“Just relax. The venom will help. I need to ask you some questions.”

“What’s the matter with me? I feel . . . really good but kind of nauseated at the same time.”

“You were struck by a rare serpent whose venom induces an altered state of consciousness. The potency is enhanced when the subject is exhausted.”

“Yes,” Jason exclaimed. “I remember being asleep and hearing it coming—its scales against the stone, but I just couldn’t wake up. Then it bit me. I was too tired.”

“The powers of your memory have been magnified. I need you to answer some questions.”

“Who are you?”

“Call me Damak.”

“I read from a book by a guy named Damak once.”

“Did you really?”

“Yes. Subtleties of Manipulation. ‘Manipulation is a quiet tool of majestic power. Artfully manufacturing desires in others to suit one’s own needs can be accomplished on an individual basis, or on a worldwide scope. Clearly, a study of manipulation requires a profound understanding of the selfish motivators that drive men to action. Different motivators function depending on the nature of the minds one seeks to dominate. Manifold motivators are available, including fear, the desire for wealth or respect or power, lust, duty, obedience, love, even altruism. Endless combinations may be employed to reduce the staunchest will to a malleable plaything. Learning to discover the appropriate mix of motivators for—’”

“Did you read the entire book?” Damak interrupted.

“No. I could tell you more. I remember every word.”

“So do I, more or less. I wrote it. You are feeling lucid?”

“Yes. I feel very lucid. Good word for it. I can remember so many things. I can remember the colors of the animals that hung from the mobile over my cradle. I had forgotten all about them. They were puffy. A yellow and blue checkered elephant. A red and white checkered lion. A green and—”

“Well done,” Damak said. “Very interesting. That is enough about the animals for now. Do you remember Galloran?”

“How could I forget?”

“Did he reveal any plans to you?”

Jason pressed his lips together, concentrating. “No real plans. He just talked to me up in his tower. He helped me make plans.”

“Did he manifest any desire to oppose Maldor?”

“He said his only remaining purpose of any consequence was advising those who dare to challenge the emperor.”

“How did he help you?” Damak inquired.

“He gave me a poniard and dubbed me Lord of Caberton. By the way, fun fact, a poniard is a knife. He introduced me to Rachel, and gave her a crystal sphere with orantium inside. He gave me directions to the cave where Jugard dwells, but could not recall how Jugard would help me. He told me to use his name among those who oppose Maldor because it would open doors. And he told me that heroism means doing the right thing regardless of the consequences.”

“Did he tell you about a syllable he wrote down?”

“No, I learned about that elsewhere. He didn’t remember.”

“Where was the syllable written?”

“Tattooed beside Kimp’s shoulder blade. I got it at Harthenham. It was ‘rim.’”

“Don’t tell me specifics about the Word,” Damak said hastily.

“It doesn’t matter. The whole thing is a hoax.”

Damak clapped his hand over Jason’s mouth. “Say no more regarding the Word.” He looked away fiercely. “Did you hear anything about the Word?”

“Certainly not,” a nervous voice responded. Jason could not see the speaker, but he could hear the scratch of a quill on parchment.

“Then you transcribed nothing of the sort,” Damak verified.

“Certainly not.”

Damak removed his hand. Jason stared with wide eyes. “Do not be alarmed,” Damak soothed. “I would simply rather not hear details about the Word. Another syllable was written down. Where?”

“Inside the lorevault at Trensicourt. Strange, I remember that syllable too.”

“Interesting. Tell me about Ferrin. Is he loyal to Maldor?”

Jason scrunched his brow. “He said he has no great love for Maldor, and he helped me quite a lot before Rachel found him out, but that was all part of tricking us. He explained that as an observer he could help us at his discretion. I believe he is loyal to Maldor. In the end he betrayed us and refused to relent.”

“Very well. Tell me about the girl, Rachel. She is a Beyonder as well?”

“Yep. From Washington. She’s incredible. I mean, she can be a little pushy, and sometimes acts like a know-it-all, but she really is smart, and she isn’t all talk. You should have seen her at Whitelake! Have you ever met her?”

“No.”

“She’s really cute. I’ve never liked any girl as much as her. I’m really worried about her. I wish I could go to her and help her. Funny, I can’t think things without saying them. It’s like my mouth is tied to my brain. Bad for privacy. Good for you, though!”

“Did you know her in the Beyond?” Damak asked.

“Nope. I met her here.”

“Did either of you come here on purpose?”

“Nope. By accident.”

“How much of the Word does she have?” Damak asked.

“All of it. ‘Arimfexendrapuse.’”

His expression horrified, Damak belatedly clamped his hand over Jason’s mouth. He looked over to the unseen scribe. “You heard nothing?”

“Less than nothing. Must have been the wind.”

“Do not say any of the Word,” Damak urged, taking his hand away.

“Sorry. It just popped out. I couldn’t remember it before, no matter how hard I tried. Funny, I still remember it, even after saying it again. I guess the snake venom works really well.”

“Let’s change the subject,” Damak suggested. “You escaped Harthenham with a member of the Amar Kabal. Tell me his name.”

“Drake. He liked dangerous pies.”

“Why did he join you?”

“Who would eat pies that could take over your life? Why risk it?”

“Focus. Why did he join you?”

“Say no to death pies. Another good motto. I’m getting a headache.”

“Why did he join you?” Damak repeated.

“Tough to say. Maybe because his amar went bad. I think he wanted to die with some honor. You should have seen the dogs he chopped up.” Jason gave a soft whistle. “Poor doggies.”