The Crimson Vault Part 27

The Wanderer used to speak of metaphysical distance, and a link between the Territory and its powers, Caela said, as though that explained everything.

Thanks for the help, Simon responded, with a mental sigh. He was growing tired of explanations that didn't give him any real information.

Still, that wasn't enough to drown out his excitement over the frozen horn. At last, he had moved one step ahead! Now he could finally discover what was on the other side of this door. He moved forward and put his hand on the next door, the one with the carving of the wolf.

"Simon!" someone called from the far door. Simon turned around to see Olissa, her goggles pushed up on her forehead and a pair of work gloves clutched in one hand. "I need you in the workshop. We need a Traveler, and for some reason Andra can't make this work."

Simon looked longingly at the next door, but he wasn't willing to open it if he wasn't prepared to walk immediately through. As far as he knew, whatever was on the other side would grab him and instantly drag him through.

Olissa appeared to notice Indirial for the first time, and she smiled politely. "Feeling better, I see. You were a mess the last time I saw you."

Indirial swept a bow. "Indeed I was, and I thank you for your hospitality and care."

"I never did catch your name."

"Indirial, son of Aleias," he responded casually.

For a moment, Simon wondered if Olissa would recognize the name, and immediately drop down to one knee or something. But she simply smiled and gave the faint suggestion of a curtsy. "Olissa Agnos. If you would like to repay me for your care, you would be doing me a great service by coming with Simon into the workshop. I could probably use both of you."

Indirial's smile widened, as though he found the whole thing amusing. "I welcome the opportunity to repay my debt. Come on, Simon."

Simon looked longingly at the next door. "But..."

"I wouldn't open that now, if I were you," Indirial said. "What waits on the other side will immediately grab you and drag you through."

I knew it, Simon thought.

He sighed regretfully and turned, following Indirial out of the room.

"So tell me," Indirial said to Olissa, "what is this workshop?"

Alin sat at Grandmaster Naraka's bedside, resting on the edge of a padded stool that someone had found for him. His surroundings*Grandmaster Naraka's private rooms*were well made and simply decorated. Her bed looked more like the simple cot Alin had used back in Myria than the huge four-poster they had provided him here, and portraits of her family lined the walls.

She lay on the bed, asleep, the stump of her right arm wrapped in layers of bandages. He had been unable to find that one, but her left hand had*somehow*made it through the Gate with them to Elysia. He had used the rose light of Elysia to reattach the hand at the wrist, though she was still unable to move it. It twitched occasionally as she slept, its fingers curling and uncurling like a dying spider. The flesh at the base of the hand was ringed by scar tissue like a pink noose.

Alin had finally extracted himself from the gold armor, and though he was dressed now in a simple gray s.h.i.+rt and pants*the only clothes he could find that weren't fit for a palace*he still smelled like metal. He had tried to sleep once they returned, after giving his report to the remaining Grandmasters, but he had been unable to stop his mind from working. So he had come here.

Listening to the other Grandmasters talk, apparently every other attack had gone just as badly as his. In fact, he had been luckier than some: one Tartarus Traveler had managed to escape through her Territory, taking a few soldiers with her. All told, he had only lost about a dozen people, as well as one Grandmaster's hand. One attack had been eliminated to a man, with Grandmaster Asphodel losing her life. Another attack resulted in the death of Grandmaster Tartarus, if no one else.

Two Grandmasters dead, and one out of the fight. They hadn't managed to destroy even one Hanging Tree.

Why? Alin had asked the remaining Grandmasters. How did we fail so badly?

Because they knew we were coming, they had responded. Somehow, they knew exactly where we would strike, and they were ready for us.

Of course, even without a direct answer, Alin knew the other reason. The reason they didn't mention, but the word that was on everybody's lips just now.

Valinhall.

Based on the messages they had recovered before her death, Grandmaster Asphodel had managed to successfully take her team around Overlord Eli's defenses. She had her strike team in place with no casualties, and even had the Hanging Tree in sight. The last message from her was that there was only one remaining guard: an unshaven man in a brown cloak, carrying a huge red-and-gold book. Just in case he was a Traveler, she planned to overwhelm him in an ambush and then report immediately afterwards.

They had received no further messages until, according to Grandmaster Avernus, a Valinhall Traveler had thrown them Grandmaster Asphodel's head in a sack.

