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Authors: Brandon Mull
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die, the eyes will lose their cross-dimensional connection and become the sole property of Galloran. They should remain healthy and serviceable. Displacers have been hunted and killed so a person could become the sole owner of a grafting. It makes our kind think twice before we share a body part.”
“That’s good to know,” Jason said. “I was kind of worried about him.”
“There are plenty of reasons to worry about Galloran,” Ferrin replied. “Rotten eyeballs is not one of them.”
“Thanks for the info.” Jason realized that this might be the last time he spoke to Ferrin in private before parting ways. “Take care of yourself.”
“I always do.” Ferrin placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Jason, I wasn’t joking that I’m betting on you. I’m wagering everything. This will be tough all around. Find a way to get your part done. I believe in you.”
Jason swallowed. He didn’t want to ask the question, but he couldn’t resist. “Why?”
“Excuse me?”
Jason looked away, toward the carved wall of the building.“Nothing. I’ve just been stressing out lately. I don’t get why the oracle would count on me so much.”
Ferrin nodded reflectively. “I’m glad you feel that way.”
“What do you mean?”
“The odds are against you. You’d be a fool if you went into this feeling overconfident.”
“So why would you bet on me?”
Ferrin looked at Jason shrewdly. “For my part in this to succeed, your part must succeed. The odds are against us, but even if the chance is minuscule, we still have one. You’ve accomplished some amazing things. You’ve performed well under pressure. You’ve shown conviction and integrity. Maybe it’s not realistic, but it’s bold, and necessary, so I’m willing to believe you can pull this off.”
“Okay,” Jason managed, his throat thick with emotion. “I’ll believe in you, too.”
CHAPTER 2
MIANAMON
F rom his perch hundreds of feet above the temple floor, Jason watched a pair of apes circle each other, quarterstaves held ready. The simian combatants stepped gingerly, slender torsos hunched, long limbs coiled. The taller of the white gibbons stood roughly the same height as Jason. Screeching and hooting, they rushed together, elongated forms wielding the staffs with fluid agility. Many other apes watched the duel, close-set eyes fixed on the fiercely clacking rods.
The white gibbons had been engineered by Certius, the ill-fated wizard who had made his home in the southern jungles of Lyrian. Although the gibbons lacked the power of speech, they had surprising intelligence, and communicated with humans using hand gestures.
Iron lattices covered many of the higher walls and ceilings within the Temple of Mianamon. The gibbons could travel across the framework with careless grace, leaping and swinging, dangling from hands or feet, heedless of the potential fall. They mostly resided on lofty shelves near the summit of the temple. Jason had made it up here using a cramped system of tunnels, stairways, and ladders.
Observing the apes was one of his favorite pastimes at Mianamon. He had taught them to hold batting practice using quarterstaves and citrus fruit. He could seldom get an ape to strike out. Changeups worked best.
Today the brawling apes failed to distract Jason. Rods cracked, gibbons hooted, but he watched from a distance, alone, his mind far from the playful sparring. After several months, this would be his last day at Mianamon. Within hours he would part with Rachel and Galloran and many of his other friends. Their season of rest and preparation had been shattered when Rachel was ambushed last night. With little warning, suddenly they had to leave.
Jason watched the skillful apes without any pleasure at all. So why was he here? Had he thought the apes might hold solutions to his troubles? Of course not. Then what was he doing? Sulking? Hiding?
Jason had spent more days at this tropical temple than the rest of
“That’s good to know,” Jason said. “I was kind of worried about him.”
“There are plenty of reasons to worry about Galloran,” Ferrin replied. “Rotten eyeballs is not one of them.”
“Thanks for the info.” Jason realized that this might be the last time he spoke to Ferrin in private before parting ways. “Take care of yourself.”
“I always do.” Ferrin placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Jason, I wasn’t joking that I’m betting on you. I’m wagering everything. This will be tough all around. Find a way to get your part done. I believe in you.”
Jason swallowed. He didn’t want to ask the question, but he couldn’t resist. “Why?”
“Excuse me?”
Jason looked away, toward the carved wall of the building.“Nothing. I’ve just been stressing out lately. I don’t get why the oracle would count on me so much.”
Ferrin nodded reflectively. “I’m glad you feel that way.”
“What do you mean?”
“The odds are against you. You’d be a fool if you went into this feeling overconfident.”
“So why would you bet on me?”
Ferrin looked at Jason shrewdly. “For my part in this to succeed, your part must succeed. The odds are against us, but even if the chance is minuscule, we still have one. You’ve accomplished some amazing things. You’ve performed well under pressure. You’ve shown conviction and integrity. Maybe it’s not realistic, but it’s bold, and necessary, so I’m willing to believe you can pull this off.”
“Okay,” Jason managed, his throat thick with emotion. “I’ll believe in you, too.”
CHAPTER 2
MIANAMON
F rom his perch hundreds of feet above the temple floor, Jason watched a pair of apes circle each other, quarterstaves held ready. The simian combatants stepped gingerly, slender torsos hunched, long limbs coiled. The taller of the white gibbons stood roughly the same height as Jason. Screeching and hooting, they rushed together, elongated forms wielding the staffs with fluid agility. Many other apes watched the duel, close-set eyes fixed on the fiercely clacking rods.
The white gibbons had been engineered by Certius, the ill-fated wizard who had made his home in the southern jungles of Lyrian. Although the gibbons lacked the power of speech, they had surprising intelligence, and communicated with humans using hand gestures.
Iron lattices covered many of the higher walls and ceilings within the Temple of Mianamon. The gibbons could travel across the framework with careless grace, leaping and swinging, dangling from hands or feet, heedless of the potential fall. They mostly resided on lofty shelves near the summit of the temple. Jason had made it up here using a cramped system of tunnels, stairways, and ladders.
Observing the apes was one of his favorite pastimes at Mianamon. He had taught them to hold batting practice using quarterstaves and citrus fruit. He could seldom get an ape to strike out. Changeups worked best.
Today the brawling apes failed to distract Jason. Rods cracked, gibbons hooted, but he watched from a distance, alone, his mind far from the playful sparring. After several months, this would be his last day at Mianamon. Within hours he would part with Rachel and Galloran and many of his other friends. Their season of rest and preparation had been shattered when Rachel was ambushed last night. With little warning, suddenly they had to leave.
Jason watched the skillful apes without any pleasure at all. So why was he here? Had he thought the apes might hold solutions to his troubles? Of course not. Then what was he doing? Sulking? Hiding?
Jason had spent more days at this tropical temple than the rest of
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