Contents
Title Page Copyright WARNINGWelcome! [Series Title] The Lightning Wastes
THE LIGHTNING WASTES
Will Wight
IMPORTANT:
What follows is a small collection of short stories set in the
universe of the Traveler’s Gate Trilogy, which begins in the novel
House of Blades.
If you have
not
read
House of Blades
or its sequel,
The
Crimson Vault,
then
you will not understand the following
stories.
It’s okay; it’s not your fault. I understand. You’re still
handsome and/or pretty.
If you were simply browsing the Kindle Store and this book
caught your eye, I urge you to close this preview and go check out
House of Blades
. I’ll wait.
If you’ve already read the Traveler’s Gate Trilogy—or at least
the first two books—then come on in, my friend!
These stories are intended to give you a closer look at the
Territories and characters that we didn’t get to explore in the main
trilogy. If you’d rather stick with Simon, Alin, and Leah, I’ll
understand!
City of Light
will be available in early 2014, and I hope
it meets your approval.
Still with me? Then buckle up. We’re headed off the map.
Welcome to Elysia, young Traveler.
You will have heard many stories about what it means to be
one of us. Do not be fooled. No outsider understands our purpose.
They think we are here to lead other Travelers, to make the
decisions that they cannot.
This is true, and it is not true.
They think we are here as a last resort, as an ultimate power,
to keep the Incarnations in check.
This is true, and it is not true.
They think we are here to balance the other Territories, to keep
them from obtaining too much power and upsetting the natural
balance.
This is true, and it is not true.
What I am about to tell you is known by few, and understood
by even fewer: we are not here to lead, or to threaten, or to
eliminate threats. In the course of our duties, we will do all these
things, but ultimately we are here for a single purpose.
We are here to guide. We are here to lead by example,
inspiring other Travelers to live up to their own potential. We
should be as beacons in the darkness.
Welcome to the City of Light.
T
HE
L
IGHTNING
W
ASTES
Valor is an easy virtue to admire.
We make heroes out of those who charge recklessly against superior forces. We idolize the warriors who risk their lives to save the innocent, who stand firm in the face of certain death. Truly, bravery and courage are fine qualities.
But Travelers of Endross can take it too far.
-Elysian Book of Virtues, Chapter 7: Gold
358th Year of the Damascan Calendar 1st Year in the Reign of Queen Leah I
9 Days Until Autumn’s End
Queen Leah the First slumped over onto her camp desk. The thing almost collapsed—it was made to fold and pack up for easy marching, and she'd been using it as a permanent fixture for months now. She was lucky it had lasted this long without it buckling under her.
She kept her face pressed against the desk. So what if the desk broke, sending her crashing to the ground? She couldn't bring herself to care.
She had other things to worry about. Such as her meeting with the nine Overlords, which had just ended.
“Could that have possibly gone any worse?” She asked, into the desk.
Indirial's cloak rustled and a chair creaked; he must have sat down. “An Incarnation didn't blast through the tent and kill us all. In that light, I'd say we came out ahead.”
Leah raised her head, and it seemed to take ten times as much effort as normal. “They're barely listening to me anymore, Indirial. They're not concerned about the nation. They can barely see past their own cities.”
Indirial's easy smile never left his face, blinding white against his dark villager's skin. It was hard to put a dent in his optimism. “You're young, and they barely know you. Give them time. Besides, the nation's going through a crisis. Of course they're going to look to their own realms first.”
confidence like a second cloak, solid and dependable even in a crisis. He was as old as her father—old enough to be her grandfather, in fact—but he looked twenty years younger. It must have been a Valinhall thing.
Leah glanced over at the table next to her. It was much sturdier than her portable writing desk, and covered with a giant map of the kingdom of Damasca. The map was almost lost beneath a chaos of pins and buttons in every color imaginable. The release of the Incarnations had worked on the nation like a kick on an anthill. Cities were practically trading refugees, as their citizens fled one citadel for perceived safety in another. Thousands of them were here, camped under her command, less than five miles from the sealed city of Cana.
“It's not what they're doing that bothers me,” Leah said. “Look at what they're not doing. None of them bothered to address the Endross Incarnation. Not even Overlord Feiora.”
Only a few days ago, they had received word that the Endross Incarnation had burst forth from its prison beneath the city of Eltarim. It had left the city largely untouched for some reason, blasting off into the wilderness to terrorize ordinary merchants and a handful of small villagers.
Indirial folded his arms. “Overlord Feiora rules Eltarim, but the city and the surrounding lands are practically untouched. She's no Endross Traveler.”
“She should have been,” Leah said. Her father had appointed Feiora Torannus to guard the Endross Incarnation, even though she was an Asphodel Traveler. In every other case, the Overlord Traveled the same Territory as the Incarnation he or she guarded. Feiora was the sole exception, and at the moment Leah was having trouble recalling why. “In any case, that's no excuse for her shirking her duty.”
“You think she may have a...personal reason for refusing to listen to you?” Indirial's grin got a little wider. “Maybe you shouldn't have trapped her brother alive.”
Lysander Torannus, Feiora's brother, had been another Overlord. Before she sealed him into a block of solid crystal for treachery and attempted regicide.
Leah glared at the Overlord of Cana. “I'll let him out at any time, if you think she won't mind me executing him instead.”
she found it?”
Leah had to resist raising a hand to her pounding head. She always got a headache after meeting the Overlords. Instead, she scooped up a report detailing the number of Travelers under her direct command.
“How many Endross Travelers did you have working for you?” she asked. “Six.”
“Can you find any of them now?”
“I'd bet I can tell you exactly where they are.” Indirial craned his neck and looked meaningfully out the flap of the tent.
A few miles distant, but still clearly visible, the city of Cana glowed like a cherry-red sunset. The whole capitol, from wall to wall, was covered by a shining dome of scarlet light.
Sealed by the power of the Ragnarus Incarnation. No one had been in or out since the Incarnations first escaped, over three months before.
Leah found herself wondering whether any of the Endross Travelers were still alive. Whether anyone was alive, under the dome, or if their blood, minds, and souls had been used as fuel for the weapons of the Crimson Vault.
“I don't see any on the list,” Leah said, scanning it quickly.
Indirial leaned forward, shuffling through her papers. “I think there's...ah, yes, here we go. One of Cana's weather-workers made it out before the city was sealed.”
Leah took the paper he offered her. “An Endross weather-worker? I never knew Cana had one.”
“The weather in Cana's pretty mild, so she had an easier job than most, but she warded off her fair share of storms.”
She stared at the one single name under the “Endross” column, as though she could make it multiply by sheer force of will. “Where are the others? Even counting the people trapped in Cana, we should have seen some Endross Travelers from other cities.”
Indirial hesitated for a moment before speaking. “This is just hearsay, you understand, but I've talked to the other Overlords. They're all missing Endross Travelers. I'd go so far as to say we're missing maybe half of all the Endross-trained Travelers in the kingdom.”
“Where did they go?” Leah asked. Her tone sounded much more harsh than she meant; she sounded like she was going to track them down and strangle them all one by one.
