A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [162]
“We have one here as well. A lie twice believed is self-deceived.”
“It rhymes. That’ll help me remember.”
“Where in the Beyond are you from? You sound American. California, maybe?”
“Colorado. Do you know how to reach the Beyond?”
“I do.”
“Why not just send me home?”
“I do not reward my enemies unless they serve me.” Maldor smiled and produced a small vial with a crystal stopper. “You have my admiration for resisting my offer. My esteem will bring you no mercy—quite the contrary—but you have it, as did Galloran. All who oppose me must be broken. I trust your convictions will be good company once your conditioning ensues. Adieu.”
Maldor unstopped the vial and held it under Jason’s nostrils. Jason held his breath, refusing to inhale. Even so, the fumes rising from the tiny hole were making him woozy. When he finally inhaled, unconsciousness overcame him abruptly.
CHAPTER 24
PRISONER
Jason awoke on a cold stone floor in a bare cell, wearing only a flimsy cloth. The single door was so thick that when he pounded with his fist, it sounded like he was hitting a wall. High above the door the light of a lantern shone through a barred window. One wall had a mysterious round hole the size of a baseball, at about the height of his waist. The only other things in the room were a small loaf of dark bread, a reeking hole in the floor near a corner, and a shallow depression near another corner where water had pooled.
Jason shivered and rubbed his bare shoulders. He picked up the bread. It felt petrified. He gnawed through the tough crust to the softer inner portion. He began tearing pieces off and cramming them into his mouth. Any bite that included crust took a long time to chew.
The bread was bland with an unpleasant aftertaste, but Jason kept eating until it was gone. He went over and squatted by the puddle. Leaning down, he sniffed the fluid. He touched his tongue to the surface. It tasted relatively clean. After a tentative sip, he began gulping it down.
He sat back and wiped his mouth. There remained enough water in the depression to last a few days, even if some evaporated.
Jason crossed the room to examine the hole in the wall. No light came from it. He could see that it curved away upward. He could not quite fit his hand inside.
He wondered if it allowed his jailers to hear what he was doing.
He put his mouth up to it. “Yeah, I’d like a cheeseburger and fries with a large Coke, easy on the ice.”
No response came.
Could it be a drain? What if it connected to a toilet in a higher cell? Jason backed away.
He paced out the dimensions of his cell. It was a rectangle, seven paces wide, nine paces long. The ceiling was high, maybe fifteen feet. The barred window was well out of reach.
After his brief exploration Jason scavenged for crumbs that had fallen from the bread, collecting them in his palm. Then he sat with his back to the wall, nibbling on them. He wondered when he would get fed again. He wondered if they would bring him water, or if he’d have to just rely on the puddle. He wondered when the torture would begin. Maybe they would just let him sit and stew for a few days. Or weeks. Or years. Or decades.
Jason had been awake perhaps three hours when the snake squirmed out of the hole. It was at least five feet long and had a sleek azure body with dark violet markings.
As the serpent entered the cell, Jason scrambled to his feet. He had been sitting against the wall opposite the hole. The snake curled on the floor beneath the hole.
Jason moved as close as he dared. The head of the snake bulged on the sides, suggesting venomous pouches. A slender ribbon of a tongue