Seeds of Rebellion (25 page)

Jason closed his eyes for a moment. When would this parade of familiar corpses end? Opening his eyes, Jason considered the body once more. It was unmistakably the wily old man from the sea cave.

“That light might be visible from below,” Ferrin hissed.

Ned muted the seaweed under his shirt, then glided sideways on the balls of his feet, moving in a slight crouch, as if ready to bolt. “All the windows are shuttered,” he replied. “They work, I’ve checked.”

Ferrin, flanked by Aram and Jason, came farther into the room.

“Why is Jugard here?” Jason asked.

“I was sent to fetch him from the sea cave.”

“By the Blind King?”

“Who else would I obey?”

“How’d he die?”

“He was a corpse when I found him in the sea cave,” Ned claimed. “It didn’t seem right to leave him there. He’d been stabbed in the back. A lot.”

Jason gritted his teeth. “Who did it?”

“No friend of ours.”

Jason scowled. “How’d you get past the crab?”

“Didn’t. I scaled the cliff with Jugard on my shoulders.”

“Climbed a cliff with a corpse in tow?” Aram challenged. “I’m not sure even I could manage that.”

“I never claimed you could,” Ned muttered.

Ned seemed tense, jittery. Then again, he had always behaved
oddly. Ned had given help in the past, but Jason questioned how much to trust him. “You work for the Blind King?”

“Not when I first met you,” Ned explained. “I do now. You and Rachel left a trail. I backtracked and found my former master. I hadn’t seen him in years.” His voice had an edge that suggested he was about to burst into either hysterical cackles or uncontrollable sobs. “Who are your new companions?”

“Ferrin and Aram.”

“Are they trustworthy? Loyal to our cause?”

“I think so.”

Ned dipped his head. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Nedwin, the Blind King’s new squire. And also his former squire.” He interlocked his long fingers and rapidly twiddled his thumbs. His unsettling smile showed crooked teeth in the muted purple light.

“Did Tark make it here?” Jason asked.

“Three days ago, filthy and half starved.”

“He delivered my message?”

“That was why I was dispatched to retrieve Jugard.”

“You returned tonight?”

“Shortly before you three came blundering through the courtyard.”

“Blundering?” Ferrin repeated, mildly offended.

“Noisily and sloppily. Mostly the big one, subtle as a church bell rolling down a stairway. You didn’t appear imperial, so I allowed you to find me.”

“And your backup plan was to leap from the tower window?” Aram asked.

“Maybe,” Ned said, one eye twitching.

“He wouldn’t have fallen,” Jason said. “He can climb like a spider. Ned, do you think the Blind King was captured?”

“I hope not. Sightless or not, he’s sly. He always has an escape
planned. Those who assaulted Fortaim probably paid sorely for the lives they claimed. The crooked tower was rigged to collapse, and he maintained an impressive stockpile of orantium.”

“We noticed the damage,” Aram said. “That much orantium would have been worth a fortune.”

“Irreplaceable,” Ned agreed.

“Do you know where he might be, Ned?” Jason asked.

“I prefer to be called ‘Nedwin.’ It evokes happier times.” Nedwin motioned Jason toward him. “A private word?”

Jason glanced at Ferrin and Aram. They shrugged.

Jason walked over to Nedwin, who leaned in close and whispered softly, “You’re really with these two?”

“Yeah,” Jason whispered back.

“If you’re in trouble, I can get us out of here.”

“I’m good.”

“All right. If you’re sure.” Nedwin straightened up to his full height, nearly half a head taller than Jason, though unimpressive when measured against Aram. “This room is smaller than it should be,” he announced.

“What?” Jason asked.

Nedwin turned, gesturing. “After viewing the tower from without, the observer would expect more space over here. Instead we have a premature wall.”

“Secret passage?” Ferrin asked.

Nedwin was already running his palms over the snugly mortared blocks. Behind a tapestry, he found a trigger that opened a small door constructed to blend with the masonry of the wall. “This way.”

