“I dropped the eyes on the floor, if you could take care of them. I really do have to go prepare. The Emperor’s coming.”
“The Emperor of the…Blackflame Empire? And where is he?”
Lindon pointed to the east.
His mother squinted in that direction. “You can sense him from here?”
“I can see him,” Lindon said quietly.
That was a slight overstatement. He could see the cloudship, and knew Naru Huan was aboard, but the Emperor was actually below deck.
Dross would have corrected him.
Seisha missed a breath. “I…I see.” She braced herself. “I’ll talk to him, but this is a new world for us. Please be patient.”
Lindon promised to try.
Lindon paced on the edge of Windfall, wearing the best clothes he owned: the black-and-red sacred artist’s robes that Eithan had prepared for him long ago. A red turtle emblem blazed on his back, and he had hoped the real Orthos would be with him as well, but the turtle’s spirit was still weak.
“You really are too worked up,” Eithan pointed out. The Archlord was lounging on the corner of Lindon’s roof, a book in one hand and a drink in the other. “It’s not like you haven’t met Huan before. You should take Yerin’s example.”
Yerin wore her normal black robes and was playing a game of darts with sharpened blades of grass. She kept reinforcing them with a spark of soulfire and then hurling the blades far off the side of the cloud.
“He’s the one who ought to shake meeting me,” Yerin said, closing one eye to take aim. She let the grass loose.
“What are you aiming at?” Lindon asked. He had looked down into the forest, but he couldn’t even tell where her makeshift darts were landing.
“I’m trying to draw a little face with knocked-over trees. Hard to do, though. The grass drives right through ‘em.”
She put more power into the next throw, and Lindon saw this one land. It exploded as it hit the trunk and sent half a tree flying into the air.
For the tenth time that minute, Lindon glanced east at the Emperor’s approaching fleet. He could hear the musicians playing a march as they approached, and madra filled the skies like a rainbow-colored sunrise to herald the Emperor’s approach.
“Best thank the heavens they don’t pull the Titan back with that much noise,” Yerin muttered.
Eithan waved his drink dismissively. “If this much would attract the attention of the Dreadgods, we’d all be dead. And they are, of course, taking the current location of the Titan and the Phoenix into account.”
“Do you not like this?” Lindon asked Yerin. He had grown up in the Wei clan, and he respected the showmanship.
Yerin brushed her hands clean and stood next to him. “Don’t like it when they break their spines to impress me. The flashier the right hand is, the more I look for a dagger in the left.”
“I’m surprised you’re entertained, Lindon,” Eithan said. “They can’t hold a candle to the Ninecloud Court.”
Yes, even the most casual display of the Ninecloud Court was brighter and more impressive than the best the Blackflame Empire could do. Lindon had been honored in front of the entire Akura clan as well, and the scale there was a thousand times greater than this. By comparison, it was almost like watching children imitate their parents.
Lindon still found himself drawn in as waves of color and sound emanated from the Emperor’s cloudship. “That’s what I enjoy about it. It was easy for the Ninecloud Court, but the Empire has to do this with Golds.”
Yerin drummed her fingers on the hilt of her sword, Netherclaw. Lindon could see an idea dawning on her face.
“Could be I was going too easy about this. Now I think of it, he is an Emperor. Shouldn’t we welcome him ourselves?”
“Well well well, that’s what I like to hear.” Eithan snapped his book shut and made it vanish, then drained the rest of his glass. He snapped his sleeves in the air. “You’re absolutely right, Yerin. In many cultures it would be considered rude to host an Emperor without a welcoming ceremony of our own.”
Eithan and Yerin began cycling their madra.
Lindon’s gut tightened. “Wait a minute. This is going to look like we’re trying to outdo him. Or scare him off.”
He was also concerned that a display of their overwhelming madra might come across as an attack.
“Don’t worry, I know Naru Huan well. He will appreciate this.”
Something in Eithan’s tone made Lindon look closer at his face. “Will he really?”