by Brandon Mull
Three attendants stood nearby: a mustached man in a stained velvet cap fingering a dented trumpet, an ugly woman with her hair caught up under a faded bonnet, and a humbly clad, young minstrel holding a lute.
“Presenting Lord Jason,” called the man in the velvet cap in a proud voice, blasting a flourish on his trumpet for emphasis. The loud notes sounded brassy and annoying, echoing harshly off the bare walls of the cavernous hall.
“One moment,” croaked the old king. “First allow my chancellor to complete his report.”
“As you will, sire,” the minstrel said in a courtly voice, casting a nervous glance at Jason. “As I was recounting, the invading armies have been repelled beyond our frontiers. General Braddock reports staggering enemy casualties. He hesitates at our borders awaiting your command.”
“Onward,” the king coughed, waving an arm. “Use our initiative to drive them into oblivion before they can reform.”
“A dispatch will be sent at once.”
“Sooner,” the king demanded. “What now?”
“The matter of Lord Jason,” said the man in the velvet cap.
“Come forward,” rasped the old king, beckoning with one hand.
Jason gaped at the ridiculous scene.
“Go on,” urged the gatewarden quietly.
Jason approached the dais. “Greetings, mighty king,” he said politely, opting to play along with the charade. It required some effort to restrain his sarcasm.
“Welcome to my realm,” the king intoned, spreading an arm outward, sightlessly indicating the damaged walls and dilapidated furnishings. It was embarrassingly clear that the Blind King believed he ruled a grand domain. Jason felt tempted to turn and walk out. There seemed no chance that this pathetic pretender could help him. But it would be rude. And he had no other place to go.
“What brings you before His Majesty?” asked the minstrel, now speaking in a softer, higher-pitched tone.
“I come seeking wisdom,” Jason replied, trying to sound formal.
“He comes to the right place,” the minstrel declared in a different voice, having changed positions. The others cried out, “Hear, hear,” repeating the words in various voices. What an act! Jason threw in a “Hear, hear” of his own.
The king raised his hands for silence. “What wisdom do you seek, young traveler?”
“I’m not entirely sure.”
The attendants murmured theatrically.
“What guided you to my kingdom?”
“I was referred here by a loremaster. He lives in a repository—”
“Say no more. I understand.” Jason noticed the king’s grip momentarily tighten on the arms of the throne.
The attendants mumbled vaguely about the perceptiveness of the king. The woman crept some distance away, coughed loudly, and returned.
“I would converse with Lord Jason at once in the privacy of my chambers,” the king proclaimed.
The attendants looked shocked. Apparently this was an infrequent invitation.
“As you command, Your Majesty,” the minstrel finally responded in a deep voice.
The woman aided the king to his feet and helped him down the dais steps. “Let young Jason serve as my guide,” the king said. The woman stepped away, and the gatewarden hurriedly directed Jason forward. The king placed a hand on his shoulder. Jason followed the gatewarden out one side of the hall.
The gatewarden eyed Jason, making grandiose gestures. Jason took the cue. “You have a spectacular castle,” he said.
“Most gracious of you,” the king replied in his raspy voice. “We will proceed alone from this point.” The gatekeeper bowed and returned to the hall. When they advanced to a curving staircase, the king grasped the banister. “I require no further aid.” Jason followed the king up the stone steps, into the more stable of the two towers. The old guy mounted the long flight at an impressive pace. Despite his long gray hair and beard he seemed in healthy condition.
Eventually they spiraled up to the highest room in the tower. The stairs stopped at a heavy door bound in iron. “Here we are,” the king said, unlocking the door and leading Jason through the portal.
The room was nicely appointed, with clean furnishings and a canopied bed. The king moved about the room almost as if he could see. With one hand extended probingly, the king found a cushioned chair. “Please be seated.”
Jason took a seat across from the king, who sat straight and tall. For the first time Jason noticed the broadness of his shoulders. His bearing somehow seemed more regal than when he had been slumped upon the throne.
“Bridonus sent you,” the king stated.
“He did, Your Majesty.”
“Then you have seen inside the book bound in living skin?”
The question surprised Jason. “I have.”
The king exhaled. “At long last.”
“How do you know about the book?”
“I too have seen within its pages, though few in my kingdom know this fact. You have part of the Word?”
Jason stared at the ragged king. “The first syllable.”
“A great burden now rests on your shoulders,” the king murmured. “You must think me a fool.”
“Excuse me?”
“I have no army. I know I live inside a derelict castle with a handful of well-meaning courtiers. Some of them do not realize I know this, or they pretend not to realize. It gives them great satisfaction to believe they have convinced me that I rule a mighty domain. I do rule here, but my kingdom is the opposite of mighty. For their benefit I put on a stately air, and I play along with the silly intrigues and wars they fabricate.”
Recovering from his absurd first impression, Jason was beginning to hope this king might be able to help him after all. “I’ve come across some weird relationships lately.”
“Explain.”
“A woman who lets a hobo steal from her because he refuses to accept her charity. A game maker who crafts puzzles for the single person who takes the time to solve them. And now you and your subjects.”
