The Golden Yarn by Cornelia Funke

Author:Cornelia Funke [Funke, Cornelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fantasy, Fiction
ISBN: 9780989165631
Publisher: Breathing Books
Published: 2015-12-01T05:00:00+00:00

***

Chanute had been right to promise them princely accommodations. Aleksei Fyodorovich Baryatinsky resided in the best part of the city, just a few blocks from the Kremlin, the medieval fortress that the current Tzar, much against the protests of his nobility, had turned into his residence and seat of government. His predecessors had ruled from St. Vladisburg, the port city built in the Western style, but Nicolaij the Third wanted to remind Varangia that its roots lay in the East.

Aleksei Fyodorovich Baryatinsky’s city palace lay behind a gate plastered with more gold than the one in front of the imperial palace in Vena. The dogs that were paired with the guards were as rare as the geldings that had brought them here: Barsoi, Yakutian windhounds. Despite their size, they were as slender as if the wind had shaped them, but that wasn’t what had given them their name. Their fur changed color when the wind brushed through it. The most valuable ones turned light blue, the others more silver, as though their short-haired coats caught the starlight. This trait had nearly caused the Barsoi’s extinction, until the Varangian nobility began to use them as guard dogs instead of for their coats. A Barsoi would attack without warning, and it did so quickly and silently, as if by magic.

They raised their heads, catching Fox’s scent as she stepped out of the carriage. The palace was quite typical for Moskva, where all people, rich and poor, dreamed of country life. Peacocks and turkeys were pecking the ground between the many vegetable beds in the wide courtyard. There was a shed for firewood, and a greenhouse where orange trees thrived, despite the biting cold. The palace’s roof was as colorful as an Oriental rug, and its towers pushed their gilded roofs into the sky like golden bulbs.

They were made to wait for the man whom Chanute had saved from the fangs of a Wolfling. Chanute’s face turned darker with every minute he had to sit idly on a leather sofa that was probably worth more than the entire furnishings of The Ogre, and watch Sylvain down one glass after another of the potato liquor the servants offered on Parsian silver trays. Jacob was glad Chanute was staying away from drink, though he knew the only reason was the grave-bitters he was taking.

Fox stood by one of the fur-draped windows (even summer nights could be bitter-cold in Moskva) and looked down at the city’s skyline, spread out like layers of colored paper. Jacob knew that silent look on her. She could stand like that for hours. Images, sounds, scents… Even years from now, she’d remember every detail. Jacob loved watching her face when she was so absorbed, so in the moment. Not allowed, Jacob. Chanute was telling them for the third time how he’d earned the eternal gratitude of Aleksei Fyodorovich Baryatinsky, and Jacob longed for what couldn’t be, a longing more painful than Seventeen’s fingers or the ravens of the Baba Yaga.

An elaborately carved clock ticked on the mantelpiece.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.