Hitting a bat midflight with a stone is difficult. Very difficult. But not impossible. With practice, it can be done, and nothing spurs practice like hunger. During all those months in the Spine, the boy had gotten lots of practice, and when he failed, his empty belly had spurred him to practice more. Even though the Duke’s temple was a very small target, and even though the Duke exposed it only briefly, it was nowhere near as hard to hit as a bat in flight.
The boy snapped his wrist so hard he thought his hand might come off. The stone ripped through the air and landed with a sound a little like a kiss.
It was a good strike, but the blow itself was not fatal. That much the Duke knew. His head swam a little, so he blinked a few times and then shook his head to clear his vision. He did not begin to worry until he took a stagger-step forward. Suddenly he could not seem to keep his body over his feet. His stomach lurched sickeningly as he stumbled faster and faster down the face of the roof. He managed, just in time, to steer himself toward one of the gargoyles. He slammed into it, hard. The gargoyle knocked the wind from him, but it stopped him cold. Gasping and sweating, he clung to the ugly statue. “Good try, lad, but not good enough,” he shouted. “I’ll not make that mistake again.”
The truly awful part was that when the truth came to him, it came just a little too late. Were it not for the ringing in his ears, he might have heard the creaking sound of ancient masonry giving way, of the gargoyle freeing itself from its anchor. Had he heard that creaking sound, he might have scrambled back onto the roof in time.
But the Duke did not hear. He did not realize what was happening until the gargoyle began to move. Man and gargoyle pitched forward into the air. The Duke watched the ground rush toward him. It was not right. This was not how it was supposed to end. He had plans. He was to be king. He wanted to protest, but all he could do was choke out a strangled “I—I—” before the gargoyle’s flight came to an abrupt end on the flagstones below.
When the boy returned to the courtyard, there was nothing to be done for Duke Geoffrey. One of his men draped the Duke’s cloak over him. The rest just stood there, fussing uselessly.
“You’ve slain the Duke,” said the King. He beamed at the boy. “The whole kingdom owes you a debt of gratitude.”
“The Roofers’ Guild particularly,” said the Minister of the Treasury as he surveyed the damage to the palace.
“I am the one in your debt,” said the Princess. She took the boy’s hand in hers. “That’s the second time you’ve saved me.”
“And now you don’t have to marry someone just because he’s rich and has an army,” said the boy.
“Ah, yes, er, umm, yes,” said the King. “About that…”
The Queen forced a smile onto her face. “Darling, you remember your third cousin Prince Edgar, don’t you?”
“A charming young man,” said the Steward helpfully.
“And what he lacks in chin, he makes up for in nose,” said the Tipstaff, less helpfully.
“Perhaps we might focus on more immediate matters, Your Majesty,” said the Chamberlain in a low tone. “As there are some issues that are, as yet, unaddressed.” He paused to make sure they all followed him. When he saw they did not, he added, “The Duke’s men.”
The Duke might have been dead, but his many soldiers were not. The greater portion of the armed forces of West Stanhope were milling around, leaderless and freshly unemployed.
“Oh, dear,” said the King. He looked to the Chamberlain, but the Chamberlain only pursed his lips with worry.
“None of you have any idea what to do?” asked the Princess.
The members of the cabinet all looked down at their feet. A few of them gave little shrugs.
Princess Alice marched to the top of the steps, held her head high and, in her most regal voice, said, “Men of Castle Geoffrey, I, Alice, Crown Princess of West Stanhope and All Its Dependencies, have grave news to impart. Unbeknownst to you all, your late master, Duke Geoffrey, was secretly plotting against me and against my father, the King.” She gave her father a nod. “This vile malefactor is dead now, slain by my personal champion”—here she pointed at the boy—“and his evil schemes are defeated. I’m sure that none of you knew anything about this treasonous conspiracy against the Crown.” She paused to let the Duke’s men tell one another that they had, in fact, known nothing about any treason. “For you are all loyal subjects of the King.” Another pause let them reassure one another of their loyalty to the King. “And in recognition of your loyalty, my father will stand as your host at any inn or tavern in the city.”
