She pondered, noticing then the shade of orange light that flowed out from the walls, from the edges, bathing the room in that bright luminosity. Even the marble statues were screened by them, imposing an illusion of painted stones instead of pallid hues.
Henrik from the Honor Clan mouthed something about the Fermen being enemies sent from someone within Valor. From anyone else, that could be seen as a diversion of blame, but not Honor. Never Honor. As well, as she knew the known history, Honor, likely the vastest of the Great Clans, had never broken an Oath. Never done wrong to the world.
They were in a word...honorable.
As expected from the order of the crownBearers!
She nodded, paused for a moment, and frowned, internally, of course.
What if the one who sent No'el, his so-called companions, was the same enemy that provided access to the fermen? She rapped fingers on her palm, pondering. But if that were the case, how could they have known that I had escaped with Kabal?
Spyeyes?
Some secret means by which they observed the clan?
What was it?
A voice called out to her...What?
"Ivory of Valor!"
She perked, looked up, and noted seven pairs of eyes locked on her. Emotionless, no, not that, more like waiting. Ivory regarded the vileStorm woman and said, "Yes?"
The lady grinned. So masculine were her traits that one could nearly misidentify her as the other gender. Thus was the way of the woman from the vale of storm. For a society lorded by females, they had oddly adopted the masculine characteristics.
A thing of nature?
Although she heard very few existed with those brutish attributes. Most were rather feminine--seductive even. Supposedly, that was the way they controlled the men beneath them.
By Coitus?
The lady said, "We are discussing your future, little one, should you not add in?"
Ivory regarded her, said, "You cannot decide my future."
"Oh?"
"Yes, now what exactly is your question?"
The woman looked to Argon, grinned, and said, "Rarely does anyone host Coronations for the obvious. You are the highHeir, yet there was a reason that required a coronation. Are you perhaps not worthy of it?"
Hmm.
She continued. "I, for one, would love for a woman to rule Valor, like Shirera of the line, or Lila Valor. But if you were to fail, there is always Rhaena."
Typical...Ivory said, "For one, Lilia was never a Highness of Valor. She was married to one: Amon Seal Valor. Regardless, your desires have no sway in what happens in cintry. After all, men, too, have lorded your lands."
"Royce never ruled the Vale!" She proclaimed, then smiled. "You have a fire in you. I like that. I just hope that fire isn't wetted by some knife to the throat."
"No metal is strong enough."
"Mine is."
"It isn't."
She laughed proudly. "Good. I saw that display of yours. What a symbol that was. I couldn't even grasp anything from it. Not even a bit off its concept. What is it?"
Ivory thought, suppressing the glee within. So she couldn't see it, which means likely none of the other Representatives could. Good. She said, "Would you reveal details of the order greyJusticiars? Perhaps why you control the storms?"
The woman laughed, shoulders trembling. "By Origin, I love rumors. Storms? Since when was that a coreness of the greyJusticiars? If it were, wouldn't it be called something like the stormBringers or whatnot?"
She's mocking me. Ivory replied. "Exactly my point. In that same way, I cannot reveal the Bladesworn to you."
"Good, Good." She said, looking to Argon. "You have a wonderful niece here."
"Daughter," Argon said, frowning.
"Ah, yes." She said curtly. "Daughter."
"Is this necessary?" Adara of the Fray, clothed in that silverfish dress, asked, "What gain is there to get from your hidden malice? What matters now is the question of my attackers--"
"Our Attackers." Henrik corrected.
"Yes," Adara said, sparing just a glance at the man siding her. "The Fermen. A huge force had somehow infiltrated Valor. Odd, given you hold the greatest prison in Eastos. You are supposed to be the safest, yet you were not. And now we hear your vassal clans might be revolting?"
Ivory uttered. "That is not the case!"
"Is it not?" Adara regarded her, eyes black with a ring of silver within them. "Have any of the Lords of your clan pledged their fealty to you?"
Silence.
"That says something...Perhaps Valor, like the metal, is heating up."
Argon scowled. "And you, of course, have no desire to interact with it."
Adara suffered quitude for a moment, then said, "Fray will not join in the wars of another Clan. That is a breach. You will fight your battles, but first, all commissions done by Fray would be retracted."
"All about the wealth," Ivory muttered. "That can be resolved."
