The Mirror's Tale (Further Tales Adventures) (16 page)

Seven coffins!
A thousand shivering dots of flesh erupted on Parley’s arms. “Her friends? Emelina? Snow White?”

Harth closed his eyes and nodded. “We bury our folk near the mine that was closest to their hearts.”

Parley limped forward, close enough to touch the nearest coffin. He was already stooping, so it was easy to drop to his knees. And it felt right. He kissed his fingers, put his hands on the stone slab, and lowered his head. “The seven that saved Snow White, buried here,” he marveled.

“Not all seven. Not yet,” Harth said.

Parley lifted his head and opened his good eye. He hadn’t noticed at first, but one stone coffin was uncovered, with its lid propped against its side. He looked at Harth, questioning, and Harth jabbed his chin toward the entrance of the chamber.

Parley slowly turned. When his eyes found Kholl, the old Dwergh bowed.

“You …” Parley gasped. “One of Snow White’s seven?”

“I was the youngest, by many a year,” Kholl said.

“Good heavens, Kholl … You must be as old as the hills!”

Kholl thrust his chest forward. “One hundred and sixty-seven. And still strong enough to swing a pick.”

CHAPTER 25

B
ert paced around the pack of dogs lying on the cold stone floor, twitching and senseless. Strange things were happening to them. It looked as though moles were burrowing just under the skin, leaving bulging tunnels in their wake. The shape of the dogs changed with every pass, growing thicker and more distorted.

And there were strange noises, muffled by skin and fur. Creaking, groaning, squishing, popping, and stretching. Through it all, the dogs whined and growled in their sleep, if they were sleeping at all. Their heads were lost inside the clouds of foam that streamed from their open jaws.

Bert knelt to examine the paws of the largest dog. Its feet were bigger and wider, now twice the size of his hand. Its black claws were longer. Sharper.

A new sound came from the other side of the nearest dog. Bert crept cautiously around on his hands and knees to see what it was. And there along the dogs spine—from the neck to the tail—he saw spikes of gray bone rising out of a dreadful split in the hide. The dog whined, and its tail lashed the ground.

Bert pushed himself to his feet. The dogs were
rousing. The nearest one growled and lifted its head, foam clinging to its jaw. Bert caught a glimpse of terrible, yellow eyes. The dog jerked its head from side to side, and the spittle flew off, spattering Bert’s leggings. When he saw the head and how it had transformed, the breath he was about to take snagged in his throat.

“What … what are they?” Bert asked the mirror. They weren’t dogs anymore, that was certain.

Servants. To do your bidding,
the mirror said.
And do you have a task for these beasts?

Bert grabbed a fist with the other hand and squeezed it. “Of course. Mirror, tell me if the letter to my father has arrived. And tell me where my brother is now.”

CHAPTER 26

W
ill walked into the hall of Ambercrest. He felt hot bruises on his arms and legs from the dozens of blows he’d received in his latest session with Andreas. He smiled a little, remembering the handful of times he’d slipped his own sword past the knight’s defenses and struck back. A bounce came to his stride despite the aches. But he came to a sudden halt when he saw his father in the corridor before him, waiting with his hands clasped behind his back. Expecting him, obviously.

“Will,” his father said simply.

“Yes, Father?” Will said, trying to recall what he might have done wrong.

The baron cocked his head and stared down with one eye narrowed. “It is Will, isn’t it?”

“Of course, Father!” Will said, wincing.

The baron chuckled. “Oh, it’s all right son, I was just joking.”

Will’s mouth hung open.
Joking?
Now it was his turn to wonder who he was talking to. He took a closer look at his father. The baron shifted his weight from foot to foot, and his glance wandered from the floor to the
ceiling. Will wondered what was going on. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he clasped them behind his own back, just as his father had. He waited with his bottom lip held between his teeth.

The baron finally cleared his throat. And when he spoke it wasn’t the usual blustery roar. It was soft, almost a whisper. “I…I watched your lessons. With Andreas. You’re doing well”

“Thank you, Father. Andreas is … He’s a good teacher.” As usual with his father, Will felt like he had to choose his words carefully.

“Yes, quite good,” the baron said. “I’ve watched for a few days now. From the balcony, usually. I stay in the shadows. … I don’t want to make you nervous. It’s a funny thing. How a stranger can sometimes teach a boy better than his own father.” The barons voice trailed off, and he looked past Will’s shoulder, staring at nothing.

“You’re a good teacher too,” Will said. He didn’t really mean it. Anytime his father had tried to teach Bert and him anything, it ended with them crying and Father shouting and storming off. In fact, the baron had given up trying to teach them anything a few years ago.

“No, I’m atrocious. No patience at all,” the baron mumbled. There was a pause that seemed eternal. Will wished he could turn and run. Finally his father spoke again. “You like this Andreas, don’t you?”

Will’s mouth opened seconds before a reply finally emerged like a wary mouse. “He’s all right.”

