The card dropped from it.
She was with him for quite a while. Who knew a vixen and a windhound could make such a good couple?
Straight into the heart.
The Tzar did pay an advance. After Jacob received the coins, he asked the chauffeur to wait while he approached a boy begging by the palace gate. “Bury this by the river,” he said, pressing the card and a shiny silver ruble into the boy’s grubby hands. “But I’m warning you, if you just throw the card away, or if you try to keep it for yourself, it’ll bring you bad luck for a hundred times a hundred days.”
He hadn’t curbed his jealousy, but Jacob felt better as he settled into the Tzar’s automobile.
The Robbers in the Trees
Should he have been more careful? Yes, Nerron. After every rain, Sixteen could barely move until she’d scraped the bark from her joints, and Seventeen kept growing roots he had to cut off with his own fingers. Each misty morning made it worse, the moonlight, the damp shadows beneath the trees. It was obvious Fairy magic was winning the battle against glass and silver, but—A curse on you, Nerron, and on your speckled bastard skin—he had relied on the vigilance of the Mirrorlings while he’d daydreamed of treasures in the lost cities, of the brand-new world that was going to be his reward. He’d stuffed his good senses into a saddlebag!
When something stirred in the oak tree above, he thought it was just the wind bringing more of the rain that seemed to have been following the Fairy like a damp veil. But then there was the shrill whistle, and bandits started dropping from the trees like wingless birds.
Old stories. This country was infested with them. Solovei the Brigand, who changed into a bird to evade his hunters. Years ago, Nerron had exposed another treasure hunter who bragged he’d found the flute with which that legendary bandit was said to have laid waste to entire regions. But the men surrounding them now were not the kind of bandits who inspired legends. They were so filthy he should’ve smelled them from miles away. One was missing an eye, the other an ear, and the feathers on their clothes had certainly not grown from their own bodies. They weren’t even from the right bird! The legend was of Solovei the Nightingale, but these idiots had adorned themselves with the feathers of crows and finches.
There were twelve of them. The Jade Goyl had dealt with more during the Blood Wedding, but Will was wearing human skin now. The Pup did draw his saber, though. Nerron and Will had killed three before the others brought them to the ground. Nerron screamed for Sixteen and Seventeen as the bandits pulled the noose over his head. They’d knotted it so it wouldn’t immediately break his neck. Nice! They wanted to see them wriggle. Nerron cracked one more nose before they pulled him up. Will smashed another’s hand, but he was soon dangling next to Nerron. The Bastard’s Goyl skin offered more resistance to the rope, but the Pup was writhing like a fish on a hook, and soon enough his body went slack. He was going to be dead in minutes. Beneath them, the robbers made off with their horses. They looked so dumb they probably weren’t going to find the crossbow in the swindlesack. Even before they were out of sight, Nerron’s fingers started feeling for the blade in his sleeve. Hurry, Nerron! Milk-face had softer skin. He already looked quite dead.
Nerron’s hands were soon free, but the rope around his neck was tougher, and when it finally snapped, the fall nearly broke his neck. Will’s face was as blue as lapis lazuli, and he slumped to the ground like shot venison, but he was still breathing. Nerron cut the rope and grabbed the nearest stone as he heard steps behind him. But it was only Seventeen. The Mirrorling wasn’t even trying to look like a human, or maybe it was no longer as easy for him. His face mirrored the forest, and his left arm was as stiff as a branch. Sixteen was in no better shape. She was all shadows and leaves, and it was hard to tell what was mirrored and what was actual growth. She knelt next to Will and reached out to stroke his face, but she stopped herself when she realized she wasn’t wearing her gloves.
“Is he dead?” Seventeen was scraping bark off his stiff arm.
“No, but that’s no thanks to you.” Nerron’s voice was hoarse, like a toad’s. He was surprised his burning throat managed to utter any words at all. “Remember this the next time you wonder whether you need me.”
Will stirred.
“Really? Then why haven’t we caught up with the Fairy yet?” Seventeen’s voice sounded metallic when he got angry. “You’re a lousy guide! Look at my sister.”
Sister? Since when did mirrors have sisters?
Nerron leaned over Will and immediately forgot his own aching neck. Will’s skin was turning pale green where the rope had chafed it.
Jade. More pure than the most precious amulet you could buy in the King’s capital.
Nerron jumped back as Will sat up and coughed. The fingers touching his abraded skin were made of green stone. It was quickly spreading through his forehead and streaking down his neck. Sixteen stared at Nerron, but Seventeen waved her away impatiently.
Nerron hardly noticed them disappearing among the trees.
He believed neither in the lava-spurting god the onyx worshipped in their black grottoes nor in his mother’s malachite goddess. When he entered a church, he felt nothing, no matter which god was worshipped there. Even the sinister places of sacrifice found beneath Silver-Alders or by the ponds of Watermen made no impression on the Bastard. But the sight of jade in Will Reckless’s skin gave him that shudder of reverence he’d only heard others describe. Jade Goyl. A good feeling when fairy tales came true. That was why he hunted treasure—for this very feeling. Wasn’t it?
Will’s eyes sought his. Eyes speckled with gold. The Pup—no longer a Pup—moved differently as he rose to his feet. Smooth, like a Goyl. One of them.
What now, Nerron? But he didn’t want to think. He just wanted to look at him.
“They have the crossbow,” Nerron said, though he no longer knew whether that was important.
“Do you know where they went?”
Nerron nodded.
The jade was still spreading. Will touched the stone glossing his cheek.
“I called it,” he said. “And it came.”
“Good,” Nerron replied hoarsely.
It was all good.