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“Death Life A fish dies A billion mites eat it and live In the swamp there is no difference”
“There is to the fish,” Janet said “You’re a shitty philosopher, so don’t try Is Fillory dying?”
If turtles had shoulders it would have shrugged
“Yes then Fillory is dying Give me horses”
“Wait, are you serious?” Janet was pissed now She looked like she hadn’t believed it until this ? Well, can we stop it?”
“You cannot”
“We can’t,” Eliot said “But maybe there’s somebody who could?”
“I cannot say Ask the queen”
“I’m the queen,” Janet said “Or I’ you”
“Queen of the dwarves In the Barrens Enough Give me horses or let me be”
The turtle began to sink, sloithdrawing its head under the shelf of its shell, barely disturbing the black water till its chin rested on the surface
“I don’t know any dwarf queens,” Janet said “You know any dwarf queens, Eliot?”
“Heck no Because there aren’t any female dwarfs They don’t exist”
“She doesn’t exist,” Janet said to the turtle “Try again”
“Listen closer”
The snapping turtle snapped Its head shot out tothat big could ht at them As it bit it turned its head on one side, to take them both in one movement
Eliot reacted fast His reaction was to crouch down and cover his face with his arms Frorow colder around them, and he heard a crackle, which at first he took for the pier splintering in the turtle’s jaws But the end didn’t come
“You dare?” Janet said
Her voice was loud now—it made the boards vibrate syone airborne, floating two feet above the pier, and her clothes were rimed with frost She radiated cold; mist sheeted off her skin as it would off dry ice Her arms were spread wide, and she had an axe in each hand They were those twin staves she wore on her back, each one now topped with an axe-head of clear ice
The turtle was trapped in e She’d stopped it cold; the sas frozen solid around it Janet had called dointer, and the water of the Northern Marsh was solid ice as far as he could see, cracked and buckled up in waves The turtle was stuck fast in it It struggled, its head banging back and forth impotently
“Jesus,” Eliot said He stood up out of his defensive crouch “Nice one”
“You dare?” Janet said again, all imperious power “Marvel that you live, Prince of Shit”
The turtle didn’t seem surprised, just mad
“I’ll have you,” it hissed, and it surged and strained The ice squeaked and groaned and started to split Janet leaned into the casting, however she was doing it, and froze the swahter
“I will freeze your eyes,” she said, “and shatter them! I will split your shell and pick out the meat!”
Jesus, where did she get this stuff? The turtle strained once reat ship frozen in arctic pack ice It stared at the with murder Janet let herself float down to the wooden boards
“Fuck you,” Janet said “You know better Next time I’ll kill you”
She spat, and the gob froze in midair and slid across the ice With that she turned and walked away Eliot practically fell off the boardwalk getting out of her way He didn’t want to touch those axes
He felt like he should say so too, before he went, so he did
“Dick”
“Worm,” the turtle rasped back Its breath smoked in the sudden cold “You’ll see It’s turtles all the way down”
“Yeah, sure,” he said “I’ve heard that before”
He trotted off after Janet She left frost footprints behind her
CHAPTER 12
It wasn’t until a couple of hours later, when they were back on their horses and heading southwest, the direction of blessedly solid dry ground and, eventually, Barion and its clear alcoholic balm, that Janet cleared her throat and said:
“So I guess you’re probably wondering how I all of a sudden turned into an aic axes just now”
Eliot was, actually But he was going to see how long he could go withoutit It wasn’t that he didn’t want to know, they both knew he did It was a game they played
They both kneould cave eventually
“With what now?” he said airily “Oh Sure I guess so”
“I call the right axe Sorrow,” she said “You knohat I call the left one?”
“Happiness?”
“Sorrow I can’t tell them apart”