Most of the men, women, and creatures who made up the Urwish army were away fighting, in their newly established sections. Simon’s house was mainly occupied by babies and children, and a few parents to look after them. Things got fairly chaotic. Every now and then Simon would come into the kitchen and scowl, which made silence fall instantly.
Much of the time, Simon was away via the doorpaths, giving orders to the section leaders. Sometimes he took Elfwyn with him. People seemed to prefer getting their orders from the Truthspeaker.
Meanwhile, Jinx went in search of the person setting the forest fires.
It wasn’t that difficult. The trees had labeled the firestarter a Terror, and they kept track of Terrors.
The man was small, slightly built, and dressed in a red uniform. He had a face that put Jinx in mind of an angry rabbit, and pale hair that stuck out like porcupine quills. Jinx found him a few yards off the path, crouched over a pile of dried leaves, twigs, and branches, trying to strike a spark with a tinderbox.
It was one of those times when Jinx probably shouldn’t have let his temper get the better of him. There were probably a lot of better things he could have done than charge in and punch the man in the face, which was what he did.
The rabbity man was quick. He whipped out a sword, spun around, and slashed at Jinx, who stumbled over backward in his haste to get out of its way. The man came at Jinx again, and Jinx froze his clothes.
Unfortunately this caused the man to fall toward Jinx, sword and all. Jinx rolled out of the way. Then he made a grab for the sword, but the rabbity man was still gripping it tightly, and had just enough arm movement to take another slash at Jinx. Jinx was barely able to dodge it.
Thinking fast, Jinx sent fire into the sword. The man yelped and dropped it. Leaves began to smoke where it landed. Jinx drew the fire into himself and kicked the sword out of the way.
During all of this, it never occurred to Jinx to draw his belt knife. He hadn’t been brought up to stick sharp blades into people. It doesn’t come naturally to most folks.
“Who are you?” Jinx demanded.
“Don’t have to say.” The man’s voice was rabbity, too.
“Are you one of King Rufus’s soldiers?”
“Don’t have to say. Release me, foul wizard!”
“No,” said Jinx. “You didn’t even ask nicely.”
The rabbity man was struggling furiously, trying to get out of his frozen clothes. They had been made for a much bigger man, and Jinx realized he might actually succeed. And there was still the sword, which only one of them knew how to use.
Jinx picked up the sword and, concentrating very carefully, melted the blade. He’d never done anything quite this fiddly with the fire before. The trick was not to let the hilt, which he was holding, heat up, and not to let the blade melt fast enough to drip its deadly heat onto the forest floor. Or onto his fingers.
Just enough to reduce the blade to a misshapen blob. There. And take the fire out and cool it down and . . . it occurred to Jinx that it would be rather a nice touch to hand it back to the soldier, so he did.
It was very effective. Jinx felt he was getting the hang of this diplomacy stuff. The man gibbered with terror.
“You don’t want to end up looking like that, do you?” said Jinx.
The man shook his head, once and emphatically.
“So tell me your name, and who told you to set these fires.”
“B-Bagnell of Bragwood,” said the rabbity man. “King Rufus wants the forest burned. Says it’ll get rid of all the monsters and brigands, and ready the land up for farming by honest folks.”
“Well, that shows you how wrong a king can be,” said Jinx. “These fires you’re setting—they’re not even burning for very long.”
Bagnell looked disappointed. “You sure?”
“Yes,” said Jinx. “They all get put out within an hour or so. You’ve burned a lot of land, but compared to the size of the forest—hardly anything, really.”
“Oh.” A crawling purple cloud of trepidation. “That’s not good.”
“Not from our point of view either,” said Jinx.
“The king will kill me,” said Bagnell. He thought about this for a minute. “Er, unless you’re going to.”
Killing Bagnell would be neat and convenient. It would solve the problem of the fires. It would be a long time before King Rufus of Bragwood knew his orders weren’t being carried out.
It would also mean touching the Path of Ice. Jinx shuddered, as if the ice were actually climbing his legs again.
Bagnell struggled frantically, trying and failing to sit up in his frozen clothes.
