Read A World Without Heroes Online
Authors: Brandon Mull
Tags: #General, #FICTION, #Juvenile Fiction, #Action & Adventure, #Fantasy, #Magic, #History, #Legends; Myths; Fables, #Fantasy & Magic, #Heroes, #Space and time, #Revolutionary, #Revolutions, #Comics & Graphic Novels, #Wizards, #Superheroes
They sat facing each other. Jason noticed that the table was a map. He saw the peninsula that projected westward into the ocean. Some distance inland Trensicourt was marked with a spot, as was Whitelake, a speck northward beside a small body of water.
“You like the map?”
Jason nodded. “Very much.”
“Copernum insisted on it. After all, what use is a private chamber without a few secrets inside? Maldor would frown upon this map. He understands the advantage inherent in monopolizing such information.”
Jason continued studying the map. The little fishing town at the oval inlet was called Flet. The town where he, Rachel, and Ferrin had been imprisoned must have been Carning. The place where Galloran lived as the Blind King was marked Fortaim, and the river to the north was the Telkron. The Repository of Learning was unmarked.
Many other names marked the map. Jason noticed Harthenham, a good distance north and east of Whitelake, beyond an empty green place marked the Sunken Lands.
“You did well surviving the attack,” Dolan commended.
“Copernum told me I would not live to see the sunrise. I was
trying to be careful. Norval, my bodyguard, will die in my place. How do we retaliate?”
“You believe Copernum masterminded the assault?”
“Considering his threat, I’m pretty sure.”
Dolan sighed. “There could be many viable suspects. A newcomer to court earning the chancellorship at such a tender age could spawn any number of enemies. Harsh words spoken in a moment of embarrassment would not serve as sufficient evidence to accuse Copernum. The knife bore the black skull. Only the minions of Maldor use that ornament. The only material evidence we possess suggests an imperial assassin.”
“Then Copernum must have planted it,” Jason insisted. “Or maybe he called in a favor.”
The regent frowned. “Copernum has strong ties to Felrook, but he is much too powerful to implicate without absolute proof. Did he orchestrate the crime? Probably. Using emblems of the emperor to attack you was his way of reminding everyone who backs him. The assassin somehow eluded our pursuit. All guards remain on alert, but considering the assassin has evaded us this long, I have little hope we will apprehend him.”
“So I just wait until he tries again?” Jason could hardly believe the regent was so unruffled by the incident.
“Copernum might not strike again soon. He sent his message. He may now content himself with unseating you through a formal challenge.”
“Instead of an informal murder.”
“You have the idea.”
Jason folded his hands on the table. “So there is nothing we can do to retaliate?”
Dolan cocked his head to one side. “There is little
I
can do. Surely you are not so naive to the art of statecraft as you pretend.
There is much
you
could do. But weigh your options carefully. Most men in this kingdom would endure anything to avoid an outright feud with Copernum.”
Including you,
Jason added silently. At first glance this ruler had looked much more authentic than Galloran. But on closer inspection he possessed neither the backbone nor the personal presence of the Blind King.
“If Maldor were behind the attack, would we do anything?”
Dolan made an indifferent gesture. “There is no definite evidence to implicate Maldor. As you suggested, the knife could have been a ruse.”
“And if we had definite evidence?”
Dolan stirred in his seat. “Take care what you imply. I lost one of my finest bodyguards protecting you.”
“Wouldn’t you want revenge? Wouldn’t you want justice?”
The regent ground his teeth. “Be reasonable. The semblance of freedom we maintain depends on keeping Maldor appeased. To a degree that includes keeping Copernum content. Should he openly align himself with the emperor against us, all could be lost. I like you, Jason. I admire the composure you showed facing Copernum. It was a daring stunt. Nevertheless you are an upstart about whom I know very little. In perilous times one must overlook greater injustices than a botched assassination in order to preserve peace. This kingdom cannot afford idealism. If you hope to endure, you must learn the art of compromise.”
“I’m your main advisor,” Jason said, flabbergasted. “An attack against me is an attack against you and your entire kingdom. What if I had been killed? Would my murderer simply have returned to his former position?”
“A wise man would know not to ask such questions.”
Leaning his elbows on the table, Jason rubbed his eyes. How
could Dolan pretend cowardice was compromise? Did he believe his words? What hope was there for a kingdom whose leader was afraid to seek justice?
“Do not despair,” Dolan said. “I called you to the lorevault because you have another option for survival. An attractive one, by the look of it.”
Jason raised his head.
The regent withdrew an envelope from a pocket inside his robe. An elaborate seal held it closed.
“What’s that?” Jason asked.
“It arrived for you tonight after the attempted assassination.”
Dolan handed the envelope across the table. Jason opened it, removing a cream-colored card inscribed with silver lettering.
M
Y ESTEEMED
L
ORD
J
ASON
,
Y
OUR PRESENCE IS HUMBLY REQUESTED AT THE
E
TERNAL
F
EAST AT YOUR SOONEST CONVENIENCE
. A
GLORIOUS BANQUET WILL BE HELD IN YOUR HONOR UPON THE DAY OF YOUR ARRIVAL
. B
E ASSURED THAT
H
ARTHENHAM
C
ASTLE PERMANENTLY STANDS UPON NEUTRAL TERRITORY AS FAR AS ALL POLITICAL MATTERS ARE CONCERNED.
M
ANY DWELL HERE HAPPILY WHO, LIKE YOU, OPENLY OPPOSED OUR IMPERIAL LEADERSHIP IN TIMES PAST.
