The Petrified Flesh Page 15

  The Guardians were clumsy attackers, but one took Valiant down before he reached the end of the bridge. Its bared fangs were already at the Dwarf’s throat when Jacob thrust his saber between its wings. The face slackening in death resembled a human embryo. Even the body was childlike and Jacob threw up over the slaughtered body.

  They escaped into a tunnel they hoped to be too narrow for their attackers; their arms and shoulders were torn, but fortunately none of the wounds was deep enough to be worrying. Jacob quickly dripped some iodine onto his bleeding hand, while Valiant inspected his own wounds, cursing himself for ever having agreed to this endeavor.

  “That gold tree—” he hissed, “—it better shower me with treasure! Why did I ever allow you back into my life? It always ends like this. I should have known!”

  Jacob was tempted to remind him of the damages he had suffered during their last two encounters, but he was too exhausted from the fight. In the cave two Guardians were still circling the bridge, but as the intruders had hoped, they didn’t follow them into the tunnel. Neither Jacob or Valiant found it easy to get back on their feet, but they stumbled onwards through the maze of dark roads and tunnels that seemed to have no end. Jacob was just beginning to wonder whether the Dwarf was playing another dirty trick on him when the path suddenly took a sharp bend, and everything seemed to dissolve into light.

  “And here it is!” Valiant whispered. “The lair of the beasts, or the lions’ den, depending on whose side you happen to be on.”

  The tunnel had ended high up in a cave that was so vast Jacob couldn’t see where it ended. It was sparsely lit as the Goyl preferred, but Jacob was amazed to see that the lamps seemed to run on electricity instead of gas. The illuminated city looked as if it had grown from the rock itself. Houses, towers, and palaces rose from the bottom of the cave covering its walls like a wasps’ nest, and dozens of bridges arched over the expanse of houses, as if there was nothing simpler than stretching iron through thin air. Their pillars soared like metal trees between the roofs. Some of the bridges were lined with buildings like the medieval bridges that long ago were part of Jacob’s world, and high above the houses and the web of bridges, which looked as if a steel-spinning spider had woven it, were three huge funnel-shaped stalactites growing from the ceiling of the cave. They were lined with windows, and the largest one gave off a glow as if its walls had been saturated with the moonlight of the world above. At its end a crown of shimmering thorns pointed at the city below, resembling a circle of crystal spears.

  “Is that the King’s palace?” whispered Jacob to Valiant. “No wonder the Goyl don’t think highly of human architecture. And since when can they build such iron bridges?”

  “How should I know?” Valiant replied. “They don’t teach Goyl history in Dwarf schools. The palace is more than seven hundred years old, but there are rumors that Kami’en is planning a more modern version—this one is too old-fashioned for his taste. The stalactite to the left is their armies’ headquarters and the one on the right is a prison.” The Dwarf gave Jacob a devious smile. “You want me to find out whether they keep your brother in one of those cells? I’m sure your gold coins will loosen even Goyl tongues.”

  When Jacob reached into his coat pocket and produced three gold coins, Valiant couldn’t help himself. He reached up and pushed his short fingers into the pocket as well.

  “How is this possible?!” he muttered. “Nothing! Nothing at all. Is it the coat? No, it also worked with that leather jacket of yours. Do those coins grow from the palms of your hands?”

  “Exactly,” Jacob gave back, relieved that the Dwarf hadn’t closed his fingers around the handkerchief.

  “I’ll figure it out one of these days!” the Dwarf grumbled, while he tucked the coins into his velvet waistcoat. “And now, head bowed, eyes on the ground. Remember: you’re a slave!”

  The alleyways leading through the maze of houses that covered the cave walls were almost as impassable for a human as the streets of Terpevas. Some of the alleys were so steep that Jacob had to clutch at door frames and window ledges to prevent his feet from slipping, while Valiant moved as effortlessly as a Goyl. The humans they encountered were as pale as the corpse they had found on the bridge, with the initials of their owners branded or etched into their foreheads. Most of them probably hadn’t seen the sun for years and they rarely lifted their heads when Jacob passed them in the dimly lit labyrinth of houses. Nobody paid attention to them, neither human nor Goyl. A Dwarf with a human slave by his side was a common sight, and Valiant relished loading Jacob with all the things he purchased from the various shops he entered to make inquiries about Will’s whereabouts.

