by Brandon Mull
The pair of would-be combatants looked up, stricken, all anger vanishing from their expressions. They appeared ready to run.
Aram jerked his head in the direction of the door. The two men nodded politely, then pressed through the crowd, followed by a few of their comrades.
“You want to go watch the fight?” Aram asked. “Should be decent. They look evenly matched.”
“I’d rather stay away from trouble.”
“What do you know. An ounce of sense. Let’s commandeer their table and wait for our meal.”
Several people were heading toward the vacated table, and a husky man had already laid hands on a chair, but they all backed away as Aram strode forward. Jason claimed a seat across from the enormous man. There were chairs for four other people, but nobody joined them. The noisy room was not conducive to conversation, so they sat in silence. Aram watched the crowd, paying no attention to Jason.
After a time, the announcer started the show again. A woman imitating bird calls was well received at first, but overstayed her welcome, and was finally booed from the stage. A skilled juggler pretended to be clumsy, stumbling and tripping and flailing his arms, but never dropped a single item. The crowd laughed heartily and gave him warm applause. A man was leading the crowd in a popular sing-along while sawing on his fiddle when Sandra the barmaid served the food.
She set a steaming platter in front of Aram, heaped with fleshy orange strips drenched in a buttery cheese sauce and dusted with seasonings. Jason received a plate holding a lesser portion.
“You emptied the kitchen of scuttlers,” she told Jason. “Expensive items are purchased before they’re eaten.”
“How much?”
“Forty.”
That was a lot! Eight times the cost of his room. Aram was grinning. Jason handed the barmaid a silver pellet. She gave him two bronze drooma in return.
Aram took a bite. He closed his eyes in ecstasy. Opening them, he nodded appreciatively at Jason.
Not particularly hungry after the puckerlies he had relished earlier, Jason tried a strip the size of his index finger. The soft flesh melted in his mouth. It tasted incredible. Jason started devouring the food, moderating his pace once he noticed Aram savoring every mouthful.
When the food was gone, Aram rose from the table, returning to his position at the bar. The other patrons parted to give him space. The chairs around Jason quickly filled up. He stayed put through the remainder of the show.
At the conclusion, the announcer summoned four of the most popular acts to the stage and, by audience reaction, determined a winner. When the three women who were singing when Jason came downstairs won, they reprised their song about Old Ingrim.
After the show ended, many of the patrons shuffled out. Some, mostly older men, kept on conversing and eating. A few had fallen asleep.
Moving to a table near a corner, Jason rested his head on folded arms and napped.
A loud noise awoke him.
Blinking blearily, Jason saw a man prostrate on the floor beside him, an overturned chair nearby. Aram had a boot on his back.
“You know better than to try a stunt like that while I’m on the job,” Aram growled. “Especially if you intend to insult me with such a clumsy lift.”
The man on the ground held up a small drawstring bag.
“And the other one.”
The man produced a second bag. It took Jason a moment to comprehend that they were his. Aram crouched, snatching them from the thief.
“Now get out of here,” Aram demanded.
The culprit scrambled to his feet and staggered out of the inn.
Aram handed Jason the bags. “Is this the wealth you hid elsewhere?”
“Oh, thanks.”
“It’s my job.”
Jason surveyed the room. It was almost empty. A matronly barmaid was wiping down a table. Two red-eyed men sat huddled in conversation. A fat, drooling man lay slumped in a corner, snoring softly.
“I’m done for tonight,” Aram reported. “If you wish to speak briefly, take a walk with me.” Aram led Jason out the front door.
A chill breeze blew in from the ocean. Somewhere in the gray morning a gull cried. There was little activity on the docked ships. Jason guessed it was an hour before dawn.
Aram leaned against a wooden railing crusted with guano. “You have my attention,” he said.
Jason looked up at the huge man. “I want to pay you a lot to bring me to a village called Potsug. I guess it has some ferries.”
