A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [137]
“Several days east of here,” Jasher said. “Assuming our horses remain where we left them. On foot the journey could take weeks. We’ll have to approach our mounts carefully. If our pursuers found them, it would be an ideal location for an ambush.”
“What can you tell me about the Eternal Feast?” Jason asked.
“Maldor invites his most dangerous adversaries to the Eternal Feast at Harthenham Castle. Duke Conrad presides over the festivities. None who have answered the invitation have ever returned.”
“Is it a trick?” Jason asked. “Are they killed?”
“Supposedly not. At first guests typically send correspondence explaining that they intend to prolong their stay. Inevitably word comes that they have chosen to remain indefinitely.”
“Must be good food,” Jason said.
“I’m sure they don’t make leaving easy,” Jasher said. “Getting in should require little effort. Getting away will be the challenge.”
“Have you been invited?” Rachel asked Jasher.
“Three times.”
“But you never went.”
“I never considered accepting. Nor did Galloran. But now Jason must. Traveling to Mianamon would take months, and it would lead us into the most dangerous and unexplored terrain on the continent.”
“Could you and Rachel come with me?” Jason asked.
“I would if I could,” Jasher said. “My opportunity to accept has passed. The third invitation issued an ultimatum. It was dated, and I let the date lapse. I am the only man I know of against whom Maldor has issued a standing death warrant. He no longer cares to beguile me. I am to be killed at any opportunity. If I joined you, I would be slain on sight.”
“What about your seed?” Rachel asked.
“If he could destroy my amar in secret, Maldor would not hesitate. Otherwise I suppose it would be locked away where it could never be planted.”
Jason rubbed his chin. “So we need to separate,” he said reluctantly.
“What about me?” Rachel asked. “Why can’t I get invited?”
“That could happen,” Jasher said. “It would take time. Jason’s high-profile maneuvers in Trensicourt brought the invitation more swiftly than usual.”
“I know five syllables of the Word,” Rachel said.
“Maldor can’t imagine you know more than four,” Jasher replied. “The clue in the lorevault is something Galloran did on the sly, since the fourth syllable required a voyage to a distant island. The syllables you get in secret, like the one at Harthenham, give you a huge advantage. If Maldor thinks you only have four syllables, he may feel sufficient confidence to enter your presence, giving you the chance we’ve been waiting for.”
“It all depends on getting this last syllable from Kimp,” Jason said.
“We need to act quickly,” Jasher said. “This opportunity could dissolve.”
“I get it,” Rachel said. “There isn’t time to build my reputation enough to get me invited.”
“Hopefully, our separation will be brief,” Jasher said. “Rachel will remain with me. We’ll await you, Jason, outside of the castle. We’ll be there to help, horses ready, when you make your escape. You must keep foremost in your mind the understanding that you are not there for the feast. Forgo all pleasures and diversions. Accept as little hospitality from your hosts as you can. Beware gifts from Maldor. He gives gifts to people much as fishermen offer worms to trout.”
* * *
Five days later, from the cover of a wooded hillside, Jasher, Jason, and Rachel watched a rider clad in scarlet galloping in the distance, his bright cloak flapping like a flag. With Jasher as their guide they had recovered their horses and made their way across the wilderness without incident.
“The Scarlet Riders are Maldor’s couriers,” Jasher explained. “This is one of their regular routes. They carry no arms, and therefore we in the resistance do not harm them.”
“I just flag him down?” Jason asked.
Jasher nodded. “It would be the quickest way to redeem your invitation and access Harthenham Castle. Rachel and I will never stray far from you. But if they ask about me or Rachel, we parted ways three days ago. I’ll keep us hidden.”
Jason nodded. It was now or never. He nudged his mount