City of Light (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy) (7 page)

The Overlord barely seemed to hear Leah. She was staring at her raven, occasionally muttering something as if in conversation.

Leah waved to the tent flap. “If that will be all, Overlord, feel free to show yourself out.” She didn’t have time to listen to a Traveler hold a private conversation with her bonded creature.

Feiora squared her jaw and turned back to Leah. The raven turned at the same time, meeting Leah's eyes again. “Eugan asks me to express his concerns about Alin, son of Torin.”

Where had that come from? “Alin? As far as I know, he's still in Enosh.”

And Simon thinks he’s an Incarnation
, Leah thought. She had never seen any indication of it—she hadn’t seen Alin flying around blasting people to pieces, in other words—but that would explain why they had heard nothing from Enosh since the Incarnations had been released.

For the first time, the raven opened its beak and gave a
caw
. Feiora chuckled. “Eugan says you're holding something back. He’s a perceptive one, but even I figured that one out.”

“The Overlords know everything about Alin that I do,” Leah said coolly.
Not everything I suspect, but everything I know.

Feiora frowned, still looking at her raven. “I...Eugan made me promise to tell you something. These are his words, not mine, you understand. He says that you're adrift and sadly lacking in allies. 'You're lost on the wind and your flock is too small,' is actually how he said it. He has suggested that you need an advisor.”

The Overlord shrugged the shoulder without a bird on it, seemingly as lost as Leah felt. “You should visit the Corvinus tribe in Avernus. I suspect you'd find it worthwhile. That's all he said, and may Naraka take me if I know why.”

Was that a trap? Leah couldn’t draw on her powers fully in a foreign Territory; did Feiora want Leah in Avernus so that she would be weaker, and the Overlord could make some kind of a hostile move? Even if the suggestion was made in good faith, how could Leah justify the time it would take to Travel through Avernus?

Leah was still considering how to respond when the tent flap opened and one of her Tartarus guards poked his head inside.

“I'm sorry to bother you, Your Majesty, Overlord. But there's a woman there who says she knows you. She claims to have information regarding the current situation in Enosh.”

Leah shared a glance with Overlord Feiora, and they rose to their feet at the same time. Eugan squawked, and Feiora nodded.

“He says to be careful with this woman,” she translated. “She's old and dangerous.”

Then, at Leah's gestured command, the visitor entered the tent. She was a shriveled old woman with straggly white hair and a pair of cracked red spectacles. She wore a patched, stained robe that might once have been red, and a ragged pink scar wrapped her one remaining wrist like a scarred bracelet. Her right arm ended in a smooth stump. Leah couldn't see from her perspective, but she knew that on this woman's palm lay a Naraka Traveler's brand. The guards had known to check, which was why they had tied her arms behind her with a short length of ragged rope.

“State your name and business, woman,” Feiora said.

Leah held up a hand. “That won't be necessary, Overlord Feiora. Please, allow me to introduce Grandmaster Naraka.”

Feiora’s eyes narrowed, and she rubbed her jaw thoughtfully. On her shoulder, Eugan squawked.

The Grandmaster grinned, revealing gaps in her teeth. “So you're the Queen of Damasca? I never would have thought. Grandmaster Lirial thought you were nothing more than a scared natural Traveler from the villages, but I had my suspicions that you were a spy for one of the Overlords. Looks like we were both wrong, eh?”

In Enosh, Grandmaster Naraka had always scared Leah. She could admit that now, if only to herself. But here, in Leah’s tent, wearing clothes that looked like they had been stolen from a beggar, the Grandmaster was anything but intimidating.

“The past few months have clearly not been kind to you, Grandmaster,” Leah said. “But things can always get worse.”

“As I said, I bring you news of the current state of affairs in Enosh,” Grandmaster Naraka said, seemingly unfazed. “We have been occupied by an invading force.”

Leah rubbed one temple. She would rather send a Grandmaster to the executioner's block than suffer unfounded accusations from her. “I am afraid you’re mistaken. We have sent no force to Enosh.”

Naraka chuckled humorlessly. “Not you. We're occupied by the Elysian Incarnation.”

