by Brandon Mull
“Walk away,” the broad-shouldered woman suggested. “Do not force us to use violence.”
Jason held up the ring Galloran had given him. “I am Jason, Lord of Caberton. The title came to me from Galloran. It seemed like you didn’t believe me.”
The smaller woman lowered her crossbow somewhat. The larger woman held out her free hand. “Let me examine the ring.”
“It stays on my finger,” Jason said, holding it up for her inspection. The last thing he needed was for the woman to take the ring and slam the door again.
The woman stepped forward and gazed at the ring. Jason twisted his hand so she could inspect different angles. Her interest shifted from the ring to Jason. He returned her stare. Despite her hard features she was not unattractive. The woman glanced up and down the alley. “Step inside.”
Jason and Rachel passed through the doorway. The large woman shut the door, fastening multiple locks.
The shorter woman spoke. “I’m Kayla. This is my daughter, Minna.”
“My sister, Rachel,” Jason said, gesturing.
“I cannot guarantee an interview with Nicholas,” Kayla said. “Do you mind waiting while I inquire?”
“Not a bit,” Jason said.
The bare room had three strong doors besides the entrance—one to the left, one to the right, and one straight back. Kayla went through the door opposite the entrance.
“Forgive my abruptness,” Minna said, the sword still in her hand. “Youngsters get dared to rap on our door, so when we answer, we normally find children running away. We make appointments for our business dealings. We have weathered numerous attempts to harm and disgrace Nicholas. These are uncertain times.”
“I understand,” Jason said. “We mean no harm.”
“Any mention of Galloran will likely bring harm,” Minna said uneasily.
Kayla returned. “Nicholas will see the two of you immediately.” Jason and Rachel followed Kayla. As Minna moved to accompany them, Kayla held up a hand. “You will not be needed.”
“We haven’t searched them,” Minna complained.
“Nicholas was explicit,” Kayla said.
“That doesn’t make him right,” Minna groused. Kayla led Jason and Rachel down a short hallway. She motioned toward the door at the end of the hall. “Right through there.”
Jason and Rachel passed Kayla and walked into a spacious room crowded with workbenches, tables, tools, plans, and diverse contraptions in various stages of development. A graying man hanging in a leather harness glided toward them, suspended from an overhead track that snaked around the room. The man had no legs.
Tugging a strap, the man stopped sliding a pace from Jason, his body swinging in the harness. “Let’s see the ring.”
Jason offered him the ring. The man accepted it and removed a jeweler’s loupe from a pouch in his harness. Staring through the lens, he studied the ring closely before handing it back. Apart from his lack of legs the man had a stout build. In fact, he looked vaguely familiar.
“Are you Nicholas?” Rachel asked.
“I am. And you claim to be called Jason and Rachel.” He fixed Jason with a shrewd gaze. “How did you really obtain this ring?”
“Directly from Galloran,” Jason said. “He personally named me Lord of Caberton.”
“When?”
“About a week ago.”
“Were you there?” Nicholas asked Rachel.
“Yes.”
“And you expect me to believe you? Where did this happen?”
“I’m not sure we have the right to tell you,” Jason said carefully.
Nicholas frowned. “What do you imposters want from me? If you came to kill me, there will be no more opportune moment to strike.”
“We’re not here to kill you,” Rachel said.
“Good,” Nicholas said, using his eyes to draw their attention to a strap he was holding. “One yank and I could pierce the two of you with a dozen arrows each.”
Jason looked around the room, but could not see any bows ready to fire.
“They’re concealed,” Nicholas said. “I’m not bluffing. If you’re not assassins, what are you?”
Jason decided to lay his cards on the table. “We’re Beyonders. We were told you can help us find a word that might destroy Maldor.”
Nicholas blanched. “How could you know about the Word? Who sent you?”
“Galloran,” Rachel said. “More accurately Jugard, a man Galloran sent us to speak with.”
Nicholas regarded them cautiously.
“You look a little like one of Galloran’s men,” Rachel said. “Brin the Gamester.”
