by Wight, Will
Simon cursed under his breath.
“What did happen to Leah?” Alin asked.
The girl shook her head. “She’s different, somehow. They took her too, but they didn’t kill her. I don’t think they ever even beat her. Alin, they treated her like she was somebody important.”
“What do you mean, important?” Simon asked.
Right on top of him, Alin asked her, “Rutha, where is she?”
Rutha, right, that was her name. Simon had always just thought of her as Leah’s sister, or Nurita’s niece.
Rutha glanced at Simon, but replied to Alin. Probably because he had remembered her name. “The Overlord took her himself. I think they brought her to the Overlord’s house. That’s what it sounded like they would do, anyway.”
Simon clenched his fist, wishing for Azura’s hilt in his hand. Summoning it in a house this small and crowded would kill somebody, but part of him still wanted the comfort of steel in his hand. The Overlord had taken a personal interest in Leah. Why?
Alin stood up and dusted himself off, visibly gathering himself for a speech. “Chaim, Nurita,” he said, and they came. Simon couldn’t believe it—Nurita should have slapped him for his tone alone—but they came.
“Take everyone back out of the city,” Alin said. “I’m going in for Leah.”
They protested, of course, but Alin wouldn’t hear it. He held up a hand to stop their words. “I don’t need your help. I may need to fight the Overlord himself, and in that fight you won’t be able to help me anyway. Besides, someone needs to get Rutha back safely. Don’t worry, Simon will protect you.”
Simon rose to his feet. “I’ll do what?”
“They need someone to keep them safe on their way out of Bel Calem,” Alin said calmly. “I don’t know much about this Hall Territory, but I’m sure it will be enough to get the job done. Besides, any Traveler is better than none.”
There was so much to hate in that sentence that Simon felt anger choke his words off for a moment. When he finally got hold of himself again, he said, “I don’t care what they need. I’m going for Leah. You want to protect them so bad, you do it.”
Alin sighed, as if he were a parent facing down an unruly child. He locked gazes with Simon and spoke in a low, earnest voice. “Simon, you and I can do things that nobody else here can do. That means we’re responsible for their safety. Do you understand? It’s like we’re soldiers, Simon, and we need to keep the ordinary people safe. But sometimes soldiers have to learn to take orders.”
Alin put a hand on Simon’s shoulder, in what he no doubt imagined to be a comforting gesture. “I’m ordering you to take them out of the city, Simon. I know you’re brave enough to go face the Overlord with me, and I admire that. I really do. But I need somebody to take care of them, and you’re the only one I’ve got.”
For the next few seconds, Simon couldn’t see anything past an image of his fist splitting Alin’s lip. When his vision cleared, he twisted his mouth into a sheepish smile. “I guess you’re right,” he said. “Let her know I wanted to come along, will you?”
Alin nodded gravely. “I’ll make sure she knows.”
“Thanks.”
After clasping hands with Chaim and enduring a few last-minute words of advice from Nurita, Alin walked out of the hut. That armored dog let out another of those piercing barks and followed.
“Okay then,” Simon said, as soon as Alin and his hound had left. “You two can get everybody back to Myria on your own, can’t you?”
Nurita and Chaim shared a glance.
“Alin told you to stay put, young man,” Nurita said.
“Yeah, I’m not going to do that. What right does he have, giving me orders?”
Chaim shrugged. “In that case, yes, we can get everybody back just fine, assuming we don’t run into any trouble. Tell you the truth, I’d be more comfortable if we had you along. Just in case.”
Simon looked at the Damascan woman, huddled in the corner of her house, trying to avoid notice. He barely noticed her; his mind raced ahead, thinking of everything he still had left to do.
“Honestly, sir,” Simon said, “you’re probably safer without us. I get the feeling we’re about to make a lot of noise.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
CONVERGENCE
Minutes after he left Chaim and Nurita, Simon stepped through a Gate into the entry room. He lifted Azura up, resting it on the wooden rack marked with the number seven.
A noise from the hallway grabbed his attention, and he nearly snatched Azura back.
