It took Jacob nearly an hour to get from the station to the Grand Hotel where he usually stayed. Its magnificent rooms were worlds apart from the modest lodgings at Chanute’s tavern, but from time to time Jacob enjoyed sleeping between the gold-embroidered curtains of a four-poster bed. He had paid a chambermaid to keep a few clothes ready for him to wear at the palace, and she didn’t turn a hair when he handed her his torn and bloody shirts to wash and mend. She was used to finding such stains on his clothes and repaired his torn sleeves and pants as naturally as if all guests of the Grand Hotel in Vena arrived with such damaged clothes.
The countless bells of the city were chiming midday when Jacob made his way to the palace. On many walls the official photographs of the wedding couple were smeared with anti-Goyl graffiti. The slogans competed with the pompous headlines the newspaper boys were yelling at every corner: ETERNAL PEACE… HISTORIC EVENT… TWO POWERFUL EMPIRES… OUR GREAT PEOPLES… The same fondness for big words on both sides of the mirror.
Jacob had himself posed just a year ago for Robert Fenton, the court photographer, who had done the formal portraits of the bride and groom. Fenton was a master of his trade, but Amalie of Austry didn’t make it easy for him. The beauty the Fairy lily had granted her was as cold as porcelain, and her face was as blank in real life as it was on the posters. Her groom, in contrast, photographed like a sculpture chiseled from petrified fire.
The crowd in front of the palace was so dense that Jacob was tempted to use his sword to clear a path to the gates. The imperial guards pointed their bayonets at him when he called for entrance through the wrought-iron bars, but one of them was an old acquaintance. Justus Kronsberg was the youngest son of a nobleman, who owed his wealth to the fact that his meadows were swarming with Grass-Elves whose threads and glass adorned so many dresses at the Empress’s court. Therese of Austry required all her guardsmen to be at least six and a half feet tall, and the youngest Kronsberg was no exception. He was almost a head above Jacob, not counting the plumed helmet, but his thin mustache couldn’t hide the fact that he still had the face of a boy.
Years ago Jacob had saved one of Justus’s brothers from the wrath of a Witch whose daughter he’d rejected. Since then Jacob never ran out of Elven glass buttons for his clothes, but the rumor that the glass protected against Stilts and Thumblings had sadly not proved to be true.
“Jacob Reckless!” The youngest Kronsberg spoke with the soft dialect one could hear in the south of Austry: “Just yesterday someone told me you were killed by a Goyl.”
“Really?” Jacob wondered what Justus would have thought of the imprint he wore above his heart. The moth hadn’t faded since the Red Fairy had brought him back to life. “I guess you see a lot of Goyl at the palace these days. Where did the Empress put the groom? In the North Wing?”
The other guards eyed Jacob warily when Justus Kronsberg let him through the gate.
“Where else?” Kronsberg lowered his voice. “Are you back from an assignment? I hear the Empress has been offering thirty gold coins for a Wishing Sack after the Crookback made two of her spies disappear in his.”
A Wishing Sack. Chanute claimed to own one, but not even he was ruthless enough to put such an item into the Empress’s hands. You just had to name an enemy, and the sack made your foe disappear without a trace. The Crookback was rumored to have dealt with hundreds of his enemies—and friends—this way.
“No, I’m not here about a Wishing Sack.” Jacob looked up at the balcony from which the Empress would present the bride and groom to her subjects the next day. “It’s a private matter. Please give my best to your father and your brother.”
Justus Kronsberg was clearly disappointed to not learn more about the purpose of Jacob’s visit, but he still unlocked the First Inner Courtyard gate for him. After all it was Jacob’s doing that his brother hadn’t ended up as a toad at the bottom of a well, or, as Witches tended to prefer these days, as a doormat or a tray for their china.
Jacob had been to the palace only three months earlier when he’d been called in to authenticate a magic nut in the Empress’s Chambers of Miracles. The wide courtyards seemed almost modest compared to what he had seen in the Goyl Fortress, and the buildings around them looked quite conventional despite their gilded gutters and crystal balconies when compared to Kami’en’s Hanging Palace. The splendor within, however, was still impressive.