Sick of sitting still, Alin called out to his new power: a comforting pink light that waited in the distance, calling out to him like the promise of home at the end of a long journey. He tapped into that light, calling forth the rose power of healing.

Pale reddish light bloomed in his hand, unfolding into layers like an actual rose. He held the delicate sculpture of pink light and moved his hand closer to Grandmaster Naraka's hand, letting the petals of light drift out of his hand and into her wrist like a paper s.h.i.+p drifting on the tides. The light sank into her scars and her flesh glowed as though lit from within.

The hand spasmed and then relaxed, the skin smoothing out. Muscles writhed around the wrist, building themselves up. The scar shrank slightly.

Grandmaster Naraka's breath caught and then relaxed, and*though it might have been Alin's imagination*she seemed to breathe a little more easily than before.

Alin himself didn't; he panted as though he had just run uphill carrying a mule on his back. The rose light tired him in a way the gold and the green did not, so that even one healing felt like building a new barn. These repeat healing sessions that he had continued, one after another, all night, were putting him on the edge of pa.s.sing out.

And still, he couldn't sleep.

Where was Simon?

He still hadn't returned, and both Grandmaster Endross and Avernus were ready to declare him an ally of Damasca. Alin had vouched for him, a.s.suring them that Simon would never have sided with Damasca, and if it looked like he had done so then it was probably for a good reason.

He had his own suspicions, anyway: he suspected that Simon was trying to kill the Valinhall Incarnation.

And, secretly, Alin wished him well.

Grandmaster Naraka's eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment she stared blindly at the ceiling.

"Darrin?" she whispered.

Alin grasped her right arm, above the elbow. "Alin," he said gently. This wasn't the first time during the night that she had called out for someone he had never heard of, but it was the first time she had opened her eyes.

"Alin," she repeated. Then her eyes widened, and Alin noticed they were almost completely white. "Eliadel. Does the Tree burn?"

She sounded eager, desperate, and on the edge of tears all at once, as though she were asking whether her son had returned alive from a battle.

Alin shook his head, and when she didn't seem to notice, he spoke. "The Tree still stands."

A tear flowed down the crags of Grandmaster Naraka's face and she shut her eyes again, sagging as if about to drift back into sleep.

"So close," she whispered. "I was so close."

"I couldn't leave you there to die," Alin said. "I had to protect you."

"No. No you didn't."

"But the Valinhall Traveler would have killed you!"

"Yes, he would have. And I would have died knowing that the world would be free again. Everything I've worked for..."

Her strength left her and she fell back against her pillows, tears wetting her face.

Alin stood and left the room, barely acknowledging the Naraka Travelers who stood, alert, guarding her door. Two stood inside and two outside, in case someone managed to slip through an undefended route in some Territory. Each of the Travelers looked so grim that Alin almost pitied the next maid to come with clean linens; she was likely to be torn apart by summoned beasts if she so much as sneezed next to the Grandmaster's bed.

Should he even call her Grandmaster Naraka anymore? Surely the Grandmasters would have to appoint someone else to that position, now that her marked hand had been severed. Eventually, he was sure they could find a way to brand her left hand instead, but it would take days*maybe weeks*to heal her hand to the point where she could use it effectively. Rhalia had been very clear on that point.

Until she recovered, who would perform the Grandmaster's duty in her place?

With a wash of guilt, Alin realized he had never even learned her real name.

The guards nodded to Alin as he walked out of the former Grandmaster's room. All of the Enosh Travelers had treated Alin with respect before, but now that he had saved their Grandmaster's life, the Naraka Travelers acted as though he were one of their own.

Alin wandered aimlessly through the halls, still too focused to give in to his body's demands for sleep. He didn't intend to head anywhere specific; he simply let his feet drift where they would. It was so early in the morning that the sky was still gray, so he barely saw anyone. That suited him, just now.

Eventually, he found himself in front of a lone door. It was almost plain, compared to the rest of the palace: made of wood, not stone, and only polished rather than etched with fancy carvings.

The room where his sisters stayed.

Before he thought about it too hard, he knocked.

I probably shouldn't, he realized, just a second too late. They're probably still sleeping. Anyway, I should be talking to the Grandmasters. We should be planning our next move.

But he stayed where he was.

Less than a minute later, Ilana pulled open the door. She wore a blouse and a long skirt*colorful, like the fas.h.i.+ons here, rather than the earth tones more common in Myria*and she had her hair tied back. She looked as though she was going shopping, not just waking up.

