A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [91]
Jason’s winnings climbed to nearly three hundred before plummeting. He quit when he was fifty drooma above even, and left with Bartley.
“You fared well tonight,” Bartley blustered. His face was flushed, almost matching his hair. “You won and lost more than some men ever see. As did I. But we both came out ahead of the house, and that is cause for celebration.”
“Thanks for introducing me to the others.”
“I’ll vouch for you at court as well. The last twenty years have been hard on many families. Everyone deserves a second chance. Tell me, who are your parents?”
“They instructed me to confirm nothing to anyone, even you.”
Bartley grunted. “Probably wise. You ever play Knuckles?”
“No.”
Bartley grinned. “The finest card game ever devised! We’ll see whether you can still afford my friendship after tomorrow. Ha! I’m jesting. We’ll set reasonable limits. Good night, Lord Jason.” He shambled off down a hall.
Jason pulled out his key and stopped a servant. “Could you show me to my room?”
“By all means, Lord Caberton.”
At his door Jason tipped the man five drooma, and the servant regarded him in grateful awe. Once again Jason surmised that people in Lyrian must not tip very well.
The spacious room was nicely furnished. A set of doors opened onto a veranda with a wicker table and chairs. Jason crossed to a full-length mirror and examined himself. Days of travel had melted some fat from his frame, leaving his face leaner and more sharply defined. His new attire did look princely, although he imagined his friends from the baseball team would beat him up if they ever saw him dressed this way.
Sitting at his desk, Jason examined the contents of his knapsack. His money bag contained nine gold drooma and twelve silver, along with many new bronze pellets after gambling. More important than money, he had won acceptance at the Upturned Goblet. But how would he find a question to defeat a man such as Copernum?
Closing his eyes, Jason tried to imagine what might baffle the chancellor. Judging from the description Nicholas had given, it would be nearly impossible. Rachel knew lots of riddles, but Jason doubted that would be the best road. He needed trivial details, things a smart man might still miss. But what?
He knew some good trivia from biology class. He knew that the tip of the sternum was called the xiphoid process. He knew that flexing the foot upward was dorsiflexion, and downward was plantar flexion. He knew the cheekbone was called the zygomatic arch.
But who knew if anatomy had been classified the same way here in Lyrian? Who knew if anatomical details had been classified at all? And if they had, a learned man like Chancellor Copernum would probably know them.
He could think of some tough questions. Does a tree make a sound when it falls if nobody is around? How can you prove you exist? What is the meaning of life? The problem was, he not only had to stump Copernum—he had to provide a better answer.
Unsure how to force inspiration, Jason brooded miserably. Despite the late hour his frenzied mind did not feel sleepy.
Four days later Jason sat anxiously in the posh compartment of a sleek black carriage alongside the Viscount Bartley of Wershon, on his way to an audience with the regent. Velvet curtains screened the city from view. He wore an embroidered doublet, breeches that ballooned around his thighs, crimson stockings, and simple black shoes as soft as slippers. In his lap rested an overgrown beret with a crimson plume. He might have suspected the outfit was a joke had Bartley not worn similar attire.
A tailor had come to his room two days ago to measure