Seeds of Rebellion

by Brandon Mull

  “But some people visit the Temple of Mianamon,” Jason said. “Galloran went there.”

  Ferrin nodded. “Formerly, many pilgrims went to Mianamon for advice from the oracles. A wide, stone road cut through the jungle, and the inhabitants of Mianamon welcomed visitors. The Last Inn thrived in those days.

  “After the war with Zokar, none went to Mianamon for years. Word had it that the oracles had dwindled in number and in power. The jungle reclaimed the road. Only a few intrepid explorers, like Galloran, have ventured there since. The Last Inn became a curiosity mostly frequented by locals rather than the gateway to a mysterious society.”

  “Well, you’ll finally get to see the jungle,” Jason said.

  Ferrin rolled his eyes. “If I stick with you, there won’t be a deadly destination in Lyrian without my footprints.”

  By sunrise, Corinne was able to walk. Raz kept them moving at a brisk pace. To amuse himself, Jason invented a game called Will Nia Eat It? The answer to the question was typically yes. She generally said no only to stone and metal. Mud, bugs, rags, leaves, rope, leather, dead mice, pinecones, hair, and thorny stems were all proven edible.

  The Last Inn came into sight just after sundown, situated by a crossroads outside the palisade of a modest village. Portions of the sprawling inn reached five stories tall. Built of wood and stone, the huge structure featured endless gables and turrets, united by swooping sections of roof that came together at unusual angles. Plentiful balconies and rooftop terraces added layers to the rambling inn, and a variety of chimney pots, cupolas, and weather vanes provided character. Large stables adjoined one side of the building, next to a working smithy.

  “Looks like you could fit more people in the inn than the village,” Corinne said in wonder.

  “Once, you certainly could,” Farfalee said. “Now much of the inn is permanently vacant. The Last Inn has been owned by the same family for generations. During the good years, they put much of their income toward adding to it.”

  They entered the common room through a great set of double doors. The cavernous space was three stories high, with thick rafters and an assortment of magnificent trophy heads on the walls. Fires blazed in multiple hearths. Dozens of patrons sat at long tables, dining on a variety of fragrant foods, yet the room was barely filled to a quarter of its capacity. A long marble bar against one wall blocked access to the two largest mirrors Jason had ever seen, set inside elaborate frames. A thin man in the corner sawed at his fiddle, to the approval of those seated nearby.

  Jason smiled. Despite the exaggerated size, the room felt warm and lively, and the prospect of hot food boosted his spirits. Several curious heads turned as the delegation entered, and a stout woman in a frilly white cap approached hurriedly, wiping her hands on her apron.

  “Welcome, travelers,” she gushed. “I’m Angela; call me Angie. I don’t believe I’ve seen many of these faces before! Welcome, leave your cares at the door, and come inside for food and drink! Do you have horses?”

  “No horses,” Nedwin said. “We were told to ask for Clayton.”

  Her face fell. “Clayton, the owner, of course. I’m sorry you missed him. He rarely ventures abroad, but he is gone for the next several days. Many apologies if you are friends of his.”

  “You have rooms?” Farfalee asked.

  “Rooms? We have more rooms than we know what to do with!”

  “We’d like to stay together,” Nedwin said.

  “Easily arranged,” she replied cheerily.

  “Has anyone asked after a group from the north,” Farfalee wondered. “Perhaps a blind traveler?”

  Angie scowled and placed her hands on her hips. “Travelers we still get, but no blind ones of late. From the north, you say? I’ll keep vigilant.”

  Jason let his attention wander from the conversation as Farfalee and Nedwin discussed the arrangements. They had brought plenty of money from the Seven Vales, so cost would not be an issue. They had planned to be ready to completely outfit themselves here if necessary before heading into the jungle.

  “Big inn,” Rachel commented beside Jason.

  “Congratulations,” he replied. “You just won the understatement award.”

  “Think about it from the outside,” Rachel said. “It covers more ground than a city block.”

  He leaned close to her. “I hope they use a lot of chlorine in the pool. Have you looked around? Some of these other customers don’t look very sanitary.”