Especially in the North Wing, the Emperors of Austry had spared no expense, as its main purpose was lodging official guests, both allies and foes, and humbling them with the wealth and power of the Empire. In the entrance hall golden fruits and flowers climbed the columns. The floor was plain white marble, maybe because the builders had been all too aware of the fact that no human mosaic could compete with the stone artistry of the Goyl, while the walls were painted with frescoes of Austry’s most famous sights: the highest mountains, the oldest towns, and the most spectacular castles. The hunting lodge, whose ruin housed the mirror, was depicted in all its lost glory with Schwanstein as a fairy-tale idyll at its feet. No roads or railroad tracks scarred the painted hills; instead, they were teeming with all the creatures Her Majesty’s family had been hunting with great vigor for generations: Giants, Dragons, Witches, Watermen, Lorelei, and Ogres.
The stairs leading to the upper floors were lined with less peaceful images, most of them commissioned by the Empress’s grandfather: they showed sea, land, summer, and winter campaigns, battles against his brother in Lotharaine and his cousin in Albion, against rebellious Dwarfs and the Wolf- and Bear-Lords in the east. Every visitor was sure to find a painting depicting the army of his own nation in battle with the Empire—always in defeat. The Goyl were the only ones to climb these stairs without witnessing their ancestors’ annihilation in battle. Ever since their King had declared war on his human neighbors, Kami’en had been the victor.
The two guards Jacob met on the stairs didn’t stop him although he was armed, and the servants who scurried past him just gave him a deferential nod. Everyone in the North Wing knew Jacob Reckless, for Therese of Austry often called on his services to give important guests a tour of her Chambers of Miracles and to tell them true and untrue stories about the treasures on display.
The quarters the Empress had allocated to the Goyl were on the second floor, the most sumptuous part of the North Wing. Jacob saw the sentries as soon as he peered down the first corridor. They noticed him but only followed him with their eyes as he turned left from the staircase into a hall where the rulers of Austry demonstrated their knowledge of the wider world by displaying souvenirs brought back from their travels.
The hall was deserted, just as Jacob had hoped. The Goyl weren’t interested in the Troll-fur hat Her Majesty’s father had brought back from Yurtland, or in the Leprechaun boots from Albion, and whatever was written about their people in the books that lined the walls was most likely not flattering.
The North Wing was far from the Empress’s chambers, thus giving her guests the illusion of being unobserved. But the walls hid a network of secret passages from which every room could be spied on and, in some cases, even entered. Jacob had used them to pay nightly visits to an ambassador’s daughter. The network was entered through hidden doors, and the one Jacob wanted was behind a curtain embroidered with pearls found in the stomachs of Thumblings, a royal souvenir from Lotharaine. The door itself looked like part of the paneling. It opened easily, suggesting it was used quite regularly. Jacob nearly stumbled over a dead rat in the passageway. The Empress had these secret alleyways fumigated regularly, but the rodents loved the dark corridors. Every three yards there were peepholes in the walls, each approximately the size of a thumbnail, camouflaged on the other side by ornamental stucco or a two-way mirror. In the first room a bored maid was dusting the gilded furniture, but the second and third rooms had been turned into temporary offices for the Goyl, and Jacob instinctively held his breath when he saw Hentzau sitting behind one of the desks. He had to have heard about their escape by now and
the stolen plane. But it wasn’t for the jasper Goyl that Jacob had come.
He heard a maid softly humming to herself behind the thin walls, the clanking of porcelain, and then, worryingly close, a cough. Jacob quickly switched off his flashlight. Of course. Therese of Austry had all her guests watched; why should her greatest enemy be treated any differently, even if he was her future son-in-law?
