A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [113]
Rachel situated the head as it had been before.
“We have overlooked introductions,” the head said. “I am Malar.”
“I am Lady Rachel of Caberton.”
The white eyebrows went up. “Caberton. A handsome estate.”
Rachel shook her head. “Not anymore. Galloran gave my friend and me the title, but I have heard the estate has fallen into disrepair.”
“A shame. In my day it was one of the finest. Times change when you are shut away in a cavern. This friend is male?”
“Yes?’
“And he let you brave the lake?”
“I insisted,” Rachel said. “I’m a runner.”
“You have spirit. He’s a lucky man.”
“We’re not . . . We’re just friends.”
“I assume you desire knowledge of the Word.”
“Yes, please.”
“The fifth syllable is ‘dra.’ Have you visited the sea cave?”
“I have.”
“What syllables do you lack?”
“The second and the sixth.”
“You are doing well. The sixth is in the keeping of the Pythoness, in the heart of the Sunken Lands, north and east of here. The second lies very far to the southeast, in the Temple of Mianamon. I would not know where the second lay, were it not for Galloran. He is the only person I know to have ever found it.”
Rachel sat down. She felt relieved to have a path again. Now she could put a name to the locations of the missing syllables! And they had two thirds of the Word! Maybe Ferrin would know about the Temple of Mianamon.
“You say you served Maldor, as did that other displacer, Salzared. Do many displacers serve him?”
The head chuckled. “Have you been in a cave yourself? They all do, by covenant. We are his spies.”
Chills tingled up Rachel’s back. “All of them? Are you sure?”
“To my knowledge only Salzared and I have ever betrayed him. Our race was created by Maldor’s old master, Zokar. Things may have changed outside, but certainly not that much.”
Rachel put a hand over her mouth. “We’re traveling with a displacer.”
Malar grimaced. “How did you not know any better? Are you a Beyonder?”
Rachel nodded.
Malar looked surprised at the nod, as if his question had been intended as a rhetorical expression. “Well, that explains it. Is it just you three traveling together?”
“It is.”
“How did you fall into company with this limb dropper?” He spat the title as an expression of contempt.
“His head was dangling in a bag at a crossroads. His body was buried nearby. He said he had been robbed.”
Malar looked downward, as if ashamed to be a displacer himself. “A predictable setup, playing off your ignorance. Has he been with you long?”
“A good while.”
“He has been a faithful companion?”
“He feels like our only real friend.”
“Then he is an observer,” Malar said. “Confront him, and he should leave without violence, unless times have drastically changed.”
“When should I confront him?”
“Immediately. Every move you have made with him in your company has been or will be reported to Maldor. Every strength you have, every weakness, every asset, every plan. And there will be other minions of Maldor nearby, ready to strike. After you break company with him, get away fast.”
“This is a nightmare,” Rachel said.
“Life gets no more difficult than when a person opposes Maldor. Believe me, I know.”
“Do you mind if I take a drink?”
“Help yourself. You must be parched after the run across Whitelake.”
Rachel bent over at the edge of the pool and began gulping down the water. It tasted strongly of minerals and was so cold it made her teeth ache. Despite the raging thirst the first sips awakened, she had to pull back several times because it was so frigid.
“How does the water stay so cold?”
“Magic.”
Rachel stared.
“I’m not jesting. A stone that emits perpetual cold lies at the bottom. It prevents this room from becoming a furnace. Some old wizard designed this sanctuary.”
“I have another question. Do you know how I can return to the Beyond?”
Malar scrunched his brow. “There I cannot help you. It is said that long ago there were more gateways to the Beyond than now exist. I myself know of none. There was a rumor in my day that Maldor guarded a secret involving such