A
LLOW ME TO PERSONALLY ENCOURAGE YOU TO SEIZE THIS RARE OPPORTUNITY TO REST FROM YOUR STRUGGLES FOR A TIME AS MY HONORED GUEST
. M
AY MY HOME EVER BE YOUR HAVEN
.
Y
OUR SINCERE ADMIRER
,
Duke Conrad of Harthenham
The signature at the bottom carried a bit more flourish than the rest of the words. Jason reread the message.
Licking his lips, Dolan extended a hand. “May I see it?” Jason gave him the card. The regent studied the message, shaking his head. “I have never beheld an actual invitation to the Eternal Feast.”
“I’ve heard of the Eternal Feast.”
The regent shot him a sharp glance. “Who hasn’t? It is merely paradise visiting the mortal world. A fortress against all concerns. A sanctuary of endless delights. Those invited are pardoned of all crimes, and they live out their days in careless luxury.”
“Sounds like being a king.”
“In many ways superior to kingship. A king has duties. Enemies. Fears.” Dolan spoke like a man beholding a vision. “Those who dine at the Eternal Feast know hardship only as a memory.”
“Have you gone there?” Jason asked.
“I would not be here if I had. None return.”
“Foul play?”
“Quite the contrary. None who are invited ever choose to leave. Who would surrender paradise?”
“Have you been invited?”
“Alas, no,” Dolan sighed. “The emperor needs me here.”
“The invitation is from Maldor?”
“Indirectly. The emperor sponsors the feast. Conrad hosts it. You are most fortunate, Jason. You need not fear Copernum or any man ever again.”
Jason held out a hand, and the regent returned the card. “So the feast is a prison.”
Dolan chuckled. “In a sense, perhaps. A voluntary prison where none complain. Would that I could live out my days in similar incarceration.”
Jason nodded. The ploy was obvious. The feast was a permanent bribe allowing Maldor to get rid of enemies. Still, the prospect of being out of danger was attractive. If he was stuck in some other reality, why not ditch his concerns and live a life of luxury? Nicholas had recommended that this should be his real goal. But if he caved and went to the feast, how would he ever get home? And what would happen to Rachel?
Glancing at the syllable over the door, Jason sighed. Maldor was evil. The men who worked for him were evil. The Eternal Feast might simply be another trap. How could anyone know how great it was if nobody ever returned? Besides, the fact that the invitation had been issued meant that Maldor was getting worried. He should be! Jason already had half of the Word that could destroy him.
Jason stared down at the map. He could not abandon the quest. He had another good lead, and Whitelake was not too far off. He could not abandon Rachel. He could not give up on getting home. He could not betray the trust Galloran had placed in him. Ferrin was waiting. Jason placed the card back into the envelope. He would hang on to the invitation. If he was ever cornered, perhaps he could save himself by accepting it.
“This is an amazing offer,” Jason said. “Can I take a day to consider it? I need some time to think it over.”
“Certainly. Jason, there is no shame in accepting this invitation. Should you abdicate, Copernum will be reinstated, and the kingdom will prosper. Be twice warned: Openly crossing Copernum, whether or not you feel certain he was behind the attempted assassination, will likely bring ruination. Let it go. In your position I would relinquish the chancellorship and join the feast. Any sane man would do likewise. You will be remembered as a daring lord and chancellor emeritus as you live out your days in blissful opulence.”
Jason nodded. “I hear you. Is that all for now?”
The regent passed Jason a slip of parchment with seven pairs of symbols. “This is yours.”
“The combination to the lorevault,” Jason said.
“You are free to study here at will. The combination is not the same as it was yesterday. Should you resign, the combination will change again.”
“I may need a coach,” Jason said. “A way to travel.”
“I take your meaning,” the regent said, relief in his tone. “I can have a coach made ready within the hour, along with a tight-lipped driver. Should you elect to depart, no man would blame you.”
Some would,
Jason added silently.
Just not the sort you work with.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
Less than two hours later, with the sun rising, Jason stretched out in the compartment of a fine coach, the outside lacquered a shiny black and decorated with silver filigree, pulled by six powerful horses. He wore traveling clothes. On the cushioned seat beside him were provisions prepared by his cook, and some of the courtly attire he had worn as Lord Jason. His rings and mantle were stashed away, the rings in his cloak, the mantle rolled up with the rest of his gaudy apparel.
Jason moved the curtain to peer out as the coach descended the steep ramp down the plateau, then leaned back and closed his eyes. He could hardly believe he was leaving the stress and intrigues of Trensicourt behind. He hoped Rachel would have the sense to make her way to the Stumbling Stag. He didn’t know how to contact her.
Once the coach leveled out, Jason became more comfortable and tried to doze. The jostling of the coach prevented him at first, but eventually fatigue won the contest.
When the coachman, a diminutive, knobby fellow, shook him
awake, they were stopped outside a tavern. Jason rubbed his eyes. The sign over the door showed a deer with forked antlers.
Jason instructed the coachman to wait for him, and climbed out of the compartment onto the packed dirt of the street. Ferrin leaned in the doorway. “Come inside, Lord Jason,” the displacer said with a sweeping bow.
“Don’t say my name so loudly,” Jason muttered in a low voice as he drew near. “We don’t want to stand out.”
“Oh,” Ferrin replied in an equally cautious tone. “Then you might want to rethink the elaborate carriage bearing the royal crest. Would you prefer I address you as chancellor?”