Nedwin turned and dragged Jugard’s body into the secret space, leaving him on his back against the far wall. The others followed Nedwin into a cramped hall almost too low and narrow for Aram.
Nedwin closed the hidden door and then removed the glowing seaweed from his shirt. He led the way, and Aram brought up the rear, moving in an awkward, sideways crouch. Curving around the perimeter of the round room, the claustrophobic hall became a narrow stairway that spiraled down directly below the regular stairwell.

They descended until emerging into musty tunnels in the bowels of the castle. Jason heard rats chittering and scampering beyond the violet glow of the seaweed. Nedwin navigated down several passageways, doubling back from empty rooms, dead ends, and collapsed corridors. At last they reached a cluttered storeroom.

“Ah,” Nedwin said. “Feel the draft?”

“Now that you mention it,” Aram said, licking a finger and holding it up.

Nedwin’s freckled hand glided over the surface of a bare wall. Before long he tripped a mechanism that revealed a secret closet. On the floor of the closet awaited a trapdoor. Nedwin crouched and opened it.

“Who trespasses here?” inquired a gruff voice from the darkness below.

“Nedwin and Lord Jason,” Nedwin answered. “Accompanied by two friends.”

“You may pass.” The dark hole filled with light. Jason judged that it was a twenty-foot drop. Buttressed by heavy beams, the dirt walls and floor beyond the trapdoor lacked the masonry of the finished corridors above.

Nedwin signaled for Jason to descend a rope ladder. Jason had some trouble getting started, backing hesitantly through the trapdoor, but climbed down easily once his hands and feet found purchase. Ferrin and Aram came after, and finally Nedwin, who
closed the trapdoor and sped down the ladder, dropping the final eight feet.

The voice down the hole had belonged to the gatekeeper who had first admitted Jason to the ruined castle of the Blind King. Laying aside a crossbow and a halberd, he greeted Jason heartily, then turned a wary eye to Ferrin and Aram.

“Who are these two?”

“Ferrin and Aram,” Jason answered. “My friends. I wouldn’t be alive without their help.”

“I’m Vernon,” the gatekeeper said.

“We must consult with His Majesty,” Nedwin said.

“Follow me,” Vernon said, leading them along the subterranean passage.

“Is Tark here?” Aram asked.

“Yes,” Vernon said. “Would you like to see him?”

“A superb idea,” Nedwin interjected. “Vernon, see that Ferrin and Aram get to greet Tark after you deliver us to the king.”

Vernon stopped at a sturdy door built into a crudely excavated wall of natural dirt and stone. As he lifted a fist to knock, the portal opened. There stood the Blind King, his hair and beard long and gray, a dingy rag binding his eyes, a grimy robe hanging from his broad shoulders.

Before Jason had last met the Blind King, he had never heard the name Galloran. As a newcomer to Lyrian, he’d failed to grasp the significance of the grubby king’s secret identity. He hadn’t known how many still reverenced him as the greatest hero in Lyrian. Without any flashy pretense, here stood the true heir to Trensicourt, the strongest human kingdom not directly controlled by Maldor. Jason felt honored and relieved to be back in his presence.

“Did I hear Nedwin?” Galloran rasped with his damaged voice.

“And Lord Jason,” Nedwin said.

The king’s mouth spread into a wide grin, forming deep creases in the whiskerless skin around his eyes and cheeks. “Is that so?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Jason said. “Along with two new friends.”

“Wonderful, come inside.” Galloran backed away from the door.

“You may want to first talk with Jason and me in private,” Nedwin suggested. “His friends are anxious to greet Tark.”

“By all means, go find him,” the king grated.

Jason shared a glance with Ferrin. He could sense that the displacer resented Nedwin not wanting him in the room. Vernon closed the door, leaving Jason and Nedwin with Galloran.

Dorsio, a slender man with a shiny scar down the side of his face, sat unobtrusively in one corner. Jason knew that Dorsio, unable to speak, communicated with Galloran through touch and a system of snaps and claps.

