by Brandon Mull
“Who judges the contest?” Rachel asked.
“Dolan,” Nicholas said. “His word will be final. If there is room for doubt, he will side with Copernum. But if you clearly provide a superior answer, he will name you victor. Dolan knows that Copernum wields the real power in Trensicourt. I believe Dolan would gladly demote him if he could do so without blame.”
“How do I establish my claim as Lord of Caberton?” Jason asked.
“You will need an audience with the regent.” Nicholas sniffed and tugged absently at a strap. “You must not breathe a word about challenging for the chancellorship. Save that surprise for after your claim has been acknowledged. It would help if you found a sponsor.” Nicholas bowed his head in thought.
“Could you sponsor him?” Rachel asked.
“My sponsorship would only harm his cause,” Nicholas said. “In fact it should not be made public that the two of you came here for advice. If we were linked as conspirators, it would end badly for all of us. We must end this conversation soon, and you should not return.”
“Does anyone know we’re here?” Jason asked.
“Spies infest Trensicourt,” Nicholas spat. “You must treat every person you meet as a potential traitor. Plenty of professional spies make a comfortable living in this town, not to mention the legions of casual busybodies eager to sell a secret as soon as they hear it.”
“Do you think spies saw us come in here?” Rachel asked.
“Absolutely,” Nicholas affirmed. “My alley is under constant observation. The watchers may not know your identities, but they know you are here. You will leave with crossbows. My models set the standard for all of Lyrian. The weapons may suffice as a legitimate reason for newcomers to Trensicourt to pay me a visit.”
“Where should we go from here?” Jason asked.
“You want the legless ruin to lay out a strategy?” Nicholas chortled. His eyes grew thoughtful. “You are young, and you are strangers here. Perhaps I could help you avoid early missteps. My mistakes have taught me much. Be forewarned—politics in Trensicourt are ruthless. No amount of planning could insulate you against all the possible pitfalls.”
“I get it,” Jason said. “We’re here. I have to try.”
Nicholas wound a loose strap tightly around his hand. “Very well. How much money do you have?”
“This will cost?” Jason asked.
“You misunderstand,” Nicholas said. “I mean to help you. The crossbows will be free, along with the advice.”
“We have a gold pellet, a silver, and some change,” Rachel said.
“Insufficient,” Nicholas sniffed. “Money and connections mean everything in Trensicourt. One often leads to the other. Since you lack connections, you will need money. I will provide it.”
“You’re too kind,” Jason said.
Nicholas snorted derisively. “I have much more money than I can use. So I will give you enough to make you dangerous to my enemies. Your risk will be tremendous; mine will be minimal. Not as generous as it may seem at first glance. Be on guard. Others will seek to use you likewise.”
“Right,” Jason said.
“You two should leave here separately,” Nicholas advised. “You lack sufficient family resemblance for discerning eyes to accept you as relatives.”
“But we really are—,” Rachel began defensively.
“No need to explain,” Nicholas interrupted. “I’m sure you have your reasons.” He looked at Jason. “Keeping Rachel with you will needlessly endanger her and make your task to establish yourself more difficult. You will depart first. An agent of mine will hire a boy to guide you to the finest tailor and the best blacksmith in the city. Visiting other top-quality merchants will diminish the significance of your visit to me, and will allow you to outfit yourself properly. You are a good-looking boy. The right clothes will improve your credibility. Appear unattached—your bachelorhood could help soften hearts and perhaps open doors.”
“What about me?” Rachel asked.
“I will hire a boy to escort you to a boarding house,” Nicholas said. “Your story will be that you are awaiting your cousin, who is due to return from Rostenburg. Invent a name. He was away working as a mercenary.”
“So I’ll just sit and wait,” Rachel said, offended.
“It will not take long for Jason to succeed or fail. You two would be wise to remain unconnected while in Trensicourt. Your enemies would gladly exploit your relationship as a weakness. If either of you is ever asked about the other, you met on the road on your way into town. When you discovered that you both meant to purchase items from me, you decided to journey together to my shop. That is all you know about each other.”