  “Bingo!” he finally whispered, after Jacob had been waiting for more than half an hour in front of a jeweler’s workshop. “Good news and bad news. The good news is I found out where your brother is. The King’s most trusted man, I guess that’s our milk-eyed jasper friend, brought a prisoner to the Fortress, someone the Dark Fairy apparently sent him to find. There is a rumor that his skin resembles the Goyl’s most sacred stone.”

  “And what’s the bad news?”

  “They didn’t take him to the prison stalactite. He’s in the palace. In the Dark Fairy’s quarters, to make the news even worse And he’s fallen into a deep sleep from which not even she has managed to wake him. I assume you know what that’s about?”

  “Yes.” Jacob looked up at the huge stalactite.

  “Forget it!” Valiant hissed. “Your brother might as well have dissolved into thin air. The Fairy’s chambers are in one of those crystal thorns. You’d have to fight your way through the entire palace. Not even you can be crazy enough to try that.”

  Jacob eyed the shimmering façade.

  “Can you get an appointment with the officer you do business with?”

  “And then what?” Valiant shook his head and sneered. “The slaves in the palace all have the King’s mark burned into their foreheads. Even if your brotherly love extends to doing that to yourself, none of them is allowed to leave the upper parts of the palace.”

  “What about the bridges?”

  “What about them?”

  Two of them were directly linked to the palace. One was a railroad bridge that vanished into a tunnel in the upper part of the cave. The other was lined with houses and connected to the stalactite halfway down. There were no buildings near where it entered the palace, and Jacob got a clear view of an onyx-black gate and a double line of sentries.

  “That expression on your face!” Valiant muttered. “I don’t like it at all.”

  Jacob ignored him. The metal trusses that held up the bridge looked from a distance as if they had been added later to support an older stone structure. That might be the way. Jacob hid in a doorway and pointed his spyglass at the stalactite. The trusses clung to the side of the Hanging Palace like iron claws. In one of those crystal thorns… There were six of them, but only one had windows made from malachite. Green. The Dark Fairy’s favorite color if one could trust what the newspapers wrote.

  “The windows…” he murmured. “None of them is barred.”

  “Why would they?” Valiant whispered back. “Only birds and bats can get anywhere near them. But obviously you consider yourself to be one of those.”

  A group of children pushed past the alley. Jacob had never seen a Goyl child before. For a crazy moment he thought he recognized Will in one of the boys.

  “Hold on!” Valiant hissed. “I think I know what you’re planning to do! You’ve lost your mind. Probably not surprising as you were dead just a few days ago!”

  Jacob pushed the spyglass back into his coat. “If you want my gold tree sapling, you’d better get me onto that bridge!”

  36

  THE WRONG NAME

  “Fox?” She had been calling her for a while.

  Fox was surprised that the Waterman hadn’t dragged Clara into his pond by now, but she knew nothing about this world. But everything about the world Jacob came from. Maybe that was t
he reason why she couldn’t stop picturing him in her arms. The Red Fairy hadn’t made her that jealous. Nor had the Witch into whose hut Jacob had vanished almost every night for a year, or the Empress’s maid whose sickly sweet perfume she had smelled for weeks on his clothes. Yes, maybe she couldn’t forgive Clara that one kiss because she came from his world. It would always be her greatest fear that Jacob would return to it one day. To never come back. Fox had tried to hide that fear from him, but he knew her far too well. Not even the vixen’s fur could shield her secrets from him, except for one. She was quite good at hiding how much she loved him.

  “Fox? Please!”

  The vixen didn’t move. It almost felt as if she had tasted the enchanted water herself. She had even caught herself cursing the fur because it made Jacob forget that she also had lips he could kiss and skin he could caress.

