A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [148]
Conrad cleared his throat. “The weapon with which I dispatch you is of little consequence,” he said. “Choose.”
To his mild astonishment Jason had won the argument, leaving him unsure what weapon to select. He knew what he didn’t want. Conrad would hack him into lunch meat with swords or axes or any traditional armaments. What if they wrestled? Jason was bigger. Conrad probably knew moves that would take away the size advantage. Everyone was awaiting a response.
“Billiard balls,” Jason said.
“Billiard balls?”
“Is there an echo in here?”
“I am unfamiliar with the tradition.”
“Among my people it’s a common practice,” Jason invented. “The combatants stand at opposite ends of a billiard table full of balls, then throw the balls at each other until one is dead.”
“How novel,” Conrad sniffed. “Very well. An absurd death for an absurd lordling.”
“Hold on. If I win, will I walk out of here untouched by your henchmen, free to leave with my insult to your honor settled?”
“This castle represents neutral ground,” Duke Conrad said. “Besides, no man may be compelled into a mortal duel twice in the same day.”
“How comforting. Tomorrow at dawn then?”
“At dawn in the billiard room. Count Dershan will serve as my second. Who will serve as yours?”
“I will,” Tark blurted, standing up. “And I will depart with Lord Jason when the conflict is resolved.”
Duke Conrad nodded briskly, eyes narrow. Those around the table sat openmouthed. Jason and Tark walked away together.
At the door, aware that all eyes were still on him, Jason paused to address a servant. “See that my meal is sent to my room.”
“Yes, milord,” the man replied.
“I prefer ‘Your Mightiness.’”
“Yes, Your Mightiness.”
“See to it, then.”
“Why billiard balls?” Tark asked. They stood in the topiary.
Jason shrugged. “Conrad would cut me to ribbons if I fought him with a sword. I can throw balls hard. Hopefully harder and better than he can.” He picked up a stone and chucked it at the hedge shaped like Conrad. It missed.
Tark pretended not to notice.
“Think you could swipe some billiard balls?” Jason asked.
“No problem.”
“Would you wake me up early? I want to have time to prepare.”
The sky was gray when Tark awakened Jason.
Before a big game, Jason often had trouble sleeping. Last night had been his worst such experience. No matter how he tried to calm himself, Jason had felt too wired to sleep. He had paced. He had done push-ups. He had tossed and turned in the huge bed. He doubted he had slept more than an hour when Tark woke him.
Eyes burning, mouth nasty, Jason got up and did several stretching exercises. Then he began pitching billiard balls at folded fur comforters propped against the wall until his arm felt limber. An errant throw shattered an ornate jade vase and sent flowers flying.
Not long afterward a knock came at the door. It was Count Dershan, clad in a dapper uniform.
Jason and Tark followed him downstairs. They brought their belongings so they could leave when the duel was over. They proceeded directly to the billiard room. A crowd of guests and servants stood outside the doors. The crowd parted to let the participants pass.
Jason noticed several people giving him encouraging looks. Was he really about to fight someone to the death? He had no choice! Conrad had forced the issue. The Word was worthless if he remained trapped in Harthenham his whole life. Maldor would never be stopped, and he would never get home.
Once they entered the room, Dershan closed the doors, shutting out the onlookers. Inside, Duke Conrad awaited, medals glinting on his uniform. The onyx billiard table had sixty balls spaced equally across its maroon felt surface.
“We have our witnesses,” Conrad said. In response to a gesture Dershan and Tark took their places against a far wall. “You are more familiar with this form of combat than I am. How do we begin?”
Jason flexed his fingers. He had been thinking about the reality that he might die. Conrad was an athletic man. Luck would play a large role in