There was a long pause as the Duke’s men considered her words. Finally, one of the men-at-arms said, “Not to sound ungracious, Your Highness, but just how many drinks are we talking about?”
The Princess looked him squarely in the eye and said, “As many as you want! Father will pay for them all!” The Minister of the Treasury did some quick calculations and then went very pale.
“Three cheers for the Princess!” shouted the man-at-arms. The Duke’s men shouted, “Hurrah for Princess Alice! Hurrah for Princess Alice! Hurrah for Princess Alice!” Cheering and shouting, the men poured out of the palace courtyard.
“There,” said the Princess. “That’s how to sort them out.”
“Well done,” said the King. He hoisted her up in his arms. “Worthy of a monarch. Truly.”
The Princess blushed, and giggled just a little.
The King put the Princess back down. “Now, tell me what really happened.”
The Princess launched into a breathless, and somewhat garbled, account of how the boy had bested an ogre, freed Just Alice, faced down the dragon and freed Princess Alice, all before exposing the treachery of Duke Geoffrey and slaying him in single combat. She didn’t even slow down when she came to the part of the story that the King had seen for himself.
“You did all that?” said the King.
“Um, I guess I did, Your Majesty,” said the boy.
“Very impressive, young man,” said the King.
“I always saw a lot of promise in the lad, myself,” said the Earl. He clamped his hand down firmly on the boy’s shoulder. “That’s why I made him my personal champion and charged him with rescuing the Princess.”
The boy jumped a little at that.
“You did?” said the King.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” said the Earl. “How else could he have gotten hold of Magan—my personal shield? Right, lad?”
“Absolutely right,” said the boy, nodding vigorously.
“Well done, Godric,” said the King. “For that, I shall make you Marquis of—”
The Queen elbowed him. “Duke,” she whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Duke of Middlebury.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said the newly appointed duke, bowing deeply.
“And what about you, lad?” said the King. “You must have a reward, too. As I’m making Godric here a duke, would you like to be an earl?”
Casimir was stuck behind the crowd at the palace gates. He craned his neck to look into the courtyard, but all he could see was a sea of heads. Then a great cheer went up. “What is it?” he said. “What’s going on?”
“It’s the Duke,” said someone standing nearby. “He’s dead.”
“Dead? How?” said Casimir.
“He’s thrown himself from the top of a tall tower because the King refused his proposal.”
“No, he was slain by a foreign assassin,” said someone else. “Stabbed him right in the back.”
“I heard he lost a duel with a beggar,” said a third.
“But the wedding’s definitely off?” said the Factor.
“Oh, yes,” said the first man. “No groom.”
Casimir cursed and spat.
There was a tug at the hem of his coat. “Casimir the Merchant, I am Mennofar the Goblin. I believe we have a little business to transact.”
There, at Casimir’s feet, in violation of all sense and reaso
n, stood a goblin. A lesser man—a lesser merchant—might have stood and gawped at such a sight, but the goblin had mentioned business. That was enough for Casimir. “It is a great pleasure to meet you, Mennofar the Goblin,” he said in his silkiest tone. The situation required care. Goblins were well known for sharp practice. “You are very fortunate to catch me, for I carry only the finest wares in all of the Kingdoms, and my visit to Farnham is but a brief one.”
“And yet, one I have been looking forward to for many months,” said Mennofar.
“Many months?” said the Factor. “But we only decided to come here last—”
“Let us not quibble over trivial matters,” said Casimir. If Mennofar wanted to think he knew where Casimir was going before Casimir did, let him. Goblins had gold. That was the important thing. “Now, what sort of business were you interested in transacting?”
“You have lost something, and I thought I might reunite you with it,” said Mennofar, his skin glowing a brilliant shade of green.