The underground chamber was more storage room than sitting room, but had a cot, a wooden bench, a table, and a couple of chairs. The rest of the space was taken up by stacked barrels, crates, and sacks. Galloran sat on the cot, motioning for the others to sit on the bench.

“You two are well?” Galloran asked.

“Yes,” they both responded.

“What of Jugard?” Galloran asked.

“I found his corpse,” Nedwin replied. “He was stabbed to death no more than a day before my arrival.” Jason noticed that Nedwin suddenly seemed calmer and more coherent.

Galloran pounded a fist against his palm. “I feared as much. Jason unraveled the deception, and word of the false quest is now spreading, so Maldor is retaliating with violence. Did you have to slip past soldiers to get in here?”

“No,” Nedwin said. “They’ve abandoned Fortaim.”

“Then it was recently,” Galloran said. “They’ve been scouring
the area for the past two days, trying to figure out how we slipped away. The time to act is upon us. Perhaps we can still save some of the other guardians: Trivett, Malar, the Pythoness and …” The king paused, unable to continue.

“Corinne,” Nedwin supplied.

Galloran nodded silently, his chin briefly trembling with emotion. “How could I have forgotten her for so long?” he rasped softly.

“What matters is that you have remembered.”

“You have your memories back?” Jason asked.

“Many of them, thanks to Nedwin.”

“I’ve been giving him small doses of a peculiar variety of snake venom,” Nedwin explained. “Comes from a canopy cobra, a furtive species found high in the trees. I’ve spent the last few years collecting rare specimens from the southern jungle. Too solitary and dangerous a job for most, but perfect for a man with keen senses and a defective personality. The right plant extract or spider poison can fetch a princely sum.”

“The cobra venom is sometimes employed by Maldor to extract information,” Galloran added.

“They used it on me!” Jason said. “Blue and purple snake?”

Nedwin bobbed his head. “That’s the one. I routinely kept some of the more interesting samples I gathered.” He patted the pouches at his belt. “I recalled how the canopy cobras were used inside of Felrook. When I captured one in the jungle, I milked a vial for my own use.”

“Nedwin talks to me about my past while administering doses of varying strengths,” Galloran said. “After the effect of the venom wanes, he reminds me of all we discussed, adding details that he personally recalls. In a matter of weeks, most of my mental barriers have been torn down.”

“You mentioned Corinne,” Jason prompted.

“Yes.” Anxiety colored his words. “You must have met her.”

“I did,” Jason said. “I can’t remember her directly. The weird round mushrooms in her tree blocked our memories. But she was alive. The Pythoness was Corinne’s mother, right?”

“The Pythoness was her great-aunt,” Galloran said. “Inside the tree, she raised Corinne as her own. Outside of the tree, Corinne understood the reality of the relationship.”

“We promised Corinne we’d return if we found the Word.”

“It may be too late,” Galloran said, striving to sound detached. “Jugard’s death proves that Maldor is moving against the syllable guardians. Thanks to protective spells woven into their sanctuaries, the emperor can’t use magic against them, nor can he send wizardborn races like displacers or manglers. But I’m not sure much besides secrecy ever guarded them from simple human assassins. The thought of Maldor sending troops to harm her …” Veins stood out on the back of his fists.

“It sounds like you know Corinne well,” Jason said, trying to fill the silence.

“She is my daughter,” Galloran answered, his voice hollow. “My last living child.”

“What?” Jason exclaimed.

“Maldor went to great lengths to target the royal family of Trensicourt. He slew my brothers, my son, my wife. In her youth, I hid Corinne with her great-aunt for her protection. After all these years, that decision may have fatally exposed her.”

“We’ll rescue her,” Nedwin vowed. “We’ll hurriedly recover all the remaining guardians.”

“We needn’t fret for the Prophetess of Mianamon,” Galloran said. “She has enough protection until Maldor triumphs in the east. And I do not expect Maldor would target the loremaster Bridonus, given his attitude and connections.”

“He’s Copernum’s father,” Jason remembered.