“Then tell her we’ll be there soon.”
Pride’s head jerked back. “Don’t do anything to set my mother off, Lindon. I warned you.”
“I’ll try not to. But Mercy’s on my team.” Lindon didn’t put any particular emphasis on the words, but he met Pride’s eyes without backing down. “One way or another, I’m coming for her.”
Pride snorted. “Your team? Are you entering another tournament?”
“You can be on my team too, Pride. You’re invited.”
“No, thanks. I have a family. And so does Mercy.” He gave Lindon a crooked smile. “Thanks for the tea.”
An idea occurred to Lindon, but he wasn’t sure how to broach the subject politely. When Pride pulled out a blue gatestone and prepared to crush it, Lindon decided to just say it.
“Pardon, but would you mind letting me inspect your Book?”
Pride paused. He stood there with the gatestone in his hand for entirely too long.
“No,” he said flatly.
He moved to crush the stone, but stopped when Lindon held out a hand. “Apologies. I don’t mean to pry, I’m only trying to learn.”
“Learn about Mercy’s Book.”
“I am also academically interested. As a Soulsmith.”
Pride gave Lindon a look that called him an idiot, but he let the hand with the gatestone fall to his side. “You can scan it. Make it quick.”
A red-and-silver Book, wrapped in chains, manifested over Pride’s head. As a Divine Treasure, it resembled the Remnant of a large tome rather than a natural book.
Lindon wasted no time in thoroughly scanning the Book. Pride grimaced at the weight of Lindon’s spiritual perception, but kept his spine straight. Dross examined the structure of the Divine Treasure as eagerly as Lindon did.
After only a minute or two, Pride released the manifestation. “That’s enough. It’s uncomfortable enough having you stare at me for so long. I hate it.”
Lindon was disappointed, but he appreciated what he’d learned. He gave a shallow bow. “Gratitude. I know this is asking a lot, but I do have a few questions…”
Pride crushed his gatestone and vanished in a shimmer of blue light.
Lindon stared at the shimmering light where he disappeared, idly feeling the warp in space that had taken him away. Even while he tried to focus on what he’d learned about the Book of Seven Pages, their earlier conversation about Mercy drifted through the back of his mind.
[And so he casts confusion into your thoughts. Raises more questions than he answers. Was he here to help, or to sink you into the mire of uncertainty?]
Dross floated next to Lindon’s ear, whispering doubt. Lindon waved him away.
“I don’t understand your new sense of humor.”
Dross popped up by the other ear. [You didn’t understand my old one either.]
Lindon ran pure madra through a device hanging around his neck, and a doorway opened in the air almost exactly where Pride had used his gatestone. This gate led onto a rune-covered stone platform floating in an empty ocean of stars. A waist-high column of dull gray metal stood in the middle, an opening in its center holding a blue flame.
“Whatever Pride thinks, it doesn’t matter,” Lindon said. “We have work to do.”
The Silent King had threatened to attack Lindon’s friends and family. That threat hung over him; when would that attack come? What resources did a Dreadgod have? Could he have already attacked? Did he have agents all over the world?
But worries didn’t solve problems.
Preparation did.
Lindon strode through the door in the Ancestor’s Tomb, past the hallway of cabinets that was the upper entrance, and into the labyrinth proper.
Here, his awareness expanded as he claimed his authority over the labyrinth.
Its tendrils spread like a spiderweb beneath Sacred Valley and for a thousand miles in every direction. Strands and other, smaller webs branched out all over the world. To him, they now felt close enough to reach out and touch.
What this awareness did not grant him was a comprehensive understanding of the labyrinth’s contents. In spite of the direction Ozmanthus’ echo had given him, there were still depths here he hadn’t explored, buried secrets he hadn’t uncovered, and even places he hadn’t found.
He ran his spirit over the dark spots he found here and there. The places that had been usurped by others, over the centuries, or chambers so ancient he only had access and not control. His authority wasn’t absolute.
Even accounting only for the pieces of the maze he did control, he could spend a lifetime without exhausting all its contents and functions.