Nicholas glowered. “If you mean Brin of Rosbury, you had best be speaking the truth.”
Jason now understood why Nicholas had appeared familiar. He did look like Brin.
“He never mentioned the name Rosbury,” Rachel said. “He called himself Brin the Gamester.”
“Brin was my youngest brother,” Nicholas replied. “Did Galloran give you anything else?”
Jason showed the poniard to Nicholas, who examined the weapon, peering closely at the blossom that could eject the blade. “This appears authentic. It bears one of Galloran’s seals, and it could certainly be the work of Brin.”
Rachel pulled out her crystal sphere.
“Orantium?” Nicholas spluttered. “You could have shown me that first! It is almost better evidence than the ring. And you know about the Word . . . You say you are Beyonders?”
“We came to your world about two weeks ago,” Jason said.
“Did Galloran bring you?” Nicholas inquired.
“No, but he knew the people who summoned us,” Rachel said. “A woman, Erinda, and some musicians, the Giddy Nine.”
“Already you pursue the Word?” Nicholas asked.
“The first place I went was the Repository of Learning,” Jason said. “I learned the first syllable from The Book of Salzared.”
“Have you discovered other syllables?” Nicholas asked.
“Two of the six,” Rachel responded. “The first and the fourth. Can you help us?”
Nicholas sighed, glancing down at his harness. “Your words kindle memories of better days. Once I was Nicholas of Rosbury. Like my forefathers I served as chief engineer for the kingdom of Trensicourt. Now I am Nicholas Dangler, a maimed tinkerer hiding in the poorest district of a city my ancestors designed and constructed.”
“Do you know any of the syllables?” Jason asked.
Nicholas closed his eyes, pain flashing across his features. “If Galloran lives, why has he neglected me? I am among the minority who have remained faithful! If Brin lives, how could he let us mourn him? We have lost so much!”
Jason felt torn—he would have expected Nicholas to react with joy at hearing that Brin and Galloran were alive. In Lyrian people’s perspectives sometimes seemed stuck on the negative. So many of those he met seemed broken and hopeless.
“Galloran is blind,” Rachel explained. “He was tormented by Maldor, and his mind suffered. He can’t remember much about the Word, although he collected most of the syllables. Who knows what else he may have forgotten?”
“What of Brin?” Nicholas asked. “Is he well?”
“He seemed healthy,” Rachel said. “He’s helping watch over Galloran.”
“You cannot tell me where they dwell?” Nicholas pressed.
“I don’t think it’s our secret to tell,” Jason said. “Galloran has kept his identity a mystery. He goes by another name.”
“I never envisioned him a free man in hiding,” Nicholas murmured. “He was indomitable. I assumed Galloran was dead or in prison.”
“He was in prison,” Rachel said. “But not anymore.”
“I do not know any of the actual syllables,” Nicholas sighed. “But before I was ruined, Galloran confided some secrets to me about the Word. The third syllable resides here in Trensicourt, inscribed in the royal lorevault, above the entrance, fourth word from the left. Another lies on the island in the
center of Whitelake. And I know that The Book of Salzared inside the Repository of Learning holds the first syllable.”
“How do we get into the lorevault?” Jason asked.
Nicholas chuckled. “It’s nearly impossible. Only two men are allowed inside the lorevault—the regent and the chancellor.”
“Who are those guys?” Jason asked.
“Galloran was the last of the royal heirs to disappear,” Nicholas said. “The regent, Dolan of Vernasett, rules in place of the king. For years the nobles have desired to formally crown Dolan, but the people still believe the royal line survives in hiding, and the nobles fear a revolt.”
“Would the regent let us into the lorevault?” Rachel asked.
“Never,” Nicholas spat. “Dolan would hunt you as ardently as Maldor if he knew of your quest. And the chancellor, a man called Copernum, is even more treacherous. Although officially Trensicourt remains a free kingdom, our regent, our chancellor, and virtually all of our nobility have quietly brokered deals with the emperor. They pay him tribute, and they obey his secret commands, which explains why Trensicourt remains untouched while battle rages in the east. Just you wait. After the great kingdom of Kadara falls, our aristocracy will hand Trensicourt over to Maldor without an ounce of blood spilled.”
