A World Without Heroes by Brandon Mull

casually prohibited. My father used to make certain books in our family library forbidden because it was the only way to get me to read them. Boring things, mostly. A clever ruse. That which is not permitted is always most enticing. Do not mistake my intention. I counsel you in all sincerity—resist becoming intrigued. The upper level is completely off-limits for good reason. Understood?”
    “Yes,” Jason said. Was the loremaster trying to employ the same trick his father had used, immediately after explaining what his father had done? The upper level might be full of boring textbooks and dictionaries and junk. Or it might be unusually cool, housing ancient artifacts or weapons or treasure. More important, the upper level might contain some clue that could help him find his way home. Hadn’t the loremaster recently explained that information about the Beyond was forbidden? Where better to look than the forbidden area of a library? The more he thought about it, the more it seemed the loremaster had offered a deliberate hint. He left the loremaster and Hermie behind in the kitchen, determined to sleuth out a staircase.
    Jason wandered the maze of books, surprised at how easy it was to become disoriented. Before he encountered any stairs, Jason discovered a large atrium in the middle of the library, visible from all sides behind large panels of glass. He found a sliding door and ventured out into the verdant courtyard.
    Overhead, the sun had passed midday. A few puffy clouds stood out against a field of blue. A covered well, complete with winch and bucket, stood in the middle of the atrium beside a stone sundial. Lush fruit trees overshadowed bushes bright with berries. Some of the fruit looked familiar, like colorful variations on plums and apricots, while other fruit appeared completely alien, like the gray furry fruit and the oblong, translucent fruit.
    Once the courtyard garden had been properly explored, Jason returned to winding among the bookshelf corridors. Not a wall in the building lacked books. Books even occupied the space above doorways. Occasional hanging lanterns provided most of the light. Time after time Jason encountered dead ends, forcing him to backtrack. Finally, after extensive wandering, he arrived at a helical staircase in a rear corner of the massive building. He dashed up the spiraling steps two at a time and arrived at a large iron door riddled with tiny holes. The perforations were arranged in an orderly grid of columns and rows. Wooden pegs shaped like golf tees protruded from the ten center holes in the uppermost row.
    Jason tried the handle. The door was locked. There was no keyhole near the handle. He began counting holes, tallying one hundred in each horizontal row, and about three hundred in each vertical column. A quick computation yielded a total of thirty thousand holes.
    He pulled out a peg, hearing a snick as he did so. The peg was slightly longer than his little finger. Inserting the peg into a random hole, he heard it click into place. Snick-click, snick-click, snick-click —he tried the peg in various holes. Jason shook his head. It was the most complicated lock he had ever seen. He replaced the peg into its original hole. Click. The odds against randomly matching the ten pegs to the right combination of holes were staggering—far beyond something simple like winning the lottery.
    Peering closely, Jason detected tiny symbols at the left of each row and at the bottom of each column. Each symbol was unique.
    When closer inspection offered no new information, he retreated down the staircase. With nothing else to do, Jason roamed and browsed. He found books about farming and tool making. Many books were written in foreign languages he did not recognize. One book in English discussed how to construct and fortify a makeshift garrison in hostile territory. Another called The Epics of Count Galin of Misenmarch was a hefty book full of long poems. Jason envisioned himself bringing the book