“Much like up on the wall, where there are outposts with supplies in the various towers and turrets, as I am here with you now, the inquisitors are hiding supply caches throughout the monastery,” he continues. “These caches hold tools, weapons, and other resources that will help you survive between now and the final test.”
Survive.My chest tightens at the word.
“Finding these caches and utilizing the tools within is certain to impress the Mercy Knights serving as your inquisitors. But, keep in mind, as a gift and a test from Mercy, this will not come easy. The wall demands a steep price, and so too will the caches.” Anton steps down from the stage, strolling through the benches as he finishes. “And, even with the right tools at your disposal, survival is never guaranteed.”
I grit my teeth at the implication.
The moment he leaves, the room is abuzz with excitement. Saipha leaps to her feet with a clap of her hands. “We are going to find as many as we can.”
“Challenge accepted,” Lucan says with far less enthusiasm.
“I agree,” I say, pushing to my feet.
We step out of the chapter house and into the passage that connects with the central atrium. We’re about to head off and begin our search when we hear a shout echo to us:
“What’s the meaning of this?”
“Was that Cindel?” Saipha murmurs.
“Can’t be good if it was,” I say.
“Let’s see what it is now,” Lucan suggests.
“If we must see Cindel, we must… But she’s better ignored.” Saipha gives us a small, conspiratorial grin, one I return. It feels good to smile; it feels like forever since we last joked together. Even when things were serious, Saipha used to always find a way to lighten things up.
Ever since we entered the monastery…there’s been an increasing weight to her. A desperate seriousness. Or perhaps it’s me who’s changed. Maybe we both have. This place isn’t exactly kind. I never imagined Mercy would be where we’d have an opportunity to relax, but I never imagined the Tribunal would be this nightmare, either. After it’s over, I can only hope things go back more to the way they were between us.
We emerge into the atrium to find a small group of supplicants clustered around the entrance to the residence hall—which has been walled off. The atmosphere in the room is a complete change from the enthusiasm following the lecture.
“What now?” Saipha murmurs under her breath, the words filled with dread.
48
“Where are we supposed to sleep?” Daisy asks the inquisitors, who line the edges of the room. I’m amazed she still thinks they care.
The copper box springs to life in answer.
“As outlined in the lecture from Commander Salvis, there are supplies now spread across the monastery.” It’s the prelate. “There are enough supplies for approximately five supplicants to liveverycomfortably until the next test. Or enough for fifteen supplicants to sustain without issue. Or…should you all share the supplies evenly and ration them well, for all supplicants to at least survive.”
“All of us toat leastsurvive,” Lucan says skeptically. “They say that like it’s not a given.”
“After the last—” I pause, thinking. “What are we at? Eighteen days?”
“Seventeen, I think?” Saipha corrects, but she doesn’t sound sure, either. Time became blurry during the depths of hunger.
“Either way, I doubt it is enough for the three or four days we have remaining. Especially not going into it as weak as we all are.” It occurs to me that the remnants of the pantry we managed to build is still up in Saipha’s room. Which is now blocked off. I wonder if they’ll find it hidden in her lockbox. I assume they will…which means they’ll figure out we have a way into the kitchens, so I doubt we’ll be able to get in that way again.
The other supplicants are already beginning to cast wary, suspicious looks at one another. Outright animosity is beginning to fill the air like the sour aroma from green dragon acid. First, they took our safety by making us earn the keys to our rooms. Then they took our food away. Now it looks like they’re takingboth after just one good meal, and I can’t help wondering why they’re focusing so much on our resources.
The Creed teaches that dragon cursed are those more susceptible to Ethershade, and the dragon is brought forth when Ethershade builds up enough in someone’s body to trigger the transformation. By their logic, the sundering pits made sense—expose us to Ethershade to see if anyone reaches saturation. I can make sense of the Font in their minds, to see if the Ethershade revolted and drew forth like a protective mechanism against the Etherlight.
Protective. If they think the transformation can happen to protect the host body, then it would also happen to save someone from starvation or exposure. It seems rational based on the Creed’s teachings. But the word sticks on my mind like a crossbow bolt to a target.
I am my mother’s daughter, and I don’t believe the dragons are beings of Ethershade. I believe they’re beings of Etherlight. And Etherlight is the force of life. Which meansit would make sense if it did protect.
My heart thunders in my chest as my mind races. But, then, if Etherlight is what fuels the transformation, and it’s a survival mechanism, why did the yellow dragon on the rooftop almost seem like it was wavering from mindless beast to sentient in the presence of more Etherlight as I drew it between us? Wouldn’t the Etherlight just make it stronger?
Mum could help me figure this out. As soon as I’m out of here, I’m sharing this theory with her. It’s not quite there. I’m missing something…something important. But I’m on the right track. I know it as clearly as I can now feel the flow of Etherlight in me.
