“I don’t think so,” said Jinx.
“So the Bonemaster’s learned to use the doorpaths,” said Elfwyn.
Jinx had been hoping no one would actually say it. It caused flaming billows of red horror in everyone who hadn’t already figured it out, and then a hubbub of panicked cries.
“He can’t get in . . . shut up!” Jinx shouted. Most people did. “He can’t get in here. The ward around this clearing is really strong. But some of the wards are weak, especially in the west. We’re going to need to evacuate everyone from those clearings into the clearings with stronger wards.”
Blast. And a selection of Jinx’s favorite swear words. They were going to have to abandon the west.
Jinx sprawled among the crawling roots of a large willow and leaned his head against its cold trunk.
Trees are dying, said the forest. The Restless are cutting trees. And we cannot take revenge, because the power slips away.
Where are they cutting? Jinx asked.
Toward the evening sun. That was what the trees called the west. The Terror.
It’s King Rufus of Bragwood, said Jinx. His soldiers must be making camp. Where are they?
The trees gave him some idea of where, but they weren’t interested in who King Rufus was. King Rufus might as well have been a porcupine or a raccoon as far as they were concerned: He was one of the Restless. If he harmed trees, he was the Terror.
King Rufus isn’t even an Urwalder, Jinx explained, irritated.
Something warm and rather nasty dripped on his hand. With it came a strong canine smell of dirty fur.
A werewolf’s face was inches from Jinx’s own, all fangs and drool. This werewolf was not Malthus. Its thoughts were full of fresh-caught meat.
“I see what they mean about you,” said the werewolf. “You are easy pickings, aren’t you? You just sit off the path dreaming away. I’m surprised no one’s eaten you yet.”
Jinx scrambled to his feet and pressed back against the tree. “I’m the Listener! Malthus knows me.”
“Yes, yes, I know.” The werewolf made an impatient gesture. “Ever-so-civilized Malthus. We’re not all like Malthus, you might as well get that straight.”
“I know that,” said Jinx. “Werewolves killed my father.” He clenched his hand around his knife, and reached for the fire inside him.
“Let’s skip the sob stories, shall we?” said the werewolf. “Humans killed my mother.” It stuck out a clawed hand. “I’m Leisha.”
“Leisha?” Jinx let go of his knife to shake the hand, which was matted and dirty. He somehow had always thought of werewolves as he.
“Yes, and you’re Jinx. I’ve been sent to take you to Salt City. You and that other slab of meat. The one with all the book-learning.”
“Sophie is not a slab of meat,” said Jinx. “Salt City? Who sent you?”
“Malthus.”
Jinx wasn’t sure if he believed Leisha or not. She was nothing like Malthus. She was much more like people’s idea of a werewolf, which was a hairy clawy fanged thing that would sooner eat you than talk to you. Jinx could see she was thinking about eating him, right now. “Why didn’t Malthus come himself?”
“How should I know? Busy, I suppose. Said it’s about the—what was it, some kind of gnome?” Leisha twitched an ear. “No, dome. That was it. The Elvish Dome.”
This did not sound very convincing. “Are you talking about a book?”
“Probably. Malthus likes books. I don’t know why. Can’t eat ’em.”
“And where’s this Salt City?”
“Can’t tell you. Have to just take you there.”
“Don’t you think that’s an awful lot of me trusting you for no reason?” said Jinx.
“Sure. But Malthus said you were kind of crazy,” said Leisha. “Are you going to go get the meat?”
“I’ll ask Sophie what she thinks,” said Jinx. “Wait here.”
Sophie, Jinx, Elfwyn, and Wendell all went, in case there was safety in numbers.
Salt City was underground, and full of werewolves. It was not the kind of place you could go into with a calm mind, because every Urwish human instinct screamed at you not to go in there at all. It was down a wide staircase carved of salt, which ended in an underground street carved of salt, lined with buildings carved of salt.
The humans had never seen anything like it before. They stared around in wonder.
“Werewolves built this?” said Sophie.
“I believe not,” said Malthus, and tactfully left it at that.
“It’s probably the entrance to an old salt mine,” said Wendell.
