Valiant by Holly Black Page A

target’s weakness, that is the intuitive genius of great liars,” said the troll without looking up. His voice was dry. “Though the Folk differ greatly, one from another and from place to place, we are alike in this: We cannot outright speak what is untrue. I find myself fascinated by lies, however, even to the point of wanting to believe them.”
    She didn’t reply.
    “Do you consider yourself skilled in lying?” he asked.
    “Not really,” Val said. “I’m more of an accomplished sucker.”
    He said nothing to that.
    Picking up another book, Val noticed the glass sword hanging on the wall. The blade was newly cleaned and looking through it, she could see the stone, each pit in the rock magnified and distorted as though it was under water.
    “Is it made from spun sugar?” His voice was close by and she realized how long she’d been staring at the sword. “Ice? Crystal? Glass? That’s what you’re wondering, isn’t it? How something that looks so fragile is so hard to break?”
    “I was just thinking how beautiful it was,” Val said.
    “It’s a cursed thing.”
    “Cursed?” Val echoed.
    “It failed a dear friend of mine and cost him his life.” He ran one hooked nail down the length of it. “A better blade might have stopped his opponent.”
    “Who…who was his opponent?” she asked.
    “I was,” the troll said.
    “Oh.” Val could think of no reply. Although he seemed calm now, even kind, she heard the warning in his words. She thought of something her mother had told her when she’d finally broken up with one of her most dysfunctional boyfriends. When a man tells you he’s going to hurt you, believe it. They always warn you and they’re always right . Val pushed the words out of her head; she didn’t want any of her mother’s advice.
    The troll walked back to the table and picked up three waxed and stoppered beer bottles. Through the amber glass she couldn’t see the color of the contents, but the idea that it might be that very same amber sand that ran through her veins the night before made her skin thrill with possibility.
    “The first delivery will be in Washington Square Park, to a trio of fey there.” One hooked nail pointed to a map of the five boroughs and most of New York and New Jersey taped on the wall. She walked closer to it, noticing for the first time that there were thin black pins stuck into various points along the surface. “The second can be left outside of an abandoned building, here. That…recipient may not wish to show himself. I want you to take the third to an abandoned park, here.” The troll seemed to be indicating a street in Williamsburg. “There are small grassy hills, close to the rocks and the water. The creature that you seek will wait for you at the river’s edge.”
    “What are the pins for?” Val asked.
    He gave the map a quick sideways look and seemed to hesitate before speaking again. “Deaths. It isn’t unusual for the Folk to die in cities—most of us here are in exile or in hiding from other fey. Living so close to so much iron is dangerous. One would only do it for the protection it affords. But these deaths are different. I’m trying to puzzle them out.”
    “What am I delivering?”
    “Medicine,” he said. “Useless to you, but it eases the pain of the Folk exposed to so much iron.”
    “Am I suppose to collect anything from them?”
    “Don’t concern yourself with that,” said the troll.
    “Look,” Val said. “I’m not trying to be difficult, but I never lived in New York before. I mean, I’ve been up here for things and I’ve walked around the Village, but I can’t find all these places with a glance at a map.”
    He laughed. “Of course not. Had you hair, I would give you three knots, one for each delivery, but since you don’t, give me your hand.”
    She held it out, palm up, ready to snatch it back if he took out anything sharp.
    Reaching into one of the pockets of his coat, the troll drew out a spool of green