“With the King dead, and the Incarnations loose, and no Overlord specifically looking over their shoulder, where do you think they went?” Indirial leaned over the map. “Some of them probably deserted, I'm sure some of them started following their Incarnation around, and I'd bet most of them took the excuse to move to their Territory. You know how Endross is.”
Endross itself was a blasted landscape, half storm-wracked desert and half deadly jungle. Endross Travelers were the only ones crazy enough to try and live there.
Leah stood up, taking care not to put any weight on the unsteady desk. “Since the Overlords are unwilling to do their jobs, I'll have to go myself.”
Indirial pulled his cloak off the chair. “I figured as much. Let's go get that weather-worker, she can guide us.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Not us, Indirial. I have a different assignment for you.”
The Overlord's eyebrows raised. “You can't go without a bodyguard.”
“I need you to hunt down the Endross Incarnation. Kill it if you can, but if not, drive it away from the populated areas.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Huh. Yeah, there's no one else around to do the job. Very well, my Queen, I live to serve.” He gave her a little cloak-flourishing bow. “I will leave as soon as you select another bodyguard.”
“I hardly need one.”
“No one is safe alone,” Indirial said, for once completely serious. “Particularly not with the Incarnations around. And no matter how confident you are, you'll be surrounded by Endross Travelers in their own Territory.”
“They're Damascan citizens,” she pointed out. They should obey her without question.
“They're Endross,” he said simply. “You need a bodyguard. I haven't seen Kai in weeks—”
Leah shuddered at the thought of spending even one day with Kai. She had never gotten over her distaste for the man. He was simply...eerie.
“...and Denner's in the south, leading refugees away from the Asphodel Incarnation. If I could find Kathrin, I could hire her to guard you, but that would take a few days.”
Indirial's grin was back, in full force. “That leaves one Valinhall Traveler left.”
Bringing one guide and one bodyguard meant that she was confident enough in her royal commands that she didn't need to lean on force. Bringing one guide and four bodyguards meant that she felt she needed protection, because she didn't expect the Endross Travelers to obey her. They would see it as a sign of weakness.
“...one.”
“Excellent!” Indirial said, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I'll open a Gate.”
***
Indirial left his Gate open, then walked out of the tent. She called after him, but he didn't respond, which was typical: once the Overlord had a new goal in his sights, he tended to head straight for it, blocking everything else out.
She turned from the portal and faced the entry room of the House of Blades. It looked like nothing so much as a sitting-room for a wealthy noble. A wealthy noble from a century past. It was a little dim, and the swords— hung in wooden racks on the walls—left a little to be desired, as far as decor went. Ornately carved tables sat here and there in the room, covered by books and surrounded by plush, red-cushioned chairs. Against one wall set a comfortable-looking red sofa, though she thought she could hear a soft growling coming from that direction. Maybe there was a badger or some other small animal stuck under its cushions.
Between the ostentatious furniture and the soft lighting, the scene almost looked like it belonged in an attic, covered in dust. She ran a hand along the top of a desk. It was spotlessly clean, and had been recently polished. She'd only entered Valinhall a handful of times before, and she had never caught a glimpse of anyone doing housework. Perhaps the House cleaned itself. Or maybe this was how they trained Travelers: by forcing them to dust the furniture.
“Excuse me,” she called into the hallway, which extended out beyond the entry hall. “Is anyone there?”
When no one responded, she marched forward, into the hall. Doors stretched down the hall on either side of her. To her left was a door with a single small circle; to her right, a door with a huge circle orbited by three small circles. Some way of distinguishing the bedrooms, she supposed, but she had never gotten a look inside one of these doors. She had no idea which one was Simon's. Maybe she should just knock on each one separately, and see if someone answered.
Just as she had raised her hand to knock, the door on the far left opened, and a woman stepped out. She had a pair of goggles pushed up her forehead, tied around the back of her head with a leather strap. They looked almost like Avernus flight goggles. Her long auburn hair was bound back with a rag, and she wiped her hands with a similar rag. She looked like a miner's wife, more than anything else, though Leah knew she had some job here in Valinhall. She wasn't entirely clear what the job was, no more than she could remember this woman's name.
Her eyes grew wide, and she immediately fell to her knees, prostrating herself on the ground. “Your Highness! We were not expecting you.”
“You may stand,” Leah said wearily. She got sick of having to order people to stand; wouldn't it be much easier if they stood by default, and then she could order them to kneel if that was what she wanted? “I'm looking for Simon.”
“Of course, my Queen, of course,” the woman said, scrambling to her feet. She tried to smooth her hair, realizing she held a dirty rag in her hand, and stuffing the rag into her pocket. “I'll have to wake him up, though. He's been fighting like a madman. Spends hours deep in the House, comes back bleeding so badly that he can barely make it into the pool. The imps are going to get him one of these days, I swear they are. Maybe you can talk him out of it, Highness.”
“Perhaps,” Leah said. Imps? She wasn't sure what the imps were, though she had heard about Valinhall's healing pool before. “Which room is his?”
The woman hesitated. “I'm sorry, Your Highness, but it might be better if you waited in the entry hall. I'll fetch him for you.”
“I've woken him up before,” Leah said, and the other woman frowned. “Have you, now? I had wondered why...well. You're that Leah, are you?” Leah cleared her throat. “Yes, I probably am.”
know that boy better than I do, but he never talks about himself. He always makes you ask.”
She chuckled, and Leah laughed politely along.
At exactly which point did I lose control of this conversation?
“So, which bedroom...” she said, trying to steer the woman back on track. “Ah, yes. This way. I know you said you could handle it, but you might want to stay in the doorway.”
Handle what? Leah thought, but then the other woman was pushing on one of the doors, the one marked by a large half-circle above two smaller circles.
Inside was a bedroom just as well appointed, if not as large, as any of the rooms in the royal palace in Cana. The bed was a huge four-poster, with a bedside table on each side and a mirror against one wall, next to a washbasin. The only aspect of the room that Leah didn't approve of were the shelves built into the far wall, so that they were the first thing anyone in the bed would see upon waking.
The shelves were covered in dolls. Dozens of little girls’ dolls, wearing every sort of clothing from a villager's brown shirt and pants to long, flowing court dresses. They had blond hair, and black, and white, and red, and every color Leah had ever seen on a human being.
And they were all staring, with painted eyes, straight at Leah. As though they had been positioned that way all along.
“I see the dolls are doing…well,” Leah said. She knew how useful they could be, but she still couldn’t help a little shudder when she saw them looking at her. “Does he have to keep them right there in the bedroom?”
The other woman shrugged. “It's Kai's thing, I think. I’m sure he put them there. Anyway, I don't question Travelers.”
Simon lay, shirtless and sound asleep, amid the cloud-soft whiteness of the bed's blankets. He was all tangled up in a sheet, as though he had tried to escape and the sheet had grabbed him and pulled him back. She always thought of him as small, and he would never be much more than her height, but he had put on a surprising amount of muscle in such a short time. If she hadn't known better, she wouldn't have recognized him.