“No, I don’t think I’ll kill you,” said Jinx.
The purple fear diminished, but not completely. “Will you let me sit up?”
And Jinx realized that he’d been rather enjoying watching Bagnell struggle, unable to sit, stand, or lie in his frozen clothes. It wasn’t much of an exchange for all the trees killed in the fire, but it was some small compensation. He’d been using magic the way the wizards had used it on him. And that was touching the ice too, in a way.
Jinx undid the clothes-freezing spell and let Bagnell sit up. Jinx braced himself for the next attack. But Bagnell stayed sitting, and stared at the hilt of his sword and the molten lump on top of it.
“You can go,” Jinx decided. “On condition that you go west, and keep going. You’re not to rejoin the Bragwood army.”
“But that would be desertion! You know what Rufus the Ruthless does to deserters?”
Jinx sighed. “I think I have a general idea, yes.”
“He puts them in barrels stuck about with nails and—”
“Well, then don’t stop when you get to Bragwood,” said Jinx. “Just keep walking.”
“Can’t I stay in the forest?”
“No,” said Jinx. He was starting to feel sorry for this idiot. “Because the forest will probably try to kill you. I’m surprised it hasn’t already.”
Bagnell’s thoughts whirred, as if he were summing up several recent events. His mouth formed an O of surprise.
“Look, I’ll try to explain to the trees that you’re leaving,” said Jinx. “They might let you go, if I ask them. I can’t guarantee it, though. Just stick to the path. Keep going west. Don’t even sleep off the path. Especially don’t sleep off the path. Oh, and don’t light any fires. Not even to cook with.”
Bagnell was nodding frantic agreement. He was still staring at the lump of metal in his hand.
Jinx was about to ask for it back—it would make at least one ax head, and possibly two. Then he remembered what he’d learned from Witch Seymour about the value of rumors.
“You can keep that,” said Jinx. “As a souvenir of the Urwald.”
Satya’s map of the Urwald was spread out on the workbench, along with various books in Qunthk. Besides the committee, Wendell and Elfwyn were there. Satya listened with the slight frown she always wore when trying to understand Urwish.
“The Bonemaster’s bottled life is connected to the Path of Ice,” said Simon.
“It’s a wick,” said Jinx.
“The Bonemaster is the wick,” said Malthus.
Jinx remembered what he’d learned on the Paths. “I think they’re both part of the wick.” Just like Jinx and the Urwald were both part of the Path of Fire.
“Hm,” said the werewolf. “At any rate, he’s put his lifeforce into the bottle that you saw in his lair.”
“His cellar,” said Elfwyn.
“His crypt,” said Jinx.
The werewolf waved aside these quibbles with a yellow-clawed hand. “The bottle is rooted to the Path of Ice. When you were there, when you saw it before, did it have a cork in it?”
“I don’t remember,” said Jinx.
“Yes,” said Elfwyn.
“Are you su—” The werewolf stopped himself, politely.
“Yes, I’m sure,” said Elfwyn. “There was a cork, but it’s gone now. Or at least, if it’s still there
, I couldn’t see it. It could be hidden in that mess of . . . things.”
“What sort—” Wendell began, and stopped.
“They were like ribbons,” said Elfwyn.
“Ghost-ribbons,” said Jinx. “They were blue, and they looked like smoke.”
“And they moved,” said Elfwyn. “As if they were alive.”
“It was like the bottle was made of them,” said Jinx. “We didn’t really see an actual bottle at all.”
“There may have been an ordinary bottle there at one time,” said Malthus. “But it’s possible that, at this point, it’s made of ice.”
“Ice with a capital I?” said Jinx. “As in Path of?”
“Precisely,” said the werewolf.
“There’s no way you can get to it,” said Simon abruptly. His thoughts were orange and blue and worried.
“I’m going to go up the path—” Jinx began.
“And boom, you end up in the bottle,” said Simon.
“How—”
“Because it’s not corked,” said Simon, rapping an open book with his knuckle. “It’s a conduit between the Path of Ice and the Bonemaster himself. He must have uncorked the bottle after you destroyed his other power source.”
