Of Kings and Killers (Elder Empire Sea #3) - WIll Wight Page 0,46
she always had, but it made him curious.
“Would you regret that? If you had to kill me?”
She considered, her brows furrowing briefly. “…I would regret that. Alsa Grayweather would be hurt. And…it is hard to say for certain, but I believe I would be hurt too.”
That was surprisingly touching.
“I’m glad, Bliss. I thought we’d gotten closer over the last few years.”
“We have.” Suddenly, her look became stern. “So now, if you make me kill you, you will have inflicted emotional injury on me.”
“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
All seven nails were in place, pinning seven silver rings. The Blackwatch spikes and these rings were some of the most powerful Elder countermeasures in the world, and Bliss was standing over him to protect him from attack…and to protect everyone else from him in case those countermeasures failed. He was as ready as he could be.
And yet he hesitated. He shifted in place, watching the Emperor’s throne, searching for a way out.
“The wise man does not hesitate when faced with necessity,” Sadesthenes said. There was nothing to do but dive in.
He pushed his body to move before his fear could stop him, sliding into the steel cage. It was not just a seat, but it supported every part of his body; there were bars positioned under both his arms and his legs and even a loop where his neck was supposed to rest.
The unfathomable Intent of the ancient, world-bending tool pressed against his mind, straining his ability to resist.
The throne was set somewhat lower than the rest of the room, making it easier to climb in, so he found that he was looking out on the Emperor’s ruined bedroom with Bliss looking down on him. Her hands were folded in front of him, and she gave him a smile of what was no doubt meant to be encouragement.
“Do not worry,” she said. “It is very possible that you will survive.”
Rather than responding, Calder released the restraints and opened his Reader’s senses.
It was like leaping into a rushing river.
He wasn’t Reading the throne itself, he realized immediately; the Optasia was taking his Intent and distributing it all throughout the world.
There was too much.
Far too much.
The obelisks wait on the Erinin plains for millennia, massive slabs of stone. They are excavated by human slaves working for Othaghor, their Intent seeping into the stone as they beg it to protect them, plead for their work to save them from the whips of their overseers. But there is Othaghor’s Intent too, filtered through his human slaves, and there is the aggregated Intent of the thousands of visitors who visit this place and wonder—
Now the home of a carpenter in Vandenyas, his carefully crafted pieces set out on display, who had once visited the obelisks of Erin and wondered where they had come from. This table is made to stay strong and sturdy, to last for years if not decades, to bring the home of the customer together, but there is also the Intent of the boards and the lumberjack who cut them—
Lumberjacks. A lumberjack in Dylia prides himself on cleaving through trees in one swing of the axe he inherited from his father. An engineer outside of the Capital designs a machine that would make lumberjacks obsolete. An obscure sect in the jungles of northern Izyria worships lumberjacks, considering it a revered profession, as only the worthy could be selected to end the long lives of trees—
Calder pulled himself out of the flow for a moment, catching a glimpse of Bliss and the world around him, gasping for air and for stability. Each of his stray thoughts directed the Optasia, filling him with far more information than he could ever sort or contain.
He had to focus.
Rainworth. Under different names, the town stands for fifteen hundred years, since the establishment of the Capital as the center of the Empire. In one age, it is a center of Heartland art and culture. In another, a shelter for refugees. Then it is a haven for businesses that cannot quite make it in the Capital, and then and then and then…
Focus.
Shera. Jorin. Bareius.
The Optasia drowned him in knowledge, far too much for him to sort, but he found them.
The Independents were in Rainworth, and they were making moves of their own.
He continued absorbing information, some as relevant as the current general attitude of the Consultant’s Guild and others as irrelevant as the ambitions of the man who had laid the tiles of the Rainworth Imperial Library.