“One of Zokar’s apprentices.”

“Everyone, including Eldrin, assumed Zokar had disposed of Maldor. None guessed that he had survived in hiding. Maldor may have been the least powerful of Zokar’s apprentices, but he possesses a cunning intellect, and in a wizardless world his abilities were suddenly formidable. Read.”

Maldor exercised extraordinary patience in his bid for power. None knew his identity until after he had established his stronghold at Felrook, fortified by alliances with Caston and Dimdell. In hiding, he successfully rallied many of the scattered and broken races of Zokar, eventually assembling and equipping an impressive force. His greatest advantage undoubtedly came when he gained control of the torivors.

Decades of brilliant political maneuvering followed. Allies became subjects, and enemies were held at bay by a complex system of truces. Maldor proved adept at isolating rival kingdoms, defeating them in battle, and then enlisting their resources in his cause. He managed to forestall unified resistance until such opposition lacked any hope of success. Although scattered free kingdoms remain, Maldor’s claim as exalted emperor of Lyrian has effectively gone unchallenged.

“Your emperor is a wizard?” Jason asked.

“The last wizard,” the loremaster reported solemnly. “After witnessing the downfall of his master, he has taken no apprentices. The emperor is well aware of the advantage granted by his exclusive knowledge of Edomic, and he has forbidden the study of the language.”

“I take it that Maldor isn’t a nice ruler.”

The loremaster raised his eyebrows. “The emperor is a hard man. Of course, I am in his debt, since he permits me to remain in this post, overseeing this stockpile of learning.”

“If he’s a wizard, do you think he might know how to send me home?” Jason asked.

“Jason, if you are open to counsel, heed me now. It is unwise to earn attention from Maldor. Most people make a considerable effort to stay far from his thoughts. If you truly are a Beyonder, you might not want to be so liberal with that information. Lie low. Learn slowly and quietly. These days harsh consequences follow those who stand out in a crowd.”

Jason nodded pensively. “Who wrote the history I just read?”

The loremaster’s eyes shifted from side to side. “Hard to say how these books come into being, author unknown and whatnot. I assume the text was passed down from days of yore.”

“The content seemed pretty current. Didn’t you say I was the first visitor in ten years?”

The loremaster pressed his lips together. “Maldor has labored for decades to solidify his power. I could have acquired this volume in a variety of ways.”

“Maybe. But I bet you wrote the book.”

The loremaster reddened and looked away. “Preposterous.”

“Don’t be shy! I’d be bragging. Look how long it is! And all handwritten!”

The loremaster sighed. “I dislike the idea of associating a written work with a person. Text that has been handed down from unknown origins carries more mystique. It becomes harder to dismiss.”

“So you wrote it.”

“Yes.”

“I liked how even though the summaries were concise, they still told a story. Have you written anything else?”

“Nothing I intend to reveal to you. I wish only to be remembered as Author Unknown.”

“Will you ever own up to something you write?’

The loremaster removed his spectacles and rubbed at his eyes. “Perhaps. My father once admonished me to master the laws that govern fine writing until I could 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.”