A World Without Heroes (23 page)

“The arrow took Stilus through the shoulder. Funny thing, he had been the one most opposed to the idea of our sacrifice. It took a good deal of cajoling to convince him. Old Stilus was superstitious, you see. I’d wager he took the arrow for a sign he’d been right all along. No sooner had he fallen than he began wrapping the line in a figure eight around one of the cleats. Stilus never did have much luck. I suppose he thought he was doing the right thing, trying to save us.

“When the boat started swinging in to shore, a bunch of us assumed we would be saved whether we liked it or not. A few kept playing, but most of us, myself included, began stripping away our bindings. We had lashed ourselves in place, you see, so we could keep playing through the rough water. By the time we collided with the bank, even the few folks still playing were having second thoughts. Our chance to survive was so near. I jumped to shore
the same instant the line was severed, and found myself alone, the sole defector, watching my comrades float away.”

Tark sniffed and ran the back of his hand across his nostrils. “By that time everyone thought they would be saved. I saw it in their eyes. Because of that hope of survival they experienced true terror as they reembarked toward the falls. Most couldn’t play their instruments, either out of fear or because they had unlashed themselves and toppled over.”

His voice became painfully intense. “What should have been a proud occasion of willful self-sacrifice degenerated into a pathetic farce where a raft full of cowering musicians plunged frantically to their deaths. Gelpha got off a blast on the clarinet. And some brave soul crashed the cymbals.”

Jason felt a growing sense of horror, each word of Tark’s like a punch to his gut. He’d only tried to help, and he’d caused so much suffering. How could he ever make up for it?

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

T
he 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 waved 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.