“You say it won’t take me long?” Jason asked.
“Your final stop after the shops will be the Upturned Goblet,” Nicholas continued. “The proprietor is named Tedril. If he likes you, he could get you in front of the regent. The Upturned Goblet is the finest establishment in Trensicourt. The exorbitant prices allow only the rich and powerful to dine or sleep there. Unknown travelers rarely cross the threshold. Tedril will investigate you. If he believes you are legitimate, he will help you. If he smells a fraud, his bad opinion could ruin you.”
“How do I smell right?” Jason asked.
“Tedril savors the smell of gold and silver,” Nicholas chuckled. “Yet it will require more than riches to win his good opinion. Tell him you are descended from an old family who lost their holdings, and that you are looking to establish yourself as heir to Caberton. There are several such families, so don’t get specific. Let him wonder. Show him the ring. Tell him Galloran gave it to you, but tell it with a wink. Tell him you’re an old friend of Bartley of Wershon.”
“Who?” Jason asked.
“A turncoat who neglected his family and sold his honor to preserve his place at court. A big, friendly fool, Bartley roars when sober and thunders when drunk. He rarely comes to town, but he spends like a sailor when he does. He has a soft spot for the downtrodden, so Tedril will believe the connection.”
“Then what?” Jason asked.
“Rent a room. Let Tedril set the price, and don’t bargain. I’ll give you plenty. Then go gamble. Several nobles gamble at the Upturned Goblet. Be friendly. Lose lots of money. You will quickly find friends. Get one or two of your newfound friends to sponsor you at court. Hopefully, this will be enough to convince the regent to acknowledge your title.”
“What about the competition?” Jason asked.
“Challenge the chancellor within a week after receiving your title,” Nicholas said. “A novice attempting to navigate the politics of the upper class in Trensicourt will not survive for long.”
“Do you know a question that might stump him?” Rachel asked.
“If I could stump him, I would not have lost my title. You must be able to prove the correctness of your answer. And it must not be some trivial trick, like asking how many fingers you are holding up behind your back. You’ll need a question the other man could answer, and your superior response must be verifiable.”
“Like a riddle,” Jason said. “Or a fact. What if I asked him to name the first syllable of the Word that could destroy Maldor?”
Rocking in his harness, Nicholas let out a violent burst of laughter. “It would almost be worth it, to see the looks on their faces. None of them would know such a word existed. You would have no evidence. Nevertheless, in fear that the word might exist, the contest would end immediately, and you would disappear. Maldor would inevitably get involved. You, Rachel, me, Tedril—we’d all be slain. Along with many, if not all, of those who heard your words at court. While eliminating some of my old enemies, such an outburst would only hasten the downfall of Trensicourt.”
“Then I probably shouldn’t mention that I’m a Beyonder, either,” Jason said.
“Not unless you fancy instantaneous imprisonment,” Nicholas agreed. “You understand the parameters. My best efforts to topple Copernum failed, and the one time I advised another cha
llenger, he failed as well. How you defeat Copernum is up to you.”
“Can’t I help him?” Rachel asked.
“If you have ideas, share them now,” Nicholas said. “Jason should never contact me again, and you should avoid him as well until his business in Trensicourt is through.”
“Remember any outstanding riddles?” Jason asked.
Rachel shook her head. “I don’t know. The more you take away from me, the bigger I become.”
“A hole,” Nicholas said. “We have a similar riddle here.”
Rachel scrunched her brow. “Twins stand at a fork in the road. One always tells the truth; the other always lies. One road leads to prosperity, the other to destruction. You can only ask one question to one of the twins. What question do you ask to find the right road?”
“I think I’ve heard this one,” Jason said. “I can’t remember the answer.”
Nicholas stared down, lips moving without making a sound. Then he cleared his throat. “I ask either man which road his brother would tell me will lead to prosperity; then I take the opposite road.”