Instead of walking over to shake him, as Leah had expected, the woman cupped her hands to her mouth. “Simon!” she yelled. “Company!”
front of her, with a knife in his fist. The gleaming point of the steel pressed against her collarbone.
She choked down a scream and stepped back, proud of herself for not falling over backwards. “What do you think you're—” she demanded, but she stopped herself.
Standing there in front of her, Simon woke up.
He blinked a few times, let out a little half-yawn, and noticed her for the first time. “Leah? Why are you here?” Then he saw the knife in his own hand, and his fingers jerked open. The knife clattered to the floor.
“Ah! Sorry. I didn't...they try to kill me in my sleep. All the time. It's a habit, I'm sorry. Are you hurt?”
Leah shook her head, too numb to speak. He had almost stabbed her in the chest before he even realized who she was. Wait. Who, exactly, tries to kill him in his sleep?
Simon frowned at the other woman. “Mistress Agnos, how did you get in here?”
“Like this,” Mistress Agnos said, miming twisting a doorknob and pushing the door open. She watched the two of them with a little amused smile on her face. “You should keep it locked. And I told you to stand back, Your Highness.”
“So you did,” Leah said sourly. “Simon, I need someone to guard me while I go to Endross. We'll be in a Territory where it rains lightning, and we'll probably be surrounded by dozens of Travelers that want to kill me. I need someone to keep me alive and unharmed until we get back. Will you do it?”
Simon glanced down at himself, then at her, and his face flushed. “Uh, let me get a shirt on first.”
“That would be best.”
***
It took Simon a few minutes to get ready, but he eventually emerged, wearing his hooded black cloak and carrying a doll. This one wore her long red hair tied back in a tail, and her outfit was nothing more than a plain villager's shirt and pants. He held the doll in the crook of his elbow as he followed Leah out through Indirial's Gate.
Helene Rhode, the Endross weather-worker, was waiting for them. She was perhaps forty years old, with the bright green eyes characteristic of some Westerner blood. Her sandy blond hair was cut close to her scalp, and she had a horizontal scar across one cheek. Most noticeably, she had a weapon strapped to every inch of her clothes. An unstrung crossbow hung from a harness at her right hip, opposite a one-handed infantry sword. She had buckled a dozen knives across her chest, on the outsides of her thighs, and on the insides of her boots. The hilts of two long knives, almost swords, poked up from her shoulders.
Thanks to the time fluctuation between Valinhall and the outside world, Leah had only been gone two or three minutes, but during that time Indirial had evidently found her in the camp and sent her to the command tent. The man did work fast.
I thought she was a weather-worker, not a walking armory, Leah thought, but she kept it to herself. Helene probably expected anyone she came across to mention the weapons, so Leah would maintain the upper hand by saying nothing about them.
“Helene Rhode, I presume,” Leah said.
Helene tilted up a silver flask and took a drink before answering. “You need someone to show you around the Wastes, am I right?”
“That's correct.”
“Fifteen years I've been working in Cana, keeping the worst of the storms away. Ten years before that, I was guiding merchant caravans across Endross, trying to keep them alive. Don't you worry, I'll get you wherever you want to go.” She flashed Leah a grin that looked more like a lioness baring her teeth than a smile.
Leah nodded as though she had expected no less. “You'll do perfectly, then. I need the Endross Travelers of Damasca to stop ignoring their duties and return to their posts. I don't know who needs to make that happen, but you will take us to them, and I will deliver my commands in person.”
Helene took another swig, arching an eyebrow at Leah over her silver flask. “Is there a reason you're going in person, Your Majesty? No offense meant, but wouldn't you be better off sending a lackey?”
“You think this will involve Ragnarus?” The Endross Traveler sounded uneasy.
“It will if our friends don't cooperate.” In reality, if Leah had to rely on her crown to force the Travelers to obey her, she would have already lost. She was hoping to do this without relying on any of her Ragnarus weapons.
Not that she wouldn't bring them anyway, of course.
Helene nodded to Simon, the first time that she had acknowledged his presence. “And him? I thought you were going to get a bodyguard.” He had quietly walked over to the map table and sat his redheaded doll next to him. They appeared to be studying it together.
“My bodyguard. That's right.”
“Not to overstep my bounds, but wouldn't it be better to bring along another Traveler? Between you and me, I think we can handle most trouble, but I don't think a boy with a sword is going to do us any favors.”
“I am a Traveler, actually,” Simon said. He sounded totally calm, but Leah knew that he must have been irritated, or he would have left the question for her to answer.
“Oh really? Which Territory?”
Simon met her eyes evenly. “Valinhall.” Helene shot Leah a puzzled look. “Where?”
Oh, of course. Sometimes Leah forgot that Valinhall's existence wasn't common knowledge. “The same Territory as Overlord Indirial, Helene.”
“Overlord Indirial? Really? I always thought he was just a weird Tartarus.” She shrugged. “Well, the older you get, the more you learn, I guess. Now then, boy, what's with the doll?”
Simon looked down at the doll and back up, and Leah got the impression that they were having a silent conversation. “She wants me to tell you that her name's Rebekkah,” he said. He winced and added, “She would also like me to punch you in the face.”
Helene grinned her lion's grin once more. “I'd like to see that play out, Valinhall.”
Leah stepped in between them and gave Simon a cold look. He shrugged and pointed to Rebekkah, who seemed to have the slightest glare on her face. “That's enough. Helene, can you take us where we need to go?”
probably have to fight them.”
“Excellent,” Leah said. “That's why I brought a bodyguard. Lead the way.” Helene swept out of the tent, Leah followed, and Simon walked behind them, muttering softly to his doll.
*** Leah learned something that day.
She learned that she hated Endross.
It had taken them an hour of walking to reach the place where Helene had decided to open a Gate. Leah wasn't sure whether this was simply the closest place she could open a passable Gate, or whether this took them somehow closer to the main Endross outpost. It was supposed to be accessible from Cana, and they had walked directly away from Cana to open the Gate, but distance could be strange in Territories. An hour's walking west in the outside world could put them two hour's distance east in a Territory. Or a thousand feet up. It all depended on the Territory and the nature of the Gate.
In this case, Helene stopped by a cactus and an unremarkable stretch of scrub grass and announced, “This is it.” She then spread her hands, opening one of the swirling, violent thunderstorms that Endross Travelers used as Gates. It hung horizontally in the air, a lightning-filled shadow roughly in the shape of a round doorway.
Helene stepped through without hesitation, obviously trusting that the other two would follow. Simon waited for Leah to follow. Leah glanced at him, hoping to see him nervous, so that she could offer support and make herself feel better. No luck. Simon looked back at her curiously. He even raised his eyebrows, silently asking if she needed anything.
She shook her head and stepped through the Gate. Back in Myria, she had so often wished that Simon would act with a little confidence. Now, she wanted the old Simon back. If only to have someone around who was more uncertain than she was.
She stepped through, and had only an instant to observe the landscape—a flat, cracked wasteland of yellow sand stretching as far as she could see, beneath an overcast sky—before something hit her ribs like a kick from a horse. She tumbled backwards, caught a glimpse of a blinding flash in the sky, heard thunder loud enough to tear her ears apart, and then she was slamming into the unyielding ground. Her breath whooshed out of her, and she gasped for air, clawing for the weapon she had dropped.
