Page 88 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

“Ah, yes, old Cragfoot,” says Lisinder, stroking his beard. “He is very respected for his mind, of course, but also considered something of an eccentric in these parts. He rarely attends court gatherings. From what I hear he’d rather spend his time tinkering about with curiosities of all kinds.”

His eyes fall on me.

“He’ll like you,” he says, and looks thoughtful. I’m not sure it’s a compliment. It seems to have finally occurred to Lisinder that I have some kind of role in this situation, and he appears to be parsing what that means. He doesn’t seem inclined to press, however.

“Well, if answers are all you seek, then you have both earned the right to them. You’ll find Cragfoot in the Quartz Quarter.”

Ruskin inclines his head. “My thanks, Uncle, for your generosity and your discretion.”

Lisinder may not be using much subtext, but Ruskin certainly is. Right now, he’s asking the king to keep his mouth shut, but as Lisinder bids us goodbye, he doesn’t make any promises. All we can do is hope for the best.

It is a short walk from our rooms to the Quartz Quarter, so we decide to go now, even with the night drawing in. Ruskin looks like the heavy silence between us doesn’t bother him a bit, but I hate it, and as we walk I search about for something to say, hoping to ease the tension even just a fraction.

“I suppose this is very trusting of the king,” I say quietly. “Letting us wander his court so freely, I mean.”

For a moment, I’m not sure he’ll respond, but then he speaks.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry. He’ll be making sure his spies are keeping an eye on us. We’re probably being followed right now.”

“Really?” I ask, glancing around behind me on the road, but I can only see the occasional Low Fae traveling from one building to the next, seemingly occupied with their own business.

“He’d be naïve not to. But once he sees we truly are just here for Magister Cragfoot, he may relax a little.”

“He’s curious about me,” I say. “He knows I’m involved somehow. Aren’t you worried he’ll find out—” I glance around me, checking no one’s listening in, “—find out what’s really happening at the Seelie Court?”

“On that score, it’s not the king that I’m worried about. There may be many here who are unhappy with our presence, but he won’t go back on his word if he can help it. Nothing matters more to him than his honor.”

I notice a hint of irony in Ruskin’s voice.

“You disapprove?” I ask, surprised.

“I think that sometimes an obsession with honor can get in the way of seeing a situation clearly. Of choosing the most practical solution.”

I don’t argue, but that doesn’t mean I agree with him. Valuing honor doesn’t seem like such a bad thing to me. Especially compared to the Seelie, who seem to mostly value their own importance.

The Quartz Quarter looks like it did this morning, only this time the crystals lining its streets glimmer in the glow of the faerie lights. Ruskin examines the buildings carefully, then selects one with a kind of rune scratched above the door.

“Here, this is Cragfoot’s mark.”

He knocks on the door and I feel unexpectedly nervous. If I’m going to be learning from this fae, I want to make a good impression.

The door swings open and I squint to make out the figure. He has the curling horns of a ram and goat-like eyes, his skin dark and leathery.

“That can’t be young Stiltskin, can it?” the fae grunts at Ruskin with a voice like stones grinding together.

“Maidar?” I blurt out.

Both fae turn towards me.

“What are you doing here?” Maidar demands, looking confused and mildly annoyed about it.

“You’re Magister Cragfoot?”

“You know him?” Ruskin asks, baffled. He turns to his old tutor. “You know her?”

“She’s the Thorn girl. She used to trade me for goods at the Styrland market—quality stuff too, before she disappeared and left me in the lurch.”

“I was a bit busy,” I say, nodding at Ruskin.

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