  She swatted him with the back of her hand. “It’s just nice to see people. Normal people having a good time.”

  “You’ll take that over dead people trying to eat us?”

  “Just this once.”

  The delegation sat together along opposing benches at a long table. A parade of toasty, wholesome food kept them busy. Nothing seemed particularly fancy, but everything tasted hearty and good. Tark saluted Jason with a dark hunk of bread slathered with melting butter. Even Corinne managed to eat with enthusiasm.

  The weight of the meal magnified Jason’s weariness exponentially. He could hardly drag himself up the stairs with the others when the time came. He ended up sharing a room with Nedwin and Ferrin, and hastily claimed one of the three cots by flopping down unceremoniously.

  The room was a bit cramped, but clean and solid, with a single window looking out at a slanted section of roof. The simple cot felt heavenly after days of sleeping on the ground or huddled on the creaking boards of a longboat. Stomach full, muscles weary, he contentedly settled in for a delicious slumber. He felt truly happy and comfortable for the first time in weeks.

  In retrospect, he probably should have guessed it was a trap.

  The soldiers burst into his room at dawn. Jason barely had time to awaken before he was flung to the floor beside Ferrin. He felt cheated of any opportunity to react as the sole of a boot pressed his head against the floorboards and a heavy knee weighed on his back. Within moments, biting cords bound his wrists together.

  As Jason staggered to his feet with help from a conscriptor, he noticed that Nedwin was gone. The cot beside the window had no bedding on it. He deliberately avoided staring at the inexplicably empty cot. While other soldiers continued to bind Ferrin, the conscriptor brusquely steered Jason out into the hallway, where other soldiers awaited.

  Two doors down, Raz burst from a room, the spike at the end of his arm buried in a soldier. Other soldiers mobbed the scarred warrior. With swift, lethal movements, Raz slashed open another soldier, and a third, before succumbing to multiple stab wounds. The soldiers brutally made sure that Raz would never rise again.

  “Move,” the conscriptor growled at Jason, tugging him toward the stairs. Kerick lay on his side in the hall, body pierced by arrows, an empty socket gaping at the base of his skull. Jason stumbled along on numb feet, shocked to see other members of the delegation being escorted from their rooms, hands bound behind their backs. Nollin. Tark. Tiny Aram. Had the soldiers moved in before daybreak, they would have had a much different Aram to deal with. Perhaps they had known that.

  The conscriptor manhandled Jason down the stairs to the huge common room, which stood empty now except for uniformed soldiers. Dozens of them. Too many.

  Jason knelt between Nollin and Drake. He watched Corinne being led down the stairs, then Io, then Farfalee. Rachel entered the room gagged. Ferrin had to be carried because he had been bound inside of a sack that covered all but his head.

  Jason tried to make sense of Nedwin’s absence. Why was his bedding gone? Had he slipped out much earlier? Did he get away, or had he been the traitor?

  After the entire delegation—minus Kerick, Nedwin, and Raz—had been assembled on the common room floor, kneeling in two rows, Duke Conrad entered the room. Jason felt an instant jolt of recognition and surprise. He looked much like Jason remembered him from Harthenham, except his prominent nose had clearly been reset imperfectly after Jason had broken it, and he was perhaps a tad leaner. Otherwise his skin was deeply tanned, his posture erect, his hair slick
ed back, his princely uniform impeccable, boots polished, medals gleaming. He wore a controlled expression of bemused disdain, as if this moment had been inevitable, and he was quietly pleased to watch his enemies arriving at that realization.

  “This did not prove half so troublesome as I had been led to believe,” he finally said, pacing before his prisoners. “You have led many others on a merry chase across the continent. While some asked where you were, and others wondered where you would be next, I stopped and asked myself where you would ultimately go. And I went there. And I waited.” He grinned, showing his teeth. “And here we are.”

  “And you can release me at once,” Ferrin said.

  “Can I?” Conrad asked politely. “I understood that you were wanted along with the rest.”

  “It’s what I do,” Ferrin responded tiredly. “I infiltrate the enemy. You know that. This interrupts the operation for me. Ideally I would have prolonged the arrangement until after Mianamon, but perhaps this is for the best. They have been creating quite a stir.”