“Close one.”
It all came together: Helene had tackled Leah out of the way. Of what? Leah rolled to one side to see a smoking black scorch mark on the sand for an instant before the wind whisked the char away, leaving clean sand in its wake.
“Surely that would have missed me,” Leah said. The bolt looked like it would have hit several paces off the mark.
“Lightning works a bit different here than it does in the other world,” Helene said, pushing herself to her feet. “But it still carries along the ground. It doesn't have to hit you straight on. Even being too close to a bolt can kill you.”
Leah realized she was shouting, both over the ring in Leah's ears and over the constant howling of the wind. The storm caught strands of Leah's hair and flailed her face with them, forcing her to constantly hold her hair back. She hadn't even managed to stand up yet.
Simon walked through the Gate a moment later. Leah was on the ground, covered in sand, trying to keep her face clear of her own hair. There was a scorch mark two paces from the Gate. Helene was still brushing sand from her pants.
“What happened?” he asked, in all innocence.
“Never mind,” Leah called over the wind. Then the sky above her turned from a cool gray to jet-black in little more than an instant. She scrambled out of the way, imagining another lightning bolt blasting her to smoking pieces, but Helene didn't move.
An instant later, a waterfall of rain blasted Leah, soaking her to the bone in a second. Her crimson dress—formal attire, for when she was acting as Queen—deflated, fabric clinging to suddenly ice-cold skin. Her hair went from flapping around her face to hanging in front of her eyes in a sodden mask.
Then, after only a moment, the rain stopped.
Leah peeled hair back from her eyes to see that Simon and Helene were still standing in the exact same places, bone dry.
Helene shrugged. “That happens,” she said. “Let's go.” Then she started to trudge across the desert.
Simon let out a choking noise that might have started as laughter, and he was clearly losing the struggle to keep a smile off his face.
She raised one eyebrow at him, as her aunt would have done. “Well?” Without saying a word, Simon walked over to her and extended a hand to help her up. He was still smiling, though, so she ignored him, instead searching around for the weapon she had dropped. When she found it, she shoved it into the ground and used it to prop herself up without Simon's help.
As Simon looked at the gold-headed, black-hafted Ragnarus spear, his smile faded. “Do you really think you're going to have to use that?”
“If I do,” Leah said, pushing hair out of her face, “then your presence here will become unnecessary.”
Simon nodded seriously, and together they began walking after Helene. A few more seconds passed, during which Simon wisely kept his mouth shut. Then his wisdom evidently ran out.
“Aren’t you cold?” he asked.
Leah shoved him with the butt of her spear. ***
The Endross outpost looked like a primitive fort. The wall was fifteen feet high and made of logs with the bark still on, lashed together by brown vines. A network of square wooden towers showed above the walls, each one made of rough-hewn timbers. The entire outpost was a square, not a circle as Leah had expected, and from each corner rose a tall metal spike.
“It’s to catch the lightning,” Helene explained, when Simon asked about them. “Funnels them into a…you know what? I’m not supposed to talk about it. Keeps the whole place from burning down, that’s all you need to know.”
Two Travelers, a man and a woman, stood guard outside the outpost gate. The woman was dressed in what Leah would expect from one of the Badarin desert people: her head was wrapped in a white cloth, she wore loose-fitting, pale-colored garments, and the pommel of her sword had no bare metal showing. The man dressed more traditionally for Endross Travelers, in a leather breastplate and leather-padded leggings, with a leather cap. A necklace of what looked like lion’s claws hung down over his chest.
He smiled broadly when he saw them, baring all his teeth like a maniac. “Who goes there.” It was a statement, not a question, delivered in the most evil, threatening voice Leah had ever heard.
leader of this outpost.”
Leah wasn’t ‘seeking an audience’ with anyone. She was demanding the presence of whoever currently commanded this outpost, so that she could get her Travelers back. However, Endross Travelers seemed unlikely to appreciate a political distinction, so she let it slide.
Simon stood to her right, and at some point he had raised the hood of his cloak. She found herself oddly comforted to have him there, even though—as she reminded herself—she still had her father’s spear. Surely that would be enough to deal with anything an Endross pulled.
The man lost his smile, and the woman pulled a cloth away from her mouth to whisper in his ear. Her expression said she had never smiled, and did not expect that trend to change anytime soon.
The man cleared his throat. “You would be looking for Corthis, then. He’s the strongest around here. But you’ll have to prove who you are.”
Leah and her companions stared at the guard. Before they reached the outpost, Leah had arranged her crown on her head: a silver circlet set with a large ruby. The gem gleamed and pulsed with its own ruby light.
Hefting the spear, Leah took a step toward the guard. “You want to see proof of my identity?” she asked quietly. With a touch of her will, she prepared the circlet for action. It flared with a harmless red light; the crown wouldn’t activate without more effort on her part, but it still looked impressive.
The male guard took two steps back. Then one more, just to be safe. The woman stayed where she was, but she cringed from the light nonetheless.
“Sorry, my Queen, I didn’t recognize you,” the man croaked. “Enjoy your stay in the outpost.”
With a shockingly loud voice, the woman bellowed for someone on the other side of the gate to let the strangers in.
Leah let the light in her crown die and strode in, following a chuckling Helene, and followed by a silent Simon, who had taken the rear without being instructed. Perhaps he might grow into the bodyguard business after all; half of it was simply looming behind his employer, letting people know that he was there without saying a word. Granted, that would be easier for him if he were two feet taller, or if he had more of a reputation. Or if people even knew what a Valinhall Traveler was.
But she saw some potential.
looked like a wooden amphitheater. He sat in a raised box above the stadium, which were packed with roaring Endross Travelers. And, for that matter, roaring Endross creatures. Snakes slithered among the feet of the stomping fans, deftly avoiding being crushed by their masters. Something that looked like a reptilian panther wove in and out of the shadows beneath the stadium supports, its coat occasionally crackling with blue sparks. Tiny storm drakes flashed in glittering swarms above the crowd.
As Leah stepped inside, she got her first glimpse at why the Travelers were all cheering.
The floor in the center of the stadium was bare, packed Endross sand. Two big men in torn leathers, presumably both Endross Travelers, circled each other in the ring. They were scratched, bleeding, and unarmed. One of them roared and charged like a bull, slamming his shoulder into his unprepared opponent’s middle. He didn’t stop there. He kept charging until he hit the short wall marking the edge of the floor. He slammed his opponent’s body into the wall, flipping the other man up and into the spectators on the other side.
The watching Travelers loved that. They roared and stood, some of them literally glowing with excitement. Those few shone like bolts of lightning themselves.
A gong rang out, echoing through the stadium, apparently announcing the end of the fight.
After about five minutes of non-stop cheering, Corthis raised a hand. He had once been a truly enormous man, but now age was catching up to him. His hair and beard were as much gray as black, and Leah suspected that he hadn’t had his huge gut for long. But his arms were as wide around as Simon’s waist and thick with muscle.