Adara glared at her. "Princess, those words were not directed at you!"
Argon snapped. "AND IT WOULD BE SO!"
The lady of the fray shuddered at the tones.
Argon continued. "You will have what you have requested. All commissions will be given, and our metals and weapons returned. If this is your sole desire, that is. Remember, Valor never forgets...But first, do bring this before your Highness."
Master Geld said, "I doubt you would accept any help from Odium if it were to be given; however, we will give you a piece of information. Do with it what you will, but the Former lord Wane of Stone Bastion had been amassing an army, hiding them off in the Free cities. Bolt and the rest. It would seem that war is inevitable."
"WHAT?" Argon.
How did Odium find that out before Valor? Ivory frowned, sensing peril.
Henrik said, "This matters little. The Lord Wane is dead."
"Yet, he has a son who shares his dream." Geld said, "A dream of making Wane the principal Clan of Cintry Range."
Adare sighed. "It would seem it was the right call to take back our deals. We cannot have a chaotic clan as an ally in trades."
"And yet, not long ago, a rumor revealed that your clan is, too, in a chaotic situation. Heid of Fray was it? The son who killed his sister...Your High Family."
Adara scowled. "He is dead."
"The Rumors say he escaped."
Henrik waved. "We should not bring such issues to light. Every clan, great or not, exists with its own problems. That is true. But instead of the mockery, we should attempt to solve these issues. That is what the king's room is for."
The lady of the vale scoffed. "What about the issue of the highHeir and the Church? Perhaps Valor would finally reveal some connection to the theocracy in this coming conflict of theirs." She leaned forward. "You ask me, kill the male. It's just a man!"
"NO!" The words came out faster than imagined. And now, she knew the mistake present in it.
The brutish woman smiled. "So it's true...You do act with the church."
The delegate from the House of Noctis chimmed in. "Even after what they did to us? To our Highness. You act in accord with them?"
"We do no such thing," Argon said.
"Yet, your Daughter confirmed it herself."
"I didn't do anything!" Ivory panicked.
"Yes, you did." Adara said, "Perhaps it's you who collude with the church. Perhaps it is you who should be punished!"
"What--"
"IVORY!" The room trembled, silence dawning over the chamber. Argon fumed, looked to her, and said, "Leave!"
Praise the Song--From the beliefs of the Theocracy
Merrin lost strength.
I AM, time to fulfill your end of the bargain! A voice.
What came next was a withering of internal force--a siphoning of the same power that heightened that awareness of his. The multi-state of the mind. All of it was like a stone bouncing off land rather than water. Painful, sudden. To fast for cognitive comprehension. He groaned, knife slipping out of his grasp. Mistake. The Beast knew that.
A darkened hand--a talon swiped from the side, coming inches from the face of the El'shadie. The ground pulled, his form slamming against the hard surface. Promptly. The claws severed through the air, pausing in puzzlement.
Just enough time for motion.
Merrin rolled back, that familiar sensation evolving within his mind. Slowly, memories faded back into the edges of insentience. A dubious essence spilling into his mind. Why, Why, Why? Above, ahead, looming was the towering thing of bulging form. A monster of glowing ocular redness.
It hungered, maw wide as steam smoked out like kindling. It poised, back lowering, both claws settling atop the earth, crushing pieces of marble. A hand, a face, a leg...Even a stray of red clothing was flattened. There was rage to see that--the tasteless destruction.
Why?
More and more memories faded.
But the rage remained.
There was no strength, no surge of power that desired an utter domination of all things. No longer was the mind that omnipotent aspect of his wholeness. There was only him, his body, and his soul...
Only the soul remains.
Merrin wondered about that vague spew out of the weakened churning. Only the soul remains, it said. Why? What was a soul? What did it matter?
The beast was before him, alpine, claw cleaving down for an anticipated shredding. But there was only Merrin, rage-filled, and the awareness. Oh, that ever-present awareness of another. Always, a disparate force existed in the body. Call it soul. Spirit. Whatever it was...it was there.
The calming force!
Merrin surged it, and felt a taint of chill filling up his totality. There was no sentience to this action, but one of instincts. To survive. He reached for the wind and found its defiance. No, he thought it said. No to the soul.
But there was another that was marshaled instead.
The world grew darker!