So jumpy, Otoku murmured. He had almost forgotten her back at the house in Bel Calem, and she wasn’t best pleased with him for that.
“I have good reason,” Simon said. “Everything in this house wants to kill me.”
Not everything. That sofa by the wall is calm enough, for now. But I’ve heard it can smell fear.
Simon gave up worrying and walked into the hall. If there had actually been any danger, Otoku would have warned him instead of joking around. Probably.
A gleaming silver sword-point lunged from further down the hallway as soon as he opened the door, stabbing toward his face. He barely managed to throw himself to one side in time to avoid losing an eye. He crashed heavily against the wall of the hallway.
“Otoku,” Simon gasped.
The doll laughed.
The sword was clearly too long to swing in the narrow hallway, so the swordsman drew back for another thrust. Simon took that instant to flood his lungs with Nye essence.
His breath cooled, his body drifting up as though his feet were about to leave the floor. The world slowed down.
When the point of the sword came at him this time, he slapped it away with the palm of his hand and stepped in to confront the swordsman.
Only, it wasn’t a swordsman. Andra Agnos stood in the hall, both feet firmly planted, gripping a sword that looked like a much-shorter version of Azura. Its blade was stained black in several places, in a pattern that made it look like it had been splattered with ink. Through the Nye essence, Simon watched her expression slide from determination to surprise. She pulled her sword back, though with the world slowed, it looked like she was pulling it out of thick mud. Her lips began to form a word, and Simon released his power.
The world lurched back to normal speed.
“Simon, you’re back! Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see it was you. Are you okay?”
Before responding, Simon lifted Otoku and stared her in the eyes. “I bet you thought that was funny, didn’t you?”
Hilarious, yes, Otoku responded. What did you want me to say? ‘Oh, Simon, watch out! There’s a little girl in there! You might be in danger!’
Andra glanced in confusion from Simon to the doll. “What? No, I wasn’t trying to be funny. I really didn’t know it was you.” Her eyes gained a mischievous sparkle. “But I wish my brother could have seen you crash into the wall. Like you were tripping over your own feet.”
“I didn’t mean you,” Simon began, but gave it up. “Never mind. Is everybody still okay?”
She gave him a mocking smile. “Same as yesterday, Simon. I know it’s dangerous here, but we’re doing fine. You don’t have to keep checking on us. And stop trying to dodge me: who were you talking to?”
“Oh, you know, no one. Who says I was talking to anyone? Is Erastes around?”
Andra, apparently, wasn’t willing to let the subject go that easily. “Is that a doll? Were you talking to the doll?”
“Well, I...yes,” Simon said. That sounded lame, so he tried again. “It’s a talking doll.”
Andra’s eyes brightened. “Oh! She must be your advisor.”
Simon was a little taken aback. She had learned quickly, if she knew about advisors already. “Yeah, actually, she is.”
“Great!” Andra touched Otoku’s face with a finger. “You can talk out loud. You don’t have to pretend around me.” She poked the doll again.
In S
imon’s head, Otoku let out a strangled noise. Tell her to stop that! If she touches me again, I’m feeding her to the sofa.
“She says to stop poking her,” Simon translated. Andra’s face grew confused.
“But she didn’t say anything,” Andra said.
“That’s how they talk. I just sort of hear them in my head.”
Andra looked doubtful, but she shrugged. “Huh. That’s strange. Mine will talk to anybody who stands still long enough to listen.”
“Yours?”
A cloth bundle drifted out from the fourth bedroom, and for an instant Simon thought it was some sort of tiny, floating version of a Nye. On closer inspection, it seemed more like a ghost made of cloth. Its head looked like a ball of yarn wrapped in a gray rag; its eyes were made of silver buttons, its lips of black string. It was tied off underneath its head, and the rest of its body was just a skirt of hanging cloth that swung underneath it as it flew through the air.
As Simon stared, it opened its lips and spoke. “Well, Andra, hello. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your, hmmm, friend?”