“Men and women of the Wastes!” Corthis announced, his voice ringing like a town crier’s. “We have a royal visitor!”
A few people laughed, a handful even booed, but most stayed silent. Everyone in the stadium, even the bleeding man on the floor, turned to look at Leah.
Well, her parents had prepared her for nothing if not speaking in public. “I would speak with you, Corthis, if you represent these people. May I approach?”
“Anything for my queen!” he shouted, and a dozen spectators laughed. Leah walked up into the box, her guide and her bodyguard following.
Up close, Corthis seemed to fill the entire box. Between his loud voice, his expansive gestures, and his physical size, he had a sense of presence that made him almost overwhelming. Also, he had a huge snake wrapped around the head of his chair, and he was leaning against it like a pillow. That was the sort of disturbing detail that she was sure he used to throw people off track.
“So, Your Highness, what can I do for you?” he asked smoothly, as soon as she entered the box. She did not let herself be rushed. Instead, she pulled up a chair, angling it so that she could look him in the eye.
“I suspect you know,” she said. “The Endross Travelers have settled here instead of seeing to their duties in the kingdom. We have an Incarnation running around loose, and none of your Travelers to help contain it.”
Corthis opened his eyes wide, as though startled. “Only one Incarnation? Why, this situation must be better than I’d heard! Let’s all pack up and go home right now!”
Scattered laughter from the nearby seats. Corthis was making no effort to moderate his voice.
“You are all Damascan Travelers. Your duty is to your country.”
“Let us speak seriously,” Corthis said, which had to have been a deliberate insult. “We have no Overlord above us. We cannot stand against an Incarnation. What are we to do? Who is to tell us our duty?”
Leah let a little heat into her voice; it was appropriate at this point. “I’ll tell you what your duty is not, Traveler Corthis: hiding while the citizens of Damasca die beneath the lightning of your Incarnation.”
Corthis smiled and spread his hands, not at all put off by her words. “I still see no reason why we should return to a devastated kingdom instead of staying here to secure our own lands.”
“Because I command it,” Leah said. She had intended to wait a little longer before playing that card, but he had set her up too well.
“And who are you to command me, little girl?” Corthis asked, amused. Leah shrugged. She raised her voice to match his, letting her words echo through the stadium. “Let’s find out. You value bravery in combat here, don’t you? Let’s meet in the ring.”
She didn’t move, exactly, but she shifted so that the light caught the rubies set into her crown and spear.
strength of Ragnarus, that’s for sure.”
A few people in the crowd murmured uneasily.
“But it’s not the strength of your Territory that’s in question,” he continued. “And what is the strength of a leader if not the strength of his men? Let’s test two of yours against two of mine, and see who comes out on top.” He smiled as though he had finally trapped her. In that moment, she almost pitied him.
Endross Travelers had a reputation for being brave, vicious, and slightly insane. They were also known to be stubborn, stupid, and notoriously predictable.
Leah saw nothing here to refute that belief.
“Agreed,” Leah said, pretending to be reluctant. Helene, to her credit, didn’t hesitate. She loosened the sword at her side, checked a couple of knives, and walked down the stairs to the center of the stadium.
Simon, on the other hand, stopped and gave Leah a questioning look, which was not the image she wanted to present in public. He should have given every appearance of accepting her orders without question.
“You’ll be up here alone,” he said, in a low voice, which made it a bit better. Her bodyguard was supposed to worry about leaving her unprotected.
“Don’t worry about that,” Leah said, loud enough that Corthis could hear her. “I have nothing to fear from him.” It was true; she could activate her crown as quickly as she could speak, she held her Ragnarus spear in her hand, and she had a couple of other surprises prepared in her pockets. She could handle a couple of ordinary Endross Travelers.
“He’s right here, though,” Simon said, in the same low voice. “Why don’t we just deal with him?”
What did he mean by ‘deal with?’ Did he literally mean make a deal with the man, or was he suggesting execution? Or perhaps torture? With Simon, she wasn’t sure.
“I have every confidence in your ability to ‘deal with’ anyone. However, please proceed into the arena and do as your queen commands.”
Simon winced, but he managed to execute a fairly credible bow. “And what does my queen command?”
“Win.”
“As you wish,” he said. His cloak trailed behind him as he walked down the stairs.
from the seats. One of them held a huge two-handed sword, and the other walked with something like a glowing blue crocodile at his side.
“The Queen’s men will be put to the test of the storm!” Corthis called, in his booming voice. The crowd’s cheering drowned even his bellowed words. Helene, Leah noticed, rolled her eyes at being counted among the Queen’s ‘men.’
The four combatants stood on the sand. The three Endross Travelers looked like dogs at the ends of a series of chains, each straining to reach the others but barely holding themselves back. Simon, in contrast, hadn’t lowered his hood or summoned his sword. He wasn’t crouched, or in any kind of stance Leah could recognize. He just stood there.
“What’s wrong with your boy there?” Corthis asked in a whisper. “Is he carrying a doll?” Leah didn’t respond, hoping he would take it for mysterious confidence.
From somewhere in the stadium, a gong rang out, and the Endross Travelers started moving.
Not faster than Simon, though.
In an instant, he had crossed the space between him and his two opponents, and had one hand around each of their necks. He heaved his shoulders, tossing them three paces backwards, over the short wall and into the stands.
The gong rang again, weaker this time, as though the one ringing it hadn’t been quite prepared. The glowing crocodile hissed and ran up to Simon, but Simon leaned down and stared it in the eyes. He didn’t do anything but stare, as far as Leah could tell, but the reptile froze. Then it backed up, moving in a reverse waddle until it got far enough away to scurry out of the arena entirely. “Are they out of bounds?” Simon called up to the box. Leah didn’t think it mattered whether they were disqualified or not; they lay motionless on the steps and didn’t show any signs of stirring.
Corthis cleared his throat. “Indeed they are, indeed they are. That was…a remarkable display.”
Helene had her head cocked and was looking at Simon as though she had never seen him before.
Leah shouted down into the ring. “Simon, why don’t you keep going while Corthis and I have a talk?”
Simon swept another bow in her direction.
“Relax,” Simon suggested. “Get a good seat, have a drink. If Leah needs me to keep going, I’ll have to switch out sooner or later. You can take over for me then.”
Leah turned to Corthis, making a point of not looking into the arena as the gong rang again. “We were discussing my Travelers?”
“Yes…” Corthis said absently. He seemed to be having trouble tearing his eyes off the spectacle below. This time, lightning flashed in the corner of Leah’s eye before a body hurtled into the stands. “Look, Your Highness, I’m just trying to do right by my people. There’s really nothing they can do to help in the outside world. More importantly, they believe there’s nothing they can do. And there’s nothing more deadly to an Endross Traveler than a lack of self-confidence.”
The gong sounded, and Leah pretended not to notice. “I could debate this with you, Corthis. I don’t agree with your assessment of the situation, and I could explain why. But I don’t have to.” She leaned closer, forcing him to look away from the fight and meet her eyes. “It is my place to determine when and where I need my people. It is not yours to question and second-guess, do you understand me? Not now.”
