The Golden Yarn (Mirrorworld 3)

Nerron pointed to the hut. Whoever they were looking for, the Pup would hopefully distract them long enough to give the Bastard time to run. Though it was annoying that he’d again lose his shot at revenge. Nerron carefully took a step back. The horses were just a few yards away.

The girl disappeared into the hut.

To Nerron’s dismay, the other one made no move to follow her. To the contrary. He suddenly seemed to have eyes only for Nerron. The Bastard had met many terrifying creatures in his life, but the glass boy, now walking calmly toward him as though he had all the time in the world, made him feel a new kind of fear. Maybe it was the eyes, which looked like colored glass. His clothes were also strange, like the Pup’s when Nerron had first met him in Schwanstein, but then suddenly they were changing until they were an exact replica of Nerron’s own clothes. Saurian leather, but made of glass.

Then Whatever-He-Was stopped, and Nerron could see his own face in the glass pupils.

“Give me the swindlesack.”

Damn. What did this creature know about the crossbow? He held out a hand. The face he now wore was even more boyish than Will’s. If it weren’t for those eyes. And those hands of glass and silver.

“You can have the sack,” Nerron replied. “But its content is mine.”

The reply was a smile that was a dozen smiles.

Whatever-He-Was leaned forward until his cheek touched Nerron’s face. His skin was warm, as smooth as glass. “I can turn your heart to silver,” he whispered in Nerron’s ear. “Or glass. Which would you prefer? I’ve done it with human skin, fur, even insects, but never with speckled stone. I can’t wait.”

He reached into Nerron’s jacket and pulled out the swindlesack. The saurian leather became covered in silver, which disappeared like frost as soon as Whatever-He-Was pulled his hand away.

“What are you?” Nerron was surprised his tongue hadn’t turned to silver. And his heart was still beating, if a little too fast.

“You have to ask the one who made us. He calls me Seventeen.”

“Made you?” Nerron couldn’t take his eyes off the sack. He’d just been the king of the world, and now he was back to being the Bastard. He clenched his empty hands. He wanted to peel all the faces off Seventeen. Twice found, twice lost.

“He also made the crossbow,” said Seventeen.

Nonsense. That was an Alderelf weapon. What next? The return of the Dragons? And the Giants?

To Nerron’s surprise, Seventeen tucked the swindlesack back into Will’s backpack. Then he eyed Nerron as though he wanted to copy his soul. “I’m thinking I should kill you. He doesn’t like thieves.”

He... What the lava?..Nerron stumbled away from the touch of the silver fingernails.

“Wait!” he panted. “The message for the Fairy. The Pup’s delivering it for him, right? The one who made you? Tell him if he wants his message to reach her, he’ll need the Bastard. Or do you really think the boy can find her on his own?”

Seventeen looked at Nerron’s stone skin as though he was dying to find out what it would look like in silver. But then he lowered his hand.

Breathe, Nerron. He could still feel the glass fingers on his skin.

“Good. Why not?” Seventeen said. “I can always kill you later. But you make sure he finds her soon. This world’s not good for us.”

Nerron didn’t have the slightest idea what he was talking about. He just knew he didn’t want a silver heart, or a glass one.

Seventeen eyed his own fingers as though looking for traces of onyx. “None of my faces are like yours. Are you also different inside?”

Interesting question. Seventeen was intriguing. As intriguing as a viper, Nerron.

“Different from what? Different from the snail skins you pretend to be? Oh yes. Very different.”

Seventeen changed his fac

e. He seemed to do that a lot when he was thinking. He had quite an impressive collection. None of them appeared particularly happy as he looked up at the two moons.

“I don’t understand why they want to go back.”

They. Back. This really did sound like the lost Elves. The only thing Nerron knew about the Alderelves was that they supposedly once built their silver palaces at depths where even Goyl skin melted.

“Back from where?” Stop it, Nerron. But Seventeen hadn’t heard him anyway. He was looking with disdain at the crumbling hut where Will was sleeping.