A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [27]
“Pssst, hey, you, longshanks, step over here.”
The harsh whisper came from a stand of low trees to his left, making Jason jump and turn.
“Be quick about it,” the voice urged. Near the base of a tree, obscured by brush, squatted a disheveled man in layers of dark, filth-stained clothing. He wore fingerless gloves of gray yarn. A shapeless black hat sat on his head like a deflated basketball. His furtive face bristled with whiskers. “Come down here out of sight.”
“Are you trying to rob me?”
“I’m harmless. Be quick.”
Jason complied, descending the shoulder of the lane to stand above the stranger within the cover of the trees and undergrowth. “What do you want?”
“I know this community,” the man said. “You’re an outsider. What brings you this way?”
“I’m looking for the Blind King,” Jason said.
The man squinted up at him skeptically. “I suggest you move along. There’s barely enough pickings around here for one man to quietly skim the cream. Two would starve.”
“I’m not here to beg,” Jason said.
“Beg?” the man spluttered, obviously offended. “I’m no beggar! I live by my wits! And I don’t need interlopers stirring up the henhouse.”
“Why are you hiding here?”
“I’m taking measure of the situation,” he said. “Franny’s been baking. Mind crouching a little? Good lad. Name’s Aster.” He held out a hand. Jason shook it, certain the courtesy was transmitting fleas.
“I’m Jason. I’m not here to cause trouble for anyone. Once I find the Blind King, I’m sure I’ll head elsewhere. I’ve got plenty of my own problems.”
Aster gave a curt nod. “I believe you.”
“You’re going to steal from that house?”
Aster’s face split into a wicked grin. “More than likely. Not enough to do the owner any harm, mind you. Just pinch a pie or two.”
“Do you travel much?” Jason asked.
“Don’t have much use for it. Travel involves uncertainty. I found myself some well-fed gulls, so I chiefly stay hereabouts. Live off the surplus. Say, you don’t happen to have a morsel to spare? Not a handout, mind you. I’ll pay you back tenfold in meat pie if you’ll wait around for an hour or so. It’s just that all this waiting has teased my appetite.”
Jason opened his food sack. “I guess I could spare a couple of mushrooms.”
The vagrant pulled a disgusted face. “You must be in a worse fix than I am, if you’ve resorted to dining on fungus. And I honestly have no idea what to make of your outfit. But you strike me as a companionable fellow. Tell you what—sit with me a spell and I’ll snatch us a hearty meal. Assuming you’ll move along afterward.”
The reek of the man alone was sufficient deterrent. “Thank you for your generosity, but I’d better keep moving. I actually meant to knock on the door to that cottage and ask directions.”
The vagrant suddenly looked alarmed. “You won’t seek to spoil my raid, right, friend? I’ve been counting on this meal.”
Jason wondered if the man could be dangerous. “I’ll do my best to repay your friendliness,” he replied ambiguously.
“Fair enough,” Aster said. “Try not to cause a stir. Give my regards to the Blind King.”
Jason returned to the lane, glad for the fresh air, and strolled to a sky-blue gate in the low green fence. “Hello?” he shouted. “Anybody home?”
A moment later the front door opened, and an obese woman with a bright scarf tied round her head leaned out, a cheery smile spreading her cheeks. Her smoothly bloated features gave her face an ageless quality. The smile disappeared when she saw Jason. “What business have you here?”
“I’m just passing through the area,” Jason said amiably.
“This town has no use for drifters,” the woman warned, scowling. “Keep on walking.”
Jason looked around. He saw no town. Her home must be on the outskirts. “I’m wondering if you can direct me to the Blind King?”
Her scowl deepened. “Are you one of his misfits? You ought to know where to find him.”
“I’ve never