The Crimson Vault (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy) (12 page)

“I will wave to the people, and I will demonstrate the power of Elysia,” Alin recited. “I will then tell the people how Enosh needs to be strong, and that together we can bring Damasca’s unnatural blight to an end. I will then remind them how we defeated Overlord Malachi—“
 

“You,” Grandmaster Naraka corrected.

For a moment Alin didn’t understand what she meant. Then Master Farin tugged the straps on his breastplate so suddenly that he almost fell over.

“You will remind them how
you
defeated Overlord Malachi,” the Grandmaster said. “Not
we
. You were the one who killed the Overlord.”

“That’s true, but Simon was there first,” Alin pointed out. Master Farin had apparently secured the breastplate, and had moved around to his back. “Without him, Leah and I would never have escaped with our lives.”

“You give Simon too much credit,” Grandmaster Naraka said dismissively. “If he truly battled the Overlord, why were the both of them still alive after the fight, hmmm? Tell me that. I find it more likely that he and Malachi came to some sort of an arrangement.”

“Not Simon,” Alin said firmly. “The Endross Traveler, Cormac, killed his mother. He hates Damasca as much as I do.” Then again, Simon
had
begged Alin not to kill the Overlord. But that didn’t mean anything. He had just wanted to spare Malachi’s children the sight of their father being executed. It had probably made him remember his own past, and Alin couldn’t blame him for that.

“I hope that is so,” Grandmaster Naraka said. “Damasca is true evil. Their human sacrifice is proof enough of that. Maybe your Simon has seen the light, but he draws his power from Valinhall. He is no true Traveler. I would distrust him for that alone.”

Farin tightened another strap, pinching Alin’s side so hard that he slapped the armorer’s hand away. Master Farin bowed and murmured his apologies, returning to his work with assurances that it wouldn’t happen again.

Alin turned his mind back to the conversation. “What do you mean? Simon’s a Traveler.”

Grandmaster Naraka adjusted her red glasses. “The original nine Territories, including Ragnarus, have existed since the beginning of time. They encompass all the powers of nature. Over a thousand years ago, we were granted access to Elysia, the tenth Territory, which represented the enlightened virtues of man. For centuries the world existed in balance, until the first Damascan Queen eradicated the Elysian Travelers. But that is another story.

“Valinhall, in contrast, has only existed for sixty years. As far as we have been able to learn, the Territory was cobbled together in one of Damasca’s twisted experiments. Damasca undoubtedly intended to use its power to further pervert the natural order, but the first Valinhall Traveler—by the name of Valin—turned the Territory’s power against Damasca. In the ensuing conflict, most of the Valinhall Travelers were killed. Only a handful remain, a rare and dying breed.”

Grandmaster Naraka’s voice drifted away, and she stared past Alin, as though she saw the distant past in her dark red lenses.

 
Alin stood still as Master Farin moved over him, still tightening straps and adjusting buckles. How did someone
make
a Territory? For that matter, where did the other Territories come from? More importantly, he failed to see what any of that had to do with Simon.

“That sounds even better,” Alin said. “The Valinhall Travelers hate Damasca too, right? Then they’re on our side.”

Sadly, Grandmaster Naraka shook her head. “I wish that were true. Unfortunately, the enemy of our enemy is not always a friend. Valinhall Travelers cannot be trusted.”

“Why not?” Alin asked.

“They are no true Travelers,” Naraka said, in a tone of disgust. “Their Territory was
created
, not born. It’s a twisted abomination. Their only purpose is to kill
real
Travelers. Just like they killed my granddaughter.”

Master Farin cleared his throat and suddenly became very focused on Alin’s left boot.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Alin said carefully.

“It was eight years ago, just before midsummer,” the Grandmaster began. Her voice softened as she spoke, and she almost seemed to relax. “My granddaughter, who was also a Naraka Traveler, went with a partner to the Latari Forest. You have heard of the place?”

“Yes, of course,” Alin said. He had grown up hearing stories of Latari Forest all his life. “It was only a day or two from Myria. I heard that’s where Simon’s father died.”
 