“When you broke all those little bottles,” said Elfwyn.
Jinx winced at the memory. He’d broken most of himself, too.
“The bottle’s part of the path now,” said Satya, speaking in Samaran and not looking at Jinx. She was still mad at him. “You’ll just be drawn into it when you come up the Path of Ice.”
“But if I get up there—” Jinx began.
“It’s out of the question,” said Simon. “I forbid you to go.”
Jinx gritted his teeth. He’d missed Simon, but he hadn’t missed being bossed around. And he knew that he was more powerful than Simon. Quite aside from the fact that Simon couldn’t even do magic anymore.
“If the bottle were corked, however—” said Malthus.
“What, you mean a plain, ordinary cork?” Jinx picked up a bottle from Simon’s workbench. The bottle was blue and shaped like a fish. He worked the cork out of it. “Like this?”
Malthus reached for the cork, and held it between two claws. “Not precisely.”
“It’s a spell,” said Satya shortly.
“Could I do it?” said Elfwyn.
“I suppose.” Simon frowned at one of the Qunthk books. “The cork spell doesn’t look that complicated.” (Elfwyn fumed.) “But there’d be no point, because the cork would have to be put in before Jinx got there, and—”
“I can do that,” said Elfwyn.
“No,” said Jinx and Simon together.
But it was Jinx that Elfwyn chose to fold her arms and glare at.
“Anyway,” said Jinx, looking away from the glare, which was rather piercing, “you couldn’t even touch the bottle. Remember how it shot sparks . . .”
“I wouldn’t have to touch it,” she said. “Watch.”
The cork floated out of Malthus’s hand, flew through the air, and swooped back into the neck of the fish-shaped bottle.
“Very nice,” said Simon. “But the bottle is in in the Bonemaster’s dungeon. And you are not.”
“I’ll go there,” said Elfwyn. “He’ll let me in. He likes me.”
“Excuse me,” said Wendell. “But you were there for a year, and then you came here. He must know that, surely. What makes you think—”
“No questions,” Satya said. She and Elfwyn seemed to have made up their quarrel. In fact, Jinx had seen them earlier, huddled over a bunch of mistletoe leaves and having an earnest discussion.
“He’s not going to believe you this time,” said Jinx. “If you go back, he’ll kill you.”
“I don’t think he will,” said Elfwyn.
“Could you kill him?” Simon demanded.
“N-no,” said Elfwyn. “But—”
“Why not?” said Simon.
“Because he trusts me! Stop asking me questions.”
“He doesn’t trust anybody.”
“He’s been kind to me,” said Elfwyn. “And I know he’s evil and I know he’s done horrible things, and I think somebody should kill him and—and I wish I could kill him.”
“Never wish that,” said Simon.
“Anyway, Sophie’s there,” said Elfwyn. “Somebody has to go in and tell Sophie—”
“The Bonemaster’s got the Crimson Grimoire now,” said Jinx. “He can bottle your life. All he needs is . . .” Jinx stopped. All the Bonemaster needed was a human to sacrifice. And he had Sophie.
Jinx looked at Simon and decided not to say that.
“The way that werewolves would handle this,” said Malthus, “would be to let the person who had the greatest chance of success, try.”
“And that would be me,” said Elfwyn firmly.
“But we’re not werewolves,” said Jinx.
“Excuse me. Some of us are,” said Malthus.
“That’s what the Mistletoe Alliance would do as well,” said Satya, with a meaningful look at Simon.
Jinx looked at Elfwyn and saw the grim, green determination that meant there was no point in arguing with her. He looked at Wendell. He looked at all of the others in turn. He saw that everybody had thought about Sophie and the human sacrifice.
“Maybe I could go up the Path of Ice anyway,” said Jinx, “and not get stuck in the bottle, even if it is uncorked. I mean, no one knows for sure, do—”
“Yes,” Simon snapped. “Someone knows for sure. I do.”
“Then we have to let Elfwyn go,” said Jinx.
“What do you mean, let her?” Satya demanded.