“I’m intrigued, I will admit that,” said Casimir. He stroked the end of his great black mustache. “But I’ll not commit to a reward until I have my property back, whatever it may be.”
“Fair enough,” said Mennofar. He smiled, exposing his hundreds of pointy little teeth. “Follow me.”
King Julian’s offer to make the boy an earl might have sounded offhanded, but it was not. He dangled this prize in the hopes that the boy might take it over the Princess’s hand. The kingdom was still broke, even more so now that it had a large bar tab to pick up. King Julian still needed the Princess to marry a rich prince.
The boy said, “Thank you, Your Majesty, but no. I’ve been thinking about the reward and—”
“Of course, the Princess’s hand in marriage is the traditional reward in such circumstances.” He estimated the boy’s age. “Perhaps a long engagement? Say, two years?” Then, very awkwardly, he added, “Son.”
“Again, very generous, Your Majesty, but I wasn’t going to ask for that, either,” said the boy.
“Gold, then?” said King Julian. For if the boy did not want a title or the Princess’s hand, then he had to want money, and a great deal of it. Certainly more than the kingdom had.
“No, Your Highness. For my boon, I ask that you abolish slavery in West Stanhope,” said the boy.
The members of the court gasped, but King Julian did not immediately refuse. This royal silence made the Chamberlain nervous. “Your Majesty is not, I hope, seriously considering this?” he said.
“Oh, Papa, you must,” said Princess Alice. “I’ve been learning all about slavery, and it is ever so nasty.”
“Her Highness has a delicate and sensitive nature, as is only proper for a princess,” soothed the Bailiff. “But exposure to luridly exaggerated accounts of the harsher aspects of this particular institution”—he squinted at the boy—“may have overcome her natural faculties of logic and reason.”
“You make it sound as though I’ve gone soft,” said Princess Alice. “Why shouldn’t Papa outlaw slavery?”
“But it’s…it’s…unprecedented,” spluttered the Bailiff.
“Your Majesty, as a sage, I feel obliged to point out that there is a precedent,” said Oswald. “The Bergstad Federation abolished slavery over a hundred years ago.”
“And we are supposed to embrace every new fad just because it strikes the fancy of some foreign land?” cried the Tipstaff indignantly. “Undermining the very fabric of our society and abandoning our great Stanhoptic traditions?”
“And will abolishing slavery create a security risk?” said the Captain of the Guard. “What’s to stop these newly freed slaves from taking up arms against the state?”
“What, exactly, stops them from doing that now?” asked Just Alice.
The Captain of the Guard glared at her.
“I think Your Majesty must consider the legal questions here,” said the Seneschal. “I fear this issue may not fall within Your Majesty’s jurisdiction. It may be a matter best suited for the High King in—”
“Your Majesty, what about the job losses?” interrupted the Minister of the Treasury. “If you abolish slavery, then the slaves will all be thrown out of work.”
“I fear that Your Majesty’s natural desire to help these poor unfortunates can only serve to make their lives worse,” said the Steward.
“How would freeing them make their lives worse?” demanded Just Alice.
That earned her an imperious glare from the Steward. “These people have no experience of being free,” he said. “If you just free them willy-nilly, they will lack the skills to care for themselves. Now, if we were to wait, say, five years—”
“They’d be just as unprepared as they are today,” said Princess Alice.
“It’s a tragic situation,” agreed the Steward. “They may never be ready.”
It was plain that the cabinet had not scored as many points as they had hoped. In desperation, they all looked to the Chamberlain to save them. For a long moment, everyone remained silent as the Chamberlain considered what to say. Finally, he laced his fingers together and cracked all of his knuckles at once, then took a deep breath.
“Better make it a good one,” said the Princess.
