Before the priests; their head. The peak of who the Order of this day is.
At his feet sits Teren, looking worse for wear, as if he hasn’t slept or eaten in days. They haven’thadhim for days, but beingkidnapped and expecting to become a slave is draining in more ways than one.
Not to mention he’s also bound in lines of iridescent magic. Order magic. Even without being able to see all the lines, I can guess that it’s draining his power.
To show that the priests control the sages, not the other way.
It’s a show for all of us, but especially, I think, Eraya.
Because the Sage of Compassion stands before them as their golden sacrificial shield.
That’s her place with them.
When Zan lands, I flip off of him to land in front, facing the Sage of Compassion.
We are both, Eraya and I, at the front. We are both backed up by people, expected to lead the way and bear the brunt of any consequences.
Are we really so different, then?
Not in many of the important ways, I think.
Except.
Except, the people behind her are not here out of compassion.
But behind me...
Oh, I feel it, the simmering wrath.
The tide rises in me, even as I feel Eraya dig in and reach for her own reserves.
“I welcomed you,” the Sage of Compassion says to me. “I gave you a chance to become part of something bigger than yourself. And instead, you have done your best to ruin a town of innocent people. This is why sages must never be allowed to operate on their own.”
I look past her, not responding.
She doesn’t get to set the tone anymore.
“Hey Teren, how’s it going?”
“I don’t love being chained with magic for no reason,” Teren replies dryly, “but you’ll be unsurprised to hear that I have not infact destabilized and gone mad turning everyone around me into a knitter as you all rightfully should be.”
They haven’t broken him yet. Probably haven’t had enough time—binding a sage’s power isn’t an ordinary sort of working.
Some sounds suspiciously like chuckles behind me.
Eraya hears it, and snaps. “This is not ajoke. Sages must be controlled—”
“I get that they’ve told you that your whole life,” I interrupt her. “But sages were perfectly capable of controlling their own power five hundred years ago, and that isn’t any different now. We could be the same, Eraya. Teren hasn’t destabilized yet, has he?”
“He will. This is for his own good—”
Teren says, “Kidnapping me and taking away my choices and freedom is definitely not good for me, Eraya.”
Learned Mujin flexes his power, and Teren seizes in a rictus of pain.
That might also account for how Teren looks now.
“You will address her,” Mujin says, “as the Sage of Compassion. You are no true sage yet.”
