But Eithan didn’t have time to listen to Lindon’s petty complaints. Lindon wasn’t some spoiled noble’s son with a doting father; in fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if the Underlord cast him out of the family on a whim.
Gesha sighed. “This is a lesson for you, as you travel into the wider world. Reputation is a sacred artist's greatest treasure. If the Underlord hears that I have disrespected you, he will take that to mean that I do not respect him. You see? The powerful have no mercy for those who step on their reputations.”
Their conversation stopped as they passed through the entrance of the guarded wooden wall and into the Alliance camp, walking down hard-packed dirt roads past buildings that had been hurriedly tossed together from raw lumber and bare stone.
They had a few moments before they were alone again, so Lindon had some time to think. Gesha was trying not to say it out loud, but Eithan frightened her. She was terrified that something Lindon said might lead to her execution.
Lindon knew that Fisher Gesha was a Highgold who could twist him into a knot without ever touching him, but she was still a four-foot-tall old woman who could have been his grandmother. His heart softened when he saw her careful and afraid. “I won't carry news back to him, I swear it,” Lindon said. “He won't hear anything from me.”
She gave him a grateful look, clearly relieved that she hadn’t had to spell it out. Then she gave a brief chuckle. “He's an Arelius,” she said dryly. “If the rumors are true, then he'll hear about it regardless.”
Lindon laughed along, but she seemed half-serious.
That made him consider her fears again. If Eithan was really that dangerous, maybe he should reconsider accepting his invitation.
Then again, this could be the one area where he had more experience than Fisher Gesha.
Eithan may be an Underlord, with a level of power Lindon could scarcely imagine, but he’d seen Suriel with his own eyes. He wasn’t sure how far she ranked above an Underlord, but he was certain Eithan couldn’t hold a candle to her.
“He hasn't descended from the heavens,” Lindon said, smiling slightly. “He can't see everything.”
“Not everything,” Eithan said.
Lindon stumbled back, bumping into a wooden wall at the side of the street. More gracefully, Fisher Gesha hopped down from her spider-construct and sunk to her knees, pressing her forehead against the ground.
All around them, sacred artists of all ages dropped to the dirt as well. At first, only a few had caught sight of Eithan, but more and more people noticed. In only a breath, the sparse crowd of perhaps two dozen people had all fallen to their knees with heads bowed. Only Lindon and Eithan remained standing.
This was the Fisher section of the Alliance encampment, so most of the people were Fishers or their allies, but it was still disturbing to see all these people recognize Eithan on sight. Only a few days ago, Eithan had pushed through a bustling crowd a hundred times this size without interruption.
For his part, Eithan stood in the center of the road as though he’d waited there all along, though he certainly hadn’t been there a moment before. His yellow hair fell past his shoulders, and his smile was broad and cheery. He kept his eyes on Lindon and Gesha, as though the strangers didn’t exist. Today, he wore a teal outer robe embroidered with golden fish leaping and playing among the waves.
“Your unworthy servant greets the Underlord,” Gesha said, and there was a murmur of agreement through the crowd.
“Underlord,” Lindon said, hurriedly sketching a bow of his own. “Forgive me, I was...startled.”
Eithan brushed that away with a gesture. “There will be no forgiveness. To the blood pits with you!”
Gesha trembled on her knees, and Lindon laughed awkwardly.
The Underlord looked at them, gauging their reactions, and eventually shrugged. “Not every joke is appreciated in its time. Tell me, Soulsmith Gesha, would you mind if I borrowed my little brother here? Feel free to say no, although of course I will have your corpse mounted on a flagpole for the slightest defiance.”
“The will of the Underlord be done,” Gesha said from the ground, her face still in the dirt. Her shaking had grown more noticeable.
None of the strangers dared to make a single sound.
Lindon passed a hand over his face. With lowered voice, he said, “Please, Underlord.”
Eithan's eyes widened. “Am I to be condemned because she takes things too...no, fine, all right.” He knelt at Fisher Gesha's side and spoke in a much gentler voice. “I beg your pardon, Soulsmith. Please rise and address me face-to-face.” He raised his voice. “All of you, on your feet and on your way.”
With the speed of Gold sacred artists, the crowd vanished. It was as though the breeze had blown them all away.
Gesha rose, but she did not face him.
“On my word as an Underlord, you will not be punished for anything you say here or have said today,” Eithan said impatiently. “Now follow my instructions, Highgold.”
Finally she let out a breath and met his eyes. “Thank you for your mercy, honored Underlord. Tell me how I might serve you.”
Eithan looked to Lindon. “You see how much faster it is when I just tell them what to do? It's infuriating. I don't want to phrase everything as a command for the rest of my life.”
“It sounds hard on you, Underlord,” Lindon said carefully.
“Yes, the endless subservience and instant obedience wear on me. But if you call me anything other than 'Eithan' again, I'll have you sleep in a cave full of bats.” He stroked his chin for a moment, considering. “You could call me 'brother' instead, if you preferred. Yes, that would be—”
“Thank you, Eithan,” Lindon cut in.
“Hmmm. Well, as I was saying: Fisher Gesha, I must borrow your pupil for an hour or six. I'll return him to you in one or more pieces.”
“As you will, Underlord.”
“And I had something to ask you as well.” Eithan drew himself up and addressed the old Soulsmith with full authority. “You will not be punished for any decision you make here, on my word and the honor of my family. We depart for one of my homes in the Empire very soon, perhaps today. I would be honored to have you accompany Lindon as his Soulsmith tutor, but you are free to decline and stay with your sect. There will be no repercussions of any—”
“I decline,” Gesha said instantly. She didn't even look at Lindon. He hadn't expected any different, but it still stung.
Eithan clapped his hands. “A firm decision! Wonderful. Then, good-bye!”
He extended an arm to shepherd Lindon and turned as though to continue walking down the road, but Gesha had already scurried away. A wooden door slammed shut; Lindon wondered if she’d escaped into a random nearby building.
“For a woman her age, she really is spry. Good for her. Not everyone keeps up with their physical exercises as they get older, and a healthy spirit lives in a healthy body.”
Lindon adjusted his pack, hitching it up on his shoulders. “I’d like a chance to bathe before I continue my training, if you don’t mind. I’ve been in the forest for three days, and water is scarce.”
Eithan turned to him with an expression of obvious disappointment. “Do you think you’ll be able to defeat a Truegold in a year with such halfhearted resolve? How much valuable training time do you plan to waste on baths?”