“You must also consider that I witnessed the rise of your mentor, Eithan Arelius, into the heavens. Clearly he is a prominent and powerful figure among the Abidan possessed of authority I cannot comprehend. Would I risk provoking him merely to harm you? If I treat you well, he might even descend once more and provide his insight into my project. Distrust me as you must, but I am no fool.”
Yerin turned and put a hand on Lindon’s left arm. “Safer than facing down a Dreadgod, true?” She winked at him and leaped past the Blood Sage, soaring through the air until she landed on the edge of the Redmoon Hall cloudship.
Leaving Lindon face-to-face with the Blood Sage.
Lindon inclined his head. “Red Faith.”
“Twin Stars.” The Blood Sage tapped two fingertips together. “I would not be averse to your input on this project. You were the closest witness to several stages, and your perspective could potentially provide me further insight. Your own unique madra composition is of interest to me as well. Not to mention your arm, which is a one-of-a-kind treasure whose utility I fear you don’t fully appreciate.”
Lindon was tempted. If he and Yerin were together, then the Sage couldn’t try anything too crazy.
“Gratitude, but I have other business. I would prefer not to have more enemies, so I hope I can trust you.”
Red Faith blinked in obvious confusion. “Did you not hear what I said a moment ago? To harm Yerin would be entirely irrational, not to mention that the only true enmity between us is between you and the Lion Monarch. Or her and the Phoenix. My personal interests are separate from my relationship to either entity.”
Lindon bowed his head. “Gratitude. I didn’t want to call Eithan back so soon.”
The Blood Sage staggered back, but before he could question anything, Lindon hopped on a Thousand-Mile Cloud and soared back toward the labyrinth.
Yerin looked across the deck of the Redmoon Hall cloudship and adjusted her sword in its belt. Sacred artists in black-and-red robes swarmed everywhere, though they stopped and bowed when they saw her.
Now that she was aboard the vessel, she could sense the presence of the other leader of Redmoon Hall: the Herald who called himself Redmoon. That name was needlessly confusing, in Yerin’s mind.
She peered over the edge and saw Lindon and Red Faith exchanging words, which made her feel stupid for jumping up here so soon.
But she had resolved herself. There was only one way to treat Redmoon Hall, and that was to take control and show no weakness.
Yerin looked around at the Emissaries. Some trembled at the sight of her, and others looked like they were an inch from drawing swords.
“Don’t want to start us off playing the wrong tune,” Yerin said, “but the next person who stabs me with their eyes is getting a free trip overboard.”
She probably wouldn’t have gotten away with that in other circumstances. Most of the Emissaries here weren’t worth mentioning, but there were a couple who could at least hold their own weight in a battle.
But if they started a fight and Red Faith found out about it, the best they could hope for was to be left behind.
Not to mention that Lindon was still nearby, and the two of them together could do some real damage to this shiny cloudship.
The Emissaries of Redmoon Hall found other things to stare at.
The walls of the labyrinth stopped blurring, and Lindon led Orthos and Ziel to the exit. He could have transferred them directly, the same way he had moved Reigan Shen’s armies away from Sacred Valley, but it was much easier to move the labyrinth rooms one at a time. As long as he was dealing with few enough people that they could fit in the same room, he planned on doing that.
Ziel led the way out of the upper hall, which here was an ancient stone corridor that looked as though it hadn’t been touched in centuries. Dust covered everything in a thick layer.
He pushed through cobwebs without acknowledging them at all. Some webs tangled up in his horns, but they didn’t seem to bother him, so Lindon didn’t mention them.
When they made it outside, they found themselves on the highest layer of a blunt pyramid that reminded Lindon of the Transcendent Ruins back in the Desolate Wilds. They could see for miles.
Not that there was much to see.
The sun set over a flat, sun-baked mesa. The pyramid was surrounded by crumbled stone ruins—a town that had sprung up around the entrance to the labyrinth, then died out after the entrance closed.
These ruins were hardly lifeless, though.
“Dreadbeasts,” Orthos said, disgusted. He blew smoke at the specks crawling in and out of the ruins. “What is there to find out here? Are they eating rocks?”