In fact, he was the only one of the top sixteen to have been removed so far.
Had Northstrider intended that? Or was it the heavens? Had Suriel sent Kiuran to remove her resurrected mortal from contention?
He reached into his pocket and held the warm glass marble, letting it calm him.
Shadows boiled behind Malice, but Northstrider didn’t react. He was supposed to be the greatest enemy of the dragons, and Lindon had been told that it was only his support of Malice that had prevented Reigan Shen from invading as he wished.
Was Northstrider just that outwardly calm, or was he really not worried?
Emriss Silentborn extended her diamond-flower staff, which exuded a peaceful blue-and-pink light. It suffused everything, and Lindon found his thoughts and his madra growing calm as she began to speak.
“Our cooperation was already strained, and now with this…I do not see any peaceful resolution. Whatever restrictions the Abidan put on us, I see no outcome to this competition but war.”
At the end of her sentence, her light was drowned out by a brighter, more powerful blue coming from the ceiling.
For the second time that night, a white-armored man drifted down from above.
None of the Monarchs expressed any surprise at seeing the Abidan descending here, as though they’d sensed him coming, but Lindon certainly hadn’t. Neither had Dross, judging by the shock Lindon felt from him.
The Hound, Kiuran, was a rat-like man with a thin beard and dark, beady eyes. Lindon could picture him as a petty thief more than a heavenly messenger, except for his attire.
He wore the smooth eggshell armor of the Abidan, and a purple eye the size of his head drifted on his shoulder.
[Doesn’t that look like me?] Dross asked. [I think so.]
“Do you think the eyes of heaven are blind?” Kiuran asked, and though he spoke at normal volume, Lindon had no trouble hearing him. “Any outcome you see, we saw long ago. Do not worry over the future, for that is my province.”
He steepled white-armored hands together. “In that capacity, I have come to give you further instructions. Before I do, let me remind you once again to play your game fairly. Any coercion or intimidation or violence or bending of the rules to influence the tournament will be resolved immediately. By me.”
He said it with the smug tone of someone who had complete confidence in his ability to handle a roomful of Monarchs, but none of them reacted in fear. Northstrider glowered, Reigan Shen rolled his eyes, and Malice sneered.
“We no longer need to waste time on your festivities,” Kiuran continued. “Events have outpaced you. The next fight of the fourth round will take place tomorrow, with one fight per day until the fourth round is concluded. That is all the time I will allow you.”
Lindon was grateful for Northstrider’s protection, because the Monarchs did not take the Abidan’s words well.
The very world twisted and rippled under their sudden anger, the walls and floor cracking, spirits fleeing and chandeliers melting like wax.
“Ludicrous,” Malice spat. “This will ruin everything. The news will have no time to spread.”
Though Northstrider’s expression was no different from usual, Lindon imagined he was an inch from trying to tear the Abidan apart. “If I had known the timeline would be altered, I would have changed the structure of the entire round. Am I the arbiter of this tournament, or are you?”
The rainbow-shrouded Ninecloud Monarch shifted uncomfortably. “We can’t prepare the arena so quickly. The effort and expense...”
“Have we run out of time so soon?” Emriss asked softly.
Kiuran tilted his head to her. “At least one of you understands. You are the ones who have no time for a lengthy tournament. If you still wish for time between rounds to train your students, then the length of the rounds themselves must be condensed. Unless you would prefer your competition to be interrupted by a Dreadgod.”
Lightning shot through Lindon’s spine.
Malice waved a hand dismissively. “We are prepared for the Titan’s awakening.”
The Abidan gave an ugly laugh. “You are so proud of your dim sight. I tell you now, you have less than three months before the Wandering Titan rises. If the tournament is not resolved by that time, your squabbling will bring on this world a disaster worse than the Dreadgod. I have saved you from yourselves.”
None of the Monarchs looked pleased, but none protested either. They looked worried, pensive, each deep in their thoughts.
Lindon couldn’t begin to guess what changes would come from this information, but great wheels had begun to turn in the machinery of the world.
What would this mean for him?
“Now that I have removed your distractions, you can focus on the tournament,” Kiuran continued. “If you want to win, then push your children to improve. Of course, if you can persuade your opponents to throw a match without using intimidation or threats, I will accept that result as well.”
Lindon’s mind whirled. Yerin was still in the competition, but she was unlikely to be able to beat Sophara or Sha Miara, even discounting the other fighters.
If persuasion was allowed, that meant bribery. Maybe she could walk away from this with treasures worth more than the prizes.
But if she did accept a bribe to bow out, that was one defender of the Blackflame Empire gone.
“All prior rules and restrictions stand, and the competition will continue. If it turns out that your greatest enemy defeats you and obtains Penance…well, you can stay and face the headsman, or you can join us.”
He turned a sneer on them all, but another piece had just clicked into place for Lindon.
The Abidan hadn’t come to recruit promising young Underlords, despite what Kiuran himself had implied only minutes before. They were recruiting Monarchs.
By pressuring them to ascend.
The rainbow-shrouded Monarch of the Ninecloud Court stepped forward and bowed at the waist. “Son of Heaven, would you stay and share your wisdom with us? We have many questions for you.”
Kiuran sighed and passed a gauntlet over his face. “I don’t see how anything I said requires further explanation. Very well, Luminous Queen, I will make an exception and explain myself to you. As for the rest of you…you have work to do.”
None of the Monarchs looked satisfied with that, but one by one they all took the dismissal for what it was and left the room.
The Eight-Man Empire walked out a door, Malice melted into shadows, Reigan Shen and his entire pedestal sank into the floor, and Emriss disappeared in a rustle of spectral leaves. Lindon didn’t see the Dragon King leave.
Northstrider waved a hand, opening a portal again, but instead of leading back into the hallway, it led onto a steeply sloped roof tiled in rose-tinted crystal. Cold wind howled across the tiles, sweeping through the portal, and Lindon could see the glistening collection of jewels that was Ninecloud City spread out beneath him.
When the Monarch stepped onto the roof, Lindon had no choice but to follow.
Only when Lindon had passed through did Northstrider allow the portal to close. A rainbow halo encircling the tower shone down on them, bright as daylight. The wind was so strong and the tiles so steep and slick that Lindon would have feared for his balance if he hadn’t been an Underlord.
As it was, the footing was only a mild inconvenience.
Dross popped up onto Lindon again. [Ah, thank you for bringing Lindon along. I am rather attached to him, you know? And I didn’t mean those things I said about you. Please don’t unmake me.]
“Now you have glimpsed a Monarch’s responsibilities,” Northstrider said to Lindon. “Remember it. This experience can be of great value to you later.” His arms were crossed, but he wasn’t focused on Dross this time.
Lindon wasn’t sure if that was an improvement or not.