The sightless monarch nodded. “People find meaning where they can. These are uncertain times. Part of the reason I play along with our ludicrous pretentions is because it casts us in a ridiculous light. The more absurd we seem, the less we need to fear the emperor.” He folded his hands upon his lap. “You have a sharp eye for connections. Where do you hail from?”
“That’s hard to explain.”
The king stroked his beard. “Are you a Beyonder?”
Jason’s heart rate quickened. “Bridonus used that word. I think so.”
“How did you come to our world?”
“I know how this sounds.” Jason shifted uncomfortably. “I came here through a hippopotamus.”
“A water horse? Intriguing. Recount how it transpired.”
Jason was thrilled the old guy seemed to believe him. “I worked in a zoo, and one day I heard music coming from the hippo. I got too close trying to listen and fell into the tank. The hippo swallowed me. Except not really. I was suddenly sliding down a tunnel. Then I came out of a tree and couldn’t get back.”
“What happened next?”
“Well, the music came from a bunch of musicians floating on a raft.”
“The Giddy Nine.”
“That’s right! They were headed for a waterfall. I tried to rescue them, but I messed it up and everyone got angry. Then I found the Repository of Learning, read the book, and Bridonus booted me out and told me to find you.”
The Blind King nodded, stroking his beard again, a faint smile bending his lips. “Perhaps those merrymakers were right after all,” the king murmured. “They summoned a Beyonder.”
“Excuse me?”
“The leader of the Giddy Nine, Simeon, was an adventurous man, more soldier than minstrel. He used their music as a subversive tool, so naturally the performers began to make enemies. He took time off and went to visit a prophetess, one of the few remaining oracles with any real credibility. The act required an arduous journey.
Upon his return he consulted with me before implementing her instructions.”
“Some oracle told him to float off a waterfall?” Jason asked.
“Essentially. Tell me about your life in the Beyond.”
“I’m a student. My dad is a dentist. I live in a nice house. Our world is really different from yours.” As Jason spoke, he realized how far away all of that had already begun to feel. He was sitting in an ancient tower—homework and baseball seemed almost surreal.
The Blind King nodded pensively. “Have you ever sacrificed for a cause?”
“Um . . . I’ve helped with some car washes to raise money for our local soup kitchen. Nothing drastic. I keep trying to understand where I am, and how I can get home. Can you help me?”
“Not many remain who possess the sort of information you seek. Of those who do, few would bother to help you. Maldor discourages the naming of places. He forbids the production of maps. He frowns upon traveling. He teaches the populace to distrust strangers. He wants a fog of ignorance to disconnect our world. None are allowed to discuss the Beyond or the forbidden language. Many have forgotten much, or have never learned it. Others pretend to have forgotten.”
“But you’re not afraid of the emperor?”
“I am afraid for many reasons. Not so much for myself. I love this land. I do what I can.”
“Can you help me understand what I should do to get home? Or maybe where I should start looking? What do you know about the Beyond? I still don’t really get where I am.”
The king scratched his cheek. “I can’t say how to access the Beyond. I’m not sure who might be able to tell you. Others have crossed over from the Beyond, though never frequently, and as of late, traffic between our worlds has come to a standstill.
“I can do my best to orient you. Years ago this particular fiefdom was called Fortaim, and an earl occupied this castle. Fortaim rests upon a peninsula that juts westward from the mainland out into a vast ocean. Following the river westward over the falls, you would have come to the estuary where it empties into the sea. But you went south without a trail until you happened upon the Repository of Learning. From there you came eastward along the peninsula until you arrived at this ruined castle. The river, once called the Telkron, lies a few miles to the north.”
Jason was impressed. “Who needs a map with you around?”
The Blind King steepled his fingers. “Once I had eyes, and I used them to travel widely in search of the Word.”
“How did you lose them?”
“In a fight with a devious conscriptor. He hurled powdered acid in my face, flaying my skin and stealing my sight. A small inhalation scorched my throat, damaging my voice. The conscriptor captured me. Eventually I came before Maldor. The emperor offered me new eyes. I refused. I would not accept the restoration of my sight at the price of becoming one of his spies. So I was delivered to his tormentors.”
Jason swallowed. This old king was something serious.
“Now you must pursue the Word,” the king said.
“Honestly, I’d rather find a way home.”
“No doubt you would. Should you encounter a way back to the Beyond, I would be the last to blame you for fleeing our world. We teeter on the brink of destruction. But a path back will be difficult to find. Perhaps impossible. In the meanwhile you should seek the Word. Mark my warning—Maldor already pursues you. Seeking the Word is your sole chance for survival. Remain still, or wander aimlessly, and you will be taken.”
Jason shifted uncomfortably. He felt no heroic urge to become Blind Lord Jason. “Did you learn much of the Word?”
“I learned some. More than most, I believe. But the syllables I acquired are lost, along with the memories of where I found most of them. Maldor’s tormentors used relentless conditioning to abolish many recollections. When it comes to the Word, I remember few specifics. But I retain a few fragmented memories on the subject. I still remember Bridonus, and the book itself.”
