The Lost Book of the White (The Eldest Curses #2) - Cassandra Clare Page 0,64
kind to run a civil service. He could just be squatting there.”
Clary looked troubled. “I feel like I should ask,” she said. “If we find an open Portal to Diyu, are we going to… go through it?”
Before anyone could answer, the front doors burst open and Tian came running up to them. He sounded out of breath.
“I hoped I’d find you here,” he said, without preamble. “Jinfeng’s parents want to see you at once. They said it’s important. They said, ‘The one with the chains must arm himself.’ ”
Everyone except Alec and Magnus looked baffled.
“What chains?” said Jace.
Magnus sighed and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it open to reveal the angry red chains extending from his wound and disappearing into his sleeves. Alec could not say for sure, but he thought they had become more well-defined than before. And had there also been chains extending down toward his legs and up toward his throat before? He couldn’t remember.
The other Shadowhunters stared at Magnus.
The bespectacled goblin who had yelled at Simon appeared unexpectedly beside them. He spoke in a hissed stage whisper. “I am sorry, but I must ask you to leave. You’re disturbing the other customers. They’re not used to Shadowhunters in the first place, and now you’re taking off your clothes—”
“Got it,” said Alec. “We were just leaving.”
“The Cold Peace says we’re allowed to prevent you from coming entirely,” the goblin went on. He had clearly prepared a speech and was going to deliver it no matter what. “But we said no, the Palace is a neutral territory, all of the Shadow World should be welcome. But we didn’t mean for a whole… squad of Nephilim to—”
“Yes, yes,” Alec said. “We’re going.” He began herding them toward the doors.
“Also,” the goblin continued, “this isn’t a lending library. Those books are for sale, and now we’ll have to reshelve all of them—”
Magnus had been slowly buttoning his shirt back up. Now he turned and put his hand on the goblin’s shoulder in a friendly manner. The faerie looked at it as if it were a poisonous snake. “Sir, my apologies for my companions,” he said. “I take full responsibility. They were only helping me with some of my research. I’m Magnus Bane, High Warlock of New York, and I’m going to buy all of these.”
The goblin looked suspicious. “I know of you. You’re only the High Warlock of Brooklyn.”
“Technicalities,” said Magnus. “The point is, sir—may I know your name?”
The goblin sniffed. “Well, if you must know. It’s Kethryllianalæmacisii.”
“Really?” said Magnus. “Well, anyway, Keth—may I call you Keth?”
“You may not.”
Magnus pressed on. “If you’ll just ring all of these up and have the bill sent to the Spiral Labyrinth. The books can be delivered to the Mansion Hotel, if you will.”
Simon had helpfully piled the books into a single large stack and presented them to Kethryllianalæmacisii, who staggered a bit under the weight, but was clearly not about to lose a decent-size sale to the Spiral Labyrinth. “Of course, Mr. Bane,” he said, through clenched teeth. “But if that’s all, my staff and I would appreciate—”
“Yes,” said Magnus, “we were just leaving.”
“Sorry,” said Simon to the goblin, who made a hissing noise at him.
Looking a bit dazed, Tian led them out of the store. When the doors opened, a bird in a cage above it sang a snatch of song, haunting and sweet. “Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild!”
On the steps outside, Alec said to Magnus, “Can you really bill things to the Spiral Labyrinth?”
“Let’s find out!” Magnus said. “Now, I’ve heard the one with chains must arm himself, so Tian, lead the way.”
CHAPTER TEN The Black and White Impermanence
THEY FOLLOWED TIAN THROUGH UNFAMILIAR streets of the Shadow Concession. Vines stretched in dense tangles between the buildings, forming a kind of canopy over their heads. The light that filtered through to the street below was cool and gentle. The group passed a selkie selling silkie chicken soup, and a fey-made river garlanded with moonflowers in which mermaids sang. Magnus stopped walking and smiled at them, listening. He wanted to see his child. He wanted to crawl into bed with Alec and cuddle and sleep. He let the song flow through his mind, reminding him of visits to China long before any of his companions’ grandparents’ grandparents were born. He closed his eyes, and after a moment felt Alec’s hand on his back—not hurrying him on, just connecting to him.
“ ‘Chun Jiang Hua Yue Ye,’ ” he said to Alec. “ ‘A