Aram folded his muscular arms. “I know the village. It actually straddles the river. It isn’t far. Why do you require an escort?”
“For protection. I’m being pursued by Maldor.”
Aram waved both arms, shaking his head. “Say no more. This conversation should never have happened. In my most reckless days, I never worked directly for or against the emperor.” Aram started walking away.
“Wait, you haven’t even heard the offer.”
Aram kept walking without a backward glance. “No need. You could offer a golden palace stuffed with riches, and I would turn you down, because what use is treasure to a corpse? Thanks for the food. Seek help elsewhere.”
“What’s the hurry?” Jason called. “Do you turn into a dwarf at dawn?”
Aram froze, then slowly turned, a strange expression on his face. “What makes you say that?” His voice held a dangerous quality.
“I was only joking,” Jason said, surprised by the weighty reaction.
Aram narrowed his eyes. “What spawned the joke?”
“You know, like the giants in the woods that shrink during the day? I guess people don’t really know about them. See, you’re super big—”
Aram strode near, towering over Jason, his expression grave. “Who sent you?” The quiet way he spoke promised violence.
Jason retreated a step. “Nobody. I mean, besides Tark.”
Aram seized Jason’s shoulders. “Why are you trying to involve Tark? What have you done to him? Who do you work for?”
“Nothing. Nobody. Settle down. Are you trying to tell me you’re a giant?”
The muscles in Aram’s wide jaw tightened. His glare threatened murder.
“I’ve seen them,” Jason said, trying to diffuse the situation. “You’re big, but they’re way bigger.”
Aram squinted up at the sky, then grabbed Jason by the front of his shirt, like a bully about to demand lunch money. “Come with me.”
“I think I’ll just—”
“Now.” The way he pronounced the word left no room for argument. The sheer girth of his arm was also pretty convincing.
“But I have stuff in my—”
“Not another word.” Aram released his shirt. “You wanted my attention? You have it. Stay beside me. Try anything, and I’ll snap your neck.”
They started off at a brisk pace.
CHAPTER 7
MOIRA
Aram guided Jason up a series of cobblestone streets away from the sea. They encountered few other people. Jason considered trying to run away, but the large man stayed close.
On a narrow street walled with tall townhomes, Aram thumped on a door.
“Where are we?” Jason asked.
“My place.”
“You knock at your own house?”
“My mother keeps it locked.”
Jason heard a lock being disengaged. The door opened to reveal a portly female dwarf with curly gray hair and kind, wrinkled features. She reacted to Jason with undisguised surprise.
“Who is your friend, Aram?” she asked sweetly.
“Don’t tell me she’s a giant,” Jason sighed. “Wait, no, the sun isn’t up yet.”
The little woman scowled at Jason, then threw Aram a questioning glance.
“He approached me tonight,” the big man told her. “I’m not sure what he’s after.”
The short woman stepped aside as Aram shoved Jason through the doorway with casual, implacable strength. By stumbling most of the way across the ro
om, Jason barely managed to avoid falling flat on his face. Aram ushered him into a tidy parlor, motioning for Jason to take a seat on a sofa. Aram and his mother sat in armchairs. The room did not look like the bachelor pad of a hulking bouncer. Everything seemed soft and frilly. Apparently, Mom was in charge of the decor.
“You have a nice home,” Jason said, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Thank you,” the woman replied. “What’s all this nonsense about giants?”
Jason glanced at Aram, who returned the gaze in silence, tacitly seconding the inquiry.
“Well, I made a joke to your son about him shrinking at dawn, and he got really upset. Seemed like a touchy subject.”
The little woman considered Jason suspiciously. “Where have you heard about shrinking giants?”
“I was in their village a few days ago.”
They both looked at Jason like he was lying.
“I’m telling the truth.”
“For your sake, you’d better be,” Aram said, leaning forward. “Go on.”
“I went there by accident. I thought I had imperials after me. Turned out to be a lurker.”
