by Wight, Will
He saw his third crime before sixty seconds was up.
He was standing on top of a roof, eavesdropping—with Rebekkah’s help—on the family speaking underneath him.
“I don’t understand it,” one woman whispered. “He was never…before…”
She says, ‘he was never like this before he killed the king,’ Rebekkah relayed. She’s talking about Alin, obviously. What more do you need?
Keep listening, Simon instructed.
“Eliadel is a good man at heart,” a man’s voice said loudly. Then, more quietly, “Look, we’ve been through worse times. Alin is hardly the worst thing to ever happen to us. We’ll get by.”
Nearby, where they couldn’t see it, a silver mirror on the wall began to flash. It was flashing brightly, but aimed up at the sky, so the only reason Simon could see it was because of his vantage point.
Less than a minute later, a winged figure landed. It had the head of a brown dog, bright blue eyes, and wore gold-and-white armor. Its wings were enormous, and looked to be made out of gleaming gold feathers.
It glanced around for a moment, sniffing the air, before its gaze settled on Simon. “You,” it growled. “Why didn’t I notice you?”
Simon shrugged.
The winged dog-man snarled, baring its teeth. “I should teach you fear, black robes.”
Simon summoned Azura, which gleamed silver in the bright afternoon sunlight. He didn’t attack, he didn’t speak, and he didn’t back down. He was sure the dog got the message.
It was amazing how much more used to lethal threats he had become since moving to Valinhall.
The dog-man looked at him for a moment, and then laughed, deep in its chest. It sounded like it was grinding rocks to gravel with nothing but its lungs.
“I like you, black robes. Come see us in the Gold District. You will do well there.”
Folding his wings, the dog-man bowed, and then hopped off the flat roof. It landed on the street below and pushed the door open.
You should have attacked him, Rebekkah sent. You’re overdue for a fight.
I’m not here to fight, Simon said.
How do you know?
A man’s screams and a woman’s echoed from downstairs.
“The Silver District has reported disrespect,” the dog’s growling voice said. “We will take this man with us to the Gold, where he will be taught better. If he does not resist, he will not be excessively harmed.”
The man wept, but neither of them offered any words of resistance. Before Simon had figured out what to do, the dog-man had spread its wings and flown off, a small man tucked beneath one arm.
Rebekkah made a sound like she was clearing her throat. Your Nye essence is running out. You should head back now, if you want to be able to fight any time in the next half an hour.
I told you, I’m not fighting.
Uh-huh. Sure.
Simon started running back, but he couldn’t help seeing the images of the victims in his head. The terrified woman in an alley, trying to protect her daughter with her arms. The bleeding man on the street, whom no one would lift a finger to save. The man, speaking not-quite-respectfully enough in his own home.
He had been angry at Alin in the past, but this made him a little sick. Was Alin really the one who’d turned the city into this?
Valin’s questions were never far from Simon’s thoughts, but they rang especially loudly now. What do you want to do?
He wanted to put a stop to this. He wasn’t sure what the consequences would be, he knew that he should do it in the right way, and he still wanted to avoid fighting Alin, if at all possible.
But someone had to stop it. Simon knew that he could.
And, given half a chance, he would. The situation in the city was too bad to leave as it was.
Rebekkah mimicked Lilia’s dreamy tones. I sense a fight on your horizon… she murmured.
Simon ignored her, running to the Naraka waystation.
The blue streets blurred, but nothing else noticed him, and he reached the building in a handful of seconds. He didn’t see anything waiting for him outside, and Rebekkah didn’t alert him, so he assumed he was safe as far as hidden watchers went. There wasn’t even anyone out on the streets in this part of town, except…
Simon drew himself to a halt, and almost slipped and fell on the edge of his cloak. Thanks to the grace and agility of the Nye, he managed to turn it into a skipping step instead of a crushing tumble down two stories onto the cobblestones.
When he managed to pull himself to a complete stop, he crept back a few feet, trying to get a glimpse down the last alley. For a second, he thought he’d seen someone.
