City of Light (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy) (9 page)

Simon couldn’t think of anything else to say to the founder of Valinhall, so he turned to the Eldest instead. “Why?”

The Nye remained motionless, staring at Simon from his empty black hood. “I still have a task for him. Even death could not erase his debt.”

A shudder ran through Simon, though he tried to hide it. Surely, even Valin didn’t owe the Eldest as much as Simon did.

“What task?” Simon asked.

“You will see,” the Eldest responded. Then he turned back to Valin and bowed over his crossed arms. “The son of Kalman wishes to challenge the graveyard, Master.”

Valin grinned like a boy on a holiday. “Is that so? Don’t worry, Simon. I’ll go easy.” He tossed both of his swords to the ground and stood, arms spread, waiting for Simon to attack.

Simon had to stop himself from reaching for his mask.

C
HAPTER
S
IX
:

A T
EST
AND
A
G
HOST

359
th
Year of the Damascan Calendar

1
st
Year in the Reign of Queen Leah I

Spring’s Birth

When he fought, Valin never stopped smiling. Simon couldn’t stand it.

Over the past two days, the older man had begun to remind him of Indirial: he grinned a lot, made jokes, and taught Simon with much more patience than Kai had ever shown. But Valin, unlike Indirial, frightened him.

It wasn’t the fact that Simon had initially met the Wanderer as a crazed, bloodthirsty Incarnation, though that played its part. When Valin cut Simon, he cut deep. When he kicked Simon into a pillar, he was there a second later, swinging his blade at Simon’s neck. In every fight, he acted as if he wanted it to be Simon’s last.

He always stopped at the last second, helped Simon up, and told him what he had done wrong.

But that didn’t help the fear.

I wonder why Indirial would take after him?
Otoku said sarcastically.
It’s not like Valin raised him like a son. Now, if you would kindly
help me
, then maybe I could stop Valin from knocking you around the graveyard like a child’s brand-new ball.

Otoku lay twenty paces away in Kai’s lap, as the white-haired man crooned to her and stroked her dark hair with his little brush. Every once in a while, he smoothed out her red flower-print dress.

You seem to be doing fine on your own,
Simon sent back. It was petty revenge for her refusal to help him, but it wasn’t like he could stop Kai from doing whatever he wanted. They shouldn’t hold it against him.

Beneath a sky of green lightning, Simon leaped over a granite headstone, bringing his blade down two-handed onto Valin’s head. The Wanderer caught Azura’s edge on one of his own gleaming infantry swords, dropping the second one to the grass. With his empty left hand, he hooked Simon’s legs and pulled them into the air, sending Simon flipping over. He slammed into the soft earth with his chin, knocking the air from his lungs and earning a mouthful of mud and grass.

After Simon’s panicked choking fit subsided, he managed to look up at Valin. The older man was still grinning, the chains on his bare chest crawling. He didn’t say anything, but Simon knew what he was thinking.

“I know,” Simon said.

“You shouldn’t go leaping around like that.”

“I know.”

“Keep your feet on the ground. You’re not a frog.”

“I know.” Simon couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed about this last match. His hopes had been high today.

Valin reached out and ruffled his hair. “You’ll get it eventually, even if I have to beat it into you. Though I never did manage to teach Denner to stop jumping around. And plenty of the Dragon Army never earned ghost armor. I remember Janesh…”

His voice trailed off, and his grin died a horrible death. Kai’s white head came up, and he stared at his old master. As usual, his eyes were hidden behind shaggy bangs, and what little Simon could see of his expression was completely blank.

Simon followed Valin’s gaze to a gravestone a pace or two to Simon’s right. It was a squared-off block of granite with a few words carved into its face.

Here lies Janesh, son of Yaman.

All the members of the Dragon Army, except the surviving four, had encountered the same fate. They had fallen to the Wanderer in combat. He glanced around at the headstones surrounding him. Eight graves, eight dead Valinhall Travelers.

Everyone here had died at the end of Valin’s blade.

Valin’s hand tightened around the sword in his right hand, and he lowered his head.

