chapter THIRTY-FIVE
THE RIGHT KING
The Dragon’s lair lay beneath the back yard of a brewery. Nobody in Vena had known of its existence until a Goyl patrol had noticed the unmistakable smell of sulphur and lizard fire.
Kami’en’s bodyguards were hiding in the shadows of the brewery’s gate. They were probably counting on their alabaster skin being mistaken for a shimmer of moonlight. They’d become too used to how easily human eyes were deceived. Sneaking past them was fun, and after the debacle with the apothecary, Nerron really could do with some cheering up.
Two more guards were posted where the Dragon’s breathing tunnels opened behind the brewery drays. Nerron was past the guards before they could turn their heads, and he quickly melted into the darkness of the tunnel. The Dragon had been dead for centuries, but its smell enveloped Nerron as though it were still lurking in its lair below.
Quiet, Bastard. Like a snake.
At its end, the tunnel opened into a cave that was black from Dragon fire. Only in some places a little gold gleamed through the soot. The treasure cave. Better preserved than most Nerron had seen. He pressed himself against the cool rock.
And there he was, his skin like petrified fire – even in the darkness. The King of the Goyl.
Kami’en had his back to the tunnel. Just one well-aimed bullet. Or a poisoned arrow between his shoulder blades. How many assassins had the onyx hired in vain to stand right where he was standing? And it had been so easy. Yes, you’re the best, Nerron. Never mind that you haven’t found the damned heart yet.
‘How long will it take?’ Kami’en’s voice sounded calm, as usual. As though he had nothing to fear in this world.
‘The architect tells me two months, but I can make sure work is completed earlier.’ Of course. Hentzau was standing next to the King. Only a few years earlier, he would have caught Nerron’s scent, but the years spent above ground had made Kami’en’s loyal dog half-blind and had dulled his sense of smell until it was barely better than that of a human.
‘Hire some Dwarfs. They work fast.’ Nerron stepped out of the tunnel.
Hentzau spun around and positioned himself protectively in front of Kami’en.
Good dog.
‘What is this?’ he barked at Nerron. ‘You want me to put a bullet into your speckled skin?’ His jasper face had turned even more craggy since the Blood Wedding. Compared to Hentzau, even Nerron could pass as attractive. Nerron bowed his head with a smile and pressed his fist over his heart, a gesture of obedience he usually had problems with, but not in front of this King.
‘Be grateful, Hentzau. He’s just demonstrating my need for better bodyguards.’ Kami’en turned around as leisurely as only one could who owned half the world. He was wearing the same uniform in which he’d survived his wedding. Moonstones for the human bloodstains, rubies for the Goyl blood. The Dark Fairy knew how to turn horror into beauty.
‘He’s right. Hire Dwarfs,’ Kami’en said to Hentzau. ‘I want work to begin immediately. I’m tired of that human palace. This will be my study. The guards in the sleeping cave. One tunnel to the palace, one to the train station, and a third one connecting to the road beneath the river.’ He shot a cool glance at Nerron. ‘You still haven’t found the heart?’
‘No. But I have the hand and the head.’
‘Good.’ Kami’en rubbed the sooty wall until the gold appeared beneath. ‘The Witch Slayer’s crossbow. Maybe I should send my aeroplanes to the Dwarf mines. Teach them not to keep secrets from me.’
‘There are many places we should send them to,’ Hentzau growled. ‘Even in the east, the Doughskins are now joining forces against us. Ask him who’s getting them all to sit around the same table. Without the onyx, they’d still be killing each other.’ He stared at Nerron. Like all soldiers, Hentzau never trusted anyone not in uniform, and especially not an onyx bastard who had the trust of the King’s enemies. Maybe he sensed that Nerron, despite all his admiration for the King, served nobody but himself. Yet they owed him for the names of many spies, and his information had helped thwart two attempts on Kami’en’s life. Even Hentzau realised they needed the Bastard, though he didn’t trust Nerron as far as he could spit.
‘Hentzau’s spies tell me you have some serious competition for the crossbow.’ Kami’en’s face was as impassive as the likeness they minted on his coins. Only once had Nerron seen the King less composed, and that was when he’d first heard from him how far-reaching the onyx conspiracy against him was.
‘It seems you don’t just need better bodyguards but also better spies.’ Nerron brushed Hentzau with a taunting glance. ‘That competition is no more.’
‘Indeed?’ Hentzau’s thin mouth moved. It nearly smiled. ‘My useless spies are reporting that your competitor is in Vena and very much alive. Jacob Reckless has a penchant for rising from the dead.’
Nerron caught his heart doing a few extra beats.
Surprise. On the other hand . . . how disappointing would it have been if Jacob Reckless had let himself be devoured by wolves just like that?
The best . . .
‘Reckless paid a visit to the history museum.’ Hentzau’s left eye had that milky sheen that came from too much daylight. ‘I assume you know why?’
Nerron hadn’t the faintest idea, but he hoped his face didn’t give him away.
‘I put an old friend on his trail. He’ll take care of Reckless.’ Kami’en leant down and inspected the gouges left by the Dragon’s claws. ‘What a waste to exterminate them,’ he said, running his fingers through the crevices. ‘They were such great weapons. Though never very obedient. Machines are easier to control.’ Kami’en stood straight again. The gold in his eyes was brighter than that of the onyx. ‘Hentzau would like to kill Reckless, but since the wedding I’ve developed a weakness for him. Who is he hunting the crossbow for?’
Nerron shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter. Because it’ll be me who finds it.’
‘Together with Crookback’s son?’ Hentzau’s voice sounded harsh, as when he spoke to his soldiers.
Watch yourself, old man.
‘We have to get back.’ Kami’en turned around. ‘Hentzau’s right. From now on you search alone.’
Hentzau threw a purse of silver towards him. Expenses. The King of the Goyl was a less generous employer than the onyx, but Nerron would have worked for him for free. Not everything was for sale. He listened until their steps had faded into the Dragon’s breathing tunnel.
The parade would begin soon for the grumbling people of Vena. The Goyl showing off his pregnant human wife. Her subjects had already come up with many names for the child. ‘The monster’, ‘the skinless prince’ . . . everybody seemed to assume the child was going to be a boy. Human-Goyl mongrels didn’t live long. You could sometimes see them in freak shows at country fairs. Some were so stony they could hardly move; others had a skin through which one could see the bones and organs, as through glass; some had no skin at all. But Kami’en was determined to keep this child alive. There were rumours he’d even asked the Dark Fairy for help.
What did Reckless want in the museum?
Nerron leant against the claw-gouged stone. The darkness around him reeked of the Dragon’s odour. He opened the medallion, and the spider crawled sleepily on his hand. Why hadn’t he asked her earlier whether Reckless really was dead? Because he hadn’t wanted to know the answer? Interesting . . .
He had to feed an extra helping of lapis lazuli to the spider before she began her dance.
No carriages . . . damn . . . roadblocks . . . flowers everywhere . . .
Nerron felt a smile sneak on to his face. Yes, Reckless really was alive. The spider kept dancing. Cabby! What? No. To the spiny gate . . .
He’d be damned. Maybe the Witch’s tongue wasn’t going to be needed after all.