Over there, Rebekkah said, sounding eager. Oooh, she’s watching your building. You should punch her in the face.
The doll was right. The girl down there might have been five years older than Simon, somewhat tall, with light brown hair and the clothes of a moderately wealthy villager: a long brown skirt, a tan shirt, a leather vest, and a pale linen cloak to shield against the cold. She would have fit in anywhere in Enosh, but for some reason Simon was reminded of Myria when he saw her.
I’ve still got a little bit of essence left. I might as well go check it out.
Make sure to save some for the fight, Rebekkah advised.
Glancing up and down the street for those floating, tentacled jellies—he saw none—Simon leaped down onto the stones and dashed across the street. He moved so quickly that he must have seemed to appear right next to the girl, because she gasped and backed up a step, pulling a dagger and pointing it at him with both hands.
Then her eyebrows climbed, and she lowered the knife.
“Simon?” she said wonderingly. “What are you doing in that cloak?”
He hadn’t thought of her in, from his perspective, almost a year. The sheer surprise of seeing her here prevented him from even recognizing her for a second, but then his brain snapped to work.
“Ilana,” he said. “Why are you here?”
He had wondered why anyone would be sneaking around in alleys, keeping an eye on the waystation building, but it was doubly strange if that person was Alin’s sister.
I guess that means you’re not going to hit her, Rebekkah said with a sigh. Pity.
***
“I’ve been keeping an eye on him for months,” Ilana said, back in the waystation. Overlord Feiora had summoned a thick, comfortable chair and a blanket from her Territory. She them out for Ilana, who sunk down gratefully into the cushions and began telling her story. She even had a footstool.
Why had it never occurred to Simon to call something as mundane as furniture? He had been freezing in the snow less than three days ago, and he could have dragged his comfortable bed and thick blankets out of Valinhall at any time! He couldn’t summon them directly, but he could still walk through a Gate and pull them out.
The cold in the streets of Enosh hadn’t been so bad, compared to the Helgard-summoned snow a few days past, but the wind was still piercing. He should have thought of that months ago.
Azura doesn’t pick the smartest, Rebekkah said. But she’s a big fan of people who aren’t afraid to start fights. She has good taste.
“I wasn’t here when Alin first came back,” Ilana went on, sipping on a mug of hot tea that Feiora had also summoned. “I hear he wasn’t so bad back then. But the longer he stayed in Enosh, the worse he got, and the more rules there were. There are some districts where there are rules for how many hours you’re allowed to stay up per day. If you stay up longer, you get detained. Try to go to bed early? Detained.”
She shook her head and took another sip of her tea. “I wouldn’t have believed it was him if I hadn’t seen him kill Grandmaster Tartarus myself. I tried to go up and talk to him, but…”
Ilana stared deep into her mug. “It was like looking at the Valinhall Incarnation. Scarier, even. You know, I’ve never worn a disguise in all the time I’ve been here. I’ve looked straight at him dozens of times without even trying to hide
, and he’s never noticed me. It’s like he doesn’t…look at people anymore.”
She clutched her tea as though it held the answers. Simon didn’t have any idea what to say.
Leah, standing over by the still-open Naraka Gate, wasn’t so shy. “Where have you been staying, Ilana?”
Alin’s sister glanced at the circlet on Leah’s head, but she answered readily enough. “Here and there. There are plenty of people who are willing to give me a room for a night or two. I know a handful of Travelers who managed to avoid getting tangled up with the Grandmasters, so I’ve been helping them smuggle people out. A little at a time, you know.”
Leah nodded thoughtfully.
Has anyone told Ilana that Leah’s the Queen of Damasca? Simon wondered.
Who cares? Rebekkah responded. Leah would have taken charge and started questioning Ilana anyway.
That was a good point. Still, he reminded himself to clarify the situation for Ilana as soon as he got a chance.
“What were you doing waiting outside?” Leah asked. “How did you know we’d be here?”
