A World Without Heroes by Brandon Mull Read Free Book Online Page B

weave my words into worlds. If ever I accomplish that feat, I will sign my name to the tale.”
    Jason surveyed the aisles of books all around him. Books written in another world—many lifetimes worth of stories and insight and philosophy that he would never read. The loremaster replaced his bifocals.
    “I’m hungry,” Jason said.
    “We have nourished the mind,” the loremaster said, patting his midsection. “Why not see to the belly?”
    * * *
    The loremaster served lunch in a room he called the Contemplation Chamber. Giant masks decorated the walls, each a bronze human face, each with one eye squinted shut. Somewhat stained and smudged in places, a detailed mural of thousands of interlocking hands covered the ceiling. Illumination came from a dozen candles in the black iron chandelier and a few oil lamps spaced about the room.
    To Jason’s surprise, the meal was served by the young boy he had met beside the river the night before. When the boy first entered the room, he locked eyes with Jason and subtly shook his head, a pleading expression flashing across his features. Jason took this to mean that the boy did not want their prior association revealed. The loremaster offhandedly introduced the boy as Hermie.
    Jason ate ravenously. A small pile of bitter gray nuts began the meal. The loremaster insisted they were nutritious. Jason washed them down with a cool drink that tasted like diluted berry juice with a hint of honey. The main course was spotted parasol mushrooms, accompanied by a side of dry yellow berries with a flavor like sour candy. The mushrooms were bigger than Jason’s hand. They possessed a tender, fleshy consistency and a salty savor not unlike ham. Jason consumed two of the sizable fungi. Dessert consisted of pie stuffed with purple pulp textured like pumpkin innards. Jason was delighted to find the pie sweet and delicious.
    “This pie is excellent,” Jason said.
    “Yes, there is nothing quite like blue root pie.”
    “I was trying to compare the flavor to something.”
    “It is unique. How would I describe it? A bit like tasting the opposite of peppered venison in mint sauce.”
    “I’ll take your word for it. Why are all these masks winking?” Jason pointed around the room with his fork.
    The loremaster dabbed at his mouth with a frilled purple napkin. “One eye is open to all truth, the other closed to all deception.”
    “That makes more sense than I expected.” Jason reconsidered the bronze faces as symbols of discernment. “Do you mind if I stay the night?”
    The loremaster blinked. “I assumed you would stay much longer than a single night.”
    Jason shook his head. “I have to figure out a way home. My parents must be freaking out. My dog is probably starving. My life is there. Everyone I know, my friends. My school.”
    “You are a student? What better place for an education than the Repository of Learning?”
    “This is a great place, it really is, but I can’t stay.”
    The loremaster nodded regretfully. “I was looking forward to some company.”
    “You’ve got Hermie,” Jason said.
    “A mere lad.”
    “I’m only thirteen.”
    “That is the year a boy assumes the mantle of manhood. Hermie is but eleven.”
    “Maybe you should relocate,” Jason suggested. “You’ll never have many visitors if you stay hidden away in this forest.”
    The loremaster shook his head. “Only by my secluded location do I avoid unwanted scrutiny. Those who truly need and appreciate this facility find their way here.”
    Jason helped Hermie clear the plates and silverware. In the small kitchen the loremaster refused to let Jason help wash.
    “Waste no time dallying with trivialities—Hermie will clean the tableware. Explore the library while you can, for tomorrow may be too late. I only ask you not to trespass in the upper level. It is forbidden.”
    “Forbidden? Why?”
    Hermie shot Jason a curious glance.
    “I cannot say,” the loremaster replied. “But I assure you it is not