Blackflame (Cradle, #3)

by Will Wight

A construct, essentially, was a puppet with a single technique embedded in it. The binding was the technique. Scripts could tweak the specifics, but the bulk of a construct’s abilities were determined by the power of the dead matter in its shell and the binding at its heart.

“Keep your eyes on the present, not the future, hm?”

“You do not travel any Path by skipping steps.”

“An Iron child in these woods should have no more pride than a mouse, no more courage than a rabbit. But you have your eyes on the future. You stare only at your goal far away, so you miss the traps before your feet.”

He would have caught the Remnant’s approach if he were Jade. And she, a Highgold, had swatted it like a fly. That was the real lesson: if you were powerful enough, you could accomplish anything.

“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.”

“You two are the experts, so please correct me if I speak out of turn. But in my humble experience, you cannot wait until you are stronger than your opponent to fight. Sometimes the game is rigged against you, and your only option is to flip the board.”

“There’s an old saying about asking forgiveness rather than permission,” Eithan said, “but the essence of it is, ‘I’m going to do what I want.’”

Jai Daishou had the look of a man about to set a house on fire.

“What are books but a mechanism to store knowledge? If we have something much more efficient available,” —Eithan picked up the copper ball—“then why would we need books?”

“I have many plans,” Eithan said, “and many ideas. But I’ve long believed that it’s better for someone to choose their own direction and then accept guidance than to be pushed where I want them to go.

“Pardon, but it sounds like we’re going to see a real dragon.” It was like learning he was about to feed a lion by hand: a unique experience, but far more terrifying than anything else.

Having an Underlord at the head puts them on the same level as the three great clans, so I would improve our standing even if I spent all day drinking peach wine and eating honeydrops. But although I do make a dashing figurehead, I prefer to take more...hands-on control of the family’s operations.”

“I am eager to learn,” Lindon said. “I know there is no shortcut for work.”

“You know, sword artists don’t tend to be the philosophical types. Some sacred artists can think their way through bottlenecks and roadblocks in their advancements, but those on sword Paths...they tend to prefer fighting through their problems.”

“I’ve never liked betting on hope,” she muttered, but that wasn’t entirely true. When you got swept up in the nets of someone powerful, you didn’t have much left to your name but hope. Hope that they were looking out for you, and not just using you as grain in a mill.

“A worry shared is a worry halved.”