wounds, with blood trickling from his salt-and-pepper hair to stain his short beard.
King Seishen Dakata breathed heavily through his nose, obviously trying to keep up a breathing technique, but Lindon had seen the Akura Overlords carrying him in.
They had not been gentle.
In the worst shape by far was Dakata’s remaining son, Seishen Daji. One of his eyes was swollen shut, his clothes were torn and looked to be somewhat burned, and instead of handcuffs, both his arms were wrapped in halfsilver chains. That had to be spiritual agony.
He wore no complex scripted muzzle, but had a dirty rag stuffed in his mouth to gag him. While he trembled in fear and pain, Lindon would call his expression sullen, even defiant.
Whatever fate the Akura family was about to decide for him, it would be no worse than he deserved.
Akura Charity stepped forward, her young-looking face cold as usual. “Kingdom of Seishen. You stand accused of conspiracy to assassinate members of the Akura head family.” She pulled a scripted spike from a void key and held it up.
It resembled a long tent stake made of stone and ringed with runes, and Lindon had seen it before. It was the spatial anchor Daji had tossed into Lindon’s team to summon the Blood Sage. Leading directly to their deaths.
The anchor would be dangerous to carry around, lest someone else use it to teleport into their midst, except that Charity had sealed off the runes with scripted straps. Only once the straps were removed could the device be used again.
“A trusted witness testified that one of you used this device to summon assassins,” the Sage continued. “The traces of madra remaining in the script have aspects similar, possibly identical, to your Paths.”
Seishen Dakata looked to his left, and the horror that slowly crept over his face was enough to tell Lindon he was innocent.
Because his son surely wasn’t.
Meira’s eyes drifted shut, and she heaved a deep sigh.
Charity continued to speak quietly. “Your guilt is beyond doubt. We are gathered here to decide the extent of that guilt and the severity of your punishment. Your fate lies not in your hands…nor in mine.”
She extended the spatial anchor to her right, where Mercy hesitated before taking it. She looked from the scripted spike to her aunt’s face…then, with obvious resolve, she seized the anchor.
When she stepped forward, she quivered with a cold fury of the sort that Lindon had never seen on her. “Underlady Meira,” Mercy said, “I will address you first.”
The script on the leather over Meira’s mouth dimmed, but she didn’t speak.
“Swear to answer my questions truthfully,” Mercy commanded.
There was a long moment before Meira’s voice came out, heavy as a tomb door and quiet as a whisper. “I swear on my soul to answer you with the truth and tell you no lies.”
Lindon felt the oath between Mercy and Meira as a distant quiver in the air. He had a whole new set of senses now. He would have to get used to them.
Sometime after Seishen Daji got his justice.
“What do you know of the attempt on my brother’s life, my life, and the murder of three other young sacred artists of the Akura clan?”
It was strange to hear Mercy speak with such gravity and hidden anger, and indeed she looked furious, grieved, and uncomfortable in equal measure.
Meira shook her head, her eyes still closed. “I knew of no plot against you or the Akura clan until this moment.”
“Do you believe it plausible that one among the Seishen Kingdom did carry out such a plot?”
“Yes.”
“You know who it was, don’t you?”
“…I suspect I do.” Meira tilted her head slightly in Daji’s direction, though her eyes were still closed. “I warned you, Daji. I warned you and warned you.”
King Dakata lunged against his manacles, coming up short at the chain holding him to the ground. He screamed into his muzzle, only a muffled sound coming from him.
“Thank you, Meira,” Mercy said softly. “King Dakata, you may—”
The instant the script around the king’s mouth stopped shining, his shouts resolved. “Me! It was me! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you all!”
He shrieked in rage, making a show of fury, even snapping his jaws behind his muzzle as though he wished he could bite out Mercy’s throat, but Lindon was certain the anger was just a front.
It was nothing spiritual or supernatural, no working of madra or willpower. The king’s desperation just seemed more like fear than anger.
Mercy’s hand trembled on the anchor. “King Dakata, will you swear—”