by Brandon Mull
Tears leaked down Tark’s face. He took a hasty sip of chowder.
“That was my responsibility. I was to crash the cymbals at the end of the finale. Not only did I fail, but some poor terrified soul covered my mistake.”
He sobbed, banging a fist against the table. Then he wiped his nose against his shoulder. It took a moment before he went on.
“Afterward people acted like they were glad to see me, happy I had cheated death. But it was an act. Soon I understood the incident had branded me a coward and a mutineer. So I left. There was no place for the Giddy One among those people. I considered returning to the mines. I was an able miner once. But I felt too low even for that. You see, no hero appeared after my friends plunged off the falls. The prophecy went unfulfilled. And for the rest of my days I’ll be burdened with the knowledge that it was my fault. Nobody will ever know whether the prophecy could have come true, because I abandoned the sacrifice. The Giddy Nine were supposed to go over those falls. Instead, eight frightened musicians plunged to their deaths, leaving one wretched craven behind.”
“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” Rachel consoled.
“Right,” Tark huffed in disgust. “I should congratulate myself for betraying my friends and protecting the emperor. Suicide has tempted me. But I resolved that since I was not man enough to lose my life among friends, I don’t deserve to be coward enough to take my life on my own. So now I am a wanderer. A vagabond whose sousalax rests upon the ocean floor, probably inhabited by a giant transient crab.”
“That’s—it’s awful,” Jason said. He opened his mouth to form some further expression of sympathy, but he couldn’t speak through the knot in his stomach. Could he possibly be the hero these musicians had summoned? Galloran had made it sound like anyone, even some kid from the suburbs, could become a hero. Hearing in detail the sacrifice these nine people had made just to bring a hero to Lyrian was overwhelming. It filled Jason with a sudden, intense desire to actually be the hero they needed. But was he capable of that?
“I wish I could find the lowlife who shot that arrow,” Tark grated, fists clenched. “He’s the one who ruined our sacrifice. Without his interference I would have remained true to our cause. Paying him back is my sole remaining purpose.”
Rachel and Jason exchanged an uncomfortable glance.
“What does he look like?” Jason asked.
Tark eyed him. “By the description I got, he looks a bit like you. Tall. Sandy hair.”
Tark snorted, finished his chowder, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Until the day I die I’ll be watching for him.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t target the poor guy who shot the arrow,” Rachel blurted out.
“Why not?” Tark barked.
“He was probably just trying to help,” Rachel said weakly.
Jason bowed his head. “I think we all know who the real villain is,” he muttered.
Tark eyed Jason narrowly. “Maldor,” he mouthed, considering the idea.
“If you want to lose your life doing something useful, go after him,” Jason said, keeping his voice low. “That would be the best way to honor the sacrifice your friends made. Who knows? Maybe you are the hero they were trying to summon.”
Tark sat up straighter, eyes clearing. “I think you’re onto something. What could be more fitting?” He pulled a heavy, saw-toothed knife from his waistband and stuck it fiercely into the tabletop.
Jason stared at the imposing blade in silence.
Tark stood up, stroking his chin. “Mark my words: I may not have died, but my life ended on those falls, so I have nothing to fear. Like a ghost I will stalk Maldor and his minions.” He furtively glanced to see if anyone had overheard him. “Keep this conversation between the three of us. We never met. Good luck to you, friend Jason.” He slapped Jason on the shoulder. “You have revived me.”
Tark sheathed his knife and marched to the door. He tumbled out with help from the square-faced man.
Jason and Rachel each picked up another puckerly. As Jason sipped the squirming flesh, he thought about the heavy knife. Up until a minute ago it had been destined to slit his throat. He hoped Tark’s resolve held. Although he was haunted by Tark’s story of those final moments at the waterfall, he wasn’t ready to die to make amends.
Jason finished his share of the puckerlies, and Rachel did likewise. They grew on him more with each he ate. After his last swallow he leaned back, satisfied, relishing the filmy residue lining his mouth. A truly delightful aftertaste.
