by Brandon Mull
“I’m no hero,” Tark confessed. “I’m sure you know that by now. But I mean well. Hopefully, you saw that too. I fell in with this company by accident. I’m no lord, not by any stretch of the imagination. I’m out of my element.” She kept staring at him. “I also talk too much. At the wrong times, I mean. Should I go?”
“You are wrong,” the oracle chided.
“No surprise there,” Tark replied.
She stared.
“Wrong for this mission?”
“Wrong about your worth. Wrong about your role in the coming conflict.”
Tark avoided her eyes. “Begging your pardon, I don’t expect to have much of a role to play at all.”
Her smile crinkled her wrinkles. “And you’re wrong.”
Tark cleared his throat uncomfortably. Unsure what to do with his hands, he gripped the sides of the plush stool. “What should I do?”
“The details evade me,” the oracle explained. “I’ve glimpsed a few things. I feel that victory remains possible. Elusive and unlikely, but still available. Intuition can mislead, Tark, but there are certain instincts I have learned to trust, and those instincts insist you will have a key role to play. I doubt there can be victory without you.”
Tark chuckled with embarrassment. “I’ll serve Lord Jason as best I can, Your Grace.”
“You’re a better man than you are ready to believe. You did not kill your friends.”
Tark shifted on the stool. “I suppose not. Still, Your Grace, a man doesn’t get many chances to learn what he’s made of. I told my friends I would go off the falls with them. Then I escaped the raft when the opportunity came. I know now that Lord Jason was trying to save us. But I didn’t know that at the time. All I knew was that I didn’t want to head over those falls.”
The oracle nodded.
“I tried to make up for it by fighting Maldor. Lord Jason helped me recognize that alternative. Then an invitation came. A summons to the Eternal Feast. I quit. Turned my back on my ideals. And again Lord Jason came for me.”
The oracle motioned for him to continue.
“When we broke out of Harthenham, Lord Jason got left behind. Not by design. Everything happened so quickly. I knew I should go back for him. But I had the seed. Jasher’s amar. And it was an excuse. I was secretly glad for that seed, Your Grace, because it let me run away. Take my meaning?”
“I do.”
“I’ve shown courage a time or two,” Tark said, eyes distant. “I’m not a complete craven. But I’m afraid that when it matters most, I don’t quite measure up.”
“I sent your friends off that waterfall,” the oracle said.
“I know,” Tark muttered. “You were right. We needed Jason. Our world, I mean. We need him.”
“And we need you, Tark,” the oracle said. “I’m not trying to console you. I’m not that nurturing. We all wrestle with doubts. Show me a man ready to walk glibly to his death and I will show you a fool who undervalues his life. You are no longer the same man who jumped off the raft. You cannot afford to be that man. Your comrades need you. Lyrian needs you.”
“What must I do?”
“I expect you will know when the time comes.”
“I’ll try to do my part, Your Grace.”
“I’m afraid you must, or the cause will be lost.”
* * * * *
Nedwin entered the oracle’s chamber and closed the door. The old woman stared at him expectantly. He heard her breath rattling faintly in her lungs. The room was small, with soft furnishings. It felt intimate. The smell bothered him.
“What am I to do?” Nedwin asked.
“You don’t want to be here.”
“I want to fulfill my duty.”
“Let me see your hand.”
“Is it necessary?”
The oracle nodded. “I must get a clear sense of you.”
“You won’t like it.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not entirely … well.”
“I can tell that from here. Let me have a closer look. I’ve lived a long time. I do not shock easily.”
Nedwin crossed to her and sat on a low, cushioned cylinder. He held out his hand. She took it. Her mouth bent into a frown. Wrinkles bunched around her wispy eyebrows as they lowered into a scowl. She rocked gently from side to side, then dropped his hand as if it were hot. She gazed at him in dismay.
“Warned you,” he said.
“In my long years, I’ve never sensed such suffering.”