“Oh, you can be honest. I know you two have hit it off. And you should hear the way he talks about you.” The baron smiled, but it was a sad grin. His shoulders slumped, and he looked ten years older. Will felt a warm itch in the corner of his eye, and when he touched it his finger came away damp. What on Earth was his father trying to tell him?

“The courier arrived with a pair of letters today,” the baron said.

Will’s eyes widened. “Parley?”

The baron closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. “One of my brother’s men. No sign of Parley yet, Will. He was another one of your favorites, wasn’t he?”

Will shrank back, wondering if he should feel stung by the words. A look of frustration flashed on the barons face as if he’d regretted saying them. He reached out to pat Will’s shoulder, “Dont lose hope, Son. Parleys a rascal, you know. He’ll turn up with an amusing story to explain his delay.” Will didn’t mean for it to happen, but his shoulder twitched under his father’s touch. The baron drew back his hand.

“But about the letters,” the baron said. “One was from your uncle Hugh, telling me what a fine young man your brother has been. Obedient and respectful. It was such a happy letter, it’s hard to believe your uncle wrote it.” Will smiled wanly at the joke.

“The other letter,” the baron said, “was from your brother.” Will drew in a sharp breath and held it.
Finally!

He’d waited so long for his brother to write back—the silence was baffling. But why had he written to Father and not him?

“It was a fine letter, written with great care and humility. Your brother asked your mother and me to forgive the two of you for the trouble you caused. And he wondered if we would allow you to visit him at The Crags for a while this summer.”

Will blinked up at his father. “Visit?” His voice came out tight and high.

“Yes. Andreas tells me that you and he have been venturing out. He says your fear is weakening. But you have not conquered it entirely.”

Will felt a shiver coming over him and fought to control it. “Not entirely, Father. But mostly. I believe.”

“Hm,” the baron said. “Let me tell you something else. Your mother and I have been talking things over. Many things. We think the lesson has been learned. There’s no need for you and Bert to be parted any longer. I decided to send the carriage to bring him back.”

Will felt a wave of joy surge through his body. “Really?”

The baron nodded. “Really. But why not have it both ways? Go with the party that’s fetching your brother. That way you can accept the invitation and see him all the sooner. And you can travel back together”

Will seized his father around the waist and hugged him. “Thank you, Father!” He felt strong hands pat him on the back and heard his father sniff.

“Of course, it all depends on you being able to make the journey to The Crags» It’s a long way Can you do it?”

Will had his face turned sideways against his father’s chest. He hesitated to say the next thing, but he had to. It was the only way he could go. “Do you think Andreas could go with me?”

The hands on his back fell still “Of course,” his father said finally. “I wish I could go myself. But there’s an envoy coming from the king. And other business that keeps me here. Certainly, Andreas can go with you, if you think it will help.”

“I wish you could come, too,” Will said. And he realized he might even have meant it.

His father’s hands moved to Will’s shoulders and pushed him back to arm’s length. “That’s the trouble with being a baron, Son. Sometimes all the responsibility gets in the way of the things you’d really like to do. And it distracts you from the things that you ought to be paying more attention to. But when the two of you get back, Will, it will be different here. In a good way, I mean. Your mother and I think we could handle some things better”

“Bert and I can be better, too,” Will said. “We won’t cause so much trouble.”

“Let’s call it a bargain, then,” the baron said. “We’ll do better all around.”

CHAPTER 27

H
arth came into Parley’s alcove. As soon as the molton saw the bucket that he carried, it opened its mouth wide like a baby bird, Harth used the black tongs to drop glowing coals down its throat. Then the Dwergh turned to Parley; Parley frowned; the friendly twinkle seemed to be gone from Harth’s eye.

“What’s the matter, friend?” Parley said. He grunted as he rose to his feet.

“Our task is over,” said Harth. “We did not find what we were looking for.”

Parley gulped. “I hope this setback hasn’t put anybody in a bad mood,” he said with a forced chuckle.

Harth’s head sagged, and his beard rustled against his chest. “Of course it has. But I’ve come to tell you that the matter of your fate has been settled.”

Parley’s brains turned to slush, and his bad leg wobbled. “Hold on—you promised I could have my say before you decided!”

From the corner of his one eye Parley saw dark, stocky shapes fill the entrance to the alcove. The Dwergh were there, all of them. Kholl stepped out from the group.

“Harth says you talk so much there can’t be anything left to say,” Kholl said.

Parley opened his mouth, but only a feeble chirp came out. Kholl held up one hand.

“Do not fear. You will be spared,” the old Dwergh said to Parley’s infinite relief. “And freed. But only because Harth has vouched for you. And taken the oath in your name.” The Dwergh leader slipped his arms behind his beard and folded them across his chest. Behind him, the others stared—some at the courier, some at Harth. “Do you understand what this means, Par Lee?”

Parley passed a hand over the top of his head and grinned crookedly. “The ‘spare Parley’ bit is clear enough—and believe me, I’m plenty grateful for that. But the vouch and the oath … ?”