The Golden Yarn (Mirrorworld 3)

“She’s probably tired of this never-ending journey.”

Poison.

Jacob went to his room, looked down through the window at Baryatinsky’s busy courtyard, and wished he could be one of the stable hands who were brushing down the horses by the stables, or the messenger who was running down the street as though there could be nothing more important than the message he was carrying. Jacob had never wanted a normal life. The same routines, the same people, places, tasks. But after these past few days—Days, Jacob? Weeks. Months—a normal life suddenly didn’t sound so bad anymore. No dangers beyond a runaway horse on the street, no life-or-death decisions, no immortals, no two worlds... Just one thing to hold on to: her.

He was just trying to write down what the Bamboo Girl had said before he forgot the exact words when a servant brought him a telegram. His mood brightened a little on seeing Dunbar’s name, but what he read was very sobering:

Libraries in Albion’s penal colonies rare STOP as expected STOP more silver encounters? STOP any sign of Dark One? STOP Papers here say Walrus sick? STOP not sure if good or bad STOP Dunbar

Even at the end of the world, Dunbar kept an eye on politics. Good or bad news... Dunbar’s first question for the Alderelf would probably be whether Arthur of Albion had indeed been the son of an Alderelf and a Fairy.

&nb

sp; Jacob pushed aside the paper on which he’d noted the Bamboo Girl’s words. Instead, he started writing a reply to Dunbar:

Keep looking. Will probably encounter Mirrorlings if we find Will. Need to know of all weaknesses. Would caustic soda and saltpeter work on breathing glass? Still believe have to tackle the spell and not the manifestation. No sign of Dark One, but sister tried to recruit me. To hell with all immortals. J.

Dunbar would not have to read between these lines to know how Jacob was feeling.

Jacob asked one of Baryatinsky’s errand boys to send the telegram. Then he fetched some of their host’s wine to help him stop wondering where Fox had gone to. He managed to convince himself for a while that he was worried about Seventeen, but then his jealousy reared its green face even in the glass he’d already refilled too many times.

Shortly before lunchtime, Chanute and Sylvain joined him, providing a welcome distraction. Sylvain told him they’d gone to visit the limb maker Baryatinsky had praised so much. His account was laced with admiring invectives. The idea for the visit had apparently been Sylvain’s. Chanute chuckled over Sylvain’s enthusiasm, but Jacob could see that the steel limbs had made an impression on Chanute, too. When Sylvain said how much such a limb would cost, Chanute again became the sickly old man who’d crawled away into his bedchamber in Schwanstein. Jacob inadvertently patted his empty pockets, though he knew their contents wouldn’t even pay for one artificial finger. To cheer his old teacher, he told him about his audience with the Tzar scheduled for the next day and that he had high hopes for a good advance payment. Advance for what? Jacob had no idea, but Chanute’s face lit up again, and an hour later he and Sylvain were already back to planning new treasure hunts.

Fox was gone for another two hours. Jacob only had to look at her to know whom she’d been with. The Barsoi had given her the tour: the golden churches, the Dragon’s gate, the horses that carried the Tzar’s couriers to Yakutia and Zhonghua, and the bakers by the Kremlin walls who baked the singing bread. Jacob hadn’t seen her this carefree since the Bluebeard.

“I see you have competition now. Which was only to be expected, right?”

Jacob felt his jealousy like a sickness. Just what the Elf wants you to feel, Jacob. But not even that helped. He told her he was finally going to meet the Tzar and see his Magic Collection. She looked distracted, as though she hadn’t really returned. “Tomorrow Orlando is meeting some of his contacts to see whether they have news about the Fairy. He’s offered to take me along.”

Orlando. She’d never mentioned anyone’s name in that tone. What tone, Jacob? Heavens, he was dying of jealousy. The words were already on his lips: Come with me. What should I do all alone in the Magic Collection? What should I do with the Tzar?

She looked so happy. And why not? The Barsoi had no debt with an Alderelf.

He showed her Dunbar’s telegram and told her about the Bamboo Girl, but he tried to play down how much the glass-sayer’s words worried him. All the questions he wanted to ask Fox... He just couldn’t get them out.

“Your brother. The Fairy. Clara. Others are always more important.”

It was the terrible truth: The Alderelf’s poison was nothing but the terrible truth.

She looked happy.

“I thought you don’t believe in soothsaying?” She studied his face the way she always did when she sensed he wasn’t telling her what he really felt or thought.

And what had he expected, after all he’d told her in Schwanstein? Not that it would happen so quickly. Damn. He couldn’t even imagine not seeing her for more than a few hours at a stretch. Better start imagining it now, Jacob.

“Even if she was right about everything else...Will is alive, Jacob,” she said.

“Yes, but what if...” He couldn’t even say it. He didn’t have to. She knew what he meant.

Fox took his hand. Jacob didn’t pull it away as he’d done so often in the past days. It felt good.

“Remember what Alma says about prophecies? That they’re always misunderstood? The future doesn’t speak our language. Let’s see what Orlando finds out tomorrow.”

Orlando. Tomorrow. He pictured how...Stop it!

“Did she see the Goyl with Will?”

“She didn’t say anything about him.” And even if she had, the Bastard couldn’t give Will his stone skin back. That would have been a neat revenge, but at least that was past, since the Fairy was gone.“He has a skin of stone.” No, only the Dark One could bring the jade back.