Fearless (Mirrorworld) - By Cornelia Funke Page 0,96

said, cutting a few strands of Louis’s pale blond hair. ‘I’m sure the Iron Gate would welcome him more warmly than me.’

‘What’s that supposed to be for?’ Valiant asked. ‘Are you going to sell a strand to every girl you find pining at the prince’s portrait, dreaming of becoming Queen of Lotharaine?’

Jacob left that question unanswered. Never had he felt more grateful for the things Alma had taught him – things that Witches usually never divulged to a human. She had once pulled out one of his hairs and wrapped it around her bony finger. ‘This here tells me more about you than your blood,’ she told him. ‘Every single hair reveals who you are and where you come from. Yet you humans leave it in combs and brushes without realising that even a few strands of it give any stranger the chance to put a very powerful part of you in his pocket. For a Witch, the hair you leave on a hairdresser’s floor is enough to create a doppelgänger in just a few hours.’

He didn’t have enough for that. But maybe it would make Guismond’s gate accept him as a distant descendant. It was worth a try.

‘You have no right!’ Lelou’s voice trembled with rage. ‘Treasure hunter? You’re all filthy thieves. The crossbow belongs to Guismond’s heirs.’

Jacob got up.

‘Yes, but why did his children never come to claim it? What do you think, Lelou?’ He put Louis’s hair in one of the empty swindlesacks. ‘Maybe they never even came to his tomb. How do you explain that? Just with the fact that the Witch Slayer was a terrible father and quite mad towards the end? Did he, as some say, have their mother killed, and was that why they rejected him? Or were they simply too busy waging war against one another?’

Arsene Lelou pressed his colourless lips together. Still, as expected, he couldn’t resist the chance to show off his knowledge.

‘They thought their father wanted to kill them all!’ he twanged. ‘That’s why they never came to the tomb. That’s why they never searched for the crossbow. They were convinced Guismond would find a way to kill them.’

Valiant uttered a sceptical grunt. ‘Why should he? He needed an heir.’

Lelou rolled his eyes. ‘The Witch Slayer was crazy. He didn’t want anybody on his throne, not even one of his children. He wanted the world to stand still after his death. It was supposed to begin and end with him.’

Fox went to Jacob’s side.

‘We should get going,’ she said quietly.

Yes, but Jacob was still thinking about what Lelou had said. Maybe taking Louis’s hair wasn’t such a good idea?

He pulled Fox away.

Behind them, Lelou was reciting every horror story ever written about the Dead City. Jacob knew them all.

From his pocket he took the chain Ramée’s granddaughter had worn – and possibly Guismond’s daughter before her.

‘I will get you a pendant for it,’ he said as he put it around Fox’s neck. ‘The most beautiful one I can find in Guismond’s palace. But let me go alone. Please! It’s too dangerous. I’ll come back with the crossbow. I promise.’

Fox replied by placing her hand over where the Fairy’s moth covered his heart. ‘What could be worse than the Bluebeard’s house?’ she asked. ‘Or worse than having to wait here for you?’

At a signal from Valiant, the Giantling kicked an opening in the fence.

The Dwarf handed Jacob two candles.

‘They weren’t easy to find,’ he said. ‘Your debts are growing and growing. I will wait here for you. The tomb was enough for me, but don’t get any ideas. I’ll find you, whatever you may try to cheat me out of my share. Believe me, I can be much more unpleasant than Crookback.’

‘I remember,’ said Jacob. He followed Fox across the trampled fence.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

HEAD START

Pale blood was dripping from the Waterman’s fingers as he cut Nerron’s ties. He’d scraped the scales off his arms to free himself. Some of his olive-green flesh was probably still stuck to the carriage wheel, yet he never even flinched.

They had, of course, taken all their weapons.

Tricked by a prince dumber than any horse you’ve ever ridden, Nerron.

They saw the palace already from afar. So the Dwarf had brought Guismond’s body with him. Nerron was sick with rage as he pointed his spyglass at the watchtower where the exchange was supposed to have taken place. A pile of stones that looked suspiciously like the grave of a Giantling, and a few dead bodies in front of