Overlord Feiora turned to look at Leah, and her raven began to chuckle.

Alin,
Leah thought. Her head hurt worse than ever.

***

Simon swept Azura in an arc, stepping forward as he did. The blade sank into a standing column of thick stone, creating a single crack in the rock.

A distant chuckle filled the courtyard of Valinhall.

“Not there...” Makko taunted. “Almost...”

The courtyard was a vast plain of smooth square tiles in a uniform gray. The columns stood in rigid, even rows all throughout the room, made of the same gray stone as the floor. The whole room, like a handful of others in Valinhall, served no purpose that Simon could tell. You could march an army through this room, but how would you get them here? Most of the House's other rooms had small, tight corridors. What did all this empty space accomplish?

This room produced nothing, it did nothing, and it seemed like a complete waste. Why was he spending his time doing this?

Don't whine,
Caela said.
It doesn't suit you. I told you, patience is the way through the courtyard.

The light in this room was provided by small, yellow-white candle flames that whirled around the low ceiling like lost fireflies. As a result, shadows were his constant companions in this test. They danced and shifted all around the room, cast by columns and guttering flames.

Simon thought he saw a flicker of movement to his left, and drew a weighted hatchet he had brought from the armory. He hurled it left-handed and ran after it, on the chance that he had actually struck the room's guardian.

Nothing. The hatchet's blade rang against plain stone.

“Not there...” Makko's voice drifted over to him. “Behind you...”

Simon spun around, Azura held at the ready. He saw nothing.
 

The other way!
Caela shouted in his mind. Another lance of pain shot up his half-healed leg as Makko sank her teeth into his thigh.
 

The miraculous healing powers of the Valinhall pool had restored the wound enough so that he felt no pain walking on the leg, only a little tightness. But he still needed time before he was fully healed, and now this guardian insisted on tearing open his old wounds. Thanks to her and her useless room, he would take even longer to recover.

Simon kicked back, his heel connecting with something that felt like kicking a down-stuffed pillow. He turned to see Makko rising into the air: a wolf, but a wolf knitted out of a dozen different colors of yarn. Her eyes were smooth black pebbles, her snout a twisting nest of red, green, blue, yellow, and purple threads. Her teeth, now stained with his blood, looked like knitting needles made of smooth bone.

He rarely caught a glimpse of Makko, so he had to take this opportunity. He raised Azura, preparing to bring it down on the guardian's back.

His steel ran out.

His muscles sagged, feeling indescribably weak when restored to their natural strength. Azura suddenly weighed five times as much, and sagged in his hand. He managed to lower the sword without dropping it.

Makko vanished behind a column with a flash of her multi-colored tail, still chuckling. “A hunt takes patience...Next time, remember...”

Then she was silent.

Simon kicked his blade in sheer frustration, sending it clattering across the tiles.

You shouldn't do that,
Caela sent, in the smug tones of an older child lording her knowledge over a younger.
She won't like it.

Who? Makko?

Caela let out an exasperated sigh.
Not Makko. Azura.

Simon pulled the doll out of his cloak pocket, looking her in the eye. Her curling blond hair rested beneath a powder blue bonnet, and she wore a frilly dress in a matching shade. She had the same self-satisfied expression as always. “The sword can't talk,” he said. “It's only a sword. It would have said something by now.”

You're speaking out loud again,
Caela reminded him.

Simon gave a mental sigh.
Fine. But I've used Azura for a long time now. If it could talk, I would know.

Just because someone doesn’t talk doesn't mean she doesn’t listen.

Simon eyed his sword, shining in the yellow candlelight. The dolls had lied to him before, as part of a series of pranks, and they didn't know everything. They could be wrong as easily as he could. But this seemed like something they would know.

A shadow detached itself from the pools of darkness behind one of the columns. The Eldest Nye stepped into view, his black outer cloak faded to a dark gray. Unlike most of the Nye, who stood hood-and-shoulders taller than Simon, the Eldest only reached Simon's shoulder. He was hunched with age, as though he should be bent over a cane, but he glided over the tiles like he moved on wheels instead of legs. If he had hands—Simon had never seen them—they were well hidden in voluminous sleeves that draped down almost to the ground.