Jinx shrugged. “Well, she’s going to go anyway. We can’t talk her out of it.”
“Fine,” said Simon. “Fine. So everybody’s going off to get killed by the Bonemaster, in order. Right.” He stabbed the workbench with a finger. “Jinx goes first, down the Path of Fire and up the Path of Ice.” Another stab. “Then the magicians—”
“I go as soon as Jinx does,” said Elfwyn. “So that I can be at Bonesocket and cork the bottle before Jinx gets there.”
“Or get killed in the attempt,” said Simon. “Fine. Jinx goes”—stab—“then you go”—stab—“then the magicians go—”
“How will the magicians know when to go?” said Wendell.
“Wait.” Elfwyn stood up. “Make the plan without me, please. And when you’re done, come and tell me, and—”
“Lie to you,” said Wendell.
“Yes,” said Elfwyn. She left.
“The magicians should attack just before Jinx reaches the dungeon,” said Malthus. “Their attack will distract the Bonemaster, enabling Elfwyn—”
“If she’s still alive,” said Simon.
“If she’s still alive, to go down and cork the bottle, leave some sort of signal for Jinx that it’s been done—”
“Where’s Sophie meanwhile?” asked Jinx.
“I’ll go in and get her while the magicians are attacking,” said Simon.
“But you can’t—”
Simon gave him a look, and Jinx shut up.
“It’s just that I don’t understand how you’ll know when Jinx arrives,” said Wendell apologetically.
They all looked at Wendell.
“Oh,” said Jinx.
“Because once you get on the path,” said Wendell, “time is different for you. So unless there was some way for you to send a signal, like through the Farseeing Window, for example—”
“The aviot,” said Satya. “You can have people watch the window, and Jinx can—I don’t know, wave a sock or something when he’s arrived.”
“And I was thinking,” said Wendell, “that maybe we could plant some sort of fake truths on Elfwyn to protect her and Sophie?”
“Like that Simon’s done deathbindings and tied the Bonemaster’s death to theirs,” Satya suggested.
“That’s a good idea,” said Jinx.
Satya actually looked at him, and nodded an acknowle
dgment.
That reminded Jinx. “What about the deathbindings? The ones the Bonemaster’s done? All the people that will die when he does. Did you guys find anything about that?”
“There’s only this,” said Malthus.
Jinx peered at the Qunthk words, folded inside each other.
Let death be bound in ice, ever circling. Fly free to the flame when the tie is undone.
“The usual cryptic stuff,” said Simon.
Jinx nodded.
It all seemed settled, then. Except for his part, which he wasn’t sure he understood all that well. The Paths, he ought to be able to handle those okay; he’d done it before. But—
“What am I supposed to do with the bottle once I get ahold of it?” he asked.
Malthus, Satya, and Simon looked at each other. They looked at the books spread out on the workbench. They looked at each other again.
“That,” said Malthus, “is what we’re more or less relying on you to figure out.”
Captured by Elves
Jinx was back on the Paths of Fire and Ice. They looked nothing like they had before, but he’d expected that. The Elf Princess had told him he couldn’t travel the same path twice.
He had walked for what seemed like forever. He’d stopped to eat several times. He passed through subterranean caves and caverns, fields and mountains, and skirted around the edge of a lake full of glowing silver mist. Nothing lived in it. Nothing lived anywhere.
He was lost.
Before, getting somewhere on the Paths had ultimately turned out to be a matter of knowing where he was going. But now, even though he was perfectly well aware of his destination—Bonesocket—nothing he did seemed to take him there.
There was no use fighting it any longer. He was going to have to ask directions.
Getting himself back to the Eldritch Depths was easy, and he was once more ushered into the presence of the Elf Princess. This time she sat on a throne made of pink quartz and studded with emeralds.
“Has a millennium passed already?” she asked, amused. “You’ve kept rather well, for an organic creature.”
Jinx explained his problem.
“Ah,” said the Elf Princess. “You cannot reach Bonesocket because you cannot travel the Path of Ice. I’d have thought you’d have realized that.”
“But I traveled it before!”
Jinx's Fire Page 18