This was a tactic Leah had seen her father use to great effect on more than one occasion. There were two possible outcomes: either Corthis would collapse and do what she said, or he would act out of wounded pride and…
His eyes hardened, and the beginnings of a sneer grew on his face. The ghost of fear chilled Leah’s heart. Maybe she had miscalculated. If he stood against her here, she would have to kill him. Or have him killed. Either way, the Endross Travelers would at best divide, at worst rebel.
He started to respond, but his eyes were drawn to the arena floor. His words died. Leah followed his gaze.
Simon stood, his hood down at last, surrounded by four Endross Travelers and just as many summoned beasts. One of them was a snake as big around as a tree trunk. Its eyes glowed shining blue, and its exposed fangs sparked with lightning.
Leah’s breath caught. Simon had seen one of those serpents before. It had killed his mother and almost killed him. If he froze up now…
Simon leaned in, looking the giant snake in the eyes, ignoring the other monsters and Travelers around him.
It was, as usual, awkwardly long, probably seven feet from hilt to point. It gleamed in a graceful, slightly curving arc, and Simon held it in one hand.
“What kind of Traveler is that?” Corthis asked. The gong rang.
Almost as one, the four Endross Travelers and their creatures blasted a wave of sparks, light, and crackling lightning, all directed inwardly, toward Simon. For a second, Leah was blinded.
When she finally blinked her eyes clear, Simon had landed with his feet on top of one of the other Travelers, slamming the man chest-first into the sand. With the back of his blade, he knocked a second Traveler backwards, sending him staggering into the back wall of the arena. In the reverse stroke, he sliced one reptilian monster’s wing off. It screamed and writhed on the ground.
Simon leaped again, landing on the third Traveler and bisecting his beast from head down to tail. The final Traveler screamed and raised a sword, which flashed a bright white. Simon looked down at the redheaded doll— Rebekkah—in his left hand, and then looked up at the last Traveler standing.
He stabbed his blade down at an angle into the sand and walked toward the man with the sword. The other man struck, but Simon swayed to one side.
Then he punched the man in the face, laying him out on his back.
The snake slithered up behind him, catching him apparently unawares, and Leah had to resist the urge to call out. Without turning around, Simon stepped back, slamming his heel down on the serpent’s head with a wet, audible crunch.
The rest of the snake’s body spasmed and went still.
The sound of the gong floated over the utter silence in the rest of the stadium.
Corthis’ sneer had transformed into a look of complete disbelief.
Leah raised one eyebrow. “As I said, Traveler Corthis, you don’t have a choice.” And, just in case that threat wasn’t blunt enough, she added, “I wonder how quickly he could jump up here, given a reason.”
Either he somehow heard her across the distance of the arena, or else he had the world’s best natural timing, but Simon’s shadow fell across Leah’s face. He was crouched on the railing of Corthis’ box, his cloak falling behind him, his ridiculously long, gleaming sword held out to the side in one hand.
He didn’t say a word, and he didn’t look toward Leah. He just stared at the big Endross Traveler, who was steadily losing color.
I expect to see the rest of you in my camp outside Cana within three days’ time. If you do not arrive by dawn three days hence, I won’t come back. He will.”
Simon kept staring. Leah could have sworn that she heard the doll’s distant, whispered laughter.
Corthis cleared his throat. Then he did it again. “Yes, my Queen.” “Good answer.”
***
Only a handful of minutes later, Leah was walking back across the Lightning Wastes with Helene beside her. A dozen Endross Travelers walked behind them, keeping a healthy distance back, and behind even them was Simon, hanging around the area like a watchful sheepdog.
For some reason, Helene kept shooting glances backwards. “So, that Simon of yours,” she said at last.
“What about him?” Leah asked. She couldn’t help but feel a little pleased with herself. If Simon could repeat this performance, she could think of several scenarios where just the demonstration of his talents would prove very useful indeed.
“That was an impressive display,” Helene went on, taking a drink from her flask again. “If I were fifteen years younger, I’d have caught a guy like that. He’d have never stood a chance. Does he belong to anyone?”
Well, this conversation had rapidly taken a turn into uncomfortable territory. “He’s not a dog. But if you’re asking me if he’s in a relationship, no, I don’t think so. He tends to spend most of his time alone.”
Helene shrugged. “You can cure him of that. If I were your age, I wouldn’t let him get away.”
Leah stared straight ahead, determined not to show any reaction. Her aunt had droned on this topic with disturbing regularity, though more often than not, she had tried to set Leah up with Alin. “He does have a way with swords, I’ll give you that.”
“What other virtues does a man need?” Helene nodded decisively, as though that settled the matter, and then she upended her silver flask over her own head. Water. Had it just contained water the entire time?
Helene probably wasn’t the best source of advice, but she had played her role in this operation well. So had Simon, and she would need to thank him for that.
thoughts slide to the next item on her list.
The Endross Incarnation wouldn’t go down easily. Maybe Simon could help with that as well.
Valor unfettered is no more than recklessness.
Your bravery must be matched by an equal measure of patience, compassion, and understanding. Otherwise, it is worthless.
C
AVERNS
OF
F
LAME
Perhaps due to the harsh and unforgiving nature of life in the Caverns of Flame, Naraka Travelers do not consider mercy a virtue. Tragically, it is often seen as a weakness, rather than as a component essential to true justice.
-Elysian Book of Virtues, Chapter 8: Blue
The ash hound looked up at Rasmus, one of its eyes cataract-white, the other glowing orange like a hot coal. It growled once, flame licking up its mane and back, before it hopped around playfully.
Rasmus took a step back, lest the pup scratch up his shoes. This was the first creature he had called, and he knew he should feel grateful. Ash hounds were useful, summoned all over the kingdom to sniff out murderers. With proper control and training, they could find one murderer in the center of a crowded city, even if he had been hiding for decades. They were handy beasts, he could admit that, but they were just so...common.
First off, they looked like ordinary charcoal-colored dogs. What kind of Naraka Traveler inspired fear and respect by walking his dog around? Any villager with a leash and a mutt could strike just as much of an imposing figure. Besides, he had barely to turn his head to see a pair of ash hounds worrying at a well-worn haunch of meat, or another pup burrowing deep into a pile of yellowed human bones. His own small hound whined, as if he wanted to join them in their play, but was afraid to leave Rasmus alone.
He didn’t share a bond with this creature—he was no Helgard Traveler— but Rasmus knew that a simple mental call would bring the dog running back, so he released the creature with a simple psychic effort. The flames on its back flared up with its joy, it left one lick of scalding-hot saliva along the side of his leg, and then it bounded off to dive into the stack of bones.
For Naraka Travelers, the trick was modifying your mental call to attract exactly the creature you wanted, and getting it to do what you intended. There was rarely a long-term bond between summoner and summoned, except in certain special cases.
be a day of celebration, but he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. That disappointment flared into hot, sickening shame when the ground rumbled around him, and Taichon's shu'kra erupted from Naraka's red stone.
The shu'kra, or cavern-worm, was a ravenous rock-eating monster the size of one of Cana's sewer pipes. Rasmus could only see its head and a few segments of bright pink skin; the rest of the creature's long body was hidden underground. The exposed portion was still nine or ten feet long, leaving him to wonder exactly how massive the worm's whole body must be.
