“I’m going to try.” It feels like a lie, even though it’s not. I would end all of this in an instant, if I could.
“Try? That’s it?Pathetic.” She releases me, staring down with tired and desperate eyes. I don’t move. “You’re no Valor.”
With that, Cindel leaves.
Immediately, murmurs rise. I move to Saipha. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. It’s not as bad as it looks.” Saipha’s attention drifts to where Cindel left—where her lackeys are trailing behind. I’ll give her one thing, the girl knows how to engender loyalty. “She… Her mother died?” I can tell from the tone of Saipha’s voice that she’s imagining her own parents. Every supplicant in this room knows the pain of loss in some form. There’s no one in Vinguard who does not.
Saipha, Lucan, and I exchange startled glances as the copper box on the wall sparks to life.
“All supplicants are to report to the chapter house.”
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’mglad 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.