“Werewolves mine salt?” Sophie was being unusually slow on the uptake.
“No, humans mined salt, I’m sure,” said Jinx. “And werewolves came along and ate them. They probably had a nice salty flavor.”
“Perhaps.” Malthus gave a sigh, apparently at having missed the treat. “But it was long ago, and the story is lost in the ancient mists of the dawn of time.”
“Uh-huh,” said Jinx skeptically. Salt City didn’t look all that old. He’d never heard of it before, but that wasn’t too surprising. The Urwald didn’t really have much of a history. People didn’t generally live long enough to pass any along.
The other werewolves were moving through the street and in and out of the buildings with a studied air of not noticing the visitors. But Jinx could see that every single one of them was aware of every move the humans made. And that most of them were feeling rather hungry.
Malthus gave a long, low growl that ended in a sharp, snapping bark.
The other werewolves moved further away, with an air of doing it because they felt like it and not because of anything Malthus had said. Malthus nodded satisfaction and turned to Sophie.
“If you’ll step into my study, we can discuss our thoughts and ideas. And perhaps avoid causing any disturbance in the streets.”
They went into the nearest salt building. Jinx thought it would be Malthus’s house, but instead it appeared to be a library. Bookshelves lined the walls. It almost reminded Jinx of the Temple of Knowledge. But many of the shelves were empty.
Jinx went over and looked—the books were in several different languages, but all looked very, very old.
Malthus sprawled on a heap of bearskins on the floor, in the midst of which the Eldritch Tome lay open.
“Do lie down,” he said.
Feeling rather nervous, and with a lot of glances at the door, they sat.
Malthus had the book open to the line that had always bothered Jinx the most. He ran a claw along it.
“Nadir of all things,” he said. “I think yes, we can assume that refers to the bottommost reaches of the two paths.”
“And that’s underground?” said Sophie. “Literally underground, not figuratively?”
“Oh yes,” said Malthus. “I’m sure you’ve noticed the essential schema of the Tome—things are stated abstrusely, but never figuratively.”
“And do you agree that the seal is likely to be my husband?” said Sophie.
“From what Jinx describes of him, yes. He’s dabbled in all sorts of magic, hasn’t he? Lifeforce and deathforce. Such a magician could touch both paths, and would form an adequate seal if properly applied.” Malthus tapped a fang thoughtfully with his pencil.
“That’s why Jinx can’t use the Urwald’s lifeforce power,” said Elfwyn. “The Bonemaster’s drawing it away. He’s pulling it through the seal.”
Jinx remembered what Simon had said to him in a vision he’d had. The Bonemaster can strike at you through me. By taking Jinx’s power, of course; drawing the Urwald’s power right through Simon and up the Path of Ice to himself.
“If the Bonemaster’s doing that,” said Jinx, “then he must be hugely powerful by now. Why hasn’t he attacked us yet?”
“I don’t know,” said Sophie.
She turned to Malthus. He shrugged his furry shoulders.
“I wonder,” said Wendell, “if this has anything to do with th
e weather.”
“Perhaps,” said Malthus. “There is usually a thaw in January. Little creatures come out of hibernation for a few days.” He licked his lips with a long, pink tongue. “But this winter has a strong grip.”
“As though it’s not just heat that’s left the Urwald, but lifeforce,” said Sophie musingly.
“So the winter could go on forever,” said Wendell.
Jinx hadn’t even thought of that as a danger. “That’s not possible! Winter always ends!” He turned to the werewolf. “It can’t happen, can it?”
“I don’t know,” said Malthus.
“If we take the seal out,” said Sophie, “then the Bonemaster won’t be able to draw on Jinx’s power anymore.”
“It’s not my power, it’s the Urwald’s.”
“Can we take the seal out?” said Sophie. “Or would—it—have to be . . .” She swallowed, then went on, “. . . destroyed?”
The Glass Ax
Malthus seemed to have been expecting this question. He looked at Sophie, his eyes glowing golden-green. “It would be necessary to walk the paths, and find out.”
“How do I get there?” said Jinx and Sophie together.
They turned to each other. “I have to—” Jinx began.