Behind his head, lightning flared in a constant green mesh.

Simon rose to his feet and carefully, quietly, crept over to Kai. “Should I come back later?”

Kai cocked his head to one side like a bird, and his mouth quirked up in a smile. “Why, little mouse, who taught you such patience? No need to worry about him. You should continue.”

Simon shot a glance over at Valin, who was still frozen, staring at Janesh’s grave. “You don’t think he needs some time?”

“Why should he? The monster who killed my brothers and sisters lies dead. This is no more than a ghost. And where better to find a ghost than a graveyard, hm?”

Kai hummed to himself and raised Otoku in both hands, holding her up to the sky like a father with a new baby. In Simon’s head, she shrieked at the indignity.

Valin glared at Kai, his smile a distant memory.

Simon had never been good in situations like these. His instincts told him to shut his mouth and leave before one of the men tried to kill the other. Or at least before the conversation got even more awkward.

In fact, he had taken a step toward the exit before Kai surprised him by rising to his feet, cradling Otoku carefully in the crook of one arm. He held Mithra out to one side, and the sword shimmered and vanished.

“Do not worry, little mouse. I have finished my business for today. Why don’t you escort me out?”

Confused, Simon followed Kai, leaving Valin glaring after them. As they pushed through the graveyard to the courtyard, where yellow firefly-lights danced above a forest of columns, something occurred to Simon that he had never thought of before.

“Master, you banished Mithra.”

Kai stared in mock surprise at his empty hand. “Why yes, I believe I did. Truly, your observation skills have grown to epic heights.”

“I mean, you banished it within the House.” Now that he thought about it, Simon had seen Kai do so on other occasions as well, back when he was using Azura instead of his apprentice. “How? I can’t do that.”

Kai clapped Simon on the shoulder in a fatherly gesture. He leaned in, as though about to tell Simon a secret. “There are things I know,” he whispered, “that you don’t.”

He seemed to consider that enough of a lesson. Simon probably shouldn’t have expected anything more.

So he asked the other question that had been bothering him ever since he had seen Kai in the graveyard. “Is this where you’ve been for so long? I haven’t seen you in months.”

“I have spent a good deal of time here, among my brothers and sisters, with the shade of my old master. I have wandered into the depths of the House, where the Nye dare not go. And I have often whiled my days away in our lovely pool.”

“The pool?” Simon repeated. The bathroom was close to the entrance of Valinhall. If he had made it that far, surely he should have been able to greet Simon every once in a while. “Then why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“What was there to say?”

“We’ve been fighting Incarnations, Master. We could have used you.” Simon knew what Kai was like. The man had an incurable tendency to wander off at the worst possible moment. Simon knew he shouldn’t be offended, but he couldn’t help himself. Whatever the reason, Kai had effectively abandoned him for almost a year, as time passed in Valinhall. No matter how crazy Kai was, that still felt like a betrayal.

Kai cocked his head to the side. “Did no one tell you about me?”

Simon stared at him blankly, not sure what to say.

Kai shook his head. “Oh, little mouse…” He turned his back to Simon, as though he meant to head back into the graveyard. Then he pulled up his shirt a few inches, exposing his back.

A hideous red wound gaped in his lower back, almost glowing with a bright, unnatural red, as though it had been painted on. Beneath the surface, veins of the same red crept through his skin, like his blood itself had become infected. Layers of scar tissue bordered the wound like layers of rock in a canyon, ranging from pale white to a fresh pink, as though it had been healed and torn open again a dozen times in short succession.

Heir Talos, the son of King Zakareth, had struck this blow with a Ragnarus weapon. Simon had been sure that it would take Kai’s life. Then, when Kai had survived, Simon had been equally sure that the danger was past.

“It hasn’t healed?” Simon found himself asking. “Even in the pool?”

Kai let his shirt drop back into place, turning to face Simon. He wore a strange little half-smile. “The pool is the only reason I’m still alive. That, and the fact the power of the Crimson Vault is weaker in a foreign Territory.”

So if Kai left the House…

“You can’t go outside anymore?”

