“Tark recommended him to me, then I got in good with his mother, and she convinced him. I’m not sure whether he’s fully committed yet. He’s getting there. You should see him fight!”

“That might prove difficult.”

“Whoops, I meant—”

“I’m jesting. Who is the other?”

“Ferrin the displacer.”

Even with most of his face concealed behind a blindfold and a beard, Galloran looked alarmed. “He has a deadly reputation. A foe most devious and capable. Young for a displacer, he was just rising to prominence back when I was completing the Word. My sources have followed his career. If his character were less capricious and his methods more orthodox, he would already be a candidate to lead the displacers. This is the displacer who freed you?”

“Yes. According to him, Maldor discovered his participation in my rescue, and he now wants to join our side.”

“How convinced are you of his sincerity?”

“Not completely certain. He’s been really helpful so far. And he’s already passed up a bunch of chances to betray me. Without his help, I doubt I’d be here.”

Galloran took a deep breath. “Giving him our trust could prove ruinous. I’ve learned never to underestimate the deceptive abilities of our enemies. Malar is the only displacer I’ve ever met who truly joined our cause, though plenty have pretended. Summon your new comrades, and we’ll see what I can discern.”

As Jason rose from the bench, Dorsio crossed the room and opened the door. Down the hall, Aram and Ferrin stood conversing with Tark. When the short musician saw Jason, he broke off the conversation and sprinted down the passageway. “Lord Jason!” he cried. “I’m sorry I was unable to meet you at Potsug.” He looked distressed.

“It worked out,” Jason said. “You recommended a good bodyguard.”

“All they wanted was you. Our enemies, I mean. Soon after you left me, a group of soldiers began hunting me in earnest, ready to dispose of me after I had led them to their true quarry. It was quite a chase. I killed a few of them. It took me longer than I had anticipated to work my way here.”

“I’m glad you made it. I was worried about you.”

Tark beamed, then scowled. “The evening I arrived, the castle came under assault. I feel like a token of foul luck. All around me suffer.”

“It had to be the information you carried,” Jason said. “They must have found out what I told you.”

“I revealed nothing until I arrived here!” Tark swore.

“They may have guessed. Maldor knows what secrets I carry. Or the lurker could have overheard us.” Jason turned to Aram and Ferrin. “Galloran wants to talk to all of us.”

“Galloran is here?” Tark exclaimed.

“He didn’t tell you?” Jason said. “Come with us.”

The four of them entered the room with Galloran. Dorsio closed the door, remaining inside.

“Do you mind if Tark joins us?” Jason asked.

“Not at all,” Galloran said.

Jason sat on a chair off to the side. Ferrin, Aram, and Tark sat on the bench.

“You’re Galloran?” Tark asked in awe.

The Blind King snorted. “Is this becoming common knowledge?”

“I know how you feel,” grumbled Aram.

“Ferrin deduced it long before we got here,” Jason said.

“Ah, yes, the master spy,” Galloran said. “I have heard frightening reports about you from my sources.”

“Likewise,” Ferrin said.

Galloran chuckled. “I’m sure the gossip about me was terrifying. Were you warned that I was a blind pauper serving as an arbiter in a ruined castle?”

“You’ve only been lionized into the greatest hero of our time,” Ferrin responded. “I expect the reputation is well deserved.”

Galloran appeared thoughtful. “An inflated reputation can be useful when inciting a revolution. Aram, am I to understand you have enlisted in our cause?”

The others all looked to the big man. He swallowed. “Do we have a chance of success?”

Galloran crinkled his brow pensively. “A succinct and important question. The situation is dire. Our first order of business will be to investigate our assets. Without some key alliances, we have no chance. Even if we manage to unite the remaining free citizens of Lyrian, it may be too little, too late. But this effort will certainly represent our last opportunity to prevent an age of tyranny that will endure for many generations. I will not give up the cause until I am sure we cannot prevail.”

“Then I will join you until the cause proves unwinnable,” Aram said.

“You’re a mercenary. I have little to offer you at present. Should we succeed, you will receive a barony.”

“You’d make a fine baron,” Tark encouraged.

Smirking self-consciously, the big man looked around the small, dusty room. “We can discuss payment once you’ve been restored to your throne.”

“Fair enough.”

Aram cleared his throat. “I may as well tell you, since the secret is out: I’m half giant. My usefulness fades each morning at sunrise and does not recommence until dusk.”

“Half giant?” Galloran said. “How did you come to be?”

Tark gaped at Aram in astonishment.

“My mother is human; my father, a giant.”

“No magic?”

“Just nature.”

“Fascinating. Welcome, Aram.” Galloran turned his head, as if looking at Ferrin. “Back to the matter of the famed Ferrin, son of Baldor. Am I to believe you honestly mean to join our rebellion?”

“I do,” Ferrin replied. His voice and expression seemed relaxed, but Jason sensed a nervous tension underneath.

“You desire this alliance because your impulsive rescue of Lord Jason offended Maldor?”

“And he must know I’ve learned about the fraudulent Word,” Ferrin added. “Maldor has irrevocably become my enemy.”

Galloran frowned. “A common enemy is not necessarily a reliable basis for friendship.”

“The circumstances have compelled me to take a step I have long contemplated. Even when I served him, I quietly yearned to see the emperor overthrown.”

“You did not believe it was possible,” Galloran said flatly.

“I still have my doubts, but I’m willing to try. I know much that could be of service.”

“Undoubtedly. How can I know you will not betray us?”