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Fox had never understood where Jacob’s anger came from. All that harshness with which he shielded his heart. He is gone, Jacob, she wanted to say. Your father is gone. Forget him. But she knew too well how difficult it was to forget.
Of course, Orlando knew nothing of all this. He looked at Jacob as though he was doubting his sanity. Are you really that ignorant? his eyes jeered. Oh yes, very often, Fox wanted to reply. And I love him anyway. But Orlando knew that as well—and that “anyway” was at the core of love.
“So? Do you want to hear it?”
Jacob stared at where the carpet had lain in the grass.
“No,” he said. “Fox and I are riding back to Schwanstein. The Weaver! If she really exists, then she won’t be any easier to find than the Fairies, and probably just as dangerous.”
He looked at Fox. Let’s go. Anywhere. Never had
that wish to just turn and give up been clearer on Jacob’s face. His longing to just enjoy what they’d both been awaiting for so long, to forget the rest of the world, brothers, Alderelves, Fairies… just him and her.
It was hard not to say yes. But she loved him. She knew how unhappy he would be. And that he’d never forgive himself for abandoning his brother.
“Tell me,” she said to Orlando. “Tell me what you know.”
Jacob turned away and disappeared behind the Dragon’s bones.
Orlando looked after him.
“I think I’d really like to duel with him,” he said. “Pity we didn’t get a chance in Privideniy Park.”
He took Fox’s hand. “I can still shoot him if he makes you unhappy. No, not quite right. I will shoot him.” He bent to catch a spider crawling across one of the scattered bones. He opened his fingers, and it quickly ran up his arm. “The Weaver. Jacob is right. She’s not easy to find, and that’s putting it mildly. For mortals it’s almost impossible. But one of my first jobs in Moskva was to make a list of all the magical creatures the Tzar could use in a war against the Walrus. Crookback had just lost a few colonies to strange magic, and the Walrus was preparing his war against Circassia. As far as I’m aware, the Tzar only ever recruited one Baba Yaga, and not with much success, as we all know. But of course I also learned about the Weaver. The stories about her are as plentiful as they are vague, when it comes to exactly where she lives. I was about to put her on the list of fictitious creatures when I met a man in a pub who claimed his village had recently rid itself of a particularly nasty landowner by petitioning the Weaver to cut his life thread. You can imagine how this kind of magic could be very useful to any ruler in this world. But here comes the part that might interest you.” The spider crawled back down Orlando’s arm and onto his finger. “The Dark Fairy probably has her own ways, but for us mortals, even trying to find the Weaver can be deadly. Except if you ask a shaman. But not just any shaman...”
Orlando lifted his finger. The spider dangled off it by her thread.
Fox plucked the thread and spider from Orlando’s hand. “A shaman who speaks to spiders. Of course. He and the Weaver are more or less in the same line of work.”
“Smart vixen.”
“And do you know where to find such a shaman?”
Orlando had tied the two remaining horses to one of the Dragon’s vertebrae. One was already saddled. He went to it and tightened the surcingle. “I’m sorry. Shamans don’t believe in a god who needs to be worshipped in golden churches. They worship the mountains and rivers,” he said. “I’ve only ever met one, and he only talked to trees. But I’m sure the two of you can find one who speaks to spiders. You just have to promise me one thing: should you find the Weaver, I’d be most curious to know what the Dark Fairy wanted from her.” He untied the reins from the brittle bone and threw them over the horse’s head. “I’ll take the better horse. Only fair, don’t you think?”
Fox didn’t know what to say. I will miss you? It would have been the truth.
Orlando swung himself into the saddle.
“You still have the feather? Just stroke it along the quill should he ever treat you badly. I will sense it and I will come. You can also call me if you’re simply bored with him.”
“What if I treat him badly?”
“I very much hope you will.”
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “We live dangerous lives. That’s our choice, even though we may wish a different life for those we love. Use the feather! Whenever you need help.”
He steered his horse toward the south. Pashtun, Bengal, the Suleiman Empire... Spies were always in demand. Fox stared after him for a long time. There went another piece of her—but she knew the Windhound would take good care of it.
Jacob was kneeling by the Dragon’s petrified tail. The skeleton had been plundered thoroughly, but Alma had taught Jacob a few things not many treasure hunters knew. He’d scraped the moss off the bones and had broken some of the thorns off them. They were no bigger than rose thorns, but very effective on broken bones and torn tendons.
“We won’t be very fast on one horse,” Fox said, “but I could shift.” The vixen could keep up with a horse, at least for a while.
Jacob put the thorns into his pouch in which he kept his medicines from two worlds.
“No.”
“No what?”