A gas lantern appeared around a corner up ahead, illuminating a pale man who looked as if he spent his whole life in these corridors. Jacob squeezed into an alcove, holding his breath until the spy had shuffled past him and out through the hidden door. He certainly would be back soon—or someone to relieve him. There wouldn’t be much time.
The spy had been watching the very room Jacob was looking for. He recognized the Dark Fairy’s voice even before he saw her through the tiny hole. The room was only lit by a few candles. The curtains were all drawn, but a trickle of sunlight seeped underneath the pale yellow brocade. The Fairy was standing by a curtain, as though she was shielding her lover from the light. Her skin shimmered in the darkness as if it was made from moonlight. Don’t look at her, Jacob!
Kami’en was standing by the door, fire in the dark. Jacob sensed his impatience even through the wall.
“You’re asking me to put my faith in a fairy tale.”
Every word filled the room. One could hear his strength in his voice—and the ability to control it. “I admit it amuses me that all those who want us to crawl back into the earth seem to believe in it. But don’t expect me to be that naive. No man’s skin can guarantee what more than a hundred thousand soldiers have fought for. I am not invincible, and no jade Goyl will change that. Even this wedding will only buy me peace for a while.”
The Dark Fairy tried to reply, but Kami’en cut her off.
“We have uprisings in the north; the east is only quiet because they’re more interested in slaughtering each other; in the west the Crookback takes my bribes and arms his troops behind my back, not to mention his cousin on the island. The onyx Goyl despise the color of my skin, my munitions factories can’t keep up with the demands of my fighting soldiers, the field hospitals are overflowing, and the resistance has just blown up two of our most vital railroads. As far as I can remember, none of that was mentioned in the fairy tale my mother told me. Let the people believe in sacred stones and the jade Goyl. But the world is made of iron.”
He put his hand on the door handle. “They do make beautiful things,” he murmured, touching the gold fittings above it. “I just wonder why they’re so obsessed with gold. I have always preferred silver.”
“Promise me he’ll be by your side. Even when you exchange your vows with her. Promise!” The Fairy raised her hand, and all the gold in the dim room turned to silver.
“He is a Man-Goyl! As far as my officers are concerned, not even the jade can make up for that. And he’s less experienced than any of my bodyguards.”
“And he still outfought every one of them! Promise me!”
He loved her. Jacob saw it on Kami’en’s face. He loved her so much it scared him.
“I have to go.” He turned around, but the door wouldn’t open.
“Promise me!” the Fairy repeated.
The door sprung open when she dropped her hand. But her lover left without an answer, and she was alone.
Now, Jacob!
His fingers searched for a hidden door, but they found only wooden panels and the Fairy was walking toward the door through which Kami’en had left. Come on, Jacob! She’s still alone! There’ll be guards outside that door. Maybe he could kick in the wall. And then what? The noise would immediately summon dozens of Goyl. He was still in the dark passage, unsure of what to do, when the Fairy waved a guard into the room.
Jade.
It was the first time he saw his brother in the Goyl’s gray uniform. Will wore it as though he’d never known anything else. He still looked like his brother but everything about him was Goyl. His lips might have been a little fuller, his hair a little finer, but his body spoke their language. And he looked at the Dark Fairy as if she was all he knew and all he cared for.
There is nothing but her, Jacob. Remember. A full year and he hadn’t thought once about Fox, waiting at the shore of the lake. Or about Will. Or his mother. He hadn’t even remembered his own name. Fairy magic. There was nothing more powerful in this world.
“I hear you disarmed Kami’en’s best bodyguard.” The Dark Fairy caressed Will’s face, the face her spell had turned to jade.
“He isn’t as good as he claims.”
Did that sound like his brother? No. Will had never been keen to measure his strength against others’. He fought only for one reason: to protect something or someone he considered vulnerable or in need of help. Like a stray dog. Or their mother. “You made her cry!” Yes, there had been times when Will had picked a fight with him. And Jacob hadn’t let him win those…
The Dark Fairy smiled when Will closed his fingers almost tenderly around the hilt of his saber. Jade fingers.