“It should be me that—” said Sophie.
“Actually,” said Malthus, “I doubt anyone but Jinx could do it.”
Sophie’s thoughts roiled blue-brown; she didn’t like this at all. Jinx saw he would have to convince her. He sighed. It seemed unfair, given that he wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea himself. “I have to do it because I’m the other wick,” he said. “You know that. I’m connected to the fire path.”
“I’d better come with you,” said Sophie.
“Really?” said Malthus. “Forgive me, Scholar, but what exactly do you imagine you could contribute to the operation?”
“I could contribute something,” said Elfwyn. “I’m a magician.”
“Magicians burn and freeze as easily as anyone else,” said Malthus. “And I doubt anyone but Jinx or the Bonemaster would be able to locate the seal.”
“What are the paths like?” said Jinx.
Malthus tapped the Eldritch Tome with his pencil. “No figurative language. Fire is fire. Ice is ice.”
“Oh dear.” Sophie looked as tense as Jinx had ever seen her. “I really ought to be the one to—”
“You can’t go,” said Jinx, “because you can’t do magic.”
“I’m going, anyway,” said Wendell firmly. “At least as far as I can. It’s not fire and ice the whole way, is it?”
“Nobody knows,” said Malthus.
“How do I get there?” said Jinx.
“We. I’m going with you,” said Elfwyn.
“So am I,” said Wendell.
“You’ll need this.” Malthus reached into the pile of furs and drew out an iron rod, topped with a jagged piece of green glass, like a short pickax.
“We have axes,” said Jinx.
“This is the Glass Ax,” said Malthus. “Very ancient and precious.” He handed it to Jinx. “Try not to lose it, please.”
The ax was cold and heavy in Jinx’s hand. The handle was a twisted shaft of wrought iron; the blade was a chunk of green glass, broken off to a point.
“It is our ancient truce symbol. It will show the trolls that you come in peace.” The werewolf tapped a fang thoughtfully. “I hope.”
“Trolls?” said Elfwyn.
“The paths can only be reached through the Glass Mountains,” said the werewolf.
Which was where the trolls lived. The thought of trolls made Jinx’s arm ache—the one that had been bitten nearly in half by the troll that used to be his stepfather.
“Like Elfland,” said Elfwyn. “The Eldritch Depths. The entrance to that is through the Glass Mountains too. Witch Seymour told us that, when we were at his house with Reven.”
Sophie roiled blue-brown worry, but didn’t say anything.
Jinx thought of Simon. If the Bonemaster had really used Simon to seal the two paths together . . . “So if I go to the Glass Mountains, I’ll find a way to get down there?”
“You would have to ask the trolls,” said Malthus.
“Ask the trolls?” said Jinx. “It’s really hard to ask trolls anything. I mean, I know they can talk, but they prefer to bite heads off.”
“True,” said Malthus. “Then again, some people might say the same of werewolves. With any luck, the trolls will show you the way onto the paths.”
Or they might eat us? Jinx started to say this, but stopped himself. He didn’t want Sophie to fuss.
It was a good thing the woman in the marketplace had warned Jinx that Reven was planning to attack. They’d had time to make what preparations were possible—to lay in as many supplies as they could get, and to build a weak ward tunnel to the Doorway Oak.
When they got home from Salt City, they found the clearing surrounded by Reven’s soldiers. Several Urwalders were pacing around the inner edge of the ward, axes in hand.
“The Squawks showed up an hour ago,” said Jotun, hefting his ax.
“Squawks?” said Jinx.
“It’s the way they talk. Loud and fast. Like a hen yard,” said Cottawilda.
“They’re trying to scrape through the ward with their knives,” said Nick.
“Can they do that, sir?” said Hilda.
“No. All they can do is dull their knives,” said Jinx, loudly enough for the nearby soldiers to hear.
He remembered the woman in the marketplace in Keria. “And don’t call them Squawks,” he added, dropping his voice. “They’re people too.”
Jotun stepped back and took an experimental swing with his ax. “If we have to remember they’re people, how can we kill them?”
