City of Light (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy) (35 page)

But she was still embarrassed when she realized she had stood there, staring at the Corvinus tribe Avernus outpost, for five minutes without making a move. She'd been wearily trying to construct a stealthy plan of approach that would allow her to survey the area and find a loyal Damascan Traveler who could open a Gate for her, but that was an idiotic plan. For one thing, she was a Lirial Traveler. She wouldn't need to go down there herself; she could summon a couple of scout crystals, send them down there, locate an appropriate Traveler, and then send Eugan to guide them back to her.

More importantly, everyone down in the camp had a mind-reading raven. They'd known she was coming long before she had.

Abandoning any attempt at stealth, Leah slipped and slid down the front of the muddy hill. She briefly considered concealing her identity: in Avernus, the Travelers tended to live based on tribal affiliations rather than national allegiance. There could be as many Enosh Travelers down there as Damascans, and even a substantial group who owed nothing to either side.

It wouldn't do her any good, though. The Avernus Travelers couldn't pull any specific thoughts from her through her crown—it was one of the crown's many protective functions, and she'd been thankful for it often—but they could still sense her presence, and likely that of Ragnarus as well. If a young woman came into their outpost whose mind they couldn't examine, carrying artifacts of the Crimson Vault...well, it wouldn't take a genius to draw the right conclusion.

So she entered with her head held high, as though she expected nothing more than generous treatment. She didn't pretend that she wasn't tired, because that would have been transparently ridiculous. She was wearing villager clothes that looked like they had been through a mudslide and a fire, not necessarily in that order. But she'd been taught that half the journey toward getting people to obey you was expecting people to obey.

Therefore, she walked into the Corvinus tribe as though she owned the whole outpost, nodding to everyone she met. Most of the people she passed wore feathers and soft leather, even children that were clearly too young to be Travelers. Small groups huddled in the doors of their cabins, whispering to each other as she passed.

Seven stones, how long is it going to take to get someone's attention?

Ravens flew everywhere, and for the first time since entering the Feathered Plains, she saw and heard nothing of any other type of bird. Only the black-feathered hunters like Eugan, perched on rooftops or fenceposts, occasionally fluttering out of doorways to get a look.

All of them staring at her with dark eyes. And all of them could surely sense her thoughts, if not read them in detail. So why wasn't someone here to help her?

At
last
, after she had walked half the length of the outpost, an Avernus Traveler walked up and bowed to her. She wore the same calf-length soft leather dress as most of the others, with black feathers arranged around her collar and in her sandy hair. A bronze-and-pearl badge at her chest, in the shape of a fan of brown-and-white feathers, marked her as a Traveler of Damasca rather than just someone living in the village.

“Your Highness,” she said. “Traveler Galene, at your service. If you would follow me, please, I can take you to the one who will serve you.”

Leah glanced up at Eugan. He had stuck with her all of last night, so he was the closest thing to a native guide and a friend that she had in this place.

The raven cawed and landed on her shoulder, which she took to mean that she was doing the right thing. She nodded at Traveler Galene, who bowed again and walked off, clearly expecting her to follow. Leah did so, ignoring the whispers that drifted along behind her.

She ground the butt of the Lightning Spear into the mud, using it more and more as a walking stick. Her strength was starting to leave her, which put her on her guard. She needed to find a safe place where she could rest soon, or else a Gate out.

Galene finally stopped at a broad tent, much larger than the others, almost a campaign tent. It was propped up on smooth wooden poles at the corner and at the center, and the flap was secured by a complex knot in a white rope. It took Traveler Galene a moment to undo the knot, and when she drew the tent flap aside, Leah couldn't see anyone inside. Only a few candles burning, even though it was midday outside and the light filtering through the canvas should have been enough to see.

She thought she caught a glimpse of a spread wing and a few loose, drifting feathers, but that shouldn't have been a surprise—this was Avernus, home to ten thousand species of bird.

“After you,” Leah said. She wasn't about to trust the word of a Traveler she'd never met about the safety of a mysterious tent in a foreign Territory.