The little woman gasped.
“An actual darkling?” Aram asked.
Jason shrugged. “All black, like a shadow come to life?”
Aram nodded skeptically. “Keep going.”
“I got to the giant village not long before sunset. The people were all little, like your mom. The houses were enormous, but they convinced me the giants had left long ago. Seeing all the little people running around, it seemed true. They invited me to dinner, and when the sun went down, they all changed into giants and then wanted to eat me.”
“But you battled your way to freedom,” Aram said sarcastically.
“No. I climbed up inside the chimney, and they would have gotten me, but the lurker caught up with me and frightened them away.”
“How did you escape the lurker?” Aram asked.
“I came here. They hate big towns. It stopped following me on the far side of the floodplain.”
“And you claim Tark sent you to me?”
“Yes. To help me rejoin him and Galloran.”
Aram chuckled. “Some good liars lean on extravagant details, but you abuse the technique.” His expression darkened. “Who are you? You never shared your name. Make no mistake, your life depends on a straight answer.”
Jason glanced from Aram to his mother. Neither of them liked that he knew about giants. They were certainly hiding something. If they were somehow affiliated with the giants, it most likely meant that Aram was an enemy. But if he was such a bad guy, why would Tark have recommended him? Could Tark have been totally wrong about him?
“Tark could have sent me anywhere,” Jason murmured. “He could have sent me to anyone. Why you? I don’t think you’re on our side.”
Aram frowned, eyes wary. “I’m not on anyone’s side. I have a few friends, sure. But I have a hard time believing Tark sent you to ambush me with secrets about my past. You might as well drop the innocent act. We all know where this is heading. Are you after money? Some kind of bribe?”
Jason furrowed his brow. Whatever connection Aram had to the giants was clearly a guilty secret. If Aram thought this was a shakedown, it would explain his paranoid behavior. “You’ve got this all wrong. I just wanted to hire you based on Tark’s recommendation.”
“Enough nonsense,” Aram’s mother interjected. “Who else knows you’re here? Who are you, really?”
As Jason looked from mother to son, he realized that they seemed braced for disaster. If he could convince them that he meant no harm, maybe he could still get the help he needed. And avoid Aram pounding him into hamburger meat.
“I’m honestly not here to connect you to the giants,” Jason said. “My name is Lord Jason of Caberton. My title was granted by Galloran. I am the former chancellor of Trensicourt. I have been in and out of the dungeons of Felrook, and I come from the Beyond.”
Aram smiled and shook his head. “I’ve never witnessed such shameless bluffing! So you are the mysterious Lord Jason who outwitted Copernum before disappearing into thin air.”
“You heard about that?”
“Everyone did, as you well know. You choose a grand alias to accompany a monstrous exaggeration. Except rumor has it Lord Jason accepted an invitation to Harthenham. End of story.”
“I broke out of Harthenham, was taken before Maldor, escaped Felrook, and returned to the Beyond. But I’m back. I learned some vital information that needs to be shared, and I left a friend behind in Lyrian.”
Aram shook his head, then looked to his mother. “This is absurd. What do we do?”
His mother raised her eyebrows. “Have you any evidence to prove your story?”
“What’s your name?” Jason asked.
“Moira.”
“Nice to meet you, Moira. I’m still dressed in clothes from the Beyond. See my boots? My pants? Have you ever seen clothes quite like them?”
“No,” Moira said. “Go on.”
“I can tell you details,” Jason said. “I can talk about the gong that grants audience with Maldor, or the inside of the lorevault at Trensicourt, or what a mangler looks like after you blast it with orantium.”
“How about the signet ring to Caberton?” Aram asked, holding out a hand.
“I don’t have it. I left it with a seedman before I entered Felrook. But the ring has a gem in it that glows when a certain chime is rung.”
“You mentioned orantium,” Aram pursued. “I don’t suppose you have any samples?”
