Cornelia Funke - Reckless II: Living Shadows

The auction room was on the thirtieth floor. Wood-paneled walls, a dozen rows of chairs, and a man by the door who ticked Jacobs name off a list with an absentminded smile. Jacob took the catalog the man offered him and went to stand by one of the windows. A thick forest of towers; beyond them, like watery mirrors, the Great Lakes. Hed only arrived in Chicago from New York that morning, a distance that would have taken a week by stagecoach. Beneath him, the sunlight glinted from countless glass walls and gilded roofs. When it came to beauty, this world could easily compete with the one behind the mirror, and yet Jacob felt homesick.

He sat down on one of the chairs and surveyed the faces around him. Many were familiar: antiques dealers, museum curators, art collectors. Like him, they were all treasure hunters, even though the treasures of this world possessed no magic beyond their age and beauty.

The bottle, which Jacob had tracked all the way to this room, was listed in the auction catalog between a Chinese emperors teapot and the silver rattle of an English kings son. The bottle looked so innocuous that hopefully it wouldnt attract any other bidders. Its dark glass was protected by a much-handled sheath of leather, and the neck was sealed with wax.

BOTTLE OF SCANDINAVIAN ORIGIN, EARLY 13 TH CENTURY, read the caption beneath the picture. Exactly the description Jacob had given when he sold the bottle to an antiques dealer in London. Back then hed thought it an amusing move to render its inhabitant harmless that way. On the other side of the mirror, releasing him would have been deadly, but in this world he was as harmless as bottled air, a bubble of nothing behind brown glass.

The bottle had changed owners several times since Jacob had sold it. It had taken him nearly a month to trace ittime he didnt have. The All-Healing Apple, the Well of Eternal Youth hed already wasted many months searching for the wrong objects. And death was still embedded in his chest. Time to try a more dangerous remedy.

The moth above his heart was growing darker every day: the seal on the death warrant issued by the Dark Fairy for uttering her name. Her sister had whispered that name to Jacob between two kisses. No man was ever executed more tenderly. Betrayed love. The black moths blood-red outline was a reminder of the crime he was actually dying for.

A dealer to whom hed sold a carafe of elven glass many years ago smiled at him from the first row. (Shed taken it for Persian crystal.) Jacob used to bring many objects through the mirror, to pay for Wills school or his mothers doctors bills. Of course, none of his clients had ever suspected that he sold them objects from another world.

Jacob glanced at his watch and looked impatiently at the auctioneer. Get on with it! Lost time. He didnt even know how much he had left. Half a year, maybe less

The emperors teapot fetched a ridiculously high price, but, just as hed expected, the bottle didnt arouse much excitement as it was placed on the auctioneers table. Jacob was certain hed be the only bidder, when suddenly another hand rose a few rows behind him.

The other bidder had the delicate build of a child. The diamonds on his short fingers were certainly worth more than all the items in the auction combined. His short hair was as black as a ravens feathers, but he had the face of an old man. And the smile he gave Jacob seemed to know a little too much.

Nonsense!

Jacob had sold a handful of gold coins for the auction. The wad of banknotes he got for them had seemed more than enough. After all, he hadnt sold the bottle for that much in the first place. But each time he raised his bid, the stranger also raised his hand, and Jacob felt his heart grow angrier with every number the auctioneer called. A whisper went through the room as the bids surpassed the price for the imperial teapot. Another dealer joined the bidding, only to drop out as the price kept climbing ever higher.