The Golden Yarn (Mirrorworld 3)

Hentzau tried to argue him out of it. He reminded the Goyl King that Bavaria had given shelter to organizations calling for the complete eradication of all Goyl and Man-Goyl. But this just confirmed Kami’en’s decision. Only one man would have a chance at retrieving the child unharmed. The King of the Goyl would have to bring his son home himself.

“What if it’s a trap?” Hentzau asked. “It’s her moth! Why should she care about the child except as an opportunity for revenge?”

Yes, why? Kami’en had no answer to that, not one Hentzau would have accepted.

He gave orders to prepare for his departure.

The Wrong Questions

At night, Baryatinsky’s palace looked even more enchanted than during the day. It would’ve been perfect for one of those glass globes that children shake to stir up a flurry of snow. There was no sign of Jacob’s Goyl shadow when the Tzar’s chauffeur dropped him by the gate. Wladimir Molotov had kept him for three hours, signing papers and reviewing the care instructions for the flying carpet. The curator had made no secret of how much he disapproved of the Tzar’s decision to hand such a precious object to some dubious stranger who spoke with an Albian accent. Stealing the carpet would definitely have been more fun.

The gaslights patterned Baryatinsky’s courtyard with the shadows of Dragons and Flying Horses, and for the first time since their arrival in Moskva, there was some real hope of finding Will. But Jacob was tired and in a foul mood. He was about to make an enemy of the Tzar, and then there was that promise he’d made so nobly in Schwanstein. What a fool he’d been! Such a damn fool. What had he been thinking? That he could just give her up, selflessly and virtuously... Was that at all like him?

“Jacob?” A figure came out of the shadows by the stairs that Baryatinsky had designed based on the heavenly steps depicted on Varangian icons.

Orlando Tennant.

Of all people.

“Oh no, Fox belongs only to herself.” He’d as good as invited him to steal her. Here, take my heart, I no longer need it.

“Can I have a word?”

What about? Did the Windhound want to know whether he minded that Fox looked so happy? That she never missed an opportunity to savor the other man’s name on her tongue?

Had he slept with her? Stop it, Jacob. But he could think of nothing else as he looked at Tennant’s face. All the thoughts he hadn’t allowed himself to think now smothered every last glimmer of reason.

“I assume you’ve heard of the present the Goyl have given the Tzar?”

There was a surprise. The Windhound hadn’t come to discuss Fox.

“Heard, yes, but if you’re hoping I’ll tell you what it is...”

“I know what it is,” Tennant interrupted him. “I’m supposed to steal it. But that means I’ve got to get into the secret wing of the Magic Collection. You were there today, weren’t you?”

The Windhound. There was a reason Orlando Tennant had a reputation for being even crazier than Jacob.

“I only saw the doors. Forget it. Poisoned lacquer. Glass teeth. Knife-wire.”

There was light in Fox’s window, and the only thing Jacob wanted to discuss with Tennant was whether she’d spent the last night in his bed. He nearly asked him.

“I can handle knife-wire and glass teeth. But how do I get past the poisoned lacquer?”

“The Dwarfs have an explosive that can disable it. Officially they deny it, but if you offer them enough, they’ll sell you some.”

And the Windhound wouldn’t be the first to kill himself with it. The stuff was more volatile than nitroglycerin. Jacob caught himself thinking Orlando Tennant was about to die young.

“Forget it!” Jacob said, as though that compensated for the satisfaction the thought of Tennant’s death had given him.

“I can’t forget it. The King’s command. What about you?”

“We’re leaving soon. I have an assignment from the Tzar.” What was he doing now? Was he trying to brag to his rival? At least it wasn’t a lie.

Tennant looked up at Fox’s window. “I assume she’s going with you? Jacob Reckless’s loyal companion.”

His tone answered the question Jacob had not dared to ask. Behind them, the guards were arguing with a deliveryman who’d come to the main gate instead of the servants’ entrance.

“I would never have touched her if you yourself hadn’t told me she was free.”