“So I should leave, then?”
“Rest here for the night. There is somebody you must meet, a fellow traveler. Share a meal with us. I will provide further counsel on the morrow. How does roasted pheasant strike you?”
“I’ve been living off of mushrooms.”
“Go ring the bell twice. It will summon Chandra, my cook.”
Jason went to a bell mounted atop a dresser and delivered a pair of sharp blows with the tiny mallet resting beside it.
CHAPTER 5
RACHEL
Jason stood at a narrow window, studying the last embers of the sunset, when a slender man of medium height brought a huge tray to the Blind King’s lofty chamber. A shiny scar interrupted his features, starting above his hairline and curving down his cheek almost to his jaw. Offering no introduction, the attendant moved swiftly and silently, rearranging furniture until a seat awaited Jason across from the Blind King, with a small table between them. With quiet efficiency the man shuttled the contents of the tray to the table. Before long the table held three place settings, a bowl of fruit, a charger brimming with mashed vegetables dusted with spices, a carafe of golden fluid, a pitcher of water, and a platter heaped with slices of white meat.
“Thank you, Dorsio,” the Blind King said as the attendant picked up the empty tray. “If you would be so kind as to fetch our other guest.”
Dorsio snapped his fingers, turned, and exited the room, closing the door silently. From the moment he had entered, the attendant had never looked Jason in the eye.
“Please, have a seat,” the Blind King invited.
Jason sat down. “Dorsio seemed really businesslike.”
“Forgive his reticence. He cannot speak. In my role as the Blind King I must balance various public and private responsibilities. With my public face as the ridiculous veneer, I privately work to undermine the emperor. Dorsio is part of my private circle. He is quite adept at handling sensitive matters. We have developed a system where he traces messages on my palm, or uses snapping for simple acknowledgments.”
“I’m curious about our other guest,” Jason confessed.
“Satisfaction will soon replace curiosity,” the Blind King said. “Not many of my associates have met her. She arrived here two nights ago. I believe your destinies are linked.”
The door opened, and Dorsio escorted a girl into the room. She was almost a head shorter than Jason, and didn’t look much older than he was. Her short brown hair had a stylish cut, and she had dark brown eyes and a faint spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her clothes seemed homemade and didn’t fit right: The dark yellow shirt sagged in the shoulders, and the coarse brown pants were too loose in the waist, cinched into place with a wide belt. The Blind King rose politely, and Jason awkwardly followed his lead.
Dorsio exited quietly as the girl approached the table.
“Thank you for joining us,” the Blind King said with a smile, gesturing toward her seat.
The girl sat down, eyes regarding Jason with interest. “So you’re the mysterious visitor.”
“You stole my line,” Jason said, trying to recover from the shock that the visitor was a cute girl around his age.
“They haven’t changed your wardrobe yet,” she commented, looking him up and down.
“Those aren’t your clothes?” Jason asked.
She smirked, plucking at the yellow top. “Not exactly my style. But my other outfit makes me look too much like a Beyonder.”
“You’re a Beyonder too?” Jason exclaimed.
The Blind King sat down.
The girl grinned. “They warned me in advance that you’re from my world. Totally ruined the surprise.”
Jason glanced at the Blind King. Their host waited in silence, a small smile on his lips, listening with his hands folded on the edge of the table. Jason realized he was the only person still standing, and sat down. “How long have you been here?”
“This will be my fifth night,” she replied.
“Mine, too!”
“Pardon me,” th
e Blind King interjected. “Would the two of you mind verifying that you both truly come from the Beyond? I do not believe either of you is an imposter, but it never hurts to be certain.”
“Ooh,” the girl said with delight. “Cross-examination.”
“Where are you from?” Jason asked.
“Olympia, Washington,” the girl responded. “You?”
“Vista, Colorado.”
She nodded vaguely. “What’s the capital of Pennsylvania?”
“I don’t know. Philadelphia?”
“No. But that’s the kind of wrong answer somebody from America would give. Let me guess, you’re not a very serious student?”
“Just because I’m not a trivia expert doesn’t make me a bad student,” Jason complained. “I’m in eighth grade. I take honors classes. What’s the actual capital of Pennsylvania?”
“Harrisburg,” she replied smugly.
“I’ll believe you. Who won the 2004 World Series?”
She shrugged. “The Yankees?”
“The Yankees? And you claim to be an American?” He enjoyed rubbing it in after her attitude about Harrisburg. “It was the Red Sox. The year they broke the curse.”
“But the Yankees win the series a lot, right?”
“They’ve won the most,” he conceded.
“Do you play baseball or just watch it?” she asked.
“I pitch for school and on a club team. And I’m a pretty good infielder. What year are you in school?”
“I skipped a grade, so I’m in ninth. But I’m homeschooled. I only go to school to run track.”
“How do you skip grades when you’re homeschooled? Mom just decides to shorten her teaching career?”
She scowled. “My classes are much harder than anything in public schools.”
“If you say so. What track events?”