“I used what I had blowing up a mangler.” He cupped his hand, fingers curling as if holding an invisible ball. “But the crystal sphere was about this big. The little mineral inside glows intensely for an instant before exploding.”
“Have you any physical evidence besides odd clothes?” Moira asked.
“When Tark and I escaped from Harthenham, he snatched some jewels.” Jason pulled the drawstring bag from his pocket.
“Tark was in Harthenham?” Aram asked.
“Long story,” Jason said. “But that was where we sealed our friendship. He gave me these to help me hire you.” Jason dumped the contents of the bag on a nearby end table. Aram and Moira gasped. Even Jason was impressed. He hadn’t laid them all out in the open before—diamonds, emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and other precious stones, all cut to glittering perfection.
Aram picked up a red jewel, a green jewel, and a purple one, eyeing them closely. “These are real. This is a fortune.” He sounded amazed. “These are meant to hire my services?”
“At least some of them,” Jason said. “You seemed to think I was here to blackmail you. It’s the opposite. I’m on the run, Aram. I’m in over my head. I’ve told you enough that I’m at your mercy. I’m trusting you, because Tark told me I should. I only know you have a connection to the giants in the woods because of how you reacted when I teased you.”
Aram set down the jewels. “What’s to stop me from killing you and then keeping the gemstones?”
“Aram!” his mother exclaimed.
He held out a hand to silence her.
Jason scooted forward in his seat. “Nothing. Except that a lurker followed me here, and people have seen you with me. I know some important secrets, Aram, and Maldor knows I know them.”
Aram grunted. “Then you have already brought ruin upon us. What are the secrets?”
“You’ll be safer if I keep them to myself,” Jason said.
“Mother, step outside the room for a moment?”
“Aram, I deserve to—”
“Mother, just for a moment. If we end up in custody, you may not want these secrets in your mind.”
“Neither will—”
Aram held up a hand. “Enough. Please, just for a moment.”
She got up and walked out of the room. Aram fixed Jason with a brooding gaze. He spoke softly. “If the emperor traces you here, I’ll get treated like you told me whether I know your secrets
or not. I want to know how dangerous your knowledge is.”
“Fine,” Jason said. “Have you ever heard of an Edomic key word that can destroy Maldor?”
“Vague rumors,” Aram said. “I never investigated the claim.”
“I learned the Word,” Jason said. “I had help from Galloran and a few others. The syllables were scattered all over Lyrian. I said the Word to Maldor, and it didn’t work. I learned that the Word was actually an elaborate fraud meant to sidetrack his worst enemies. I need to share what I learned with those who helped me, so others don’t waste their time.”
Aram shifted uncomfortably. “You swear this is true?”
Jason crossed his heart with his finger. “I’m probably the most wanted person in Lyrian.”
Aram bowed his head. After a moment he looked up. “You have really met Galloran? The true heir to Trensicourt? You know where to find him?”
“I’m going to Potsug to meet up with him and Tark. And to find my friend, another Beyonder who got left behind when I went home.”
“Mother?” Aram called.
A moment later she returned. “You’re running out of time,” she told him.
“I know. If the secret he shared is authentic, it could not be more deadly. Among other things, our guest may truly have been consorting with Galloran.”
“Do you believe him?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I’m afraid I might. Could you finish the conversation?”
Moira nodded, taking a seat while Aram arose and then hurried from the room.
“Do you intend us any harm?” Moira asked Jason, her eyes intense.
“No. I mean, harm might follow me here, but I’m not your enemy.”
The little woman exhaled and rubbed her thighs. “Harm will inevitably follow,” she agreed. “Aram and I have done our best to lay low for many years. Your visit marks the end of life as we’ve known it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“There have been rumors for years about Galloran surviving in hiding. He truly lives?”
“Yes.”
“You’re acquainted with him?”
“Yes.”
“He is still striving to overthrow the emperor?”