 
Naraka sighed. “Another victim of the Valinhall Travelers, no doubt. Truly unfortunate that he chose to side with them. Anyway, we learned that Damasca had sealed a very powerful force at the center of Latari Forest. It is to maintain this seal that the Damascans sacrifice nine lives every year. We thought that if we destroyed the Damascan prison and set this power free, then we might be able to stop the sacrifice. My granddaughter and her partner were one of twelve teams we sent.”

Master Farin clapped Alin lightly on the shoulder, signaling that he was done, and bowed one more time before slipping from the room. Alin didn’t blame him. He wouldn’t have wanted to eavesdrop on such a personal story either.

“Alas, there were Valinhall Travelers guarding the Latari Forest, and they sided with Damasca. All twenty-four of our Travelers were killed, including my granddaughter. We would never have known what happened, except that a few managed to send messengers back through their Territories before they died. If Valinhall had joined us, rather than the Damascans, perhaps Zakareth’s rule would be over even now.”

One detail of the story bothered Alin. “How many Valinhall Travelers were there?” Alin asked. “They killed twenty-four of your people, but I thought you said Valinhall Travelers were rare.”

Grandmaster Naraka turned her red lenses on him. “Perhaps only one.”

Alin would have been significantly less stunned if she had punched him in the face. One Traveler had killed twenty-four others? He had seen what some of the Enosh Travelers could do; he couldn’t imagine standing alone against such power. His thoughts turned to Simon, who had survived a great battle involving over a dozen Damascan Travelers from at least two or three different Territories. Suddenly the carnage in that canyon took on a startling new aspect.

When Alin had seen the remnants of Simon’s battle, he had assumed that Simon had called up allies to help him fight the Damascans, and then had eventually managed to either survive the conflict or slip away in the confusion.

Had Simon actually managed to win that fight alone?

Alin’s respect for Simon sharply rose. If Grandmaster Naraka had meant to tell him that story in order to stop him from relying on Simon, she had failed dramatically. He trusted Simon’s dedication, and if Simon was worth a dozen enemy Travelers in combat, Alin
had
to secure his help.

“You’ve given me a lot to think about,” Alin said at last.

Grandmaster Naraka nodded. “Think on what I’ve said. In the meantime, let us turn our talk to happier matters. I have a surprise for you.” She even smiled, which looked unnatural on her gnarled face.

Naraka walked over to the doors and pulled one open. Either those doors were balanced perfectly, or she had much more strength in her body than it seemed, because at her touch the door swung open easily.

“Come on in,” Grandmaster Naraka called.

Alin’s sisters walked inside.

***

Once again, Leah entered the Enosh Grandmasters’ palace through a dusty broom closet.

The tiny closet would have barely had enough room for two people standing side-by-side if it was empty, and as it was Leah was nearly crowded out by mops, buckets, brooms, rags, and discarded furniture. Unfortunately, this was the only out-of-the-way place where she could figure out how to open a Lirial Gate.

Traveling from Lirial required her to perform complex calculations based on the movements of the Territory’s twelve shifting moons. Landing where she wanted was like trying to put a ball through a hoop, only the hoop was tied to the back of a wild horse, and there were twelve horses, each with a hoop, but only one was the hoop she wanted. It was enough to make her want to tear her hair out at the roots.

Fortunately, she had mastered the trick to putting a Gate in this one old closet. She just wished she could have found somewhere a little less dusty.

Leah let the Gate vanish behind her, taking with it the clean, cold scent of Lirial. Then she adjusted her skirts—peasant brown again, the same as she had worn for the past two years in the village of Myria—and stepped through the closet door.

As soon as she stepped through the door she sneezed, and of course there was someone there to see her. A servant stood in the hall, rag and bucket in one hand, his other reaching out for the door handle. He stared at her for a moment as if he had seen her pop out of thin air, and then he stared suspiciously into the closet as if looking for someone else.

Leah delicately dabbed at her nose with her handkerchief, then folded the cloth and put it in her pocket. She met the servant’s eyes and arched one eyebrow.

He opened his mouth to say something, but she kept staring at him. He eventually just shook his head and walked into the broom closet, while she walked calmly away.

She allowed herself a small smile at that. In Enosh or the capital city of Cana, servants were all the same.

