Goblin Apprentice

by Gerhard Gehrke

  A two-story house had lights burning.

  He almost ran past when he saw a bookcase through the glass, illuminated by lamplight. As he paused, he saw it held a treasure of books. He stepped carefully onto the sidewalk, mindful of every creak of the boards. As he gazed inside, he saw more bookcases against each wall, perhaps a dozen. He wanted a better look, but wiping the mud from his face only made his eyes sting more. A rain barrel sat at the corner of the house under a downspout. He washed his face before returning to the window.

  He almost drew away when someone rose from a large chair, but then the stout figure revealed itself to be a goblin. Spicy tapped the glass. The goblin inside turned and gaped. Spicy pushed his face to the window and waved.

  The goblin dropped the book they were holding and stepped back.

  Spicy knew what would follow: more screaming, more dogs, the guards coming back. He turned to run.

  “Wait!” came a shout from inside.

  The goblin came to the window. It was a girl about his age. She pointed towards the front of the house and her face vanished. At the high entryway, a bolt clicked and the door opened. The goblin girl stuck her head out.

  “Who are you?” she asked. But before he could answer she waved him in.

  Spicy entered the human house. The doorways were large. A giant staircase led to an upper level, thick rugs ran down a long hallway, and animal heads mounted on the walls stared down at him. It was stifling warm.

  The girl raised a lamp. “You’re leaving mud prints on the floor.”

  He looked down and saw a set of gray tracks following him in. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

  “Who did you run away from?”

  “I didn’t run away from anyone. I just snuck in town.”

  She eyed him skeptically. “Well, take off your shoes. Your clothing too. If you’re not leaving, I’m not going to have you spread mud all over everything.”

  She was about to walk off.

  “Wait. Are you going to call the guards?”

  “We’ll see. That depends on you.”

  “I’m not here to hurt anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  She looked him over and grinned. “I’m not worried. So are you staying or not?”

  “Do you have a dog?”

  “No.”

  Spicy began to pull off his shoes.

  Chapter Eight

  She expected she’d be leaving Blades behind. But he kept up. She was struggling to maintain her own pace, as her breath kept falling short and the sharp ache in her chest and side only intensified. All complications from her tumble over the cliff. Maybe a rib was broken.

  Plus hunger.

  Plus thirst.

  One step at a time, she reminded herself.

  They had walked all day with only a few breaks, with Alma deciding when to rest and when to press on. She kept a mental game going, selecting something a hundred yards off and setting it as a target, distracting herself from her pain by counting steps. Mercifully, the sun was visible through the clouds that day and maintaining a westward course proved simple.

  It wasn’t fear of the mountain tribesmen overtaking them that kept her motivated, although she would fight with every ounce of strength to not let that happen. She felt a rage building inside her. She had left her band of delta pirates in search of better opportunities. Her journey took her to Orchard City, where Lord had recruited her and made her an officer. He had promised her a cut of a big purse at the end of his quest, far beyond the wage soldiering would provide.

  She had believed him. Now she had nothing.

  At least the hardscrabble pirate life had put food on the table. And had given her something akin to family, better than any she’d had.

  With Lord and the other mercenaries in the platoon, there had never been a close bond, although the pay was steady. Lord made good on his sign-up bonus. But Orchard City was expensive. Money slipped through her grasp during the months of recruiting the other men. By the time the agent from Pinnacle had signed their platoon into the archduke’s service, she was in debt. The troubles with the Inland Empire promised a lengthy period of increased pay. Pinnacle was putting everything into squashing the upstart zealots, as Lord had anticipated.

  With his quest subsidized, they set out. Like a fool, she had followed, believing his pursuit of forgotten lore would result in a payday that would set her up for life.

  She muttered a curse.

  “Did you say something?” Blades asked.

  She didn’t answer.

  Surely, she could return to the delta. Her old family would embrace her. But her heart would never be satisfied. Orchard City or Pinnacle was where she imagined herself, but that dream required her to earn gold. As a deserting mercenary, the prospect of once again finding employ with the archduke was dim.

  She thought about goblins. And trolls. And dragons.

  Goblin slaves were a possible commodity. Selling the troll Lord had captured was a genius idea, though it had to be scrapped when Lord had the creature put down. But what of the dragon?

  A cabinet of curiosity with fake fantastic specimens preserved in jars could earn an Orchard City huckster a fortune. So what would a dragon bring?

  Something on a rock face caught her eye. It was a long shirt, an undergarment, laid out on a rock. She signaled Blades and they both got down. With a few quick gestures she communicated she would go forward and he would wait. Blades nodded.

  She readied one of the goblin arrows. They were shorter than her own hand-cut arrows. Accuracy would be somewhat compromised as she was unaccustomed to the length. But the shaft was straight and the fletching perfectly inlaid. She wished for a good steel head instead of stone.

  The air held the scent of smoke.

  A stream ran between the boulders. Two boots sat on a rock where a small pool eddied. In a patch of soil a modest fire burned. Several tiny fish cooked on a stone. She climbed a rock and spotted three men downstream of the simple camp. Each had a line in the water, with one man stripped to the waist and perched upon a boulder over a second pool.

  All three men belonged to Lord’s platoon and had been left at the boat at the shore. Why were they here?

  She waited and watched. The three were having some success with their fishing spot, as each had a stringer with hooked fish. Just the thought of food made her stomach grumble.

  Near the fishing hole were two horses tied up by a meager patch of grass. The pack animals were too old to serve as effective mounts in such hard terrain.

  There was no sign of any posted sentries.

  She felt her anger rise. Sliding down off the rock, she marched towards them. All three men stiffened when she came into view.

