The Golden Yarn (Mirrorworld 3)

“Ta-bar-nak! I haven’t been in a forest like this for years!” Sylvain muttered behind them.

Because where Sylvain came from, there hadn’t been forests like this for centuries.

What else could Jacob offer? Anything—it didn’t matter.

I will find you. I will find something that will destroy you more thoroughly than anything the Fairies can do to you. Give her back!

Then the words came.

Everything has a price, Jacob. And war means war.

War. He looked down, then up at the trees, anywhere, just not at Fox. Fine. I’ll pay your price. I promise. Stop it, Jacob! But he would’ve offered Spieler his beating heart on a plate not to have to see her lying there any more.

“Câlisse, I’d forgotten how good it feels. I’ve been stuck in the city for too long.” Sylvain stroked the bark of a pine tree as though it were a dog. “Damn cities. Spreading like a stone fungus. Accouche qu’on baptise, Albert. We have to go to Canada! What’s it like on this side? The rainbow fish, the leaves of gold...”

“Canada? What’s that supposed to be?” Chanute asked.

“He means l’Arcadie,” Jacob said. “Ontario. It’s many countries here. The West is the land of tribes.” Yes, keep talking about Canadian provinces. That way maybe you won’t lose your mind.

“Really? Tabarnak!”

“The last time Crookback sent troops over there, they were all turned into seals.” Chanute didn’t know how much he liked that kind of warfare. “The savages there know more about magic than our Witches do.”

The savages. Jacob looked at his card. Say something. Anything.

The letters formed slowly, in perfect green curlicues, every letter written with joyful relish.

Take her to Schwanstein. Maybe then I’ll tell you how you can get her back.

He’s trying to distract you from what you should really be thinking about. And he still wanted Jacob to turn around to look at Fox. But Fox wouldn’t want him to. Jacob bent down and picked a small flower growing between the roots of a pine tree. Everlasting dock. Sylvain was right: This forest really was old. Old enough for someone found only in this part of the world? Maybe. But he was going to have to search farther down, where the pines gave way to beeches, oaks, and hawthorns. They, like Witches, preferred deciduous trees.

“What are you thinking? I don’t like that look on your face.” Chanute knew him as well as Fox did.

“Do you have your bluepowder?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Do you have it?”

“First you tell me what you want with it.”

“You know exactly what I want with it.”

Chanute took a worn leather pouch from his belt. “Even if you find one... Look at yourself. You can hardly stand! Since when are you the suicidal type? And she won’t give you what you need, even if you offer your soul.”

“I know.” Jacob took the pouch from the calloused hand. “You’re forgetting who taught me.”

Seventeen hadn’t touched their horses. Jacob felt like a traitor as he pulled Fox’s fur dress from her saddlebag. Chanute, however, uttered an admiring grunt.

“Not bad. Just a pity that Fox will shoot you if she ever wakes up.”

Jacob’s fingers could hardly tie up his backpack. And that’s how he was going to challenge someone even Alma could stand up to only on a good day?

Chanute stood in his way. “I’m coming with you.”

“No. You make the sure the fire doesn’t go out. And you keep the Klads off her.”

Klads were the most dangerous treasure-wraiths in this world, and a whole silver body was a very tempting loot. Jacob didn’t have to tell Chanute who else might be attracted by such a prize.