[I fully support that, except that Fury and the rest won’t even arrive for several weeks.] Dross projected a rough map that only Lindon could see, although the important parts were vague and a lot of territory was covered in fog that represented Dross’ uncertainty.

[They can take a more direct route this time, because the west coast of the Blackflame Continent is closer to us than Moongrave was, but we’re still waaaaaaaaaay over here.] The map spun across an astonishing distance. [It will take them at least three more weeks to get there, assuming about the same speed they used the first time. So you won’t have time to arrive and come back if you don’t want to miss the Uncrowned fights. Do you want to miss the Uncrowned fights?]

Of course Lindon didn’t. Not only should he be there to support his friends, he wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to learn.

But there had to be a solution. He had been pulled through space by Northstrider before. Why couldn’t he join the Akura troops, come back here to watch the fights, and then return to the battlefield? Then again, Fury himself wasn’t doing that. If a Herald couldn’t do it—

Blue light consumed him, and there came a nauseating sense of disorientation.

A second later, he stood in an all-gray waiting room. A projection of light in the center of the room showed the same ceremony he had just been watching.

[Wow, that was amazing! Did you cast us through space just by thinking about it?]

Lindon already had a dragon’s breath in his palm and ready, but he hurriedly canceled it when he noticed the man standing in the room.

Northstrider, his black-scaled hands folded across his chest.

“It’s time, Dross,” he said, and Dross materialized.

[Yes, of course sir! Would you like me to search through some more information today, or would you prefer just to chat? We could discuss the…conditions of the…air. In here. Or out there, it’s up to you.]

Northstrider waited for Dross to finish, then held out an empty hand, which was abruptly filled with the gleaming black orb he had shown before. “I would like you to enter my oracle codex completely. It will examine you. When that process is complete, it will attempt to restrain you, while you try to escape. In ten minutes, I will release you myself, but I hope you will have escaped before then.”

Dross’ one eye widened. [I will not fail you, sir! But just to help me not fail, how about an upgrade?]

“Begin.”

Dross shoved his way into the orb, and its surface rippled with light.

The surface resisted for a moment, and Lindon couldn’t help but worry about Dross’ condition. Northstrider had said that he would release Dross, but what if he didn’t?

There would be no need to trick them, Lindon knew. The Monarch could take anything he wanted without trickery. Even so, he was nervous.

Dross passed through the surface like a man pushing through a screen, and he vanished.

Northstrider’s dragon eyes flicked to Lindon’s face, and Lindon wondered if his thoughts were being read.

“You may sit and wait.”

Lindon took one of the chairs and tried to watch the ceremony, but it couldn’t hold his attention. He knew who the Uncrowned were, and there was little chance of him learning anything else.

There was a much more valuable opportunity in this room.

He needed to get the Monarch talking. Even a stray comment about hunger madra might be the key to Lindon’s entire future advancement.

After a minute or two, Lindon said, “I’m pleased to see that Ziel made it to the current round.”

Northstrider was standing with his arms folded, looking into the wall. Lindon couldn’t tell if the Monarch was casting his perception around the world, deliberating great thoughts, or sleeping with his eyes open.

He tried again. “Is there anything I can do to assist you? Or Dross?”

Silence.

It was probably too bold to try again, but he’d already made two attempts. The Monarch wouldn’t obliterate him for a third.

“If you don’t mind telling me, what are you testing Dross for?”

“I’m examining him to see if his initiative and ability to propose solutions are tied to his personality and self-awareness,” Northstrider responded. Lindon couldn’t tell if he had been annoyed into answering or if he was rewarding academic curiosity.

“I am also testing his capacity and resolve, as well as his spiritual structure. I would like to see if replication is possible without waiting fifty years.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you for enlightening me.”

Though Lindon was curious about the Soulsmithing principles involved, he didn’t want to take the conversation in the wrong direction. Instead, he crept closer to what he really wanted to know.

“I have been training diligently, as you instructed.” Lindon didn’t need anyone’s encouragement to train, but if Northstrider thought he was doing it out of obedience, that could be helpful.

“Watching Eithan fight has given me some thoughts about the direction I could take my own pure madra, so Dross and I have been testing some of those. My Dragon Descends technique—the one I used at the end of my fourth-round match—is still unstable and takes too long to form, so I practice that regularly.”

He flexed his white fingers. “But I’ve begun to believe that I’m not leveraging every weapon I have to its fullest potential.”

When the only response he received was silence, Lindon wondered whether he was being too subtle or too bold.

The gap in the conversation stretched endlessly before Northstrider said, “Four minutes remaining. Did Dross show you the memory he took from me?”

Lindon’s alarm raised several levels, but he extended a cautious answer. “He only showed me the pieces he could put together.”

“What aspects does my madra have?”

Lindon began to sweat. Maybe all the Sages and Heralds knew exactly how Northstrider’s techniques works, but to the average person, Northstrider was a total mystery.

But in front of the stone expression and piercing golden eyes, Lindon was more frightened of lying than of telling the truth.

It was best to pull a dagger out quickly. “Blood and hunger.”

Then he clenched his fists, bracing himself for a Monarch’s punishment.

Northstrider returned his attention to the shimmering orb. “Hunger madra is perhaps the most dangerous aspect to its user. But danger, properly harnessed, is opportunity.”

Lindon eagerly waited for more, but Northstrider glanced at the projection of the Uncrowned ceremony.

The Uncrowned were joined by Sages, each standing behind their chosen pupil. Charity floated behind Mercy, of course, while the Winter Sage chose Yerin.

Unsurprising. Yerin had told him about the connection between her and Yerin’s master. The tan, white-haired woman glared at the Dreadgod cultists as though she meant to draw swords right there.

Behind Eithan appeared a woman that Lindon had never seen before. Her hair was equally yellow and gray, and there were wrinkles on her face, which would make her unique among the Sages that Lindon had seen.

She wore the deep blue of the Arelius family, and a smile that reminded Lindon strongly of Eithan.

Lindon was very curious about this woman’s identity, but Dross emerged from the oracle codex, panting and swiping an arm across his forehead.

“Well done,” the Monarch said.