  “Fox?”

  She had found her after all. Clara knelt down on the damp moss and pushed the branches aside. She looked quite desperate. But her hair was like pale gold. Did he like that better? Her own hair was red like the fur of the vixen. She couldn’t remember whether it had ever been different.

  She shifted shape and rose to her feet. She didn’t want Clara to look down on her. Even though she felt stronger wearing the fur.

  Clara reached for her arm but Fox walked past her evading her touch. And her eyes. It wasn’t just jealousy. Clara had discovered her secret, Fox could see that on her face. You love him, her eyes said. You love him, Fox. So? She was tempted to reply. Even if that is true, is it any of your business? You don’t belong in this world.

  “I still don’t know your name,” Clara said. “Your real name, I mean.”

  Real… What was real about it? And what gave her the idea that she would tell her? Not even Jacob knew her human name. “Celeste, wash your hands. Celeste, comb your hair.”

  “Do you still feel it?” Fox turned and stared into her blue eyes.

  Jacob could look you in the eye and lie. He was very good at it, but not even he could fool the vixen.

  Clara lowered her gaze, but Fox could smell what she was feeling: all the fear and shame.

  “Have you ever drunk Larks’ Water?”

  “Of course not. No vixen would ever be so stupid.”

  It was not her fault, Fox. Stop acting like a child. A child? Love had been so much easier as a child. The innocence—whatever that meant. She had been a child when she had first met Jacob, and he had still been a boy. Well, almost. And had it really been easier? With all the shadows that followed both of them. Remember Fox. Love was never easy.

  Clara stared at the brook where the dead larks were still caught between the stones. Clara. Her name sounded like glass and cool water, and Fox had liked her so much—until she had kissed Jacob.

  She turned her back on her. The vixen could hide her feelings so effortlessly under her fur. It wasn’t that easy with a human face. Fox was not even sure what that face looked like by now. She didn’t like mirrors. They only reminded her of the one through which Jacob disappeared far too often. From time to time she caught a glimpse of herself in the surface of a lake or in the glass of a windowpane. She never looked at her reflection for long. She despised vanity. Was she beautiful? Probably. Her mother had been beautiful, but her father had beaten her nevertheless.

  Don’t call him your father, Fox.

  “You prefer to be the vixen, don’t you?” The night tinted Clara’s blue eyes black. “Does the fur make it easier to understand this world?”

  She touched her arms as if she could still feel Jacob’s hands on them. And was ashamed of it.

  “The vixen doesn’t try to understand the world,” Fox replied.

  And realized that Clara wished for a fur of her own.

  It took away all her anger.

  37

  AT THE DARK FAIRY’S WINDOWS

  Butchers, tailors, bakers, jewelers… the bridge leading to the Hanging Palace was a shopping arcade with dizzying views onto the city far below. Its windows displayed gems and minerals next to lizard meat and black-leaved cabbage that grew without sunlight. Bread and fruits from the Goyl’s aboveground provinces lay next to the dried bugs and spiders that were considered a delicacy. But Jacob only had eyes for the palace whose onyx-black gates could be seen behind the shop fronts. Its dimensions were even more impressive than they were from below.

  Jacob leaned over the balustrade between two shops to get a closer look. The six crystal thorns ended dozens of feet below the bridge. They resembled pointed towers standing on their heads, each surely containing several floors.

  “I guess the Dark Fairy’s chambers are behind the malachite windows?”

  “Would you believe me if I say no?” Valiant sighed and cast a nervous look at a group of Goyl soldiers strolling past the shops. There were lots of them on the bridge—not to mention the sentries by the palace gate. Jacob looked again at the Fairy’s windows. Green eyes gaping out from the crystal walls. The bridge’s metal joists were bolted to the palace about sixty feet above them, but in contrast to the rest of the façade, the crystal surface was so smooth that it offered as much foothold as mirror glass.

  Nevertheless. He had to try.