The Chamberlain took an even deeper breath, bowed slightly to the King and said, “As Your Majesty can see, this particular institution, while perhaps somewhat distasteful, is part of a complex web of interconnected social institutions. And while it is only natural to feel a certain sympathy for the less fortunate, this web should not be disturbed lightly. Under the circumstances, an extended study by a committee of sages—a committee I would be only too happy to organize for Your Majesty—would permit a more complete understanding of the role of this particular institution in our society. This understanding would help us to develop a scheme for dismantling it, or perhaps simply reforming it so as to curtail certain excesses, should that prove the wiser course. And if, in the meantime, this puts some small few in awkward circumstances, I am confident that they can rely on the benevolence of their betters to improve their individual situations.”
When it was clear that the Chamberlain was done, the officers of the royal cabinet all clapped and said, “Hear, hear.” There was even a smattering of applause from some members of the crowd. The Chamberlain bowed a little in acknowledgment.
The King, however, said nothing. He simply stared off into space.
“Your Majesty?” said the Chamberlain.
“Hmm? What?” said the King, snapping out of it. “Sorry, I was miles away.”
—
While his ministers fussed about what would happen if he granted the boy’s request, King Julian worried about what might happen if he refused. There was little chance that West Stanhope would be able to afford the boy’s second choice, whatever it might be. And there were not so very many slaves in West Stanhope, mostly because the people of West Stanhope lacked the kind of wealth to afford things like slaves. Granting the boy’s request would put a few noses out of joint, but—and this was key—it would not actually cost any money.
“My lords, ladies and gentlemen,” said King Julian in his most regal tone. “My ministers have spoken eloquently in defense of our great Stanhoptic traditions.” The ministers and other members of the court nodded vigorously in support of King Julian’s words. “I will not let it be said that I violated our most ancient tradition”—he paused for effect—“of granting a hero any boon that is within my power. Therefore, I am outlawing slavery in West Stanhope immediately. Bailiff, prepare a decree to be read in every town and village in the land.”
The Chamberlain clenched his teeth, but the crowd cheered King Julian’s decree. A few of them cheered because they were genuinely opposed to slavery. The rest cheered because they preferred dramatic royal proclamations over getting back to work.
“Hurrah,” cried Princess Alice, who was one of the few genuinely excited by King Julian’s decree. “Well done, Papa!”
Mennofar sliced throug
h the crowd with surprising speed, but Casimir managed to keep up. They quickly came to the front.
“I believe you know him,” said Mennofar, pointing.
“Who would I know in Farnham?” said Casimir, but the boy Mennofar pointed to was familiar. He was definitely one of Casimir’s slaves, although Casimir could not say exactly which one. There were so very, very many. And how one of them had wound up in Farnham was a mystery. Still, there would be time enough to sort that out after he reclaimed his property.
He crept up on the boy slowly and with great care. Then, when he was close enough, he struck like a viper. He caught the boy by the wrist, taking him by surprise. “I have you now, slave!”
The hold on his wrist felt more like an iron shackle than a man’s grasp. The boy looked up. “Mast— Casimir,” he said.
At the name, Just Alice squealed and threw her hands over her mouth.
“Abase yourself before your master, slave,” said Casimir. The boy felt the pull of habit tugging his forehead toward the ground.
“No,” said the boy. He drew himself up to his full height.
Casimir squeezed the boy’s wrist still harder. His nails bit into the boy’s skin. “Boy—”
The Factor stumbled out of the crowd. “Very sorry, sir.” He wheezed and gasped for air. “Hard to keep up at my age.”
“Never mind that,” said Casimir. “Pay the goblin a florin. He has returned a renegade slave to us.”
“Really,” said the Factor. “Which one?”
Casimir scowled. “Shut up and give the goblin his reward.”
The boy watched the Factor take out a florin and drop it into Mennofar’s open hands.
The boy felt sick. After all they had been through together, he thought Mennofar was a friend. But Mennofar had warned him that a goblin and a human could not truly be friends.
For his part, Mennofar did not even have the decency to be embarrassed. He smiled at the boy as if nothing were wrong at all. Indeed, he almost seemed to be expecting the boy to do something.
The Goblin's Puzzle Page 18
