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Authors: Cornelia Funke
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all the soldiers she had lost, the provinces
that now belonged to the Goyl, nor her dignity, which in the past six months
had been choked in the mud of four battlefields.
"Enough!"
One word, and the room where her great-grandfather used to sign
death warrants fell silent. Power. Intoxicating. Like a
fine wine.
How they bowed
their vain heads. Look at them, Therese. Wouldn't
it be nice to have them all chopped off after all?
The Empress
adjusted the tiara of elven glass that her great-grandmother had worn before
her, and waved one of the Dwarfs to her desk. Hers were the only Dwarfs in this land who still wore beards. Servants, bodyguards,
confidants. Generations of
service to her family, and still in the same livery they had worn for over two
hundred years. Lace collars over black
velvet, and then those ridiculously wide breeches. Tasteless and completely unfashionable, but
you couldn't argue with Dwarfs about tradition any more than you could argue
with priests about religion.
"Write,"
she ordered.
The Dwarf
climbed onto her chair. He had to kneel
on the pale golden cushion. Auberon. Her favorite and the smartest of them all. The hand that now reached for the quill was
as small as a child's, but these hands would break iron chains as easily as her
cook's hands cracked an egg.
"We,
Therese of Austry— " Her ancestors stared down at her disapprovingly. What did they know of Kings brought forth
from the bowels of the earth, and a Fairy who turned human skin to stone to
make it like the skin of her lover? "—herewith offer to Kami’en, King of the Goyl, our daughter
Amalie's hand in marriage, to bring an end to the war and to bring peace to our two great
nations."
How the
silence erupted. As if her words had
shattered the glass house in which they had all been sitting. But it wasn't she, it was the Goyl, who had
struck the blow, and now she had to give him her daughter.
The Empress
turned her back on them, silencing their angered voices. Only the rustle of her dress followed her as
she stepped toward the high doors, which seemed to have been built not for
humans but for the Giants, who, thanks to her great-grandfather's efforts, had
been driven to extinction sixty years ago. Power. Like wine when you have it. Like
poison when you lose it . Therese
already felt it eating away at her.
Defeated.
14
Thorn
Castle
"But he
just won't wake up!" The voice
sounded worried. And
familiar. Fox.
"Don't
worry. He's just sleeping." That voice he recognized well. Clara.
Wake up, Jacob . Fingers stroked his searing shoulder. He opened his eyes and saw the silver moon
drifting into a cloud, as if trying to hide from its red twin. It shone down into a dark castle
courtyard. High windows reflected the
stars, though there was no light behind any of them. No lanterns shone above the doors or under
the overgrown archways. No servant
scuttled across the yard, which was thickly covered with wet leaves, as if it
hadn't been raked in years.
"Finally! I
thought you'd never wake up."
Jacob groaned
as Fox nudged her nose into his shoulder.
"Fox! Be
careful!"
Clara helped
him sit up. She had put a fresh dressing
on his shoulder, but it hurt more than ever. The bandits, the Goyl... the pain
brought it all back, but Jacob couldn't remember when he had lost
consciousness.
Clara stood
up. "That wound doesn't look
good. I wish I had some pills from the
hospital."
"It'll be
fine," Jacob said. Fox anxiously
nudged her head under his arm. "Where are we?" he asked her.
"At the
only hiding place I could find. This is
deserted — by the living, anyway." Fox dug aside the layers of leaves with her paw, revealing a shoe.
Jacob looked
around. In many places the leaves lay
suspiciously deep, as if covering outstretched bodies.
Where were
they?
Jacob sought
support from a wall to pull himself
that now belonged to the Goyl, nor her dignity, which in the past six months
had been choked in the mud of four battlefields.
"Enough!"
One word, and the room where her great-grandfather used to sign
death warrants fell silent. Power. Intoxicating. Like a
fine wine.
How they bowed
their vain heads. Look at them, Therese. Wouldn't
it be nice to have them all chopped off after all?
The Empress
adjusted the tiara of elven glass that her great-grandmother had worn before
her, and waved one of the Dwarfs to her desk. Hers were the only Dwarfs in this land who still wore beards. Servants, bodyguards,
confidants. Generations of
service to her family, and still in the same livery they had worn for over two
hundred years. Lace collars over black
velvet, and then those ridiculously wide breeches. Tasteless and completely unfashionable, but
you couldn't argue with Dwarfs about tradition any more than you could argue
with priests about religion.
"Write,"
she ordered.
The Dwarf
climbed onto her chair. He had to kneel
on the pale golden cushion. Auberon. Her favorite and the smartest of them all. The hand that now reached for the quill was
as small as a child's, but these hands would break iron chains as easily as her
cook's hands cracked an egg.
"We,
Therese of Austry— " Her ancestors stared down at her disapprovingly. What did they know of Kings brought forth
from the bowels of the earth, and a Fairy who turned human skin to stone to
make it like the skin of her lover? "—herewith offer to Kami’en, King of the Goyl, our daughter
Amalie's hand in marriage, to bring an end to the war and to bring peace to our two great
nations."
How the
silence erupted. As if her words had
shattered the glass house in which they had all been sitting. But it wasn't she, it was the Goyl, who had
struck the blow, and now she had to give him her daughter.
The Empress
turned her back on them, silencing their angered voices. Only the rustle of her dress followed her as
she stepped toward the high doors, which seemed to have been built not for
humans but for the Giants, who, thanks to her great-grandfather's efforts, had
been driven to extinction sixty years ago. Power. Like wine when you have it. Like
poison when you lose it . Therese
already felt it eating away at her.
Defeated.
14
Thorn
Castle
"But he
just won't wake up!" The voice
sounded worried. And
familiar. Fox.
"Don't
worry. He's just sleeping." That voice he recognized well. Clara.
Wake up, Jacob . Fingers stroked his searing shoulder. He opened his eyes and saw the silver moon
drifting into a cloud, as if trying to hide from its red twin. It shone down into a dark castle
courtyard. High windows reflected the
stars, though there was no light behind any of them. No lanterns shone above the doors or under
the overgrown archways. No servant
scuttled across the yard, which was thickly covered with wet leaves, as if it
hadn't been raked in years.
"Finally! I
thought you'd never wake up."
Jacob groaned
as Fox nudged her nose into his shoulder.
"Fox! Be
careful!"
Clara helped
him sit up. She had put a fresh dressing
on his shoulder, but it hurt more than ever. The bandits, the Goyl... the pain
brought it all back, but Jacob couldn't remember when he had lost
consciousness.
Clara stood
up. "That wound doesn't look
good. I wish I had some pills from the
hospital."
"It'll be
fine," Jacob said. Fox anxiously
nudged her head under his arm. "Where are we?" he asked her.
"At the
only hiding place I could find. This is
deserted — by the living, anyway." Fox dug aside the layers of leaves with her paw, revealing a shoe.
Jacob looked
around. In many places the leaves lay
suspiciously deep, as if covering outstretched bodies.
Where were
they?
Jacob sought
support from a wall to pull himself
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