“I try not to dwell on it.”
She took deep, cleansing breaths. Each inhalation rattled slightly, like the early onset of lungrot. Her calm returned. “The void left by the eye healed well.”
Nedwin glanced at the puckered scar on his freckled hand. “I have experience with salves.”
“Galloran will need you.”
“It’s why I’m alive.”
She nodded. “You wish to die.”
“Wouldn’t you? Be honest.”
There was pain in her eyes. “You refused to give up until you learned what had become of him.”
“Galloran is my lifeline. I worshipped him as a child. I still do. He deserves it. The thought of him kept me going—keeps me going. I’m … better when he’s near.”
“I wish I could help,” the oracle said earnestly. “What would you like to know?”
“Will I … can I hold myself together? Sometimes I worry.”
“Give me your hand again.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. She gripped his fingers with one hand, his wrist with the other. Sweat beaded on her crinkled brow. Again she released him as if he had burned her. “I don’t know how you’re standing here. Yet you haven’t broken. Notwhere it matters. Having come this far, I’m not sure you can be broken.”
“True, I think. What about the dreams? Anything to be done?”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged for her benefit. “Are we finished?”
“I think so. I admire you, Nedwin.”
“Find what needs to be done, and I’ll do it.”
* * * * *
Are you all right?” Ulani asked, her small hand still on his elbow.
“I have some experience moving about without my sight,” Galloran replied.
“Leave us,” the oracle said.
The delicate fingers slid away from his arm. He heard the door close. “Here we are,” he said.
“Here we are,” she answered. “Follow my voice. No obstacles stand between us except for your seat.”
Galloran closed the distance with swift strides, then slowed until his shins felt the cushioned stool. Using a hand to confirm the position, he sat. “A husband without a wife, a father without a son, a hero without a quest, and a king without a country. Here we sit on the other side of it all. That boy you met years ago had no appreciation for how literal it would be.”
“I speak what I see,” the oracle said. “Not more, not less.”
“Do we still have a chance?”
“I believe so.”
“Are we wishing? Dreaming?”
“I believe enough to trade my remaining years to look deeper.”
Galloran frowned. “This will kill you?”
“If I wish to see enough to be of service, yes. Even so, it might not suffice. Too many variables. I catch confusing glimpses. The least likely outcomes are the hardest to identify.”
“Is success the least likely result?”
“I’m afraid so. I shall know more tomorrow. May I borrow your hand?”
He held his arm out. Her hands found his, her fingers feather soft. “Those eyes!” she exclaimed.
“Necessary evil,” Galloran apologized.
“Interesting. I can feel the owners. They wonder what you’re doing. Their attention is bent on you. They know you’re here in the jungle. They pay close heed to every clue. They are very loyal to Maldor. Extremely committed.”
“Any spark of me in here?”
She released his hand. “You have held up well, in spite of it all. As expected. Nonetheless remarkable.”
“Don’t flatter me, Esmira.”
“Never.”
“Plenty have suffered more.”
“I feel for Nedwin, too.”
Galloran leaned forward. “What about my companions? How can I help them? Where should I center my attention? Who is most important?”
“Which link of a chain is most vital?”
“All of them? Even the displacer?”
“Especially the displacer.”
Galloran sighed. “If we have passed beyond hope, you will tell me.”
“If we have passed beyond hope, I will seek to abort my vision before the toxins consume me. But I do not expect to survive.”
Galloran stood. “You represent our final opportunity, Esmira. Without this vision, we’ll have no allies, no compass.”
“I am aware.”
“I appreciate it. We all appreciate it.”
“While you languished in dungeons, I dined in a tropical paradise. I know my duty. My sight has been the last hope of Lyrian for many years. My fate would be crueler if I could not be of service. Now go. Leave me to my preparations.”
Galloran heard her mentally summon Ulani. He adjusted his blindfold, then smoothed his hands down his robe. “Blind before I could see. You do have a way with words.”