The Eldest lifted his black hood to stare at Simon. Within, Simon saw only darkness.

“It seems that you are frustrated, son of Kalman,” the Eldest said, in his scratchy whisper.

“I'm sorry, Eldest,” Simon said, bowing a little. The Nye seemed to greet one another with bows, so Simon had started adopting the habit. “I didn't mean to disturb you. I've been working on this one room for so long, it's starting to grate on my nerves.”

Simon had stayed deep in debt to the Eldest practically since he first came to Valinhall, but the Nye had rarely mentioned it. Somehow, his silence made it worse. Whenever the Eldest decided to call in his marker, Simon wasn't sure he had the leverage to refuse.

The Eldest shook his hood from side to side. “There is no reason to let this room anger you. Many of the Dragon Army tried for months or years to pass the test of one specific room, only to never succeed. Not every reward is meant for every Traveler.”

Simon pictured himself in a few years, having rushed at this room hundreds of time and failed to catch Makko. He would go as crazy as Kai. “But I almost got her!”

The Eldest made a thoughtful sound that had a lot in common with the sound of a rasping saw. “In any case, perhaps it is time for you to attempt a different room. There is nothing that says you must try this one again and again.”

“I'm not sure where else to go,” Simon said. He had gone back over every room that he was allowed to enter, earning the powers of the forge, library, and armory, but this was the only new door he had seen.

“Wait,” he said, as a thought occurred to him. “Will you tell me where Kai is?”

Not bothering us, that's all I need to know,
Caela sent, her voice whispering along their mental connection.
These have been the most wonderful months I've ever had.

In the fight against the Valinhall Incarnation, Kai had suffered a wound from a Ragnarus blade. After that, he had retreated deep into the House, and Simon hadn't seen him since. Knowing Kai, he was probably lurking somewhere in one of the deeper rooms, and wouldn't emerge until he felt like it. Or until he missed the dolls.

It had been months, though, and Simon was actually starting to worry.

The Eldest stared at him for a long moment, the shadows beneath his hood writhing and shifting. “You would be wise to try the graveyard, son of Kalman.”

“Is Kai there? Can I open the door? Wait. We have a graveyard?”

The Eldest started to glide back toward the door, and it seemed that Simon had no choice but to follow him. He scooped up Azura—which felt unnaturally heavy when he wasn't full of Benson's steel—and followed the Nye out of the room, limping on his wounded leg.

“We have a graveyard,” the Eldest said at last, “because the Wanderer insisted upon it. It is not part of Nye traditions to honor the dead. This is the place where you may earn ghost armor, which will protect you from the powers of other Travelers.”

Phantom pain throbbed through Simon's right side, and he unconsciously rolled his shoulder. He had been badly burned by Endross lightning when he hunted down that Territory's Incarnation, and the pool had taken weeks to heal the wound. That had been one of the most painful injuries Simon could remember. And, living in Valinhall for as long as he had, he could remember a lot.
 

The Eldest placed one draping sleeve over the doorknob leading back into the rain garden. “As for whether Kai will be there...who knows? Even I could never predict Kai's actions.”

He twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

The rain garden was not on the other side.

Stormclouds rolled about twenty feet overhead, grumbling with surprisingly quiet thunder, and twisting with a thousand bolts of constant, bright green lightning. The room filled with a constant, flashing emerald light, though it remained surprisingly dim.

The whole room was about the same size around as Malachi's great hall in Bel Calem, and was supported around the outer perimeter by a series of stone columns and arches that looked like they had once belonged to an ancient coliseum. Ivy and cracks snaked up the columns, giving the impression of great age.

In the center of the room, within the circle of columns, lay a park's worth of dark soil and grass. The smell of grass and earth hung in the room, combined with something unpleasant and somewhat sweet that Simon couldn't quite place.

Headstones rose from the ground. They were mostly carved out of some gray stone, with names etched into them in a rough, blocky hand. Only eight headstones filled the ground for now, but there was room for dozens more.

Simon glanced behind him, into the shadowy column-filled forest of the Valinhall courtyard. “How did we get here? I came through the rain garden. This was never here before.”