Kai shook his shaggy head. “Never again can I leave Valinhall. I have spent most of my life here, you see, so at first I did not think it such a burden. I am comfortable here. I did not realize that my occasional trips into the Latari Forest were all that kept me sane. That, and my dear little ones.”

He ran the back of his hand down Otoku’s long, black hair, and Simon somehow heard her shudder.

“Now I am deprived of them both,” Kai said with a sigh. “I must find other pursuits to distract me.”

Simon imagined how that must feel. He had grown used to staying in the House, but he left at least once every few days. He knew he
could
leave, and that made the confines of Valinhall bearable. If he were trapped here by something not of his own choice, how long would it be before he went even crazier than Kai?

“I’m sorry.” That was all he could think of to say.

“Ah, well. Years of my own poor choices catching up to me.” He started to walk away, back through the courtyard, to the front of the House. “And now, I seek the sweet release of the healing pool once more. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll drown.”

Kai’s sense of humor had always had a grim edge to it. At least, Simon hoped that was all it was.

No, wait!
Otoku cried.
Don’t let him take me! My hair can’t take anymore!

The courtyard door slammed shut.

The yellow firefly lights danced against the low ceiling, making the shadowed columns flicker. Kai had almost died. Now he was trapped, here in a Territory, for the rest of his life. Somehow, it made Simon think about himself. He was risking the same fate as Kai, or worse, and for what? He could stop Incarnations from hurting ordinary people, but any Traveler could do that. Indirial and Leah said they needed his help, but they would get along fine without him.

Slowly, Simon made his way back into the graveyard. He didn’t have anywhere else to be.

Valin was seated on a gravestone, waiting for Simon. He had driven his short swords into the ground to either side of him.

The former Incarnation didn’t say anything, so Simon didn’t either. For a long moment, the Wanderer stared at him, his fingers laced together thoughtfully.

“Let’s get back to it then,” Simon said, trying to force some enthusiasm into his voice.

Valin continued lounging on his tombstone. “Why?”

Because I’ve got nothing better to do,
Simon thought sarcastically, but there was no doll around to appreciate it. “Because I need the ghost armor,” he said.

The Wanderer leaned forward. “For what?”

For a moment, that simple question kept Simon stumped.

“It will be a great help against the Incarnations,” he said at last.

“Against the Incarnations…” Valin mused. “That’s a big task for a man your age. I hope you won’t mind a few questions, then.”

“Well, I—”

“Glad to hear it.” Valin pulled one short sword out of the soil beside him and pointed it at Simon. “You want to stop the Incarnations. Why? More specifically, for whom?”

Simon felt like he was being backed into a corner by a superior duelist. “I’ve been working with the Damascan army, but…” He trailed off as he realized how Valin would feel about him working alongside Leah.

The Wanderer’s hand tightened on his sword, and his eyes flashed from gray to an almost metallic silver so quickly that Simon might have imagined it. “For
Damasca?
Do you think they deserve your protection? Will the Ragnarus Travelers be grateful to you, do you think, or do they see you as another weapon that they’ve bought and paid for?”

For this one, Simon had an answer. “It doesn’t matter,” he said firmly. “You, above anyone else, know what kind of destruction the Incarnations are capable of. If I can spare anyone from that, no matter who they are, I should. And, if you remember, I
can
fight Incarnations.”

There. At last, he felt like he had gotten off the back foot and launched a solid attack.

Except Valin waved that remark away with a casual flick of his blade. “Let’s say you’re right. When does it end? Even if you seal all nine Incarnations in their Territories, nice and tidy, you’ve only bought yourself some breathing room. In a few weeks, maybe months—years, if you’re impossibly lucky—another one will pop up. Will you seal that one, too? And the one after that? What about if you can’t seal it, and you have to kill one, then another Incarnation can pop up
right away.
You won’t have any respite at all. When will it end?”

Simon tried to answer, even though he wasn’t perfectly sure himself, but Valin rode over him.

“And what about the times in between Incarnations? You stay in the House, going deeper and deeper, getting more and more powerful…and all the while getting closer and closer to Incarnation yourself.”