Traveler Galene shook her head, shooting a fearful glance into the tent. “I'm sorry, Highness. I'm not allowed.”

Who was in the tent? It wasn't Overlord Feiora, or the woman would have marched out and demanded to know why Leah looked like such a wreck. It can't have been Overlord Lysander, because—unless some other Lirial Travelers had been hard at work without her permission—he was still sealed in a crystal coffin on a hillside outside a random country village.

Which left the regional commander of this outpost, whoever it was. How could he or she inspire this much fear in their Travelers? Unless...

Goosebumps prickled along her arms, and she took a healthy step back. Then she twisted her left arm so that the crystal she wore there, suspended on a fine silver chain, caught a ray of sunlight.

It took her a long moment, and far more concentration than usual, all the while Traveler Galene insisted on interrupting her with questions that she, in turn, ignored. Finally, her call to Lirial was answered.

After another few seconds, her viewing lens fell into her hands. It was roughly the size of a dinner plate and made of smooth, translucent crystal.

With a slight mental effort, she focused on the person she wanted to see: the only Incarnation that she and Simon had managed to actually seal back into its Territory, these past six months. The only Incarnation they hadn't either watched escape or been forced to kill.

The Incarnation of Avernus.

Sure enough, the image resolved in her lens almost instantly: a face almost like a human woman, with eyes of a bird of prey and soft brown feathers instead of hair. Two pairs of wings rose in layers from her back, each wing a different color: one the deep black of a raven, one the gentle white of a seagull, one gray, and one a startling jade-green.

“Come on in, Leah,” the Incarnation's voice said from within the tent and inside the crystal at once. “I'm much more myself this time, compared to when we last met.”

When they'd last met, the Incarnation of Avernus had been a screeching madwoman who'd controlled the minds of the Damascan citizens around her, directing them like puppets.

“Just a moment,” Leah said. Then she turned to leave.

Eugan hopped up from her shoulder and flew into the tent. After he flew out of her view, he let out a sharp caw. She was sure that meant he wanted her to follow, but that made her walk faster. Of course he thought she should enter the tent; he was part of Avernus. He would likely laugh as his Incarnation stripped the flesh from Leah's bones.

Leah almost ran straight into a man's chest before she realized that the inhabitants of the outpost were all standing in her way. Hundreds of ravens covered every nearby surface, staring at her, and the humans stood in front of them, silently barring her way.

Traveler Galene stepped up, blushing. “This...isn't what it looks like, Your Highness. She doesn't want to hurt you. She only wants to talk.”

Leah couldn’t imagine a worse time to be without her Ragnarus powers. If she had been at full strength, she would feel much more confident about facing an Incarnation of Avernus. Even though Avernus had accounted for hundreds of lives during her rampage, before Leah had managed to put a stop to it, she still wasn't much use in combat against another Traveler. With Ragnarus, Leah might have been willing to climb into the tent.

Without it, Leah was little more than a Lirial Traveler. And if there was any Territory that was just as unsuited for battle as Avernus, it was Lirial.

A voice sounded in Leah's mind, like one of Simon's dolls.
I have news about your father.

Well, that was hardly fair.

I swear that I will not attempt to harm you,
the Incarnation went on.
You are free to come and go as you wish. I foretold that you would be abandoned in Avernus, which is why I asked Eugan several days ago to bring you here. I think Overlord Feiora told you, didn't she?

Come to think of it, the Overlord had said something about Leah going to Avernus. And the Incarnation certainly wasn't acting like any other hostile Incarnation she'd ever met—which meant, essentially, that she hadn't tried to blast Leah to pieces or capture her for study.

And she'd promised news about Leah's father. It could have been a simple lie, but she would never forgive herself if she didn't at least find out for herself. Like any good Lirial Traveler would do.

A voice of caution sounded in her mind, a voice that sounded a lot like Indirial. It begged her not to take this risk.