Its head was a nightmare of clacking mandibles and spinning, grinding teeth in a vertically slitted mouth, with no apparent eyes, but Taichon reached up and patted the worm on its salivating maw with no evidence of discomfort.
“There's a good boy,” Taichon said, smiling up at the shu'kra. “You're hungry, aren't you? Don't worry, we'll have plenty for you to eat.”
Taichon had the pale skin of a Damascan and a mop of curly black hair. He was the son of a minor noble—one of Overlord Eli's relatives, Rasmus had heard—and the two boys were much the same age. Rasmus had come to study in Naraka only four days before Taichon showed up, and they had been trained together ever since. By rights, they should be closer than brothers by now, after three years of rigorous training in the history and methods of Naraka.
Rasmus hated him.
There was no test in which Taichon didn't have to out-perform Rasmus, no trial he didn't have to complete just a little faster. He had his noble training to fall back on, that was what it was. Rasmus was the son of a weaver, he didn't have the sorts of advantages that a rich boy like Taichon must have enjoyed. It wasn't fair that they should be held to the same standard.
“Marvelous!” Tutor Petrus said, clapping his hands and beaming at Taichon. “You're doing a wonderful job of exercising such delicate control. In the best partnerships, as you know, there's a subtle degree of give-and-take.”
Taichon ran a hand down the cavern-worm's pale skin. “I never thought it would be so easy. You just have to nudge him in the right direction, don't you? He knows what he's doing. It's not even a command, really, so much as a request.”
lucky to have him, or so they were told, because he usually served as the personal advisor to Overlord Malachi himself. He had a soft eye for Taichon, that was for sure.
“Binding a shu'kra at your age. You'll be in high demand around here if you can keep this up, I’ll say that for certain. We haven't had a good rock-worker at the outpost in years. Once we get past your Initiation, you can help us expand the farmland, maybe even clear out that tunnel between the Cana and Eltarim waypoints. We'll put you and your worms to work, son, no need to worry about that.”
Finally, Taichon seemed to remember that Rasmus was there. It was about time someone did.
“What happened to the ash hound, Rasmus?” Taichon asked.
The question sounded innocent enough, but Rasmus' face burned. He knew what the other boy was doing. He was trying to compare his shu'kra to a plain runt of a dog. “I sent him off,” Rasmus said casually, just as if he didn't notice Taichon's plan. “There was no reason to keep him around, I can always call another.”
“Have you given it a name yet?”
“Why would I? It’s not as though it’s special. If I need a hound, I’ll just call up the closest one.” On a sudden burst of inspiration, he decided to try and get the instructor on his side. “Then again, I haven’t heard Tutor Petrus' input. Sir, what can you tell us about ash hound naming conventions?” Tutor Petrus rarely missed an opportunity to demonstrate his familiarity with Narakan history.
The old man flapped a hand in Rasmus' direction, walking over to squint at Taichon's worm. “Name it whatever you like, son. I named my first ash hound after a boy who used to throw sticks at me. Petty, I know, but I got a sense of satisfaction out of being the one to throw the sticks for a change. So, Taichon, what kind of bait did you use? I could have sworn I saw you walking down here with the skull of a thief, but could you perhaps have had a stretch of hangman's noose somewhere about you?”
Ignored completely. Rasmus felt like this was his lot entirely too often, and it was always Taichon's fault. He acted like he didn't plead for the attention, that he didn't beg and dance like a dog for scraps, but Rasmus knew the real story.
dust of the cavern floor. He lost himself in a vision of a snapdragon lurching up the side of the cliff, wreathed in flame, and gulping up the ash hound in its crocodile jaws. It would turn on Petrus and Taichon, but Rasmus would save the day at the last second by commanding it in an overwhelming burst of psychic talent. Maybe that would count as his first successful summons, and he could forget the dog ever existed.
Rasmus replayed this version of events in his mind several times— sometimes Taichon escaped with no wounds except to his pride, sometimes his shu'kra was sliced to ribbons, and sometimes Taichon suffered terrible wounds before Rasmus could finally bring the snapdragon to heel—until he noticed Tutor Petrus clearing his throat pointedly.
“At the risk of repeating myself, it is time for you to be about your chores. The tower sanctuary needs water, after which you should deliver four buckets to my personal dwelling. Quickly, now.”
Taichon patted his worm on the flank one more time, and it slithered backwards into the rock, no doubt to continue tunneling somewhere far below. Rasmus didn't spare his hound a second glance. He simply followed Tutor Petrus, hoping the old man would notice his dedication and focus.
Damasca controlled most of the useful routes through Naraka. Rasmus had always assumed this was because of the inherent superiority of Damasca-trained Travelers versus those taught in Enosh or on their own, but it had turned out there was a much simpler reason. Damasca simply built an outpost around each waypoint, a towering obsidian obelisk marked by golden runes. The waypoints marked the only places where you could make a Gate into or out of Naraka, so they became the only points of strategic importance in the entire Territory. Enosh controlled the routes in and around their one city, but they could have that barren stretch of wilderness. Between all the other major cities, Damasca owned the roads.
Inside the walls, past a couple of savage-looking Itasas tribesmen standing guard, the complex looked largely empty. Only a handful of buildings were scattered all over the empty space inside the wall, leaving plenty of bare ground—one stubby tower of red stone for the full Travelers, one blocky barracks of charwood for the Itasas tribe, a second, almost identical charwood building for holding supplies, and the tiled courtyard surrounding the obsidian tree. Its spiked black branches stabbed into the sky, almost higher than the walls. In the very center of the wall, surrounded by all the man-made buildings, the waypoint stood straight and tall, its black spike pointed at the cavern ceiling far above. Its runes shone brightly enough that they lent a soft yellow light to the whole outpost.
Those were the only constructions that, for one reason or another, needed to rest aboveground. Everything else rested below, in natural tunnels expanded by tame cavern-worms.
Today, there was one extra feature in the outpost: a wagon shaped like a vast barrel, pulled by four nervous-looking oxen. Rasmus always thought animals from the outside world looked exotic, though he couldn't understand why merchants insisted on using them here. The creatures inevitably hated Naraka's persistent smell, and panicked at the first sight of any native wildlife, so they were less than practical to bring along. But most water merchants insisted on trying.
A line of people waited behind the water-wagon, carrying buckets, pails, pans, smaller barrels, canteens, flasks, and bottles. Anything they could use to carry a mouthful of water. There were no full Travelers in line, of course; they had people to haul water for them. People like Rasmus and Taichon.
Petrus nodded toward the water line, as though they hadn't performed this same chore a hundred times. “He'll have buckets for you. Bring two each to the foot of the sanctuary, empty them in the well, then fill them again and take them to my house. If you hurry, we can talk about your Initiation.”
Rasmus' gut seized up, and he found himself grabbing his teacher by the sleeve. “I'm sorry, sir. Initiation?”
One of the Tutor's gray eyebrows raised. “Yes, of course. We've spoken of this before. Once you've called your first creature, you're to be made an Initiate. Surely you should know this by now.”