"Alin!" she said, surprised. "Don't you have some sort of deadly war mission today?"

Alin blinked, for a moment not realizing what she meant. Then he realized: most of the city still thought they were preparing to attack Damasca. No one knew they already had.

He probably shouldn't tell her*secrecy was another of those things that the Grandmasters prized far more than he did*but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. "That's over. It...didn't go so well."

She looked at him a moment, and her expression softened. "Come on in," she said, stepping back.

Alin followed her direction. "What are you doing up? It's hardly dawn."

Ilana laughed. "Have you forgotten your life so quickly? I've woken up at dawn every day of my life, and I'm not about to start lazing around now. A farm doesn't run itself."

"You're not on the farm anymore, Ilana," Alin replied. "You don't have to go back ever again, if you don't want to."

She eyed him out of the corner of her eye as she drew him into their suite of rooms. "Why wouldn't I want to?"

Tamara was standing at a table, working a floured lump of dough with her fists. As he watched, she pushed her long hair out of her eyes with the back of one hand.

"We have cooks for that," Alin said wearily.

"Am I not a cook, now?" Tamara replied. She remained as even and placid as usual, not showing the slightest hint of pleasure or surprise at seeing him.

"You'll have to go to the kitchens to use the oven anyway," he pointed out. "While you're down there, you could just get some bread they've already baked."

"I could have someone pick out my clothes and dress me, too."

Shai, at least, had adapted to the easy life in Enosh. She was curled up like a cat on the seat of an enormous padded chair, a pile of collected knickknacks spread around her like a bird's nest. Just glancing over, Alin saw an egg the size of his fist, a gla.s.s bottle, several paces of sea-green twine, and a wind-up mouse that skittered across the floor on its own power.

His youngest sister still slept, the wind-up mouse clutched in her hands as though she dreamed of dismantling it to its components.

"We don't have time to lay about, Alin," Ilana said.

"You do have time, you just don't choose to use it," he countered.

"We are using it. That's the whole point."

"How bad was it?" Tamara interrupted. She didn't look up, continuing to knead dough between her hands. She had a habit of doing that: cutting through to the heart of a discussion without even seeming to pay attention.

A lump rose in Alin's throat. "Bad," he said.

"Tell me."

He recounted the entire operation, from being wakened in the dark of the night to dragging Grandmaster Naraka to Elysia for healing, and finally back to her rooms.

"She's still recovering there, even now," he said. "She woke up a few minutes ago. She said she wishes I would have just left her there."

Ilana and Tamara stood in silence. Tamara absently wiped at her hands with a damp towel, her dough safely packed into a basket. Even Shai was awake now, perched on the arm of her huge chair. The sun loomed outside the curtained window*the story must have taken longer than he had thought.

"So you were supposed to destroy the Hanging Tree," Ilana said. "Then you release the Incarnation...or Incarnations? One of them or all of them?"

Alin shrugged. "The Grandmasters talk like both of those are the same thing. Maybe if you release one, they all get released."

"There's already one," Shai said. Ilana shuddered visibly.

"Then I don't know," Alin said. "They said the Valinhall Incarnation is here in the palace, but I haven't seen him."

"We have," Tamara said. "Yesterday, when you were still busy with Grandmaster Naraka."

Alin perked up. He had imagined the Incarnations as giant, towering monsters. "Really? What was he like?" Even now, part of him was disappointed that they had gotten to see the Incarnation before he had.

"Terrible," Shai said quietly.

"He's not that bad," Ilana put in. "Sure, he's dark and horrible and violent, and he seems like he would murder you if you looked at him wrong. Oh, and the room keeps rebuilding itself around him, and I could have sworn I saw one of his shadows kidnap somebody."

The other three all stared at her.

"What?" Ilana asked, a sarcastic tint to her voice. "That's not that bad. I can see why you'd want him around."

"Why would the Grandmasters want any of those monsters released?" Tamara asked.

Alin opened his mouth to defend them, but he realized he didn't know what he was going to say.

Because Damasca imprisoned them? That was hardly enough reason to release the Incarnations on Damasca's citizens. They didn't know anything, after all. To stop the sacrifice? More than nine people would die this year if even one Incarnation was set free, much less all of them. Because it was the natural order?