“Won’t the people rebel?” Jason asked.
“Possibly,” Nicholas conceded. “Which explains why Trensicourt is not already another of Maldor’s fiefdoms. The nobles placate the populace by assuring them that our neutrality will shield us from conflict, that we have sufficient respect from the emperor to forever remain independent so long as we do not openly defy him.”
“But you have your doubts,” Rachel said.
“Maldor’s ambition knows no limits,” Nicholas assured her. “He plans wisely, fighting one battle at a time. He does not want Trensicourt involved as he conquers the remainder of the continent. Aside from the Seven Vales of the Amar Kabal, our kingdom boasts the best defenses in Lyrian. Taking Trensicourt by force would be an arduous task, even for the vast armies of the emperor. Should we elect to oppose him, we could raise a mighty host. Maldor wants to reserve Trensicourt for the end. Given his increasing hold on our ruling class, the mightiest kingdom of Lyrian may eventually prove the easiest to topple.”
“All of this could change if we destroy Maldor with the Word,” Jason said thoughtfully.
Nicholas fiddled with a buckle on his harness. “Galloran hoped to undermine our enemies with a single lethal stroke. I believe he shared secrets of the Word with me in the hope that I would follow in his footsteps if he failed. I tried. I knew that my first step would be to gain access to the lorevault. I challenged Copernum to a battle of wits, with the chancellorship in the balance. I lost. As punishment I was stripped of my title, Earl of Rosbury. Not long thereafter I was attacked, and I lost my legs, and with them any hope of adventuring.”
“That’s terrible!” Rachel exclaimed.
“All who remained loyal to Galloran were ousted from among the nobility,” Nicholas recounted. “False accusations, ludicrous trials, and other political maneuvering concealed the injustice in the guise of legality. Many of the best men and women of Trensicourt were defamed, impoverished, or murdered, only to be replaced by the ambitious and unscrupulous. A handful of good people have managed to pretend enough loyalty to Dolan and Copernum to avoid destruction, at the cost of their honor.”
“Have you sent others after the Word?” Rachel asked.
“My brother Roger embarked on the quest, opting to save the syllable inside the lorevault for last. He never returned. He must be dead or incarcerated. Brin followed Galloran on his early exploits and never returned. My sister, Hannah, could not endure the shame of our fall, and she married a lesser lordling who had risen to the position of count—a weak, scheming man. My two sons and one nephew perished while trying to incite a revolt against the present nobility. I live here with Kayla, the wife of my brother Roger, and her daughters Minna and Lisa. A few attendants have remained loyal to us from the early days.”
“No offense,” Rachel said, “but why have your enemies left you alive?”
“Not out of kindness,” Nicholas laughed. “I know shameful secrets about many of our present nobility. I have taken measures to ensure they know that I know. They have been promised that upon my untimely demise those secrets will be made public. Aside from blackmail I keep up my defenses, and I stay out of the way in the Fleabed. I quietly provide architectural plans and various handy devices for members of the ruling class. They believe I have learned my place, which perhaps I have. Since I humbly remain the most talented engineer in the city, charging far less than my services merit, I have my uses.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jason said.
“It could be worse,” Nicholas acknowledged. “Minna and Lisa are strapping girls, able to do much of the heavy work my designs require. I am successfully passing much of my knowledge to them. Kayla is a marvelous cook. I have no legs, but my harness suffices. I live in the Fleabed, but my residence is large and secure. My enemies rule over me, but they keep their distance. You may soon deserve my pity more than I deserve yours.”
“I won’t argue,” Jason said.
Reaching up, Nicholas grabbed a couple of straps and pulled to shift his position in the harness. “Listen, son. Do you really think you have any chance for success? Getting the Word, I mean. Once Galloran failed, the rest of us should have quit. He was our best hope. Strong, smart, brave, inspiring, incorruptible; a peerless swordsman. How could others succeed where he had failed? Honestly, when I weigh all I lost, and how little was gained by that loss, if I could return to the days after Galloran fell, I would pretend to side with Dolan.”
