Chain of Thorns - Parallels
Secrets of Blackthorn Hall
Oh, and I almost forgot! How could I forget! The workers found a coffin buried in the garden. But there was not a horrifying dead body inside, but rather a bunch of old stuff! Using a coffin as a time capsule seemed like a weird choice to me, but Tessa and Jem made some faces and some noises that suggested there was a long-ish story there we’ll have to ask about later.
Chain of Thorns
He took the coffin lid in his hands and shut it with an audible click. As he rose to his feet, the whole group was silent; even Anna was no longer smiling, but looked thoughtful, her blue eyes grave.
“Well,” James said, “that’s everything."
Secrets of Blackthorn Hall
The moment I came in holding the gun both of them looked utterly shocked. Tessa got to her feet and moved between me and Mina. I told myself she was standing between the gun and Mina, but it still felt rotten.
“What—” said Jem, standing up, but he didn’t finish the sentence. He just stared at me, and the gun.
“Round Tom found it in the garden,” I said. “Is this a gun for Shadowhunters?” I could feel my voice getting tighter. “Shadowhunters don’t use guns.”
“Long ago, Christopher Lightwood tried to create a gun that Shadowhunters could fire,” said Tessa. She was still staring at the gun.
“It was in a coffin,” I said. “With a bunch of other stuff. A broken sword, and a fancy scabbard.”
“I wondered what he did with it,” said Jem. He? Who was he?
Jem and Tessa exchanged a look. “The gun belonged to my son James,” she said. I felt kind of sick. Tessa hardly ever talked about her children with Will. “He was the only one who could use it. It would not fire in anyone’s hands but his.”
Chain of Thorns
Then he gazed around at the others, as slowly he drew his battered pistol from his belt. “I almost feel I should apologize to Christopher,” he said. “He spent so much time—and destroyed so many objects—trying to get this to work.” A rueful smile flitted across his face. “And yet, I am putting it behind me. Not because it no longer fires at my command, though that is true—but because it only ever worked for me because of Belial, and Belial is gone. The powers conferred upon me and upon Lucie due to him were never gifts—they were always burdens. They were a weight, a heavy one. A weight we both set aside with relief.” He glanced sideways at Lucie, who nodded, her eyes bright. “I like to think Christopher would have understood,” James said, and knelt to lay the gun flat in the coffin.
Secrets of Blackthorn Hall
The head builder, this guy Round Tom— he’s not even that round, honestly — anyway the first time Round Tom saw me he did a little thing where he jumped in a circle and made some odd gestures in the air, and then bowed in my direction. I just turned around on my heel and walked off in the other direction like I had just remembered I forgot something.
Chain of Thorns
“A private matter. Come with me,” Hypatia said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “Round Tom can look after the salon while we’re gone.”
With no idea who Round Tom might be, Cordelia followed Hypatia from the room, trying not to trip on her silver train as it slipped and slid over the false snow.
Secrets of Blackthorn Hall
Anyway, in the coffin was A SCABBARD FOR CORTANA. I mean, right? Can you believe it? Tessa said it used to belong to Cordelia Carstairs, who was Cortana’s wielder generations ago. The scabbard needs a lot of cleaning (a lot of cleaning) but then it can be reunited with Cortana. (After all, I think it’s probably more Cortana’s possession than anyone else’s; perhaps they’ll be happy to be reunited.)
Chain of Thorns
She drew it free, looking at it consideringly. It was truly a thing of loveliness. Steel like silver, inlaid with deeper gold, etched with runes and leaves, flowers and vines. The light that filtered through the branches above illuminated its beauty.
“I thought for a long time,” Cordelia said, turning the scabbard over in her hands, “about what to put behind me. I had thought it should be something to do with Lilith. But in the end I chose this. It is a lovely thing. And because it was beautiful, my father wanted to give it to me, and because of that, he was late to my wedding and drunk when he did arrive.” She took a deep breath, feeling Matthew’s eyes on her. “He never quite understood that I did not want pretty gifts. I wanted him. My father, beside me. And—I never spoke those words to him. I kept them secret in my heart.” She bent to lay the scabbard down; it lay sparkling among the odd assortment of items in the coffin. She said, “Had I told the truth to my father, it might not have changed things, but it would have changed my regrets. Had I told the truth to all of you about my plan to seek Wayland the Smith, I might have been spared a terrible mistake.” She rose to her feet. “What I am putting behind me is the keeping of secrets. Not every secret”—she smiled a little—“but the kind we keep because of shame, or some imagined failing that others will judge. Our failings are always more monstrous in our own eyes than any others’; in the eyes of those who love us, we are forgiven.”
Secrets of Blackthorn Hall
There was also a sword for Julian—what used to be a Blackthorn family sword, but this one is only a hilt, its blade is totally missing, I have no idea why. He’s talking about getting it reforged. Big shock, Round Tom knows a guy. Triangular Jerry. No, I’m kidding on the name, but Round Tom actually does know a blacksmith and he and Julian have started talking about getting that done.
Chain of Thorns
He held up a jagged bit of metal, bright in the sun—the broken hilt of the Blackthorn sword, Cordelia realized. The etched circle of thorns was still visible against the blackened cross guard. “I,” said Jesse steadily, “am letting go of the complicated history of my family. Of being a Blackthorn. There is, of course,” he added, “nothing inherently evil about any family. Every family has members who are good, and those who are less so. But the terrible things my mother did, she did after taking that name. She hung the Blackthorn sword on the wall above my coffin because it was so important to her that even in near death I be reminded always that I was her idea of a Blackthorn. So I’m burying what my mother thought it meant to be a Blackthorn; I am putting it behind me, and I will start again as a new sort of Blackthorn. The kind I choose to be.”
He laid the broken hilt among the other objects, and for a moment stood, looking at the coffin that had been his prison for so long.
