City of Light (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy) (31 page)

“Kai,” Simon said.

A laugh scraped its way out of the Eldest's robes. “Kai? He shirked his duties even
before
he was crippled by Ragnarus. Now, if someone does not make up for his lack, our world will fade away, another dead splinter adrift on an endless void. Just like before.”

Simon tried to ask another question, but his throat wouldn't cooperate.
What responsibilities?
he asked the dolls.

Angeline dutifully repeated his question to the Nye.

“I have said too much, daughters of wind,” the Eldest replied. “He will learn fast enough by doing as he is instructed.” The Nye flowed over to the door, out of Simon's field of vision. His voice floated back to the bed. “I am taking this demonic seed with me. Perhaps I can find a way to dispose of it.”

He made no other sound.

Is he gone?
Simon finally asked.

No, he's behind you!
Otoku called.

He's gone,
said Angeline.

You're no fun.

Simon found himself mentally rehearsing the Eldest's speech, and it didn't comfort him much.
What does he want Kai to do? You know, don't you? Does he expect that of me?

Gloria sighed.
Oh, honey, I don't think it would be wise to talk if the Eldest doesn't want us to.

It sounds smart to me,
Otoku said.
What can he possibly do to us? Oh, I'm sorry, I meant what
can't
he do. That list is much shorter.

I'll tell him,
Rebekkah said casually.
He needs to know.

It was a good life while it lasted,
Lilia sighed.

The Eldest told us not to!
Angeline put in.

A few of the others started to argue, until it sounded like a whispered twelve-sided debate in the middle of a windstorm.

Finally, Caela's voice cut through the rest.
Actually, I believe I've thought of a solution,
she sent, her mental voice pleased.
 

The others stopped for a second, and in the moment of quiet they all seemed to come to some sort of agreement.

Oh! That's a good point.

If anyone would know, he would.

I'm sure he's not afraid of the Eldest.

What would he have to be afraid of?

Finally, Simon cut in.
What are you talking about?

There was a brief silence, which Simon felt certain was filled with condescending pity.
 

Think about it, Simon,
Caela said.
Who knows everything there is to know about Valinhall? Who would gladly tell you anything the Eldest won't?

Then Rebekkah jumped in, as subtle as ever:
Who is currently
stuck in the graveyard
with nothing to do but answer your questions?

Simon felt like an idiot.
I should have asked Valin these questions a long time ago, right?

You're learning,
Otoku said.

I'm surprised it only took him this long,
another doll sent.

He may be slow, but at least he's...
Lilia's voice trailed off.

Thanks, everybody. Thank you.
Simon leaned back against his pillow and sighed.
Now if only I could move.

***

It had only taken Simon about six hours to climb to his feet, according to the clock beside his bed. Someone had pounded on the door a few hours before, but since Simon was physically incapable of shouting or rising to answer it, the mysterious person was on their own. It was probably Andra anyway.

The dolls had taken turns entertaining Simon with their favorite stories during his paralysis, some of which had involved Kai. Many of them were embarrassing incidents featuring him. For some of those, he hadn't even had a doll with him.

He almost called steel so that he would turn into an Incarnation and be done with it. By the time he was strong enough to limp to the hallway, he almost wept with relief.

You're welcome!
Otoku called, cheerily, as Simon left.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the hall, though it took all his concentration and both hands against the wall for him to stay upright, much less walk.

To his surprise, Overlord Feiora was waiting for him. She wore solid black, though her armor from the day before was missing, and her blunt face hardened on seeing him. “Good, you're awake. You need to take me back.”

“Sorry,” Simon said, pushing himself a few feet down the hall. “I can't help you right now.”

“You can and you will,” she said. “I have business that can't wait.”

“Same here.” Maker, how long would it take him to get down this hallway? It had never seemed so long before.

Feiora stared at him as though she couldn't figure out what he was talking about, and was stuck deciding whether or not to break his legs. “It's an order from an Overlord, Traveler.”

“Not from Damasca,” he said. “Sorry.” Later, he would probably regret talking to her like this, but he had spent hours being bullied by the Eldest and embarrassed by his own advisors. He wasn't exactly in the right mood.