  “You have been spying all along,” Conrad said, unconvinced. “The manhunt for you was a ruse.”

  “Check with the emperor,” Ferrin replied coolly.

  For the first time in a while, Jason doubted Ferrin. He suddenly examined the displacer through new eyes. Could Ferrin be trying to fool Conrad? Or had Ferrin expertly fooled the rest of them all along? A lie twice believed is self-deceived. The thought stirred a smoldering anger deep inside.

  “That will not take long,” said a man in the corner, studiously picking at a fingernail with a small knife. He raised his head, wavy gray hair framing his pallid face. He wore a long coat of brown leather.

  “Torvic!” Ferrin called, the exuberance hollow. “I hadn’t seen you over there. Still in touch directly with Felrook? You know, to come clean, I haven’t brought Maldor in on my plan yet, so it might be of little use to bother him at this juncture.”

  “We’ll be in touch with the emperor soon enough,” Conrad assured him. “Keep talking, traitor, and every word will cost you.” Conrad swept his eyes over the group, then let his gaze linger on Jason.

  “Want to go two out of three?” Jason asked, unable to resist. Conrad’s eyes and jaw hardened at the insolence. The posture of his body suggested he was about to lash out. It was fun to see the words elicit a reaction. “There has to be a billiard table somewhere in a place this big.”

  “I am no longer a gentleman of rank and title,” Conrad murmured, the soft words laced with hatred. “We common soldiers have different methods for settling grievances.”

  “You were stripped of your office?” Drake asked. “Well, I suppose you did botch the easiest job in the empire. I see the emperor let you keep your medals.”

  Conrad turned slowly to face Drake. “I see a seedman without a seed. A pathetic laughingstock who will suffer enough for all his other lifetimes combined before his fading spark is finally extinguished. I am ecstatic that we have crossed paths again.”

  “But not half so glad as you should be to see Lord Jason,” Drake insisted congenially. “You never got to thank him for sparing your life after he defeated you.”

  Conrad bowed stiffly, a vein throbbing in his forehead, then turned to Jason. “You lured me into an absurd duel, bested me, and spared me. It was no kindness. I lost everything. Through the triumph of this day, I shall regain all I lost, and more. I expected no mercy from you, and you should expect none from me. You and your companions will promptly be delivered to Felrook.”

  “You spared him?” Io blurted incredulously, looking to Jason.

  Conrad regarded Io and Nia with a sneer. “Drinlings should not attract attention. You vermin should be summarily executed. It’s the only way to deal with inhuman pests. But the emperor requested that as many of this party be taken alive as possible, and I have no intention of tarnishing the glory of my victory.”

  “The Amar Kabal will not stand for this,” Nollin warned, no confidence backing his words.

  Conrad shifted his attention to Farfalee and Nollin. “It is the emperor who will not stand for your open involvement against him, in direct defiance of his treaty with your people. Have the two of you considered that you could be prisoners of Felrook forever, lifetime after lifetime, awakening after each death with a fresh body ready for new torments? I have.” He sneered, eyes roving. “Does anyone else wish to speak? The exiled princess of Trensicourt, perhaps? The diminutive giant? The ridiculous little musician?”

  Rachel tried to mumble something through her gag.

  Conrad grinned. “Ah, yes, the Beyonder witch. Do not fear, the emperor is most intrigued with you. He will have many questions.” He snapped his fingers. “But the Beyonder Jason will have the honor of the first private conversation. Torvic?”

  The gray-haired displacer came forward, casually using a cane. A pair of soldiers hauled Jason to his feet and escorted him from the common room, through the quiet kitchen to a small storage area where three wooden chairs awaited. The soldiers departed, leaving Jason alone with Conrad and Torvic.

  “Are you contacting him?” Conrad asked.

  “This may require some time,” Torvic answered, closing his eyes.

  Jason stared at Conrad. “How did you know we would come here?”

  “It might be best for you to keep silent until spoken to,” Conrad murmured.

  “Come on, you got us, it’s over—how’d you know?”

