City of Light (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy: Book #3) by Will Wight

Author:Will Wight [Wight, Will]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Hidden Gnome Publishing
Published: 2014-04-09T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:

THE FOUNDER'S HEIR

When Simon woke up, he couldn't move.

He lay on his back, staring up at the plaster ceiling of his bedroom back in Valinhall. As far as he could see from craning his eyes, he was still fully clothed and wearing his Nye cloak. The bed was soft beneath him, but he wasn't wrapped in a sheet. Someone must have taken him here and dumped him on his bed. Bits of his clothes were still damp, and the rest was stiff, as if recently dried—someone had taken him on a trip to the healing pool.

He was grateful. If they had dumped him here without healing him, he would have felt burning agony instead of paralyzing numbness.

I guess we won, then, Simon sent.

A few of the dolls tittered, some scoffed, and a few groaned. The total effect was like one long, exasperated sigh.

No one died, if that's what you're asking, Caela told him.

Not as far as we know... Lilia added.

Not even Alin! Rebekkah said, irritated. You waste way too much time standing around when you're wearing that mask. Leah almost got him, but he ended up going crazy and letting everyone get away. You should have punched him harder.

How did I get back here?

Ask him, Angeline sent.

Before Simon could ask who she meant, a dark hood leaned over his bed, giving him an eyeful of the void the Eldest Nye wore for a face.

His whole body twitched, and his heart hammered against his ribs. Everything he'd learned in Valinhall was screaming at him to jump up and stab the Eldest through the chest, before the Nye could draw a chain around his neck and choke the life out of him...

“Be still, son of Kalman. I have not come to kill you while you sleep away the effects of your mask.” He leaned closer. “Though my mind could always change.”

“What…you want?” Simon grunted. It was the best he could manage through his all-but-paralyzed throat.

The Eldest held up a shriveled fig the color of blood, pinching it through his sleeve. “Why did you bring this here? It's not a weapon, it cannot be attuned to us. If it were planted here, it could be the end!”

What is it? Simon tried to ask. It came out sounding more like “Whatsit?”

In a flicker of one black sleeve, the Eldest made the object vanish. “It is a seed of the Crimson Vault's domination. It is vile. It is disgusting. And it is not something the Founder's heir should ever touch!”

He seemed genuinely angry rather than simply menacing or threatening, and maybe that had led the Eldest to speak carelessly, but Simon felt sure he had let something important slip.

With a monumental effort, Simon craned his head forward and spoke clearly. “Founder's heir?” he asked.

The dolls went totally quiet.

The Eldest hesitated. “The point remains that you were careless, bringing this here. This seed is not something we can make our own! I am afraid even to destroy it here, in case we awaken it through careless action.

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