“Ha. That’s a good one. For someone with no sense of humor, you occasionally surprise me.”
“For someone without a shred of human decency, you surprise me, too.”
“Do not go soft on me. We don’t have time for that.”
We found Bluffroll in the center of his bustling army, gathered around a table of maps with what had to be his generals. Death stopped in front of him, staring down his long pale nose.
Bluffroll’s eyes narrowed and then darted quickly down to me and procession of wives carrying heads and then back up to Death.
“You’ve no business here. Either of you,” he said calmly.
“Can I bargain with you not to go where Coppertomb leads you?” I asked, hopeful. I would spare my people if I could. And Wittentree’s. I’d promised protection for them as well.
“You cannot. Be glad to keep your head after such an insolent offer.”
But there was an edge to his tone that I caught. I lifted my chin.
“Ah, so you know then that you are the last living competitor who worked against Coppertomb for the throne of the Bramble King,” I said calmly. “I saw his assassins eat Wittentree alive.”
His jaw clenched but he merely spat. “I’m no Wittentree, mortal, and you will not sway me with pretty warnings. I care not whether you live or die. Be off with you.”
I stared at him a long time and then I said, “I march to Death’s lands with only these mortal brides and our severed heads as my army. And together we will draw back the heart of the Bramble King and restore the Wittenhame, while you and your shining army go down to unleash your frustrations on innocent mortals. I have learned just now that even those of powerful build and stern jaw may have craven bones and runny coward hearts.”
Bluffroll reached into his collar and pulled out a long double-looped string on which hundreds of thick ragged pieces of dried meat had been strung.
“Tongues,” he said with a lift of his brow. “I collect them. Yours is of poor size, but the sizzle of it might make it worth a place with the others.”
There was a general murmur of laughter and a few glances at me, but the generals looked away quickly every time they caught a glimpse of Bluebeard’s face resting against my shoulder. While I’d been distracted a hummingbird had built a thimble nest just over his ear and its prospective mate was trying to lure it with a side-to-side dance.
Interesting. So much life seemed to center around this man they all named dead.
But perhaps they understood in their bones that he was their true sovereign. For they dared not cross him even when they thought him dead.
I swallowed.
“I can smell the Neverseed on you.” Bluffroll leaned back in his small camp chair. “You’ll be dead before we see another moon. And what are you doing here? Are you trying to walk the Path of Princes by following Death as you do? A dying wife with a dead husband clutched to her like her last remaining coin? Good luck with that.”
“I am, in fact, doing just that,” I said coolly, “and you would do well to help me with it, for when I succeed, you will be as much under his rule as any other Wittenbrand.”
Bluffroll’s eyes flicked from Death’s pale face to mine and back and he leaned back, drawing a dagger and pretending to trim his nails, but I saw by his quick glances up at me that something about my actions worried him.
“There’s no way a mortal can walk the Path of Princes.”
“What if I don’t walk it for myself? What if I walk it to fill full the Arrow’s purpose?”
Bluffroll swallowed. “I have no quarrel with the Arrow.”
“And yet you plan to sack his mortal lands.”
Bluffroll jammed the dagger into the table before him. “They were only his for one play of the Game. He won’t be attached to them.”
“And yet, he seems to be attached,” I said. “What do you think will happen if I bring him back from the barrow?”
Bluffroll looked up at the crumbling sky and then casually caught a goblet that moved across the table as the earth shook again. He glared balefully at me.
“Tell me this, little buzzing bee. Can death be turned back? Can a broken glass be mended? Can time restore my beauty?”
“You had beauty?” I asked, doubtful.