“I don’t know,” said Jinx, annoyed. You didn’t normally get deep thoughts from Jotun. “You could just abandon them in the forest, I suppose, like you did my stepsister. Gertrude.”
“I didn’t,” said Jotun.
“Really, Jinx,” said Sophie. “Is this the time?”
“Yes you did,” said Jinx, ignoring her. “And you’re supposed to be looking for her.”
“We always ask people if they’ve seen her,” said Cottawilda. “I don’t know what else you can expect of us.”
“Jinx, we have to leave now,” said Elfwyn, as Reven’s soldiers began scraping knives all along both sides of the ward tunnel.
“I’m afraid that’s true,” said Sophie.
Jinx looked at the soldiers in dismay. The ward tunnel was not strong at all.
“Hey!” he called. “Is Reven here?”
One of the soldiers looked up. “His Majesty the King, you mean?”
“Whoever,” said Jinx. “Is he here?”
“No,” said the soldier, and went back to scraping.
“Before you go,” said Sophie, “I want you to teach me the aviot spell, so that I can watch you.”
Jinx opened his mouth to say that Sophie’s magical skills were abysmal. Not tactful. “We haven’t got a bespelled aviot to take with us.”
“There’s the one Reven gave back to you,” said Elfwyn. “It’s a good idea.”
Teaching Sophie to use the Farseeing Window took nearly an hour. And meanwhile Reven’s soldiers were scraping at the ward, and Simon was fading, and who knew what the Bonemaster was doing? But Sophie was determined to learn, and finally she was able to make the window show her Elfwyn, who was downstairs in the kitchen, holding the bespelled aviot.
This meant they had to take the aviot with them on their journey. Jinx wasn’t thrilled about this, but he saw that Sophie was hugely relieved.
“And, Jinx,” she said. “If you have to destroy . . . the seal—”
“I won’t,” said Jinx. “There’s a way around most things in magic.”
“Maybe not around this,” said Sophie.
Jinx couldn’t stand those gray clouds of despair. Why did she have to get like this? “I’m going to bring Si
mon back,” he said.
“If you can’t—” said Sophie.
“I can.”
“Do whatever it takes,” said Sophie. “Just break the seal between the paths.”
Just as they got outside, there was a cry of triumph from one of Reven’s soldiers. The Urwalders watched in dismay as the man squeezed his hand through the hole he’d made in the ward tunnel and waggled his fingers. Then he pulled his hand out, stood up, and grinned at the Urwalders.
It was lucky that Jinx had already made a doorpath to the Troll-way, which was the closest he’d been to the Glass Mountains. It meant that only he, Elfwyn, and Wendell had to run the gauntlet of the ward-tunnel.
“I’ll go first,” said Jinx.
“No, I’ll go first,” said Wendell. “I’m faster.”
“Says who?” said Jinx.
“We should all go together,” said Elfwyn.
“I’m going,” said Jinx. And he started down the ward tunnel.
The soldiers rushed at the tunnel. It was weird, running through a tunnel of bodies, all pressed up against the invisible ward, all trying to get through it. Then an arm came through the hole and grabbed Jinx’s ankle. He tripped and fell sprawling. He struggled, kicked, and got free. He scrambled to his feet and kept going.
When he reached the Doorway Oak he turned and watched Elfwyn run down the tunnel. To his horror, the hole where he’d been grabbed now had a sword stuck through it.
Elfwyn ran, jumped, and flew over the sword—almost. It slashed upward and caught the hem of her dress and she fell. Jinx ran toward her. She was struggling out of the way. The sword was poised to strike again. Elfwyn froze the sleeve of the arm that held the sword, and then Wendell came running down the tunnel, kicked the sword out of the soldier’s hand, and they all ran through the Doorway that led to the Troll-way.
The last time Jinx and Elfwyn had accidentally found themselves on the Troll-way, their main concern had been getting off it again. Now they were there on purpose, and they started walking.
Late in the morning, when the path was just beginning to climb, they heard a troll approaching. They stopped, and Elfwyn and Jinx made a concealment spell.
The troll lumbered past, leaving a rotted-meat smell in its wake.
“We’re going to have to talk to them sometime,” said Elfwyn.
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