As Leah walked the halls, she lost her purposeful stride, stopped pinning people to the walls with her stare, and choked back her impulse to command the servants out of her way. In short, she became once again the villager Leah, daughter of Kelia.

That was what they would call her in Myria. In Damasca, she would be Heiress Leah. The common folk would address her as ‘Heiress,’ ‘Heiress Leah,’ or ‘Highness,’ but to those of equal rank she was simply Leah. Her family had no surname; any family that held the throne gave up their hereditary name as a symbol of their dedication to Damasca. The policy had played its part in stopping more than one civil war over the past three and a half centuries, but Leah liked the way the villagers did things. Her mother, Kelia, deserved to be remembered.

Leah froze at the intersection of two hallways, trying to remember which way led back to her room. The Grandmasters’ palace was enormous, perhaps even as big as the Damascan royal palace in Cana, and she had not yet had time to become familiar with its layout.

She stood still for a good twenty seconds, trying to pretend she was exactly where she wanted to be, before she realized she could just ask. Any number of people passed her in the halls—servants, Travelers, ordinary citizens—and most of them would probably know how to direct her. She had become too used to the way things were done in Cana, where she had to project invulnerability at all times or else invite an attack from one of her siblings or enemies. Leah, daughter of Kelia had no enemies. She could ask directions from anyone she wanted.

Sometimes, Leah enjoyed being a villager. She felt so free.

Once she secured directions to her room from a passing maid, Leah turned her mind to her mission. As she walked, she took stock of her situation.

From her father, she had two goals: maintain surveillance on Alin, the Elysian Traveler, and gather as much information as possible on the Grandmasters’ war plans. She could keep an eye on Alin easily enough, as Alin himself would likely tell her anything she wanted to know. The Grandmasters were a more difficult matter. In Damasca, Lirial was a relatively rare Territory, due to a somewhat stormy history between Lirial Travelers in general and the Damascan throne. As a result, she had already encountered more Lirial Travelers in Enosh than she had ever met in Cana.

She would therefore have to exercise extra care if she meant to use her Lirial powers to spy on the Grandmasters. If she were detected and unveiled as a Traveler, she would have some awkward questions to answer.

 
But those two tasks were possible enough. Worse were the tasks she had set for herself.

First, she had to keep an eye on Simon, not just Alin. From what she had seen and from what Indirial had said, he might be just as important to coming events as Alin. If she played her hand right, she might even be able to tell him that Enosh Travelers—not Damascans—had killed his father. That could be enough to win her a valuable ally.

Second, she could not let Talos ascend to the throne. King Zakareth had yet to name one of his children Successor, so she still had time, but with Adessa’s exile only Talos and Leah herself remained as likely choices. Leah had very little desire to ascend to the throne herself—too many responsibilities; too much blame—but she was prepared to do her duty to the people. And it had begun to look like her duty to the people meant stopping Talos from attaining the throne.

Before she had moved to Myria for her two-year trial, Leah had known her older brother as a levelheaded, if ruthless, rival. In the last few weeks, Talos had seemed unstable. Almost unhinged. Sometimes he seemed almost desperate to overthrow their father, but he spoke of the throne as if he didn’t want it.

So with a war against Enosh looming on the horizon, Leah had nothing more to do than monitor a prophesied hero, supervise a deadly young Traveler, spy on the enemy, and prevent a royal coup.

Leah hoped the city of Enosh had a library; she wouldn’t want to get bored.

***

Since the plague that had taken Alin’s parents, his three sisters had all but raised him. Tamara, the oldest, entered the room first, following Grandmaster Naraka’s call.

“You honor us, Grandmaster,” Tamara said warmly. “This hospitality is more than we deserve.” She bowed at the waist, holding her long hair up so that it did not sweep the floor. She always was proud of her hair.

Grandmaster Naraka turned her own smile on Tamara, and Alin was half-surprised that Tamara didn’t flinch and turn away. The Grandmaster’s smile looked like it belonged on a bat. “It is your brother who honors us, child.”

Tamara looked at Alin, and her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Oh, I’m sure he’s…an honor,” she said.