But she went inside anyway. Sometimes, if she wanted to make the right decision, she would have to risk herself. She kept her connection to Lirial open anyway, tapping into her Source in case she needed to encase anyone in crystal.

She may have been taking an intentional risk, but she didn’t have to be stupid about it.

Leah walked into the tent calmly, as though she were the one who had arranged this meeting. The interior was plainly furnished: a cot, a desk, a small chest, a pile of what might be mouse carcasses. Only the bare necessities for this Incarnation. She didn't let herself look shaken, adopting a careful mask of polite neutrality. The Incarnation couldn't read Leah's mind, so if she kept her expression blank, she ought to have an advantage. If her mind was blocked from influence, she had nothing to fear from this particular Territory.

Then she realized that the Incarnation had somehow managed to speak with her, in her mind, through the protection of her crown. At least she managed to keep from bolting out of the tent.

Avernus herself sat on a stool to the right of the entrance, her four strikingly different wings folded up behind her. The bronze feathers that served her instead of hair had been tied back into a single tail, which ran between her wings, and she was wearing the same softened leather outfit as everyone else in the outpost.

“Feel free to have a seat,” the Avernus Incarnation said smoothly. She picked up a teacup that Leah hadn't noticed before, lifting it to her lips. “I'm sorry I only have the one cup. Just because I see pieces of the future doesn't mean I don't forget things. Would you like me to have another cup brought?”

“No, thank you,” Leah said. She didn't think anyone in Avernus would need to poison her—they would likely try and invade her mind directly, rather than through more subtle means—but she didn't know much about the plants of this Territory.

Besides, a quick nap on the bare cot in the corner looked more inviting than an entire pot of hot tea.

“I wanted to speak with you while you were here, because I didn't think I'd get another chance. As one of the last active Ragnarus Travelers, perhaps the last, you should know the truth behind what your family has been doing for three and a half centuries.” She spoke carefully and precisely, with no accent, as though she sculpted each word before it left her mouth.

“I appreciate your candor,” Leah said, though her tone remained a bit too dry.

The Avernus Incarnation chuckled and took another sip of tea. “But you have no reason to trust the truth from one of the mad Incarnations. Tell me, do I seem insane to you?”

Leah had to admit that she didn't, but crazy didn't necessarily mean foolish. An Incarnation as in control of herself as Avernus might be able to pretend sanity long enough that she could fool all but the most careful watchers.

“Incarnations become much less, after some time in their home. When a few months have passed, they will be Incarnations no longer.”

That made sense to Leah. “That’s why we get a reprieve after sealing the Incarnations into their Territories. For a few months, at least, they still exist as Incarnations, before they…fade away.”

“This is knowledge that has been lost throughout the years,” the Incarnation said wistfully. “I remember when that was not the case. I remember when the information was lost. I remember when the second Queen Cynara sealed me. I remember the rage...”

Her voice trailed off, and for a moment her raptor's eyes began to glow slightly, as if she had started to become once more the force of nature that she remembered. But then her eyes dimmed, and Leah relaxed.

“What has been lost?” Leah finally asked. “The knowledge that you're not insane?”

Avernus chuckled over her teacup. “Hardly. The knowledge that an Incarnation, in her own Territory, becomes nothing more than another native. We can't call on our full powers, we can't summon or banish, and we can't appear in the Unnamed World unless we are summoned by a Traveler.”

The Unnamed World. It was the oldest title of the outside world, what some called the 'real world': the place outside the Territories. The ancient scholars had feared that to name their world, as they had the Territories, would somehow reduce it, and that by giving it a name they would be contributing to a potential apocalypse.

Leah's tutors had been of the opinion that these original scholars had simply been afraid to name their world, because that would make it seem more like a Territory. The idea that they were all living in the largest Territory instead of a whole, unique world was simply too terrifying for them to consider.

Either way, very few used the term 'Unnamed World' anymore, and it drove something home to Leah: this Incarnation was from a different age, when legends walked the earth and the Territories were still wild and free, rather than tools of war, trade, and commerce.