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Jason got the impression Maldor was very interested in this response.

“I read the book because I was curious. I knew it was forbidden, but I was hoping it might contain information about how to get home. Anyway, I read it, then met up with Galloran, who explained that my best chance to stay alive was to pursue the Word like the book said.”

“I believe you,” Maldor said. “Your tale fits the evidence, and I have a knack for spotting lies. Because your involvement against me was the result of unfortunate luck, I may show you mercy. But first tell me how you came to possess the second syllable. I know you never went near the Temple of Mianamon.”

Jason considered the request. Kimp was dead, so he was no longer protecting a valuable secret. Unless Maldor would exact revenge on Galloran for placing the tattoo. That was a huge breach of his rules and would probably get the Blind King in trouble.

“I can’t tell you. But honestly, nobody could ever discover the second syllable the way I got it.”

Maldor considered him for a long time. “Again I believe you. And I can interpret much from your answer. Galloran must have disregarded my rules. I will learn more of this later.” He began pacing back and forth before the chair.

“What now?”

Maldor stopped pacing and grinned. “Only men in your unfortunate situation are permitted to sit while I stand.”

Jason stared in silence.

“I have a fondness for Beyonders,” Maldor said. “I formally invite you to serve me. There is much I can offer. I will exalt you above the petty squabbles that trouble my lesser servants. You have proven you deserve to live beyond such nonsense. Using the secrets that extend my health and youth, I can prolong your mortal life to many times its normal duration. We will work together directly, until I find the best way to employ your talents. You will have to work hard, but will also enjoy many rewards. And you will retain a measure of freedom. You will be released immediately, and I will forgive all of your friends for any crimes involving you.”

Jason contemplated the trust Galloran had placed in him. He thought of Jasher sacrificing his life and Drake risking his final life at the gong. He pictured Tark and Rachel riding desperately to escape Maldor’s soldiers. He saw Tristan being ravaged by a pack of dogs. He remembered Norval infected by a poisoned knife. He imagined Aster the hobo being mutilated by manglers. He considered the arrogant, spiteful evil of men like Copernum and Conrad, along with the spinelessness of Dolan. He remembered the deceit Ferrin had employed. And now the man who rewarded evil people and punished good ones wanted Jason to serve him.

“What will happen when I refuse to serve you?” Jason asked.

“You will be turned over to my tormentors, to begin your reconditioning. Believe me, you cannot imagine the exquisite suffering they elicit. They have terrible methods involving magic and toxins along with a wide array of more traditional discomforts. You will languish for years under mind-rending tortures that will eventually decimate your very identity.”

“My identity would be more decimated if I joined you.”

“Well spoken, however unwise the sentiment. You are determined not to serve me, even at the cost of unspeakable torture?”

Easy to act brave now, Jason thought, before the consequences of this decision came to fruition. Would this private moment of valor be worth long years of unguessable torment? But how could he pledge himself to Maldor? How could he let displacers graft eyes and ears to him, to ensure he would live out his days doing evil?

He recalled Galloran stating that being a hero meant doing what was right regardless of the consequences. The thought sent a thrill through him. Galloran had been in this same situation and had made the right choice. Jason felt less alone. Maldor had claimed that his opponents had no heroes among them. But Galloran was proof to the contrary. And Jason would be evidence as well.

Jason took a deep breath. “I will not serve you,” he said. “Your