which
contained all the magic and all the terror of this world.
The pressure
of the knife eased a little, but the face of the man was still contorted with
rage and helpless grief. Jacob was
tempted to ask him how old his son had been.
"Nobody
just goes to see a Fairy." The boy
who stammered these words was fifteen at the most. "They come and get you."
"I know a
way. Keep
talking, Jacob . I've been there
before."
"Really? So why
aren't you dead, then?" The knife
was breaking his skin. "Or crazy,
like the ones who come back and then drown themselves in the nearest
pond?"
Jacob felt
Will staring at him. What was he
thinking? That his older brother was
telling fairy tales, just as he had done when they were young and Will couldn't
sleep?
"She will
help him," he said again, hoarse from the pressure of the knife. But
before that, you'll kill us. And it
still won't bring back your son.
The weasel
pushed the muzzle of his rifle into Will's blotched cheek. "Going to see the Fairies? Can't you see he's making fun of you,
Stains? Let's just shoot them
already!"
He shoved Will
toward the barn. Two of the others
grabbed Clara. Now, Jacob. What have you go to
lose? But Threefingers suddenly spun
around and stared past the stables to the south. Through the rain came the snorting of horses.
Riders.
They came over
the fallow fields on horses that were as gray as their uniforms, and Will's
face said very clearly who they were, even before the weasel yelled it to the others.
"Goyl!"
The peasant
pointed his rifle at Will, as if only he could have called them, but Jacob shot
him before the man could pull the trigger. Three of the Goyl, riding at full gallop, drew their sabers. They still preferred fighting with their swords,
though their battles were now won with guns. Clara stared, dumbfounded, at the stone faces — and then she looked at
Jacob. Yes, that's what he's becoming. You still love him now?
The bandits
sought cover behind a toppled cart. They
had clearly forgotten about their prisoners, and Jacob quickly pushed Will and
Clara toward the horses.
"Fox!"
he yelled, grabbing the mare's reins. Where was she?
Two of the
Goyl fell off their horses; the others took cover behind the barn. Threefingers was a good shot.
Clara was
already sitting on her horse, but Will was just standing there, staring across
the yard at the Goyl.
"Get on
your horse, Will! " Jacob screamed as he swung
himself onto his mare.
But his
brother didn't stir.
Jacob was
about to drive his horse toward Will when he saw Fox scamper out of the
barn. She was hobbling, and Jacob saw
the weasel aim his rifle at her. He shot
the man down, but just as he reined in the mare and leaned forward to grab Fox
by her nape, he was hit on his injured shoulder by the butt of a rifle. The boy. He was standing there, holding his empty
rifle by the barrel. He was already
striking out again, as if by killing Jacob he could slay his own fear. The pain made everything swim in front of
Jacob's eyes. He managed to draw his
pistol, but the Goyl were quicker. They
swarmed out from behind the barn, and one of their bullets struck the boy in
the back.
Jacob grabbed
Fox and lifted her into the saddle. Will
had also swung himself back onto his horse, though he was still staring at the
Goyl.
"Will! " Jacob yelled again. "Ride, dammit!"
His brother
didn't even look at him.
"Will! " Clara screamed, glancing desperately at the fighting
men.
But Will only
came when Jacob snatched his reins.
"Ride!"
he barked at Will once more. "Ride,
and don't look back."
And at last
his brother turned his horse.
13
Of The Use of Daughters
Defeated. Therese of
Austry was standing by the window, staring down at the palace guards. They were patrolling in front of the gate as
if nothing had happened. The whole city
lay below her as if nothing had happened. But she
contained all the magic and all the terror of this world.
The pressure
of the knife eased a little, but the face of the man was still contorted with
rage and helpless grief. Jacob was
tempted to ask him how old his son had been.
"Nobody
just goes to see a Fairy." The boy
who stammered these words was fifteen at the most. "They come and get you."
"I know a
way. Keep
talking, Jacob . I've been there
before."
"Really? So why
aren't you dead, then?" The knife
was breaking his skin. "Or crazy,
like the ones who come back and then drown themselves in the nearest
pond?"
Jacob felt
Will staring at him. What was he
thinking? That his older brother was
telling fairy tales, just as he had done when they were young and Will couldn't
sleep?
"She will
help him," he said again, hoarse from the pressure of the knife. But
before that, you'll kill us. And it
still won't bring back your son.
The weasel
pushed the muzzle of his rifle into Will's blotched cheek. "Going to see the Fairies? Can't you see he's making fun of you,
Stains? Let's just shoot them
already!"
He shoved Will
toward the barn. Two of the others
grabbed Clara. Now, Jacob. What have you go to
lose? But Threefingers suddenly spun
around and stared past the stables to the south. Through the rain came the snorting of horses.
Riders.
They came over
the fallow fields on horses that were as gray as their uniforms, and Will's
face said very clearly who they were, even before the weasel yelled it to the others.
"Goyl!"
The peasant
pointed his rifle at Will, as if only he could have called them, but Jacob shot
him before the man could pull the trigger. Three of the Goyl, riding at full gallop, drew their sabers. They still preferred fighting with their swords,
though their battles were now won with guns. Clara stared, dumbfounded, at the stone faces — and then she looked at
Jacob. Yes, that's what he's becoming. You still love him now?
The bandits
sought cover behind a toppled cart. They
had clearly forgotten about their prisoners, and Jacob quickly pushed Will and
Clara toward the horses.
"Fox!"
he yelled, grabbing the mare's reins. Where was she?
Two of the
Goyl fell off their horses; the others took cover behind the barn. Threefingers was a good shot.
Clara was
already sitting on her horse, but Will was just standing there, staring across
the yard at the Goyl.
"Get on
your horse, Will! " Jacob screamed as he swung
himself onto his mare.
But his
brother didn't stir.
Jacob was
about to drive his horse toward Will when he saw Fox scamper out of the
barn. She was hobbling, and Jacob saw
the weasel aim his rifle at her. He shot
the man down, but just as he reined in the mare and leaned forward to grab Fox
by her nape, he was hit on his injured shoulder by the butt of a rifle. The boy. He was standing there, holding his empty
rifle by the barrel. He was already
striking out again, as if by killing Jacob he could slay his own fear. The pain made everything swim in front of
Jacob's eyes. He managed to draw his
pistol, but the Goyl were quicker. They
swarmed out from behind the barn, and one of their bullets struck the boy in
the back.
Jacob grabbed
Fox and lifted her into the saddle. Will
had also swung himself back onto his horse, though he was still staring at the
Goyl.
"Will! " Jacob yelled again. "Ride, dammit!"
His brother
didn't even look at him.
"Will! " Clara screamed, glancing desperately at the fighting
men.
But Will only
came when Jacob snatched his reins.
"Ride!"
he barked at Will once more. "Ride,
and don't look back."
And at last
his brother turned his horse.
13
Of The Use of Daughters
Defeated. Therese of
Austry was standing by the window, staring down at the palace guards. They were patrolling in front of the gate as
if nothing had happened. The whole city
lay below her as if nothing had happened. But she
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