  Valiant was muttering something about the limitations of the human mind, when Jacob pulled the snuffbox from his pocket. It contained one of the most useful magical items he’d ever found: a single very long golden hair. The Dwarf fell silent as Jacob began to rub the hair between his fingers. It began to sprout fibers, each as fine as the silk of a spider, but soon they formed a rope. Its firmness could compete with ropes three times its diameter, and it had other, even more wondrous properties. The rope could grow to any length needed, and it attached itself to the exact spot you looked at when you threw it.

  “A Rapunzel-hair. Seems you’re not as mad as I thought!” Valiant murmured. “But not even that rope will help you with the guards. They’ll see you as clearly as they’d see a bug crawling over their faces!”

  In reply, Jacob produced the green-glass bottle from his pocket. The slime inside granted invisibility for a few hours. It was produced by carnivorous snails that used it as camouflage to sneak up on any prey they fancied. Stilts and Thumblings bred the snails for the slime so they could go on their forays similarly undetected. Jacob had last refilled the bottle from the provisions kept by the Stilt in the tower. One had to smear the slime under one’s nose—quite an unsavory procedure, even though it didn’t smell—and the effect was immediate. The only problems were the side effects, including hours of debilitating nausea as well as, after repeated use, temporary paralysis.

  “Rapunzel-hair and wane-slime.” Jacob detected a trace of admiration in Valiant’s voice. “I must admit, you’re well equipped. All the same, I want to hear where your gold tree is before you climb up there.”

  Jacob was already smearing the slime under his nose.

  “Oh, no,” he said. “What if you’ve once again forgot to tell me about something that will make me end up with a broken neck or in a cell of that prison stalactite over there? The rope carries only one, so you get to stay here. In case the guards spot me, I suggest you try your best to distract them, as otherwise all memory of your gold tree will fade with me.”

  Jacob swung himself over the balustrade before the Dwarf could protest. The slime had already made his body disappear, and as he climbed down to the bridge’s iron girders, he could no longer see his own hands. Holding onto one of the struts, he threw the rope. The golden cord wound through the air like a snake, until it attached itself to a ledge between the malachite windows.

  And what will you do if you actually find Will and the Fairy behind those windows, Jacob? Even if he could break the spell—Will would still be asleep. How was he supposed to get him out of the Fortress and back to Clara? That question had come to his mind earlier but Jacob still didn’t know the answer.

  Climbing a Rapunzel-rope is easy. The rope adhered to the hands and Jacob tried to ignore the abyss beneath him. All
will end well. The palace loomed above him, the city’s lights reflecting in its countless windows and he could already feel the nausea brought on by the wane-slime. A few more yards, Jacob. Don’t look down.

  He tightened his grip on the taut rope and climbed on until his invisible hands could finally reach the crystal. His feet found the ledge and he took a moment to recover his breath, while he leaned against the polished surface. To his left and right the malachite windows shimmered like the frozen water of a distant ocean. He pulled Chanute’s knife from his belt and set the blade against the window to his left. A hole with a moonstone rim was right above which he only noticed when the snake shot out. Moonstone as pale as its scales, as pale as its mistress’s skin. He tried to thrust the knife into its body, but it wrapped itself around his neck so relentlessly that his fingers let go of the haft, as he tried to loosen the terrible noose formed by the snake’s body. But the snake was too strong and soon his feet slipped from the ledge, and he hung helplessly above the abyss like a snared bird. Two more snakes slithered out of a hole underneath the windows and wrapped themselves around his chest and legs. Jacob gasped for air but couldn’t breathe, and the last thing he saw was the golden rope coming away from the ledge with a jolt and disappearing into the darkness above him.

  38

  FOUND AND LOST

  Sandstone walls and iron bars, a lizard-skin boot kicking him in the ribs, gray uniforms in the red fog that filled his head… the Dwarf had sold him out once again. When had he done it? In one of the shops, while you were waiting in front of the door like an obedient dog, Jacob.

  He managed to sit up, although they had bound his hands and feet.