“You're from the village of Myria,” she said. “I'm an Avernus, and I like to know who I'm working with. Myria is as much a part of the kingdom as Bel Calem.”

“Who says?”

“Centuries of tradition! Thousands of maps!”

“Get new maps.”

That didn't even slow her down. She started talking about how the kingdom could be falling apart, and he was stopping her from saving lives, and he couldn't imagine what was at stake, and a few other things that he didn't much pay attention to.

He'd known that he shouldn't have tried being clever with her. It never worked. So he resorted to his old habit: saying nothing. Simon pulled himself along the wall, through the House, and into the garden.

Overlord Feiora didn't stop until he shut the door to the rain garden almost on top of her. She couldn't open it, but she did pound on the stone for a while, shouting something muffled that sounded like curses.

Simon was already relaxing in the beautiful sounds of the steady rain and the wind through the nearby plants—and the glorious lack of anyone speaking to him—when he realized that, since the graveyard had moved, the courtyard wasn't directly accessible through the rain garden anymore. He had gone the old way. If he wanted to do this without doubling back, he was going to have to cross through
six
rooms, and in at least three of them he'd have to fight his way through.

At the thought, he almost cried.

***

Two hours later, panting and covered in shallow slashes, Simon arrived at the graveyard.

Valin wasn't there.

The sheets of emerald lightning rolled overhead, lending the usual green cast to the headstones and ivy-shrouded pillars. Simon usually saw Valin sitting on one of the tombstones, or else locked in combat with Kai.

Today, he saw no one.

Simon walked forward on shaky legs, concentrating on not falling over. Valin wasn't behind the first stone column, as he had half-suspected, nor was he behind the second. He glanced over behind the first row of graves...

And there he saw Valin, crumpled in a pile of tangled limbs. He couldn't have been sleeping; no one could sleep with their legs twisted at different angles. Besides, one hand was outstretched toward the hilt of a sword that rested a foot away on the grass. Either he had been crawling toward it, or he'd dropped it when he fell.

Simon collapsed to his knees by the Wanderer's body, feeling the man's neck for a pulse. Nothing. His skin was waxy and cold, and his gray eyes stared blankly into the dirt.

So he's dead,
Simon thought.
Again. I wonder if it will stick this time?

The strangest thing, to him, was that he couldn't see any obvious wounds. He would have thought that, if a room guardian were killed, it had to be the result of someone challenging the room. But if Kai had killed his former master at last, there should be some evidence of it. Blood, sword wounds, something.

Maybe the Eldest Nye's resurrection technique had been temporary, and Valin had simply returned to his natural state. That would make sense, but if that were the case, why had the Eldest given him a position as a room guardian? He should have known that Valin could pitch over dead at any time.

Then Valin heaved a great breath and bolted upright, his eyes widening.

Simon almost fell backwards, startled but not surprised. He hadn't really expected the Wanderer to stay dead.

Valin squeezed his eyes shut, at the same time pulling a dagger away from Simon's throat.

That,
on the other hand, surprised him quite a bit. He hadn't even noticed that Valin had a knife.

“How long has it been?” Valin rasped, his throat sounding caked with dirt.

“I saw you yesterday,” Simon responded. “Or...maybe the day before, I'm not sure.”

Valin blinked his eyes open and gave Simon an easy smile. “At least it wasn't twenty-five years, this time. Are you here for training?”

Simon eased himself onto a gravestone, trying not to fall off. “I met the Eldest today.”

“Oh, I get it.” Valin pulled one arm over his head, stretching sore muscles, then he cracked his neck with a sharp sound that made Simon wince. “You've got questions.”

“Yeah. My first one: does this happen to you every time? The dead thing, I mean.”

Valin rolled his chain-wrapped shoulders, working them loose. “I'm only around when the room needs me,” he said. “Usually, that's when a Traveler's here. When nobody's around, I get weaker and weaker until, eventually, I keel over and die.” He paused for a moment, then added, “It got worse after what I did for you the other day, calling on my old power for a few minutes. Turns out that wasn't such a good idea. Who knew?”

