Chapter 47
When we enter the chapter house, a Mercy Knight is leaning against the lectern, arms folded.
His commanding presence draws every supplicant’s attention as they file in.
My throat tightens with apprehension as I lower myself onto the bench between Saipha and Lucan.
Saipha leans close and whispers somewhat giddily, “That’s Commander Anton Salvis.
He’s one of the ballista sharpshooters. His accuracy rate is seven for ten—from the air. ”
I let out a low whistle.
“Is that what you want to do, when you get into Mercy?” Lucan asks across me.
Saipha shakes her head. “I want to be on patrol. On top of the wall itself. In the thick of it, with nothing but my wits, a crossbow loaded with sigils, and my silver dagger.”
“I am Commander Salvis,” the knight announces, drawing our attention. A few excited whispers suggest Saipha isn’t the only one aware of his reputation. “I have been a Mercy Knight for two decades, serving this city and upholding the Creed.”
As he speaks, the scars on his face tug and pull.
I suspect in those twenty years of service, he spent time on the wall, like Saipha dreams of.
You don’t get scars like that perched behind a ballista in a tower or Mercy Spire.
The other supplicants are hanging on his every word.
I glance from the corner of my eye to find Lucan staring expressionless at the knight, as if he’s attending a Creed sermon.
“Who can tell me why we are called Mercy Knights?”
“To kill a dragon is to show Mercy to the man or woman who succumbed to the curse,” Nelly answers. I notice they’re sitting with Horowin and his group. Daisy is still at their side. Good, I’m glad they found someone to stick with.
Unlike the others from the Undercrust. My gaze shifts to them for a second.
They’ve never managed to find their footing here, and they look it, huddled together, gaunt.
Horowin didn’t invite them into his group.
I don’t blame him. Welcoming in confirmed cowards who skirt the Creed’s rules is a risk for all of us who are trying to prove we’re playing by those same rules.
But it’s still hard to see. I’d invite them to be with Saipha and Lucan, if I wasn’t so worried about just keeping the three of us alive.
Anton gives a sharp nod. “Humanity is precariously perched upon a precipice. Outside our walls, the scourge spreads. In the mountains above us, the dragons soar, hunting for more Etherlight to absorb into their bodies, removing it from the world so they can better spread Ethershade.”
Saipha is enraptured. Lucan remains stoically focused ahead, but the side of his hand brushes against mine, nearly startling me out of my skin.
Our eyes meet. For a breath, we’re the only two not paying attention to the lecture. We’re the only two in the room.
I know. I’m with you, his expression seems to say.
My lips part slightly. I remember the last time we were in this room, so intensely focused on each other.
I can almost see motes of Ether gathering in the air between us.
And then our time alone at the Font. How his skin felt against mine.
My hand twitches, and I imagine reaching over and entwining my fingers with his.
Instead, I place my palms safely in my lap.
The knight continues speaking, and the whole world moves on, oblivious to the seconds we stole.
“Within Vinguard, it is essential for everyone to do their part. All in this last bastion of humanity have a place, and all are connected to the Font.” His words are hard as steel. Gaze unflinching. “Mercy commanders will be at the final challenge. What do you think they will be looking for?”
“Fearlessness,” Saipha says.
“Boldness.”
“Competency with a crossbow.”
There are more guesses, all along the same lines.
The knight raises his hands, and the supplicants fall silent.
“All of these things, yes. But a Mercy Knight is also someone with the resourcefulness and understanding of Etherlight akin to an artificer—someone who can find unconventional solutions to problems. A person who holds as deep a reverence for our faith and history as a curate of the Creed. One who cares for the people and places around them with the attentiveness of a renewer—for there are many breaks that happen on the wall. Who holds reverence for our world like an Earthwarden. And yes, above all else, someone who possesses the unending desire to ruthlessly hunt dragons.”
Anton drops his arms to his sides and stands a little taller. “To this end, Mercy is offering an opportunity for all of you to hone these skills.
“Much like up on the wall, where there are outposts with supplies in the various towers and turrets, as I am here with you now, the inquisitors are hiding supply caches throughout the monastery,” he continues.
“These caches hold tools, weapons, and other resources that will help you survive between now and the final test.”
Survive. My chest tightens at the word.
“Finding these caches and utilizing the tools within is certain to impress the Mercy Knights serving as your inquisitors. But, keep in mind, as a gift and a test from Mercy, this will not come easy. The wall demands a steep price, and so too will the caches.” Anton steps down from the stage, strolling through the benches as he finishes.
“And, even with the right tools at your disposal, survival is never guaranteed.”
I grit my teeth at the implication.
The moment he leaves, the room is abuzz with excitement. Saipha leaps to her feet with a clap of her hands. “We are going to find as many as we can.”
“Challenge accepted,” Lucan says with far less enthusiasm.
“I agree,” I say, pushing to my feet.
We step out of the chapter house and into the passage that connects with the central atrium. We’re about to head off and begin our search when we hear a shout echo to us:
“What’s the meaning of this?”
“Was that Cindel?” Saipha murmurs.
“Can’t be good if it was,” I say.
“Let’s see what it is now,” Lucan suggests.
“If we must see Cindel, we must… But she’s better ignored.” Saipha gives us a small, conspiratorial grin, one I return. It feels good to smile; it feels like forever since we last joked together. Even when things were serious, Saipha used to always find a way to lighten things up.
Ever since we entered the monastery…there’s been an increasing weight to her.
A desperate seriousness. Or perhaps it’s me who’s changed.
Maybe we both have. This place isn’t exactly kind.
I never imagined Mercy would be where we’d have an opportunity to relax, but I never imagined the Tribunal would be this nightmare, either.
After it’s over, I can only hope things go back more to the way they were between us.
We emerge into the atrium to find a small group of supplicants clustered around the entrance to the residence hall—which has been walled off. The atmosphere in the room is a complete change from the enthusiasm following the lecture.
“What now?” Saipha murmurs under her breath, the words filled with dread.