A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [130]
“Is the Pythoness dangerous?” Jason asked.
“The question is how dangerous,” Jasher replied. “I’m not certain. But she holds the syllable, and she should help you if you can convince her of your sincerity.”
The long, narrow island widened around the tree. As Jason trudged closer to the towering tree, he observed several black mud vipers lying on the shore to his left. Rachel took his hand, her grip cutting off the circulation to his fingers. They watched the snakes carefully until they’d passed well beyond them.
At the base of the gargantuan tree Jason noticed clusters of spherical fungi, each with a small perforation in the top. Up close he marveled at the sheer girth of the trunk. He estimated it would take thirty men joining hands to encircle it. Maybe more.
They did not see an opening to the tree yet, so they began walking around to the far side. The damp ground was firmer here than anyplace else he had seen in the swamp.
Jason rubbed at his eyes. They felt itchy and drowsy all of a sudden. For a moment he paused. What was he doing? Oh, yes, looking for a way into the tree. He kept walking around and on the far side located a narrow gap tall enough for him to enter without crouching.
“You wait here,” Jason whispered to Rachel. “I’ll call if I need you.”
“If snakes or frogs show up, I’m not waiting,” she whispered back. “Be careful.”
She backed away a few steps from the yawning gap.
Jason hesitated. Anything could await inside. He took his poniard from his sodden cloak. Why was his cloak so wet? He couldn’t recall. He knew he needed to get inside the tree though. Why? For shelter? No. He needed more of the Word. He slapped his cheek and shook his head.
Cautiously he edged into the gap, continuing forward as the woody passage curved deeper into the colossal tree.
CHAPTER 19
PYTHONESS
By the time Jason emerged from the long gap into the sizable hollow inside the tree, he felt utterly baffled. A lovely young girl in her teens sat staring at him in astonishment from a wooden rocking chair. A colorful throw rug lay on the ground, and two bookshelves loaded with literature stood against one wall. Light shone from a small crystal resting on a shelf.
Jason looked up. The hollow reached high, disappearing in shadow. Why was he inside a tree? And why was he holding a knife? Hurriedly he put it away.
“Who are you, visitor?” she asked, rising, her kind voice containing an undercurrent of apprehension.
“I . . . I’m . . . not sure.”
She smiled. Her clothes were simple, but her fresh young beauty was entirely disarming. She was tall, with a slender build and a beautifully sculpted face. Her blond eyebrows arched delicately over striking eyes of the deepest green. Her skin was unblemished and fair. “You do not remember,” she said.
Jason scowled, rubbing his forehead. He had a persistent suspicion that he was somebody. The answer felt barely out of reach. He looked at his muddy boots, wondering if they held some clue. His clothes were wet. Something stank like rancid dung. Some investigative sniffing revealed it was himself. He tried to picture his own face but failed. “I really don’t.”
“No matter,” the young woman said lightly. “I am Corinne.”
“Sorry about my smell. I don’t know why I reek like this.”
“No need to apologize.”
“Where am I?”
“Inside a tree,” she said.
Jason gazed at the beauty of his hostess, trying to restrain his eyes from lingering impolitely. “Why am I here?”
“Judging by the knife you hid, you are probably seeking the Word. I recognize the emblem on the hilt.”
Jason pulled out his knife and showed it to her. “Sorry about that. I’m not sure what I was thinking. What word are you talking about?”
“A word that can destroy an evil person. You probably can’t remember.”
Jason pinched his lower lip, squinting at the ground, trying to will memories to surface. What was his problem?
“You look distressed,” she said.
Jason looked up. “It’s frustrating. I’m almost positive that I’m somebody. But I can’t remember a thing. Do I have amnesia? Should