  Conrad narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t know. Not for certain. In truth, I was beginning to doubt my instincts, it took you so long. I had to beg for involvement in the hunt, to atone for my errors. I was tempted to chase you like the others. In the end I merely put myself in your position. To really incite rebellion this late in the war, you would need hope, and authority, and guidance, so sooner or later you would seek the oracle.”

  “You just came here and waited,” Jason said.

  “The inn boasts plenty of space,” Conrad said. “We occupied a rearward wing. I took the innkeeper hostage. Clayton’s family became very cooperative afterward. I brought fifty men. I lost three. Many others with more resources could not match my accomplishment. But I’m a soldier and a hunter. I rose to my former position on merit, as I shall rise again, and continue to rise.”

  “What’s taking Torvic so long?” Jason asked.

  “The emperor is a busy man,” Conrad said dryly. “Torvic has kept me in touch with Felrook. We learned much before Nedwin discovered his ear. It is how I knew to attack at dawn and avoid the half giant. We waited outside your hall all night, poised to strike. You were weary. You rested past sunrise. A lone seedman stood guard in the hall. How we missed Nedwin, I’m not sure. He somehow slipped away. We’re looking; we’ll find him. But he is a small matter compared to the big game we acquired.”

  “I have Maldor,” Torvic said abruptly. “I am his eyes, ears, and mouth. I speak his words. Congratulations, Conrad.”

  “Thank you, sire,” Conrad said, bowing his head.

  “Torvic informed me who you apprehended. Bring them to Felrook and not only will all of your holdings and titles be reinstated, you will select your next assignment.”

  “You are too generous, sire,” Conrad said. “We’ll add troops from the nearest garrison. The prisoners will travel to Felrook with an army as escort.”

  “I am pleased.” Torvic turned to regard Jason. “Lord Jason.”

  “Can you see me?” Jason asked.

  “I can.”

  “How? You’re not a displacer.”

  “No.”

  “But Torvic shares parts with a displacer.”

  “Torvic exchanged an eye and an ear with a displacer called Gobrick. And I can read Gobrick’s mind, borrowing his sight and hearing.” Torvic turned to Conrad. “Leave us.”

  Conrad exited the room.

  “You were a fool to return,” Maldor said through Torvic.

  “Return?” Jason asked as if confused.

  “I know you made it home to the Beyond,” Ma
ldor said. “I know Ferrin aided you. There is nothing for you here. You were free.”

  “I left somebody behind.”

  “Rachel. You have character, Jason. Tell me about her abilities.”

  Jason scrunched his eyebrows. “Let’s see. She has heat vision and super speed and bulletproof skin and ESP and a lasso that makes you tell the truth and—”

  “Do you really believe this is a wise time for flippancy? If you do not value your own welfare, consider your companions. I have little interest in many of them.”

  “Sorry,” Jason said, fear for his friends making his stomach drop.

  “I am not going to extend another offer for you to join me.”

  “Then why are we talking?”

  “Mostly I wanted to see your face. You have been elusive. I wanted to be sure. Also, I thought you might be interested to know that Galloran has finally knelt to me. He is now my creature. With your capture, the rebellion is officially over.”

  Jason scowled. Galloran had knelt to Maldor? What did that mean exactly?

  “Alas, we will not speak again,” Maldor went on. “I am much more interested in Rachel. Congratulations on causing me more trouble than I expected. Unfortunately, your return to Lyrian was inevitably a return to my dungeons. So much for high ideals. So much for character. You may depart. Tell Conrad to fetch the girl.”

  CHAPTER 26

  FOREIGN EYES

  Conrad sat Rachel down across from Torvic and remained beside her. Rachel disliked the close confines of the cluttered little storeroom.

  “Rachel,” Maldor said through Torvic with a fatherly smile. “I have longed to meet you. I wish we could speak in person, but all in due time. Please trust that I can see you clearly and hear every word. I understand through my agents that you possess some talent with Edomic. If we remove the gag, we will trust you to hold a civilized conversation. Should you betray that trust, three of your comrades will immediately perish. Do you understand?”