Jason frowned. The last thing he needed was fuel for his doubts. Looking into those grave, knowing eyes, it was hard not to waver.
“Galloran warned us that we have to see this through,” Rachel said. “He warned us that Maldor knew we were after the Word, and would destroy us more swiftly if we departed from our task.”
“He would know,” Nicholas admitted. “And Galloran is right, to an extent. However, if you earn another syllable or two, you might garner an invitation to Harthenham. If you can survive until then, you can live out your days in luxury.”
“Others have mentioned Harthenham,” Jason said. “What is it?”
“The emperor’s pleasure palace,” Nicholas explained. “Only his staunchest enemies receive an invitation to the Eternal Feast. I have never been so honored. Those who accept live out their days in paradise, all cares forgotten. These days most who pretend to oppose Maldor are motivated by hope for an invitation. Few possess enough backbone to actually earn one.”
“Was Galloran invited?” Rachel asked.
“Multiple times,” Nicholas said. “Ever the idealist, he turned down the invitations. Want some practical guidance? If I were walking your path, my goal would not be to gain the Word. My intent would be to succeed enough to earn an invitation to Harthenham. After that your troubles could be over. Don’t delude yourself. Maldor is a master manipulator. No matter how promising your prospects appear, he will not let you succeed. You can’t imagine the resources at his disposal. Galloran failed years ago, and Maldor has only gained power since. If an invitation to the Eternal Feast ever arrives, take it. Deny it, and you will feel the full wrath of Maldor. Once the emperor truly wants you out of the way, your demise will soon follow.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Jason said, trying not to let it shake him. “Either way, for now we have to keep after the Word. What are our chances of breaking in to the lorevault?”
“Are you the greatest master thief Lyrian has ever seen?”
“No.”
“Does some unknown magic from the Beyond allow you to walk through walls?”
“No.”
“Then you have no chance,” Nicholas said emphatically. “The lorevault was designed by my ancestors to be impervious. It has remained so for hundreds of years.”
“Don’t you know a weakness?” Rachel asked.
“On the contrary,” Nicholas said. “I am simply more aware than anyone that the lorevault has no exploitable flaws.”
“You challenged the chancellor to a battle of wits?” Jason asked.
“The office of chancellor is more vulnerable than the vault,” Nicholas conceded. “But not by much. Since ancient times any nobleman of Trensicourt may challenge the chancellor to a battle of wits. The rule helps ensure that the cleverest nobleman will serve as chief advisor to the king.”
“I’m Lord of Caberton,” Jason said. “Would that qualify me?”
“Caberton lies in shambles,” Nicholas chuckled. “But, yes, if your title were recognized as authentic, you would be qualified to challenge Copernum for the chancellorship. Be forewarned: He has been challenged thrice and never defeated. There is no end to his cunning.”
“How does the contest work?” Rachel asked.
“The challenger poses three questions. After the chancellor answers each question, the challenger can attempt to supply a superior response. If any of the challenger’s responses are judged superior, he becomes the new chancellor. If not, the challenger forfeits his title and property to the chancellor.”
“So if you lose,” Jason said, “you lose big.”
“None know the consequences better than I do,” Nicholas sighed. “Considering the risk, few have the boldness to issue a challenge for the chancellorship. The office is normally appointed by the king.”
“This seems like our only way into the vault,” Jason said. “At least in my case all I’d have to risk is a title nobody would want.”
Nicholas grinned. “Nothing would delight me more than to see Copernum humbled. It will not be easy. First you must get Dolan to recognize your claim to Caberton. The ring is authentic, and it should serve as sufficient evidence, unless they bring forward false witnesses to label you a thief. The second trick will be actually defeating Copernum. Perhaps you know some unfathomable riddle from the Beyond?”
“I’ll have to think about it,” Jason said.
“I know some riddles,” Rachel added.
“The question would have to be exquisite,” Nicholas said. “Copernum has held his office so long for good reason. He is as keen as they come.”