The barmaid came back.
“What do I owe?” Jason inquired.
“Four drooma.”
Jason pulled a bronze pellet from his pouch. “What’s this worth?”
“Five,” she said, as if she suspected he was teasing her.
“Here you go. Keep the change.”
She stared at him.
“What?” Jason asked.
A smile spread across her face. “Thank you very much.” She sounded so sincere, Jason decided that people in Hippoland must be lousy tippers. Immediately she went over to Kerny, talking excitedly and glancing toward Jason.
“Hey, big spender,” Rachel hissed. “You still with me?”
“I was just tipping. Twenty percent is pretty standard where we’re from.”
“For the record you tipped twenty-five,” Rachel said. “It doesn’t matter. We should probably get going.”
Jason turned to face the door. “Did we just send Tark to his death?” he murmured.
“Later,” Rachel whispered.
“We probably did,” Jason said. “He seemed like he was in the mood to do something stupid. I guess it beats getting that huge knife through our backs some dark night.”
Rachel stood up.
Kerny hurried over, as if worried they would leave without talking to him. “How were they?”
“Delicious,” Rachel said. “You know your seafood.”
Kerny gave Jason an awkward glance, as if surprised Rachel had spoken first.
“She gets excited about her food,” Jason quipped, earning a grin from Kerny. Rachel’s lips compressed into a thin line. “And she was right. Puckerlies were a great suggestion—I have a new favorite meal. By the way, do you know where Trensicourt is located?”
Kerny steepled his eyebrows, forehead wrinkling. “Away inland a good ways.”
“Do you know specifically?” Jason asked.
“Can’t say I do. I’ve heard of the place, naturally. Never made it out that way.”
“Do you know anyone who could tell us how to get there?”
Kerny scratched his head. “I doubt anyone in town could tell you. You know how travel has dwindled. Not too wise these days, what with folks disappearing and such. No offense. I’m sure you know your business. Say, do you need a place for the night?”
“Maybe,” Jason said, glancing at Rachel, who gave an infinitesimal shrug.
“My mother runs a small inn,” Kerny said. “Only rooms for hire in town. Good price, nine drooma, and lodging comes with breakfast.”
Rachel offered Jason no clues to her opinion. He supposed it would be nice to have a bed. The last few nights had been chilly, waking up in fog. “I’ll take you up on that. But we’ll need two rooms.”
Kerny raised his eyebrows.
“She’s my sister,” Jason explained.
Understanding dawned on the bartender’s face. “Two rooms, you say? Might elevate the price to twelve.”
“That should work,” Jason agreed.
“Gerta,” Kerny called, removing his apron. The young woman who had served them hustled over. “Watch the bar. I want to escort these good people personally.”
CHAPTER 10
NED
The square-faced man helped them out the door. They landed rolling on a long mattress stuffed with straw. Kerny used his momentum to somersault expertly to his feet, then gave Jason and Rachel a hand up.
They walked together down the dusty road into town.
Kerny wa
ved at a couple of people they passed. A tall man with curly orange hair and more freckles than skin came up to them, wearing what looked like a long sack with holes cut for his head and arms, the rough material dangling almost to his knees. His elbows were the widest part of his thin, speckled arms. He wore a black leather glove on one hand and no shoes. Even without shoes he stood a few inches taller than Jason. The stranger walked uncomfortably close to them.
Kerny steered Jason and Rachel away from the man. “That one’s not well,” he muttered.
“Who are your friends?” the stranger asked, following them, sniffing.
“They’re none of your business, Ned.”
“Sure of that, barkeep?” Licking his chapped lips, the tall man came up right beside Jason, matching him stride for stride.
Kerny wormed between Ned and Jason. “Shove off, Ned.”
Ned puckered his lips. “Not yet. Share the secret first. Who are the outsiders?”
“My guests,” Kerny growled. “Dignified visitors.”
“Don’t look dignified,” Ned remarked. “They look barely grown. They been sleeping outside.”
