A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [103]
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?”
They went inside together.
“You know I became chancellor?”
“News of that sort travels on wings.”
“Do you know Copernum tried to kill me?” Jason asked.
“No. You’re ahead of that news. I wish I could pretend to be surprised. Now the same man has tried to kill each of us and failed. I guess that seals our friendship.”
“Copernum ordered your execution?”
“Who else? I stole his cousin’s fiancée, then killed his cousin in a duel. To clarify, the cousin insisted on the duel, and I fought fair. You hungry?”
Jason nodded. “What happened to the girl?”
“She found out I was a displacer.” Ferrin flagged down a barmaid and ordered food.
Jason got out two