Foxheart by Claire Legrand Page B

“Is that you?”
    â€œOf course it’s me,” answered Fox, raising an eyebrow. He grinned, showing off his sharp teeth. “Don’t I look incredible?”

.10.
T HE S TAR L ANDS OF L ONG A GO

    B ehind Quicksilver, Sly Boots made a choked, squeaky sound.
    Quicksilver couldn’t blame him.
    It was a curious thing, seeing a human expression on the face of her dog, and hearing human speech from the snout of her dog, and realizing that her dog wasn’t quite there , was no longer quite solid . He looked like a normal dog until he turned, and then a curl of light drifted off him, and his whole body was illuminated as if he were made of sunlight and fire. He looked as though he might soar into the stars and be rather at home there—and then he turned solid again, and licked his behind.
    For the first time in her life, Quicksilver was left completely without speech.
    Anastazia dropped a few coins into the innkeeper’s outstretched hand. “Thank you very much! Always dependable, you are.”
    â€œBut I’ve never seen you before!” said the innkeeper, just before the door slammed shut.
    Anastazia ushered Quicksilver and Sly Boots down the hallway and up two flights of stairs. Through a window on the landing, Quicksilver looked out at a crowded market, though she could only open her eyes a crack against the blazing light. She saw that the hissing, croaking sounds belonged to a pack of furred lizards in a gilded cage, spitting fire at one another. And the roar she had heard did, in fact, belong to a particularly ferocious man, who was singing with great pathos about his lost love to a bemused crowd.
    Quicksilver looked around for some familiar landmark that would confirm that this was indeed Willow-on-the-River, but everything looked utterly foreign. There was no church, the roads were larger and paved with clean stones . . . ah. There was the magistrate’s house. And there was the river. And there, a giant willow tree sat, appropriately, on the river. The tree glowed a bright green, its slender boughs shimmering as if dusted with starlight. But there were no willows on the river—at least, not in the townthey had left only moments before. Quicksilver had always wondered how the town got its name—and now she understood.
    â€œI feel like I’ve gone mad,” said Sly Boots, his nose pressed to the glass, squinting through the spaces between his fingers. “Do you think she’s telling the truth? Oh, I’m going to be sick.”
    Sly Boots bent over and heaved onto the landing.
    â€œCome, don’t dawdle,” said Anastazia, ushering them up the rest of the stairs. She coughed into her sleeve and wiped her mouth. “Your eyes need some time. Also, my feet are on fire, and I’d like a nice sit.”
    â€œI’d like an explanation.” Quicksilver said sharply, once Anastazia had shown them into a quiet room with three beds and a cushioned couch by the window. “You’ve dragged us around quite enough.”
    â€œHave I now?”
    Sly Boots stumbled into the nearest bed and lay there, moaning and rubbing his temples.
    Quicksilver squared her shoulders. “Yes. I’ve reached my limit. Isn’t that right, Fox?”
    She said this automatically, having over the years gotten used to speaking with Fox as though he were a person and not simply a dog.
    â€œHonestly, I’d rather not get into it.” Fox sighed, settling on the couch to look down into the market. “There are much more interesting things to see here than you two arguing.”
    Quicksilver gaped at him. “I beg your pardon?”
    â€œDid I misspeak? I said you’re boring.”
    Often Quicksilver had amused herself by imagining what Fox’s voice would sound like, had he been a human—but in none of those fancies had he ever sounded so . . . well, if not hateful, then certainly not loving .
    She turned on Anastazia. “What