“Enough!” Kerny exclaimed, making Rachel flinch. “Shove off!”
Ned stopped trailing them, and Kerny led Jason and Rachel to one of the largest houses in town, right on the water. The residence stood up in the air on tall pilings. They climbed a coarse rope ladder up to the porch. A short woman with her gray hair knotted in a bun came to the door.
“I brought you customers,” Kerny said hurriedly. “This is Jason and his sister, Rachel. They’re staying the night. Twelve drooma for two rooms.”
The old woman’s eyes widened briefly. She regained her composure quickly, smiling kindly, but not before Jason recognized they were paying more than usual for the rooms. Jason considered haggling, then reconsidered, since he had already informally agreed to the price. Kerny left, and the old woman escorted them to a pair of small, neighboring rooms. In Jason’s room a wide canvas hammock stretched from wall to wall. A trunk with a big lock sat in one corner. Nets hung over the window instead of curtains, partially impeding the view of the harbor.
The old woman gave Jason the key to the trunk and told him he could stow his belongings there. Then she took Rachel next door. After the old woman finished, Jason entered Rachel’s room. She sat on her hammock, legs dangling, rocking gently.
“Do you think our hostess left us with the only keys to our trunks?” Rachel asked.
Jason frowned. “Good point.”
“Let’s never leave our belongings unattended.”
“Really? I was thinking we might hit the local cineplex, see what’s playing.”
Rachel folded her arms. “I know it isn’t your fault, but I didn’t like how I was treated in the tavern. People acted like I didn’t exist.”
“You did a good job rolling with it,” Jason said. “We have to blend in.”
“I know,” Rachel said. “But it makes it hard for me to help. I knew Kerny wanted to overcharge us. Didn’t you notice how the waitress went straight to him after you tipped her, and how extra friendly he became?”
“Sort of,” Jason said vaguely, embarrassed at having missed the signals. “I just thought it might be nice to have a roof over our heads. Who knows when we’ll get another chance to sleep indoors?”
Rachel scowled thoughtfully. “We were probably safer alone in the woods. Everyone seems too interested in us. Have you noticed the eyes on us since we walked into town?”
“Yes.”
“That weirdo Ned was the only person with the guts to say what everyone else was thinking. People don’t travel around here. We’ve drawn a lot of attention.”
Jason scratched his forehead. “Should we leave?”
“I don’t think so,” Rachel said. “If we take off before tomorrow, it will just make us look more suspicious. But we should be on guard.”
“I hear you,” Jason said. “We’ll lay low, stay in our rooms. Do you think they have HBO?”
“Only in the fitness center,” Rachel replied.
“I’m a little tired,” Jason said. “Might be a decent time to sneak a nap.”
“I think I have you figured out,” Rachel said. “When in doubt, sleep.”
“No fair,” Jason complained. “Aren’t you tired too? We’ve been hiking for days and staying up half the night on watch.”
“I’ve been too keyed up to sleep well since I got here,” Rachel said. “It might feel good to rest behind locked doors.”
“Okay, I’ll be in my room.”
“Just a second. Quick question. Do you think you’re the hero the Giddy Nine were trying to summon?”
Jason paused, pondering the story Tark had shared. It had been the music of the Giddy Nine that had caused him to topple into the hippo tank. Could he possibly be the hero they were hoping to call? After all, he had already begun a quest to destroy Maldor.
“If I was the hero they were looking for, those musicians were crazier than anyone ever realized.”
“It is quite a coincidence,” Rachel said softly. “Galloran seemed to think we were the people the oracle wanted.”
Jason shrugged. “Just in case, I’ll try not to die.”
“Probably smart.”
On returning to his room, Jason locked the flimsy door and tried out the hammock. Lying back comfortably, swaying gently, he closed his eyes. How could he be the hero they wanted? What had he ever done? Pitch a few shutouts? Get good grades? What about Rachel? The lady working with the Giddy Nine had apparently called her to Lyrian as well.
