“What about the Executors he was raising?” she asked.
The Spider interrupted them, staring off into the distances through his glasses. “We have a further breach in Sector Seven. Sector Control is requesting immediate Judge response.”
“The children he raised in Cradle are not powerful enough to intervene in other worlds,” Makiel said to Suriel.
The Ghost manipulated the otherworldly strings of power between her fingers, creating a shape that resembled a balloon. “We could give a wooden bucket enough power to intervene in worlds. But if it were an Executor, it would be corrupted. Happens every time.”
Darandiel’s fingers stopped on her strings for a moment. “Corrupted bucket,” she muttered, and Suriel suspected the Ghost was considering the idea.
“The situation in Sector Seven is devolving rapidly,” Telariel said again, though he didn’t sound particularly urgent.
Makiel looked to Suriel. “We’ll table the issue of the Executors for now. In the meantime, I move we make immediate use of our delinquent asset to help make up for the problem he caused. We leash Ozriel and put him to use. Agreed?”
There was no dissent among the Court. Not even from Suriel.
Not even from Ozriel.
From the Seat of the Accused, he gave an approving nod. “I knew I’d have a mess to clean when I returned. It’s something of a tradition in my family anyway.”
Zakariel looked at him like she was hearing nonsense. She must have expected Ozriel to include a cutting remark about Makiel, or to angle for more freedom.
In a short time, compared to their total lifespans, the Reaper had changed. What Suriel knew, but the others either didn’t understand or didn’t recognize, was that this man had been inside him all along.
Gadrael returned with another artifact, this one a set of iron-and-crystal manacles that could tether entire worlds. He sealed them onto Ozriel’s wrists, but it was Makiel who tuned them with a decree.
“Your authority to alter and conceal Fate is revoked,” the Hound declared, and Suriel felt the shifting of reality as the manacles enacted the Hound’s will. “Your ability to view Fate is restricted to that of a three-star Hound. Your sight is restricted to a six-star Spider. You may only access your Mantle and Scythe with the explicit permission of another Judge. You are bound to follow the lawful commands of any other Judge. You may not free yourself from these restrictions, allow yourself to be freed through inaction, or flee your lawful duties.”
The crystals in the manacles recorded each declaration, and each time Suriel still expected Ozriel to express defiance or contempt. Instead, it was as though he’d changed completely since only minutes before.
He shivered as the last command settled on the manacles. “These buzz every time. It’s not pleasant. Like my soul is filled with bees.”
In addition to the seals Makiel had just placed on the Reaper, the manacles themselves were like a shining beacon to any Abidan. If Ozriel did manage to circumvent the restrictions, conceal the manacles, or remove them, the Spider would sense it instantly.
But this was the man who had hidden from the rest of the Judges for centuries, and that was supposed to be impossible.
Therefore, if they wanted to keep him under control, there was one more step they had to take.
“Now, you will finally do your job,” Makiel said. “Under supervision.”
Suriel transported herself down directly to the Seat of the Accused, and she brushed her hand over the cage to remove it. Ozriel gave her a beaming smile and bowed over a Cradle salute: fists pressed together.
The crystal-and-iron manacles on his wrists had only a few links of chain hanging from them each, and weren’t secured to anything; their restriction was symbolic and conceptual, not physical.
“I worried the old man would go with me himself,” Ozriel said. “Gratitude.”
The resemblance to Wei Shi Lindon reminded Suriel of his disguise and twisted her stomach. “Stop it,” she said.
“Reinforcements from Sector Eight have been denied entrance into Sector Seven,” the Spider announced. “Judge support after the next few minutes will be insufficient.”
Ozriel looked around the room and clapped his hands together. “So…where are we going?”
1
Lindon walked through the empty rooms of Eithan’s hut aboard Windfall.
Eithan rarely spent a night on the cloud fortress, and his house was minimal compared to Lindon and Yerin’s, or even Ziel’s. It was only a handful of sparsely furnished rooms, and Lindon sensed nothing of significant power inside.