The Fairy looked up at Will. More than ever, he and the King seemed to belong together.
"He was everything I hoped for," she said. "Look at him. All that petrified flesh, sown just for him."
She brushed some bark off her arm.
"I will give him back to you," she said. "But I have one condition: that you take him away from here, far, far away. So far that I won't be able to find him. For if I do, I will kill him."
He was dreaming. Yes. He must be. Some kind of fevered hallucination. He was probably still lying in the cathedral, her moths pumping venom into his skin.
"Why?" He barely even managed to say that one word.
Why are you asking her, Jacob? Do you really want to know if this is a dream? If it is, it's a good one. She's giving you your brother back.
The Fairy didn't answer him right anyway.
"Take him to the building by the gate, and wait for me there. But hurry, and watch out for Kami’en. He won't appreciate losing his jade shadow."
* * * * *
Jasper, onyx, moonstone. Jacob cursed his human skin as he crossed the courtyard, keeping his head down. Most of the surviving Goyl were probably not aware that they owed their escape to him. Fortunately, most of them were guarding the hostages or looking after the wounded, so Jacob managed to reach the carriages unchallenged.
The King was standing with his officers. The alabaster Goyl had not returned. The princess approached her husband and talked to him. Finally Kami’en led her away. Will's eyes stayed on his King, but he did not follow.
Now, Jacob.
Will's hand went for his saber as soon as Jacob appeared from between the carriages.
Do you want to play catch, Will?
His brother shoved a couple of Goyl out of his way, and he began to run. His wounds didn't seem to impede him. Not too fast, Jacob. Let him come closer, just as you used to do when you were kids. Back behind the carriages, past the shed where they'd locked up the hostages, and on to the building by the gate. Jacob kicked open the door. A dark hallway with boarded-up windows. The patches of light on the grimy floor looked like puddles of milk. The next room was full of beds for the cholera victims. Jacob squeezed himself behind the open door.
Will spun around when Jacob slammed the door shut behind him. For a moment his face showed the same surprise as when Jacob had hidden behind a tree in the park, but nothing in his eyes indicated that he recognized Jacob. The stranger with his brother's face. But he did catch the golden ball. Hands have their own memory. Will, catch! The ball swallowed him up like a frog swallowing a fly. Outside, the tone King was looking vainly for his jade shadow.
Jacob picked up the ball and sat on one of the beds. His reflection stared back at him from the gold, distorted, like his father's mirror. He wasn't sure what made him think of Clara; maybe it was the hospital smell that still lingered in the old walls, so different and yet so like that of the other world. Whatever it was, he caught himself imagining for a moment, just one short moment, how it would be if he simply forgot about the golden ball and put it into his chest in Chanute's tavern.
What's wrong with you, Jacob? Is it the Larks' Water still? Or is it that you're afraid that even if the Fairy keeps her promise, your brother will forever be that stranger whose face is disfigured by his hatred of you?
The Fairy appeared so suddenly in the doorway, as if he'd summoned her with his thoughts.
"Well, look at that!" she said, seeing the golden ball in his hands. "I knew the girl who once played with that ball. A long time before you and your brother were born. She caught not only her husband with it but also her older sister, and wouldn't let her out for ten years."
She walked toward Jacob, her dress wiping over the dirty floor.
He hesitated, but at last he gave her the ball.
"Such a pity," she said, lifting it to her lips. "Your brother looks so much better in jade." She breathed on the gleaming surface until the gold misted over. Then she handed the ball back to Jacob.
"What?" she said, noticing Jacob's doubtful look. "You're trusting the wrong Fairy."
She came so close to him that he could feel her breath on his face.
"My sister didn't tell you that any man who utters my name will die. Death will approach slowly, as befits the revenge of an immortal. You have maybe a year left, but it won't be long before you feel its presence. I'll show you."
She put her hand on his chest. Jacob felt a piercing pain in his heart. Blood seeped through his shirt, and when he tore it open he saw that the moth above his heart had come to life. Jacob grabbed its swollen body, but its claws were sunk so deep into his flesh that it felt as if he were tearing out his own heart.
"They say that to humans, love often feels like death," she said. "Is that true?"
She crushed the moth on Jacob's chest, until all that remained was the imprint on his skin.