Ilana shook her head. “I didn’t. I check all the permanent waystations I can, every day, to see if anyone new shows up or if they post new guards. It’s the only way to stay ahead.”
She sounded firm, but he recognized the look of someone who had spent months under constant threat. Her eyes were shadowed, and she looked like she had lost ten or fifteen pounds since Simon had last seen her. It may not be Valinhall out here, but Simon got the impression that she would have been safer if she had stayed with him in the House of Blades.
Grandmaster Naraka stood beyond the Gate, amid her five guards on the red stones of Naraka. She looked totally confident, with a small smile and her hand folded peacefully in front of her. There was something wrong there, though he couldn’t quite pin it down. She had seemed afraid of Alin and of the Elysian soldiers in Enosh, but now she didn’t look frightened at all. Why not?
You should beat the answer out of her, Rebekkah suggested.
She’s an old lady.
Good. You should be able to handle her, then.
The Grandmaster certainly wouldn’t show him any mercy if their positions were reversed, and Simon knew it. But she was under guard, and not likely to be a threat anytime soon.
Overlord Feiora’s raven rested on her forearm like a falcon called to its handler. She conversed with it in a low voice. Simon had seen the Overlord before, at a distance, but he had never spoken with her until today. Her jaw was tight, her shoulders squared, and she stood with feet evenly apart as though she thought she might have to fight. Did she know something the rest of them didn’t, or was she always like that?
The door to the waystation blew gently open, and in a blur of black, Indirial flowed in. He straightened and released a heavy, moonlit breath.
Simon had known that the older swordsman’s Nye essence would last much longer than his own, but seeing it was a nagging reminder of how far he had yet to go.
“He’s got the city locked down tight,” Indirial said, striding over to stand in front of Leah. He delivered his report right to her. “The citizens are on a strict curfew, and they’re terrified of being reported for even minor infractions. I looked in on one of their sessions in the ‘School for the Disobedient.’ It was…not pleasant.”
Then he gave an easy smile. “But hey, I’ve seen worse. Any city occupied by an invading army isn’t going to be treated half this well. The village Valin destroyed, the one the Naraka Incarnation burned down, the mining outpost that Endross blew up, the schools that Asphodel infected…all of those would have paid to trade places with the people of Enosh right now. I don’t see an urgent threat here.”
Ilana remained silent, clutching at her mug, but Leah nodded. “I agree. There’s no freedom here, but there is order. I see no threat to Damasca. Feiora?”
The Overlord muttered something else to her raven, and then turned to the Queen. “I’ll get to that in a minute. First, did any of you notice any other Incarnations besides Elysia?”
Leah, Simon, and Indirial all shook their heads.
The raven cawed, and Feiora stroked his beak. “They’re probably not here, then. So where are they?”
Silence reigned for a minute or so as everyone digested the question.
“There remains only one likely possibility,” Leah said reluctantly.
Feiora nodded. “If someone is gathering the Incarnations in Cana, we need to stop wasting time here and get back to our capital. Who knows what they could do with us here?”
Indirial pushed his sleeves up, baring the chains on his forearms. “That does seem like the smart play,” he said. “Alin’s waited here for six months, so he can wait a little longer. He doesn’t seem like he’s in a hurry to go anywhere. Let’s wait to sew this Incarnation up after we figure out what’s going on with the other eight.”
“We’re not even going to try to help these people?” Simon said, without thinking about what he was saying. Everyone turned to look at him, Ilana hopeful, the rest surprised.
“Help them what, Simon?” Leah asked. “They’re not dying. People in other places are. No matter how uncomfortable it is, they can hang on until we get back.”
Simon struggled for a moment to find the right words. “Sure, but…this is Alin doing it. We might be able to talk to him, or even stop him!”
Or punch him in the face, Rebekkah added.
Leah looked at him sympathetically, and Indirial was smiling, but he doubted they would back him up.
“They’re not our responsibility,” she said simply. “We can’t help everybody. If we get a chance, then we’ll do what we can. But our people have to come first.”