You will give him back! Jacob thought while he felt his heart drowning in helpless rage. And your sister will get her revenge!
He’d completely forgotten about the spy. The man’s eyes widened as his lantern brought Jacob into view. Jacob smashed his flashlight into his temple and quickly caught the slumping body, but one scrawny shoulder brushed against the wall, and the lantern crashed onto the wooden floor before Jacob could catch it.
“What was that?” The Dark Fairy asked.
Jacob extinguished the lantern and held his breath.
Steps.
He reached for his pistol. Until he realized who was coming toward the wall.
Will kicked it in and Jacob didn’t wait for his brother to push through the splintered wood. He was already stumbling back along the dark passageway when the Dark Fairy called the guards. Stop, Jacob! But nothing had ever frightened him as much as the sound of the footsteps behind him. What if the Fairy had made him forget even his face? His face, Clara’s, everything he had been before…
Jacob tore down the curtain as he pushed through the hidden door. The sudden light blinded Will, and when he raised his arm to shield his eyes, Jacob managed to strike the drawn saber from his other hand.
He didn’t remember him. Jacob saw it in his eyes.
It felt so wrong to point his pistol at him.
“Leave the sword where it is, Will!”
Why call him by his name? For sure the Dark Fairy had given him another one. One to fit his new skin.
Of course he went for the saber. Jacob tried to kick it away, but Will was faster and he still had the same familiar face, although it was cast in jade. Jacob dropped the pistol. He knew the magic all too well that made his brother attack him like a stranger.
He barely managed to deflect Will’s saber with his own. The next stroke cut into his arm. The Fairy was right: he fought very well. His brother was fighting like a Goyl, cold and precise, without any fear. “I hear you disarmed Kami’en’s best bodyguard.” “He isn’t as good as he claims.”
Another strike. It almost sliced his chest. Fight back, Jacob!
Blade struck against blade, sharpened metal instead of the toy swords they had fought each other with as children. So long ago. Above them the sunlight was caught in the crystal blossoms of a chandelier, and the carpet beneath their feet bore the symbols on which the Witches danced to summon spring. Will was panting. Both of them were breathing so heavily that they noticed the imperial guards only when they cocked their rifles. Will backed away from the white uniforms, and Jacob instinctively stood in front of him, protecting his younger brother as he’d always done, but that brother no longer needed his help. The Goyl had also caught up with them. They were coming through the hidden door, an officer and three soldiers. Will lowered his sword and stepped back to join them.
“That man tried to enter the King’s chambers!” The officer was a malachite Goyl. He spoke Austrish with barely an accent.
&nb
sp; Jacob tried to catch his brother’s eyes. Will returned his glance. Strangers. Oh, yes, the Fairy had made sure he was hers and hers alone. And maybe he doesn’t want to remember, Jacob.
He offered his saber to the palace guards. “Jacob Reckless. I need to speak with the Empress.”
The guard who took the saber whispered something to his officer. Jacob’s portrait was still hanging in one of the palace halls. The Empress had ordered it after he brought her the Glass Slipper.
Will turned and followed the Goyl, as the guards led Jacob away. He didn’t look back.
44
TOO LATE
It had been quite a while since Jacob had last stood in Therese of Austry’s audience chamber. It was usually Auberon, her favorite Court Dwarf, who negotiated the reward or gave the next assignment. The Empress only granted personal audiences when an item had been particularly dangerous to acquire, as had been the case with the Glass Slipper and with the Wishing Table, or when the story of its acquisition had sufficient blood and death in it. Therese of Austry would have made a great treasure hunter if she hadn’t been born the daughter of an Emperor.
She was sitting behind her desk when the guards brought Jacob to her. Her silk dress was embroidered with Elven glass, as saffron yellow as the roses on her desk. Her beauty was legendary, but war and defeat had left their marks. The lines around her brows were more defined, the shadows under her eyes darker, and her gaze had grown even colder.
The Petrified Flesh Page 18
