A World Without Heroes
Page 102
The men did not acknowledge his comment or his presence. They exited the room and closed the door.
Not long after they had departed, the door opened again.
Maldor entered unaccompanied.
The door closed behind him.
“Greetings, Jason,” he said, sitting in the chair at the table.
Jason swallowed. The pulse in his neck quickened.
“You are in a difficult situation,” Maldor said, pulling the bottle from the bucket and wiping off the beads of moisture with a linen napkin.
“I have an itch by my nose. It’s beginning to fade though.”
Maldor set the napkin aside. “Oklinder, with a hint of lumba berries.” He uncorked the bottle. “Let us speak plainly, man to man.”
“Sounds good.”
“Congratulations.” Maldor poured pink liquid into the glass and raised it toward Jason. “You have uttered the dreaded Key Word in my presence. You surprised me. I would not have chosen to let you speak the Word in public. I did not realize you had all of the syllables. Those who heard it will not remember it, but still, I dislike being surprised. Although you were not rewarded with the desired effect, you had the Word right.”
Jason stared blankly. “I did? Then what happened?”
Maldor gave a small smile. “You tell me.”
Jason frowned. “The Word was a hoax?”
“Perceptive.”
“A big diversion,” Jason realized.
“What value does the Word have as a diversion?” Maldor coaxed, taking a sip.
Jason’s heart sank. “It would keep your enemies busy, chasing after false hope.”
Maldor inclined his head in agreement. “You have the idea. Only myself and Salzared know the truth. And now you.”
“Salzared was in on it?” Jason felt dizzy. The faceless hero who had stolen the Word was a fraud!
“The displacer Salzared lives a life of pampered luxury inside this stronghold. It is his skin that binds the book scribbled in his blood, his eye on the cover.”
“What about the people guarding the syllables?”
Maldor waved a dismissive hand. “Everyone else who knows of the Word believes it is real. Those who guard the syllables believe they reside in magical refuges beyond my reach. They are very well protected, but were the Word an authentic way to destroy me, I would have found a way to eliminate at least one of them long ago.”
Jason studied Maldor. “How did the Word vanish from my mind after I said it?”
“You said a true key word,” Maldor explained. “It was the word that could obliterate a past enemy of mine, a fellow student of Zokar named Orruck. That was why the Word and its syllables could withstand scrutiny even from the wise. The word you spoke and forgot is indeed capable of undoing a wizard. But not me.”
“Did you use it to destroy Orruck?”
“I held the Word in reserve but never had occasion to use it, until I employed it as decoy to divert the efforts of some of my staunchest adversaries. Amazing what even intelligent men will accept as truth when they desperately want to believe it.”
Jason scowled in silence. Could it really be true? So much effort all for nothing? So many people placing their hopes on a falsehood? He felt shattered to his core. With Maldor as an enemy no wonder so many had given up hope.
“Why are you telling me this?” Jason asked. “Is this just another trick?”
“I’ll be interested to learn how you obtained all of the syllables,” Maldor said. “By my count you had four: the original syllable from the Repository of Learning, the syllable guarded by Jugard in the cave, the syllable held by Malar on Whitelake, and the syllable protected by the Pythoness in the Sunken Lands. You never visited the Temple of Mianamon, nor did you set sail to the Isle of Weir. I suspect the hand of Galloran in this, but how he concealed these syllables from me is perplexing. Perhaps he was not as thoroughly broken as my tormentors assured me.”
“Maybe I’m psychic,” Jason said.
“That could be tested,” Maldor said. “I’ll learn the truth from you. Not now, I expect, but soon enough.”
“Why are you telling me so much?” Jason asked.
Maldor swirled the fluid in his glass. “In private I only engage in candid conversations. I want you to comprehend your situation. Anything I tell you can be erased from your mind should that become necessary. Or I can simply have you executed.”
“You seem very powerful,” Jason said. “Why all the subtlety? Why the games?”
Maldor took a slow sip of oklinder juice. “I could crush the populace of every province I control, even if they rose united against me. But I enjoy experiments in governance, finding methods for holding power more securely, employing strategies to debase my opponents. No empire is ever too secure. I want mine to endure for millennia.”
Jason licked his dry lips. “I still don’t get why you’re talking to me.”
Maldor drank the remainder of the fluid in his glass. “Another purpose served by the hunt for the false Key Word is to identify my most capable adversaries. I take a keen interest in my opponents. Long ago I promised myself that any man who succeeded in obtaining the Word would receive the opportunity to join my elite circle.”
“You want me to join you?”
“You have demonstrated your worthiness in many ways. You thwarted several attempts to capture and kill you. You overcame a variety of obstacles to gain the syllables. You eluded the titan crab. No others have done that. You bested Copernum in a battle of wits. Again, an exclusive accomplishment. Your friend crossed Whitelake, and you visited the Pythoness. Unbeknownst to me or my agents you obtained two syllables secretly. You found allies when necessary. Ferrin spoke highly of you. You are not eager to shed blood but will do so when cornered. You overcame Duke Conrad in a duel. You had enough self-possession to forgo the pleasures of Harthenham. You have proven yourself intelligent, brave, tenacious, resourceful. In short you are the type of man I prefer at my side rather than resisting me.”
“Do you try to turn all your enemies to your side?”
“All of the most valiant ones.”
“Then Galloran refused.”
Maldor shrugged. “To Galloran, his stubborn ideologies were more important than wielding real power. Had he joined me, he could have regained his kingdom and accomplished most of his goals. Instead he chooses to grow old in a rotting keep. Incidentally, he was my only other adversary to obtain the entire Word. Truth be known, he said it to me in this very dungeon. Of course it had no effect except to erase the syllables from his mind. I convinced him that he uttered the Word to a decoy, to explain why it failed to destroy me. He had been recently blinded, so he had no reason to doubt me.”
