A World Without Heroes
Page 54
“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.”
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.”