“You know that one?” Rachel asked.
“No, I used reason,” Nicholas said. “A riddle like this is not a bad idea, but Copernum is better at reasoning than I am. No matter what tactics you use, it will be difficult to flummox him.”
“If I fail, all I lose is my title?” Jason asked.
Nicholas shrugged. “And your life, unless you hurry away from Trensicourt. For a newcomer who has defied Copernum, to remain in Trensicourt after failure would be fatal. He will want to make an example of you. Of course, after success your life will be almost equally endangered.”
“And even if I beat him,” Jason said, “Copernum only loses the office of chancellor.”
“He’ll maintain all other privileges and titles,” Nicholas confirmed. “And after three months he will have the right to challenge you as you challenged him.”
“I have more riddles,” Rachel volunteered.
She rattled off several, and Nicholas answered all of them. Jason could not have guessed the answer to most of them, and he began to lose faith that he could possibly succeed where Nicholas and others had failed.
When Rachel ran out of riddles, Jason cleared his throat. “Could I speak with Rachel in private for a moment?”
“By all means,” Nicholas said. Tugging on a pair of straps, he glided away on his track to a far corner of the room.
Rachel leaned her head close to Jason. “What do you think?” she whispered.
“I think we’ll never get another chance like this,” Jason replied quietly. “With the money and advice from Nicholas I’ll have a real chance of challenging Copernum.”
“But can you beat him?”
“I’ll never know unless I try. If I can get inside the lorevault, we’ll have half the syllables. You gave me some good riddles. And I’ll think hard between now and when I issue the challenge. Do you mind splitting up?”
“No. If all else fails, we’ll meet up where Ferrin suggested, at the Stumbling Stag.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
CHAPTER 14
QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS
Not far down the broad avenue from the castle gates, the Upturned Goblet rose five stories tall, the massive stone structure receding from the street with each level to accommodate terraced balconies. Ornamental battlements and a trio of proud flagpoles crowned the building. A great paved hallway opened onto the street, enabling carriages to access a sheltered entrance.
With twilight fading, Jason entered and crossed a plush foyer to an ornate door on the far side. His new clothes felt too silky, but they fit him well. He tried to carry himself with confidence, as if certain he belonged here. A short man in a well-tailored outfit stood before a burly guard wearing a sword. “And who might you be, sir?” the short man inquired politely.
“I am Lord Jason of Caberton.”
The man examined Jason suspiciously for a moment, eyes roving up and down. He seemed reluctantly satisfied.
The short man escorted Jason into an elegant common room, where richly dressed patrons dined on fine plates and drank from stemware. He led Jason to where a swarthy man with his hair slicked back stood conversing with an older couple seated before plates of half-eaten fish.
“Master Tedril, may I introduce Lord Jason of Caberton,” the short man announced, interrupting the conversation.
“Lord Jason,” greeted Tedril, making a much more obvious inspection of Jason’s apparel than the short man had, “a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He nodded at the short man, who scurried away. Then Tedril turned to the dining couple. “If you will excuse me.”
“By all means,” the seated man said.
“This way.” Tedril led Jason out of the common room and into a cozy office with a fruitwood desk and three wingback armchairs. Thick maroon carpeting covered the floor.
Tedril motioned for Jason to take a seat.
“I was unaware that anyone held the title of Caberton,” Tedril said casually.
“I gained the title in the wilderness,” Jason said, trying his best to sound sophisticated. The ring was on his finger, but to avoid seeming desperate or defensive, Jason made no motion to call attention to it.
“I see. How novel. A stranger to Trensicourt suddenly ranks among our nobility.”
“My parents are not strangers to Trensicourt,” Jason lied, his voice resolute.
Tedril held his eyes, weighing him. “The regent has recognized your claim?”
“Not yet.”
“Perhaps I could be of service. How long do you intend to stay here?”