Rasmus felt his face flush. “Yes sir, I know, but I mean...so soon? I thought we would have time to prepare first.”
surround it with ceremony, but really you just walk up to the obsidian tree and confess. Depending on the weight of your confession, it will grow you a fruit. You eat the fruit, and you're qualified as an Initiate. It's a practical requirement more than anything else. Now, if you will excuse me...”
With that, Tutor Petrus hurried off, his hand raised to wave at another old man in red robes.
Rasmus was familiar with the obsidian tree, of course. It was housed in this very outpost, so Naraka Travelers from all over the country came here for Initiation. Once the black tree produced its fruit, whoever ate it gained the ability to handle fire and not be burned. Some could only resist a candle's flame, and anything hotter would eat through them as quickly as anyone else. Rumor said that Overlord Malachi could swim through lava and bathe in molten iron without feeling the slightest discomfort. Your degree of protection depended on your confession.
And there was Rasmus' problem: he had nothing to confess.
As he and Taichon retrieved their wooden buckets from the water merchant, Rasmus considered his history. What had he done? Was there any crime he committed, anything he had hidden from himself? He wanted as dark a sin as possible: rumor among the other Travelers-in-training said that only the most severe, profane crimes earned the highest degree of protection.
Taichon tried to start a conversation while they stood in line, but Rasmus was too tied up in his thoughts to pay much attention. He had tried to steal a sack of figs, once, from a stall in the streets of Bel Calem, but the stall owner had caught him with his fingers around the fruit. When they got home, his father had switched him. Surely that wouldn't work: he had already received punishment, which under Narakan law meant that the crime had never happened.
The merchant worked a pump on the back of the water wagon, and the clean stream flowed out into Rasmus' bucket, splashing his hands. No charge for them; the merchant recognized that they were running errands for the sanctuary, and he would bill the Travelers later.
Rasmus hurried toward the tower as best he could with a bucket in each hand, lagging behind Taichon, who always seemed to make everything a race.
This time, to Rasmus' surprise, Taichon slowed and waited for him to catch up. “You're quiet today.”
“That's my right,” Rasmus snapped.
Taichon shifted one bucket to his other hand so that he could scratch his head. “Are you worried about the Initiation?”
He held both buckets in one hand and he still didn't spill a drop. Rasmus tried to imitate him, as casually as possible, but he almost sloshed a pail full of water down his shirt. “Worried? No, of course not. Are you?”
“Terrified,” Taichon said.
They stopped talking when they reached the charwood door at the base of the red tower. The Traveler assigned to the door recognized them and waved them through, and they jogged down a short set of stairs to the well, where they dumped their buckets into the pool of waiting water. It wasn't a real well, of course, since there was very little natural water in Naraka. It was nothing more than a stone pool to collect their purchased water. But since the Travelers used it for everything from drinking to bathing to laundry while they were in the Territory, they called it the well.
The boys hurried back up, and once they cleared the sanctuary, Taichon continued. “I know nobody's supposed to listen to the confession. And even if they do, nothing you confess to the tree can be held against you, but I can't help but worry.”
“Why?” Rasmus asked, as they filled their buckets from the wagon again. Taichon waited until they exited the wall of the outpost before answering. “When I was just a child, back in the outside world, I was climbing a tree with my sister.”
Rasmus didn't have any brothers or sisters, and he hadn't known that Taichon did either. The thought made him uncomfortable, somehow, as though Taichon had more of a life outside of Naraka than Rasmus did.
fine now—but she didn't remember the few minutes leading up to her fall. So when my father asked me how it had happened, I told him she had tried to reach a bird's nest and slipped. Everyone believed me, even her, and I was never punished for it.”
That was a good one. It was a crime of passion, and thus not as damning as if it had been planned or premeditated, but he had harmed another out of anger, lied to cover it up, and injured an innocent in doing so. Taichon's fruit would surely be the size of a melon. Rasmus would be lucky if his looked like a grape.
“Are you sure you should have told me?” Rasmus said, as he marched along the dusty red stone of Naraka's caverns. “Maybe the tree won't count it if you've already confessed.”
“I don't think so. According to the Principles of Admission, an admission of guilt is only valid if it's made to a duly appointed representative of the law, or else directly to the wronged party. You're not either one of those. Besides, you're a close friend, so your testimony wouldn't be accepted in a court on my behalf anyway. Under the laws of Naraka, I'm clear.”
Taichon always sounded so pleasant and certain, even when he was lecturing on principles that they had learned together years before. Rasmus knew the law just as well as Taichon did. And he couldn't help but notice how Taichon counted Rasmus among his close friends when it came to a court case; how convenient for him. That ensured that Rasmus would never be able to testify against him. Undoubtedly he was planning some crime and wanted a silent compatriot. Was that all Rasmus' friendship meant to him, after three years of joint training?
Tutor Petrus' private dwelling was dug into the rock about half a mile from the main outpost. While most Travelers lived in the tower sanctuary during their stay in Naraka, a few of them—those who spent the most time in specific regions of the Territory—kept small, permanent houses here. Rasmus didn't mind the trip, since no senior Travelers were around to give him any other chores while he was outside the outpost walls, but the ever-present threat of predators hung over him like a cloud of smoke.
of the outpost walls, never to be heard from again.
Tutor Petrus' well waited just outside his round charwood doorway. The pool was covered by a stone lid that took both of them to drag it off, and it was much smaller than the well in the sanctuary. Their four buckets filled it almost to the brim.
“How about you?” Taichon asked, as they walked away from Tutor Petrus' house. “Do you know what you're going to say to the tree?”
Rasmus couldn't tell the truth, of course. That would be admitting defeat to Taichon again. “I have...some idea,” he said.
Though part of the route back to the outpost wound through tunnels carved in the red stone walls, much of the road was exposed. They had to step carefully on these sections, because there was often a sheer cliff to the side, dropping ten or fifteen feet to another plateau of solid rock. Rasmus had known careless students or visitors to slip in the grit and ash, tumbling down to the stone below. The fortunate survived with only a few broken ribs, while the unlucky could suffer a twisted neck or shattered skull.
“Well, I told you my story...” Taichon trailed off uncomfortably. Good manners suggested that Rasmus should share his tale now.
“It's a lot like yours, I would say,” Rasmus said. The bucket in Taichon's right hand swung out over a fifteen-foot drop. “Pushed someone. They fell and got hurt. The difference was, they deserved it.”
“Huh.” Taichon sounded disappointed. He clearly didn't think Rasmus had any such story. That was just like him: he never believed anything Rasmus said. Sure, he was making up the tale this time, but he had certainly earned a little trust.
“You don't believe me.”
“No, that's not true,” Taichon protested. Rasmus would show him.
He barely thought about it. It was more a surge of emotion, of inspiration, of something long hidden inside him lurching up and taking control for a single instant.
Rasmus took one step to the right and shoved.
Taichon had time for one startled, panicked expression before he went over the cliff. A second later, a cracking thud and two hollow thunks marked Taichon and his pair of barrels hitting the ground.
