss Silentborn said gravely.
When Shen wasn’t looking, the older woman gave Miara a grandmotherly smile. Miara’s ancestors had trusted her, so the Sha faith in Emriss was engraved in her bones. She had also been the Monarch to accept Miara more than any of the others.
If Reigan Shen intended to shift the blame onto her, Sha Miara would take Emriss’ side. Even considering the aid House Shen had given her people against the Dragon, Miara just liked Emriss more. Besides, the idea of Emriss working against the stability of the world was absurd. No one gave more selflessly to global order than Emriss Silentborn.
Miara made her rainbow disguise return the smile.
Reigan Shen didn’t cast his suspicion solely on the Remnant Monarch. He spared glares for the spots where Northstrider and Malice were supposed to be standing, and for the huge, tusked man posing like a statue in gold armor.
“What have you to say? We find ourselves spread too thin. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had a supply of Sages and Heralds who could reinforce us all?”
“The Eight-Man Empire is at your service,” the Sage said stiffly. He was a sacred elephant in human form, and he had refused to abandon his tusks. “We will not allow one Sage to slip past us, but even we cannot be everywhere. You know our prices.”
Reigan Shen growled.
Larian lounged with one cloud beneath her and another above, for shade.
Far beneath her, the White Lion Bank—a staple of House Shen—dominated an entire city as a fortress of white marble. It had powerful security scripts, a network of observational constructs, and guards like she’d never seen outside a Monarch’s personal home.
It would take some kind of Dreadgod to break that security.
Beneath her, Lindon and Yerin Arelius dragged chests out of a hole they’d cut in the back of the building. They bypassed the script somehow—Larian had never been interested in scripting—and were fooling the rest of the security with an elaborate illusion that must be exhausting to maintain.
She could see through them too easily.
The Bow Icon gave her keen eyesight, but even she wouldn’t be able to pierce an illusion fueled by the Silent King’s madra unless they were stretched too thin. Lindon’s mind-spirit needed practice with the technique, she guessed.
“Oh no, we’re under attack,” Larian muttered. With one finger, she plucked the string of the bow lying next to her. “Eat my best techniques, robbers! Pchew, pchew!” She clapped a hand to her armored chest. “Ack! They got me! I’ll tell my grandchildren of this battle. Let us part with mutual respect.”
Then she yawned and leaned back, pillowing her head on her hands.
[Did you hear something?] Dross asked.
Lindon stretched his perception out as far as he dared from beneath his veil. What was it?
[It sounded like a yawn. Plenty of sleepy people around here. I guess it’s nap time. Anyway, I can’t believe this is the easiest one so far. I thought for sure Reigan Shen would have hired the Eight-Man Empire to defend this place.]
We’re not away yet, Lindon responded silently.
He carried a scripted orb of dead matter in both hands; he could easily have levitated more behind him, but manipulating aura like that would have attracted attention. Dross was straining himself to maintain the illusion over the entire bank as it was.
The bank, and Yerin.
She had torn an entire vault out of the wall, and Dross had been forced to simulate a crack of thunder to help excuse the noise. Now she tottered with it balanced over her head; the weight wasn’t a problem, but walking with it constantly shifting was. Ordinarily, she could use force aura to spread out her physical strength and carry it with perfect balance, but that ran into the same problem of aura manipulation being easy to sense.