Our people.
Simon had never considered himself a Damascan. Then again, he wasn’t from Enosh, either.
It felt like the wrong thing to do, leaving these people behind.
Leah reduced her scrying lens, a round crystal mirror, to about the size of a dinner plate. Then she banished it back to Lirial and started walking toward the Naraka Gate. The two Overlords were deep in conversation in the corner, with the raven croaking some input every once in a while.
“You’re welcome to come with us, Ilana,” Leah said, without turning and looking at the other woman. “You don’t have to stay here.”
Ilana’s face twisted, as though she was having a painful internal fight. “I will come with you,” she said at last. “But only for now. I need your promise that you will take me back here. My family caused this, and I can’t run away.”
At that, Leah did turn back and look at Ilana, but she didn’t say anything. She simply nodded.
Indirial and Feiora finished their discussion, and Indirial clapped. “Well, now that’s settled, let’s get going. We’re burning daylight. Come on, Simon.”
Simon stood for a moment, torn. He felt like the heroic thing to do would be stay and try to talk to Alin. If he could talk and reason like a normal person, then he should be able to snap out of it, right?
On the other hand, he owed something to Indirial and Leah. What did he owe to Alin? He wasn’t even doing anything that bad, compared to the walking natural disasters that were the rest of the Incarnations.
With a last, regretful look at the doors, Simon turned back to the Naraka Gate.
Rebekkah started to laugh.
Simon’s spine crawled, and he summoned Azura before he was consciously aware of doing it. He almost gave Ilana an unwanted haircut, but she jerked back and avoided the point of the Dragon’s Fang.
“I don’t—” Feiora began, but then she staggered and grabbed the edge of Ilana’s chair for support. Her raven gave one shrieking caw, much louder than any of the others Simon had heard from it, and took wing.
Indirial had summoned Vasha as well, making Simon feel significantly better, and he stared at the closed doors.
“What is it, Indirial?” Leah asked.
“Into Naraka,” Indirial ordered, not turning from the door. “In
to the Gate, Leah! Now!”
Then the doors opened, and Alin walked in.
CHAPTER ELEVEN:
ELYSIA VS. VALINHALL
When Alin entered the waystation, he didn’t blast his way inside, or order his army to do it for him. But he didn’t touch the doors, either.
He wore the solid gold plate armor in which Simon had last seen him, though it seemed somehow more impressive now. The symbol of Elysia, a winged sword point-down in front of a rising sun, was etched into the chestplate. He wore no helmet, letting his bright hair shine in the reddening sunlight.
He stood with his hands on his hips, and his eyes…his eyes seemed to light up the stretching shadows in the waystation.
The Elysian Incarnation smiled like a boy expecting a present. “Simon! Leah! You should have told me you were coming, I thought I was going to have to clean up some intruders. And…”
He froze for a second when his gaze passed over Ilana, and Simon would have bet he was going to gasp in shock. But his smile returned almost immediately. “Ilana!” Alin spread his arms wide, taking a step forward.
Ilana scrambled out of the chair and walked away.
The Incarnation shook his head, showing an amused smile. “I understand your hesitation, Ilana. Believe me, I do. But I’m not like the other Incarnations. This is me.”
Leah plastered on a smile and turned, smoothly executing a curtsy to cover the fact that she had taken a step closer to the Naraka Gate. “Pleased to see you again, Alin. I’m so glad you found us. Why don’t you Travel with us back to Bel Calem, and we can talk there?”
Silently, Simon applauded Leah for trying to get Alin into a foreign Territory while, at the same time, not giving away where they were actually going.
Alin chuckled. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t have the time to spare. Feel free to come visit anytime, though. I’ll tell the guardians to let you through. Naraka, right?”
Leah nodded mutely.
“Well, then…” Alin looked directly into the Naraka Gate for the first time, and his face went blank. Not that he simply lost all expression, though that was true as well. His entire body froze with an inhuman stillness, as though he had briefly become nothing more than a statue of himself.
