The Tangle Box

He had been convinced of it since the Gorse had showed itself to Kallendbor and instigated the march on Sterling Silver. At least that long, he corrected. Perhaps he had been convinced of it before, given the nature of the being with which he had become entangled. The Gorse was just what Biggar had warned it was—an incredibly powerful monster that could turn on them in a moment. That it would do so sooner or later was no longer in doubt. Since the march from Rhyndweir, Horris could see his usefulness to the creature coming to an end. For one thing, the Gorse had regained its human form and could walk among men, night or day. That meant it no longer relied on Horris to run its errands. Worse, it was beginning to disregard the fact that Horris was even there. When siege was laid to Sterling Silver, it addressed Kallendbor as an equal and barely deigned to notice Horris. Forgotten were all the promises of the role Horris would play in the new order. There was no longer any mention, veiled or otherwise, of Horris becoming King in Holiday’s place. Horris was being shoved aside, no mistake about it.

“So you simply plan to give it all up once again?” the bird snapped, bringing him out of his reverie. “Just walk away from the chance of a lifetime? What’s the matter with you? I thought you had some backbone about you!”

Horris glowered. “Just exactly what is it that you expect me to do, Biggar? Tell that monster I don’t like how I’m being treated and I want what’s fair? That should prove interesting. Given what we now know, I should say we will be lucky to get out of this alive even if we keep our mouths shut!”

Biggar spit, an ugly sound. “You can tell it you want to be King, Horris! You can tell it that! The Gorse suggested it, after all! It’s a good plan. You be King for a day, we get our hands on as much wealth as we can, then we get out of here. But we don’t cut and run with nothing!”

Horris folded his arms across his bony chest and huffed. “Tell it I want to be King, you think? Haven’t you been paying attention to what’s going on? Haven’t you been listening? This isn’t about mind’s eye crystals or Sterling Silver or being King! There is something else going on here, something infinitely more complex and devious. The Gorse is simply using us—Kallendbor included—to get what it wants. It spent a lot of time getting free of that box, and it wasn’t happy about being put there in the first place! Think about it!”

Biggar’s beak clacked shut. “What do you mean?”

Horris leaned forward. “For a bird possessed of enhanced intelligence, you can be awfully dense. Revenge, Biggar! The Gorse wants a healthy measure of it, don’t you see? There are old debts to be paid for injuries suffered, and the Gorse is doing all this to collect on those debts. It practically told us as much. Landover for us, it said, and the fairy mists for itself—remember? I didn’t realize what that meant then, but I do now. We have always followed a very sound rule of business, Biggar, and it has served us well. If there isn’t any money to be made, we get out. Well, there isn’t any money involved in the revenge business, and it’s time to fold our tent and get while the getting’s good!”

“But thereis money, Horris,” the bird insisted. “That’s just the point. There’s all kinds of money, just across that lake, just inside those walls. If we can hang on for a few more days, we have a chance to take a good chunk of it with us. The Gorse can help us—maybe without even knowing it. Let the beast have its revenge, what do we care? What we need is what’s inside those walls. That, and a way out of Landover. Or have you forgotten we’re trapped here? The Gorse can give us both.”

“What it can give us is a quick trip into that box with Holiday and the others.” Horris shook his head stubbornly. “You saw what it did. It dispatched Holiday like a child. Down into the Tangle Box and out of Landover in the blink of an eye. No more King. It’ll do the same with us when it’s ready, and I don’t think that time is too far off.”

Biggar hopped onto the end of Horris Kew’s boot. His claws dug in. “Maybe we should hedge our bets a bit, Horris. Suppose you’re right. What we need is a little something to keep the Gorse from harming us. Like the box.”

Horris blinked. “The Tangle Box?”

“We slip away right now, tonight,” said the bird. “We can reach the cave on horseback and return before morning. Take the box and hide it. Use it as a lever to make certain we get what we want.” The sharp eyes gleamed.

Horris stared at the bird for a moment, then he shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve gone round the bend, Biggar. You really have. Threaten the Gorse? What does it care if we have the box or not? We don’t even know how to use it!”

“We know the words,” the bird whispered. “We know the spell. What if we were to say it again?”

There was a long, terrible silence. Horris wished he had never opened the box in the first place, never spoken the words that released the Gorse, never returned to Landover at all. He wished he had taken up some other less-stressful profession, like leatherworking or weaving. He was suddenly and inescapably fed up with magic in all its forms.

“Come on, Horris, let’s go!” Biggar urged. “Don’t just sit there. Get up!”

Biggar couldn’t see it, of course. Perhaps it was due to the fact that even with enhanced intelligence there was still only a bird’s brain inside that tiny feathered cranium trying to sort it all out. Or maybe he simply didn’t want to see.

“If we do this,” Horris Kew began softly, “if we decide to challenge the Gorse, if we actually go back to the cave and steal the Tangle Box ...”