“A few days, at least,” Jason said. “I would be happy to pay in advance.”
“For a stranger without credit a two-hundred-drooma deposit would be appropriate.”
Nicholas had schooled Jason in the currency. The gold pellets were worth a hundred drooma, the silver fifty. Two hundred drooma was a small fortune. Jason removed two gold pellets from his new money bag. The innkeeper accepted the payment, offering no sign that he was impressed.
“I’ve been traveling,” Jason said. “It will be a relief to sleep in a bed.”
“Have I met your parents?” Tedril asked.
“You would know their names. But we should not discuss them yet. They intend to join me here in time.”
“I have fond memories of many exiles. You bear a resemblance to the former Baron of Leramy.”
Jason shrugged. “I’m not supposed to comment.”
Tedril smiled knowingly. “The public misunderstood the motives of the baron. Some called his actions treasonous. Others foresaw how he might be operating for the good of the kingdom. He simply acted too soon, before the monarchy had truly waned. How did you secure the title Lord of Caberton?”
“Galloran, of course,” Jason said lightly. “He gave the title to my father in prison. My father kept it a secret. With his health failing, he recently passed the title to me. Unlike him I intend to claim my privileges.”
“A fascinating story,” Tedril said indulgently. “How did you come to hear of the Upturned Goblet?”
“The Viscount Bartley of Wershon recommends you.”
Tedril brightened. “You are a friend of the viscount’s?”
“I have met him.”
“How fortunate,” Tedril enthused. “Are you aware he is currently abiding with us?”
“I was not,” Jason said, hoping his smile looked less brittle than it felt.
Tedril grinned as if certain this was all part of some prearranged strategy. “Come with me.”
As Jason followed Tedril out of the room, he groaned inwardly. The innkeeper had been accepting his story. Why had he mentioned Bartley? The fake reference had been part of the plan, but with the conversation going well, it had probably become unnecessary. Jason tried to stay calm. His only hope was to try to bluff his way through this.
They walked across the dining room and down a wood-paneled hallway, then mounted carpet
ed stairs to a room with a small bar in the corner and a fire blazing inside a green marble fireplace. Several men stood around a long felt table casting dice. A big man whose wavy red hair fell to his shoulders slapped his thigh and let out a booming laugh. A few of the other men groaned.
“Viscount Wershon,” Tedril said.
The red-haired man turned, smiling.
“You remember Lord Jason of Caberton.”
“Caberton, you say?” Bartley repeated boisterously, staring blankly at Jason.
Jason felt like a fool. So far only Bartley was facing him—the other men remained occupied with the gaming table. His little gamble to establish credibility was about to destroy it. Holding Bartley’s gaze, Jason winked.
“Yes, Jason, my friend, how have you been?”
Jason could breathe again. “Quite well.”
Bartley strode over and put an arm around his shoulders. “Walk with me, my friend, so we can reminisce. Excuse us.”
Jason did not look back at Tedril.
Bartley guided Jason to a neighboring room.
“So who in the blazes are you?” Bartley asked in a husky whisper. His breath reeked of spicy sausages.
“My family was exiled years ago. I’m here to help us regain some respect. I really am Lord of Caberton.” Jason held up the ring.
Bartley squinted. “So it would seem.”
“I’m hoping the regent will confirm me Lord of Rubble.”
Bartley laughed explosively and slapped Jason on the back hard enough to knock him off balance. “Caberton is a start. You’re dressed well. Your family had reserves?”
“I have money.”
“You enjoy gaming?”
“I’ve never been a careful person.”
“You play Bones?”
“I don’t know the game.”
Bartley paused. “But you have money?”
“Yes.”
Bartley threw an arm around him. “This is a dream! A young, well-funded novice! I wish we were playing Knuckles! Tomorrow, perhaps. Come, join us.” Bartley released the embrace but gripped Jason’s elbow, pausing, his eyes suddenly sober. “But first you must tell me how you acquired the ring. It’s authentic.”