Could the fate of an entire world really depend on them? Did either of them stand a chance of succeeding? Galloran seemed to have faith in them. Could they possibly live up to his expectations?
The hammock was seductively comfortable. Content to rest for the moment, Jason let his worries melt away.
Somebody was knocking on the door. Jason realized he had dozed. He hadn’t slept long. It was still bright outside. Did Rachel need him? Or did his hostess have a question? The soft knock was repeated. He tipped clumsily out of the hammock and opened the door.
It was Ned. “Hi, blue eyes,” the tall man said, stepping into the cramped room.
Jason backed into his room as Ned pressed forward presumptuously, eyes roving, one of them twitching a bit. “What do you want?” Jason asked.
“You’re a man on the move. Or maybe on the run?” Ned smiled. His gums looked pulled back too high. A few teeth were missing. “You ever swallowed a swallow? Ever badgered a badger? Ever outfoxed a fox?”
Jason found he had backed into his hammock. “What are you talking about? This is my room. I’m a friend, Ned.”
Ned eyed him knowingly. “They are all looking for you. I found you, though. Tell me true—you seen the book?”
“What book?”
“The one that saw you.”
Jason swallowed. “What do you mean?”
“Keep playing the fool, and I lose the glove.” Ned held up a gloved hand, and put his other hand in position to remove it. “Last chance: Tell me true.”
This was insane. “Yes, I have seen the book.” Jason had no idea what danger there was in Ned removing his glove, but he did not wish to find out.
Ned showed his smile. It reminded Jason of a picture his dad had shown him to scare him into brushing his teeth. “I once defied Maldor. Bad choice. Worst choice. The more you defy him, the more you deify him. He is the puppet master. He holds all the strings.”
Jason was speechless. His hand strayed beneath his cloak.
“Want to see my string?” Ned asked, tugging at his glove.
Jason pulled out his knife. The sheath was still on it. Quick as a mousetrap Ned chopped Jason’s wrist with one hand and stole the knife with the other. Jason pressed back against the hammock, rubbing his wrist. Ned calmly inspected the sheath. “Where’d you get this?”
“None of your business.” Jason prepared himself, muscles tense, ready to spring. The guy was tall
and quick, but skinny. If he could just get a hold of him, he would slam him around the room a bit.
“Violence will not serve you. Answer me. Answer right, and the glove stays on.”
“Forget it.”
“You stole it.”
“No.”
Ned yanked the sheath off.
“Found it.”
“No.”
“Your silence is not loyalty. Don’t protect information I already know. Tell me who gave it to you.” Ned pointed the dagger at Jason, thumb covering the trigger that could eject the blade.
Jason did not want to get Galloran in trouble. “I won’t tell you.”
Ned licked his lips. One eyelid fluttered. “As a lad I served one man I would never betray. His mark lies upon the sheath.”
This surprised Jason. He wavered. “Galloran gave me the knife.”
The dagger dropped to the plank floor. Ned’s lips trembled. “He lives?”
Jason nodded.
Ned plunged his fingers into his orange curls. Emotions warred on his freckled face. “I pity you. Poor dupe. Poor gull. Listen. Ned never saw you. Leave in the night. A road departs town to the northeast. The Overland Loop. Or a trail leads southeast.”
“What’s under your glove?”
Ned grimaced. “My string. I will come in the night.” He cackled. “I’ll scout for you.” He rushed out of the room.
Jason collected his knife and sheathed it, returning the weapon to his pocket. As he locked his door, he heard a soft knock.
“Jason?” Rachel asked from the far side.
Jason opened the door. “Did you hear my visitor?”
“Thin walls,” she said, entering. “I missed a few words, but I got the gist.”
“He knows who I am,” Jason said. “He knows about our quest.”
“Should we leave?” she asked.
Jason thought for a moment. “We should stay. If Ned knows who we are, others will figure it out too. We may need somebody who knows the area. He said he would scout around and come for us after dark.”
“He seems nuts. I’m not sure we can trust him.”