“Introduce you?” Andra asked.
“Yes,” Simon said. “I haven’t met very many other advisors.”
“Oh, okay. Simon, this is—”
“Aaahhh,” the advisor breathed, interrupting Andra. “You must be the new, ah, young one of Kai’s. Irresponsible of him, hmmm, don’t you think?”
“—Manyu,” Andra finished. “Manyu, Simon.”
Slowly, Simon put together some things in his head. He looked once again at Andra’s sword, which she held loosely at her side. “If you’ve got an advisor...” he said aloud. “That’s a Dragon’s Fang? You got one that fast?”
“Oh yeah! Chaka says I got it much faster than you did.” Simon winced. “Its name is...” She frowned and turned to Manyu. “Manyu, what’s its name?”
The cloth ghost’s lips made a perfectly round O. “Andra, hmmm, I’m surprised at you! Not knowing the name of your own sword! That would be like this, ahhh, boy not knowing the names of his dolls.”
Otoku chuckled in Simon’s head. You do know all our names, don’t you? she said.
There are like fifty of you, Simon sent back. Give me time.
Andra rolled her eyes at her own advisor. “Just tell me.”
“You have the honor to possess, ahhh, Seijan, the tenth Fang forged by the founder of our House.”
“Yeah, I’m not going to remember that,” Andra said.
Manyu floated over to Simon’s face, and Simon took a discreet step back. “You see, this is why the girl is not a full, hmmm, Traveler yet.”
“Hey!” Andra said.
“Since she failed to tell you, ahhh, the whole truth, I will do so. She has the sword, but none of the other, hmmm, gifts. She has not yet proven herself worthy. As of now, she can only open her bedroom, the garden, and the bath.”
Simon’s pride recovered a little. At least she hadn’t done in a week what had taken him months. “Andra, I’m actually here to talk to the Nye. Have you seen any around?”
She frowned. “Who?”
“The black robes that keep trying to strangle you.”
Andra’s hand rose to her throat and she half-turned, as though expecting someone to choke her immediately. “What? What are you talking about?”
Simon looked to Manyu, who cleared his throat apologetically. “The Eldest was quite, hmmm, pleased to have new humans in the House. I believe he did not want to scare them off.”
“You can’t be serious. They tried to kill me before I was in here five minutes!”
“Is someone going to try and strangle us?” Andra asked.
Manyu bobbed in midair, a gesture that Simon couldn’t quite interpret. “The Eldest was testing you, apprentice. He wanted to see if you had the, ahhh, correct potential.”
Simon nodded. “I guess that makes sense.” It didn’t quite balance the scales, but the Eldest had been testing him. He could accept that.
“And of course, hmmm, Chaka doesn’t like you. He may have influenced some of the more, hmmm, impressionable Nye to try and drive you out. So to speak.”
A hunched shadow appeared behind Andra. A harsh voice whispered, “That is a fair way to say it.”
Andra shrieked and whirled her blade around, but the Nye Eldest dodged it easily. The sword stuck in the doorframe of the tenth bedroom.
The Eldest let out a raspy chuckle. “I am sorry, child. That was cruel. We will fix the door tonight.”
The faded Nye waved one long sleeve in Manyu’s direction, and the advisor dipped respectfully in the air before floating back into the tenth bedroom. He even managed to shut the door somehow, though Simon would have expected it to be far too heavy for the little cloth puppet.
“Eldest,” Simon said, bowing slightly. “Did Chaka really try to have me driven out?”
“We did not see that you had much potential, son of Kalman,” the Eldest Nye replied. Andra glanced between his empty hood and Simon’s face, plainly trying to decide whether to run.
“In truth,” the Eldest continued, “Chaka still does not see your potential. But look!” One empty black sleeve gestured toward Andra. “Five healthy sons and daughters you bring to us, and one of them will carry Seijan into the world. I am very pleased with you. You have held our bargain well.”
The Eldest was responding better than Simon had hoped, but he still decided to step carefully. “Thank you, sir. Your essence has kept me alive more times than I can count.”
