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7
The House of The Witch
A thicket of roots, thorns, and leaves. Giant trees, and saplings stretching toward what scant light trickled through the thick canopy. Swarms of will-o’-the-wisps above putrid ponds, and clearings where toadstools drew their poisonous circles. Jacob had last been in the HungryForest four months earlier, to find a Man-Swan wearing a shirt of nettles over his feathers. But after three days he’d abandoned the search, for he had not been able to breathe under the dark trees.
It took them until midday to reach the edge of the forest, because Will had been in pain again. The stone had now spread all over his neck, though Clara pretended not to see it. Love makes you blind — she seemed intent on proving that proverb. She never budged from Will’s side; she wrapped her arms around him whenever the stone grew a little further and he doubled over in the saddle with pain. But when she felt unobserved, Jacob saw his own fear on her face. When she asked him what he knew about the stone, he gave her the same lies he had given his brother: that it was only Will’s skin that was changing, and that it would be simple enough to heal him in this world. She hadn’t taken much convincing. Both she and Will were only too happy to believe whatever comforting lies he told them.
Clara rode better than he’d expected. Jacob had bought her a dress from a market they had passed along the way, but she made him swap it for a man’s clothes after trying in vain to mount her horse in the wide skirt. A girl in men’s clothes, and the stone on Will’s skin — Jacob was glad when they finally left the villages and highways behind and could ride under the trees, even though he knew what would be awaiting there.
Barkbiters, Mushroom-Wights, Trappers, Crow-Men. The HungryForest had many unpleasant inhabitants, though the Empress had been trying for years to clear it of its terrors. Despite the dangers, there was a lively trade in horns, teeth, skins, and other body parts of the HungryForest’s creatures. Jacob had never earned his money that way, but there were many who made quite a decent living of it: fifteen silver dollars for a Mushroom-Wight (a two-dollar bonus if it spat real fly-agaric poison), thirty for a Barkbiter (not a lot, considering the hunt could easily leave the hunter dead), and forty for a Crow-Man (who at least only went for the eyes).
ook Will’s blemished hand. “What is that?” she asked in a halting voice as she stroked the stone. “I have never seen a skin condition like this.”
Of course. A medical student — Look at her, Jacob! She’s just as lovesick as your brother. So lovesick that she even followed him into a whole other world.
From the rafters above came a scraping sound, and a scrawny face peered down at them. The Stilt who had bitten Jacob on his first trip behind the mirror could not be driven from the tower, but its ugly face quickly disappeared behind the cobwebs as Jacob drew his pistol. For a while Jacob had borrowed guns from his father’s collection, but at some point he’d had a gunsmith in New York put the workings of a modern pistol inside one of the old-fashioned shells.
Clara stared, dumbfounded, at the glinting muzzle.
“Send her back, Will.” Jacob tucked the pistol back into his belt. “I won’t tell you again.”
Will had by now encountered things that were more frightening than a big brother, but finally he did turn around. He brushed the fair hair from Clara’s forehead.
“He’s right,” Jacob heard Will whisper. “I’ll come after you soon. It will heal. You’ll see; my brother will find a way.”
Jacob had never understood where all that trust came from. Nothing had ever been able to shake it, not even all the years during which Will had barely seen him.
“Let’s go.” Jacob turned around and went toward the hatch.
“Go back, Clara. Please,” he heard Will say.
But Jacob had already reached the bottom of the rope ladder by the time his brother finally caught up with him. Will climbed so slowly, it seemed he never wanted to reach the bottom. Then he stood there, looking at the elven dust on his hands. Deep sleep, enchanting dreams — not the worst gift, but Will wiped the dust from his fingers as Jacob had shown him. Then he touched his neck. The first traces of pale green were already showing there, too.
“You don’t need anybody, right, Jake?” His voice nearly sounded envious. “You were always like that.”
Jacob pushed aside the ivy.
“If you need her so much, you should leave her where she’s safe.”
“I just wanted to give her a call. She hadn’t heard from me in weeks. I didn’t think she’d follow me.”
“Really? And what were you waiting for then up there?”
Will had no answer for that.
* * * * *
Fox was waiting by the horses, and she didn’t like it at all that Jacob had brought Will back. Nobody can help him. Her gaze still said it.
We’ll see, Fox.
The horses were agitated. Will soothingly patted their nostrils. His gentle brother. Will would always bring home every stray dog and cry bitter tears over the poisoned rats in the park. But what was growing in his flesh was anything but gentle.
“Where are we riding to?”
He looked up at the tower.
Jacob gave him one of the rifles from the panniers of the packhorse.