Not long after they had departed, the door opened again.
Maldor entered unaccompanied.
The door closed behind him.
“Greetings, Jason,” he said, sitting in the chair at the table.
Jason swallowed. The pulse in his neck quickened.
“You are in a difficult situation,” Maldor said, pulling the bottle from the bucket and wiping off the beads of moisture with a linen napkin.
“I have an itch by my nose. It’s beginning to fade though.”
Maldor set the napkin aside. “Oklinder, with a hint of lumba berries.” He uncorked the bottle. “Let us speak plainly, man to man.”
“Sounds good.”
“Congratulations.” Maldor poured pink liquid into the glass and raised it toward Jason. “You have uttered the dreaded Key Word in my presence. You surprised me. I would not have chosen to let you speak the Word in public. I did not realize you had all of the syllables. Those who heard it will not remember it, but still, I dislike being surprised. Although you were not rewarded with the desired effect, you had the Word right.”
Jason stared blankly. “I did? Then what happened?”
Maldor gave a small smile. “You tell me.”
Jason frowned. “The Word was a hoax?”
“Perceptive.”
“A big diversion,” Jason realized.
“What value does the Word have as a diversion?” Maldor coaxed, taking a sip.
Jason’s heart sank. “It would keep your enemies busy, chasing after false hope.”
Maldor inclined his head in agreement. “You have the idea. Only myself and Salzared know the truth. And now you.”
“Salzared was in on it?” Jason felt dizzy. The faceless hero who had stolen the Word was a fraud!
“The displacer Salzared lives a life of pampered luxury inside this stronghold. It is his skin that binds the book scribbled in his blood, his eye on the cover.”
“What about the people guarding the syllables?”
Maldor waved a dismissive hand. “Everyone else who knows of the Word believes it is real. Those who guard the syllables believe they reside in magical refuges beyond my reach. They are very well protected, but were the Word an authentic way to destroy me, I would have found a way to eliminate at least one of them long ago.”
Jason studied Maldor. “How did the Word vanish from my mind after I said it?”
“You said a true key word,” Maldor explained. “It was the word that could obliterate a past enemy of mine, a fellow student of Zokar named Orruck. That was why the Word and its syllables could withstand scrutiny even from the wise. The word you spoke and forgot is indeed capable of undoing a wizard. But not me.”
“Did you use it to destroy Orruck?”
“I held the Word in reserve but never had occasion to use it, until I employed it as decoy to divert the efforts of some of my staunchest adversaries. Amazing what even intelligent men will accept as truth when they desperately want to believe it.”
Jason scowled in silence. Could it really be true? So much effort all for nothing? So many people placing their hopes on a falsehood? He felt shattered to his core. With Maldor as an enemy no wonder so many had given up hope.
“Why are you telling me this?” Jason asked. “Is this just another trick?”
“I’ll be interested to learn how you obtained all of the syllables,” Maldor said. “By my count you had four: the original syllable from the Repository of Learning, the syllable guarded by Jugard in the cave, the syllable held by Malar on Whitelake, and the syllable protected by the Pythoness in the Sunken Lands. You never visited the Temple of Mianamon, nor did you set sail to the Isle of Weir. I suspect the hand of Galloran in this, but how he concealed these syllables from me is perplexing. Perhaps he was not as thoroughly broken as my tormentors assured me.”
“Maybe I’m psychic,” Jason said.
“That could be tested,” Maldor said. “I’ll learn the truth from you. Not now, I expect, but soon enough.”
“Why are you telling me so much?” Jason asked.
Maldor swirled the fluid in his glass. “In private I only engage in candid conversations. I want you to comprehend your situation. Anything I tell you can be erased from your mind should that become necessary. Or I can simply have you executed.”
“You seem very powerful,” Jason said. “Why all the subtlety? Why the games?”
Maldor took a slow sip of oklinder juice. “I could crush the populace of every province I control, even if they rose united against me. But I enjoy experiments in governance, finding methods for holding power more securely, employing strategies to debase my opponents. No empire is ever too secure. I want mine to endure for millennia.”
Jason licked his dry lips. “I still don’t get why you’re talking to me.”
Maldor drank the remainder of the fluid in his glass. “Another purpose served by the hunt for the false Key Word is to identify my most capable adversaries. I take a keen interest in my opponents. Long ago I promised myself that any man who succeeded in obtaining the Word would receive the opportunity to join my elite circle.”
“You want me to join you?”
“You have demonstrated your worthiness in many ways. You thwarted several attempts to capture and kill you. You overcame a variety of obstacles to gain the syllables. You eluded the titan crab. No others have done that. You bested Copernum in a battle of wits. Again, an exclusive accomplishment. Your friend crossed Whitelake, and you visited the Pythoness. Unbeknownst to me or my agents you obtained two syllables secretly. You found allies when necessary. Ferrin spoke highly of you. You are not eager to shed blood but will do so when cornered. You overcame Duke Conrad in a duel. You had enough self-possession to forgo the pleasures of Harthenham. You have proven yourself intelligent, brave, tenacious, resourceful. In short you are the type of man I prefer at my side rather than resisting me.”
“Do you try to turn all your enemies to your side?”
“All of the most valiant ones.”
“Then Galloran refused.”
Maldor shrugged. “To Galloran, his stubborn ideologies were more important than wielding real power. Had he joined me, he could have regained his kingdom and accomplished most of his goals. Instead he chooses to grow old in a rotting keep. Incidentally, he was my only other adversary to obtain the entire Word. Truth be known, he said it to me in this very dungeon. Of course it had no effect except to erase the syllables from his mind. I convinced him that he uttered the Word to a decoy, to explain why it failed to destroy me. He had been recently blinded, so he had no reason to doubt me.”