The worn, faded hood cocked to one side in a gesture reminiscent of Kai at his most curious. Then the Eldest flowed forward, around Andra, until he stood peering up into Simon’s face. Simon resisted the urge to look away.
“You did not come here to listen to my compliments,” the Nye rasped. “Nor even to check upon the girl. You have a request?”
Simon nodded, suddenly less sure than he had been a moment before.
“Speak it,” the Eldest said.
“I’m in a city—well, I mean, in the real world I am—and I need to save this girl. She’s being held prisoner, but I don’t know where. I thought you might know how to find out.”
Andra grinned. “You’re saving a maiden in peril? Real peril? How heroic.”
She didn’t have to mock him like that. Putting it that way, he sounded like a child, not a Traveler on a rescue mission. “I saved you, didn’t I?” he said.
“That’s true,” she acknowledged. “Then again, I suppose I’ll be saving people too, soon. Not maidens, though, I guess. Princes. Riding in and saving captive princes from...whatever it is that takes princes captive. This girl isn’t a princess, is she?”
“Um, no,” Simon said, having failed to follow Andra’s half of the conversation.
“That’s too bad,” Andra said. “You should aim higher next time.”
The Nye Eldest cackled. “It has been too long since I watched children playing.”
Children? Simon glared into the black hood. “Can you help me or not?”
“One condition,” the Eldest said. He flourished one sleeve like a juggler pulling a ball out of thin air, and suddenly he was holding a sheet of black cloth. It might have been a blanket, or some kind of curtain.
“What’s that for?” Simon asked.
“For you,” the Nye said. Simon took it hesitantly. He had chosen to trust the Eldest, but there was every chance this cloth might come to life and try to strangle him.
Simon held the cloth up gingerly, carefully spreading it out in front of him.
It was a cloak.
A hooded black cloak, long enough so that when it hung from Simon’s shoulders it wouldn’t quite brush the ground. Simon tried to picture himself wearing a cloak like that, but the thought was too ridiculous. In Myria, people only wore cloaks during cold or harsh weather, and never a cloak of solid black. He would look like a thief, sneaking around in an outfit like this. And how was he supposed to fight, with this
thing flapping around and binding his arms?
“If you show up wearing that, this girl will think you’re the kidnapper,” Andra said.
Simon looked past the cloak, over to the Nye eldest, who somehow managed to look expectant. Simon would have to let him down easily. “I appreciate the thought,” he began, “but I—”
“I have honored you,” the Eldest rasped. “This is the cloak of the Nye. It is a mark of our bargain, and you will wear it. Unless, of course, you are ashamed of us.”
Simon felt a cold chain at his throat.
For a moment he thought he was remembering the sensation, until he tried to look down and felt his chin pressing against links of iron. There was another Nye standing behind him, holding chains around his throat in a metal noose.
His first reaction was anger. How dare they? If they want to make this a fight, I’ll give them a fight.
But that was childish. There was no reason to risk his life, and Andra’s, when simple cooperation would get him what he wanted.
Andra, however, apparently didn’t agree.
An instant after the chains appeared around Simon’s neck, Andra’s sword flashed at the Nye standing behind him.
It was hard to move without bruising his throat on the Nye’s chain, but Simon managed to get one hand up and knock Andra’s wrist back, throwing her strike wide.
“It’s okay,” Simon said. He looked back at the Eldest, who seemed to be silently chuckling. “I’ll wear the thing.”
The chain slid slowly away, over his shoulder, like an ice-cold snake retreating.
The Eldest nodded. “Then my help is yours.”
The Nye behind Simon stepped forward, bowing before his Eldest, who seemed to ignore him.
“Open a Gate back to your city,” the Eldest said to Simon. “Then give this one just ten minutes.” The younger Nye rose to his full height—almost a full head taller than Simon—and then both black-wrapped men began to glide down the hall toward the entry room.
Simon hurried to catch up. “Okay, well, her name is Leah. She’s a little shorter than me, with dark hair—”