“So you're not...” Simon stopped. He wasn't even sure what question he wanted to ask, much less how he was supposed to say it.

The older man flexed his fingers, opening and closing his fists. “I don't understand how the Eldest brought me here. I wonder, sometimes: was I actually dead? I feel like myself, and yet...thin, somehow. Sort of hazy, like a ghost.” The Wanderer looked off into the distance, far past Simon. “I don't know how he did it, but I wish he hadn't.”

Simon waited, wary of saying something to set him off.

“But I'm here now,” the man continued, brushing dirt from his pants. “And I don't think you have to worry about ending up like me, so you can relax. I'm Valinhall's Founder; it's as much a part of me as I am of it. Not to mention that I was an Incarnation at the time, so...”

He shrugged. “Was that it? Were you worrying about having to share a room with me? I have it on good authority that I don't snore while I'm dead.”

“Not quite,” Simon said. The thought of ending up like Valin had never occurred to him, but it didn’t sound so bad. No matter what the Wanderer said, working as a room guardian in Valinhall still had to be better than dying. “The Eldest mentioned that you were the Founder, and I'd never heard that before today. What does that mean, exactly?”

Valin glanced in his direction, and then away. He stepped forward, putting his short sword through a casual three-part combination that de-limbed and decapitated an invisible opponent. While he moved, he spoke. “He's setting you up as the Founder's heir, is he?”

“Uh, yes. Yes, he is. I was hoping you could tell me what that means.”

At the end of a thrust that skewered another non-existent man through the heart, Valin shrugged. “I'm not too surprised it's you. From what I hear, Kai hasn't done much in the past two and a half decades, and there had to be
some
reason why the Eldest gave the Nye essence to a new kid. Why do you think he picked you? Instead of, say, Denner or Indirial.”

Valin was picking up speed, slashing imaginary opponents behind him, to either side, and even above. Simon took one prudent step back; the Wanderer seemed to think that friendly, good-natured violence was all in good fun, and he was more that capable of attacking without warning. As he had proven often enough in the past.

“The Eldest said everyone else had turned him down,” Simon responded.

“That ought to tell you something, don't you think? If the Nye passed up two—well, Kathrin's still alive, so three—highly trained and experienced Travelers, and he's trying to put you in charge...I can only think of one reason.” Valin spun, his sword blurring to a halt in front of Simon's nose. Simon didn't flinch; for Valinhall, this wasn’t worth noticing.
 

“He wants a Founder who will do what he says. Seven stones,
I
never listened to him, and it seems like Kai isn't listening to anybody. Kathrin would do what she wanted even if the Eldest had his chain around her throat, Denner takes every chance he can get to leave the House, and Indirial would probably bring everything to his
Queen
first.” Valin spat to one side. “That leaves someone new, preferably someone young and ignorant enough that he'll do whatever the Eldest tells him.”

Simon bristled at the comment about his ignorance, but he cast his mind back over his early conversations with the Eldest. It seemed to fit. He had always known that the Eldest was trying to scam him into a bad deal, but his real question remained: how bad of a deal
was
it, really?

“He hasn't asked me to do anything terrible, so far,” Simon said. “Nothing I might not have done on my own.”

Valin propped one leg up on a headstone and leaned down on it, stretching out the muscle. “I know how he works. You've done exactly what he wants, but somehow you always end up deeper in his debt than before. Am I right? You brought him some new artifact or something, and then he acted like he was doing
you
a favor by letting you use it.”

Simon thought back to the mask. “Yes, actually.”

The Wanderer laughed, shaking his head. “When you get to be a few centuries old, I guess you never change. Listen. All the Eldest wants is the expansion of Valinhall at all costs, because the healthier and stronger this Territory is, the more power he's got. He'll want you to raid other Territories for weapons and creatures, find enough bearers for all thirteen Dragon's Fangs, anchor the deep rooms so that they're passable again, and ideally bring a population of human servants here to work under the Nye. It's a lifetime of work, and he'll never be satisfied.”