  “Alma?” a man named Billy said. An experienced sailor and a halfway competent swordsman. He wore a sleeveless leather jerkin and his pale arms were covered in dark ink. The platoon had had another Billy when they’d set out, but he had died when the troll attacked.

  The other two men refused to make eye contact with her.

  She kept a cautious distance. “Where’s everyone else? Why are you men up here?”

  Billy spooled up his fishing line. “The troll came back and attacked us. We didn’t kill it. We tried to find your trail, but we didn’t have any supplies. Where’s Lord?”

  “He’s not coming. Something’s happened. How many of you are left?”

  “It’s just us,” Billy said.

  There was something uneasy about all three of them. Any pretense of military order had vanished. They were unkempt. None had weapons at hand.

  “I walked right up to the three of you,” Alma said. “You have no guard posted. I could have shot all of you down before you made cover.”

  Billy’s jaw tightened. “Well excuse us for not setting out pickets. And lining our camp with stakes. And raising a palisade and a watch rotation. We figure if the troll is going to chase us out of the sea and all the way up this mountain, then we’ll hear it coming. But now we’re catching our
dinner. We’ll worry about the rest tomorrow.”

  “Watch your tone with me. I’m still your officer.”

  “Are you now? You come walking back down the mountain just to remind us of our duty? Has Lord uncovered his goblin treasure? Seems to me you’re a bit light on supplies, let alone luggage stuffed with gold.”

  Alma realized Billy had a sharp eye. She wasn’t carrying any gear save the bow and quiver and her two arrows. When she’d served as the platoon scout, she had kept a pack with a meticulous selection of food and gear.

  “It’s true I wasn’t here looking for you. But I did spot your shirt on the rock and your fire. It’s not the troll you need to worry about right now. Lord isn’t coming. Nor are any of the others. It’s just us. We were ambushed by mountain tribesmen. There’s also a goblin hunting party looking for us. It’s only a matter of time before they find you. Maybe hours. I doubt they’ve stopped for late noon tea. I’ve managed to keep just ahead of them. It’s your choice if you want to keep up with me. Together, we might stand a chance. But you men look sloppy, like a group of urchins out on picnic. Perhaps you’ll be of more use staying here. At least you’ll provide a distraction.”

  She walked back up to their fire. The tiny fish were hot and overcooked, but she sucked down two of the trout, chewing noisily on the bones. She dabbed juice from her mouth with her sleeve. The three men followed and watched.

  “That’s our fish,” one of the others said weakly. “She’s eating our fish.”

  “Shut up,” Billy said. “Lord’s gone?”

  Alma picked up a third thumb-sized trout and blew to cool it off. It had a slight lump near its tail. A tumor. Normally she’d throw such a fish out, but she was too ravenous to care.

  She nodded. “Lord. Medico. The other men. Our horses. The tribals got most of them, the goblins the rest. Blades is right behind me, keeping an eye out for anyone trailing us. But it’s only the two of us. And there is no treasure. Coming here was a mistake.”

  The three men shifted uncomfortably in place as she spoke.

  “What I do know is I’m going to get off this mountain alive. With a little luck, I’m going back south to Orchard City. If you decide to come with me, you’ll follow my orders. Or you can wait here, and we part ways. Either choice works for me.”

  She ate the third fish.

  The men exchanged glances.

  “What about our pay?” Billy asked.

  “We’re in the same situation. We left our post, so our contract with Pinnacle is forfeit. We’ll have a hard time getting hired by anyone allied with the archduke. But there are always options for good soldiers to make money.”

  She had their attention.

  “But right now a bag of gold is worth less than a belly of food to get us through another day,” she continued. “We can make a few more hours on foot before it gets too dark. So if you’re coming with me, swamp the fire and gather the horses.”

  One of the men licked his lips as she picked up the last fish off the cooking stone. This one she took the time to savor.

  Chapter Nine

  The goblin girl led Spicy to a washroom with a tiled basin set in the floor with a drain. She brought in a bucket of water and set it down.

  “Put your clothing in the laundry basket.” She waited for a moment, but Spicy didn’t undress until she turned her back. “Was it you raising the ruckus earlier?”

  He plopped the sodden, mud-filled pants and shirt into a basket before taking the bucket and stepping into the basin. “Are people not allowed out at night?”

  She let out a laugh. “People? Yes. Our kind? No.”

  Using a rag, he washed the mud away. Soon the water in the bucket was swirling with dirt. She took it, but not before looking him over. He did his best to cover himself.

  “Use the towel on the rack,” she said.

  He was left alone to dry himself off. Then he waited awkwardly.

  “There’s a robe out here for you,” she called.

  Sticking his head out the washroom door, he saw her rummaging through a closet. A blue robe, human-sized, hung from the doorway. Spicy took it and draped it over his body. He had never felt cloth so soft. It smelled clean and warm, but he had to draw it up around his waist.

  “Thanks. Are you alone here?”

  “No. The master of the house is upstairs.”

  Spicy became alert. He strained his ears, but he didn’t hear any other movement inside the home.

  She closed the closet door. “Relax, will you? He’s deaf. I mean really, really deaf. Blind, too. So I wouldn’t worry if I were you.”

  He finally got a good look at her. Her skin was a darker purple than even Sage Somni’s. Her dark hair was tied back in a simple ponytail. She wore white makeup around her eyes that kept catching his attention every time she blinked.

  “You’re staring,” she said.

  “I’m sorry.” As if to punctuate his apology, his stomach gurgled.

  “Hungry? Let me get you something. Follow me.”

  He clung the oversized robe around him and tried not to trip. The girl walked to the main hall and entered a kitchen. Spicy paused and looked down at the library. The lamp still burned by the window. He wandered in and stared up at all the books. He ran his fingers over several of the spines.

  “Hey!” she hissed. The girl came charging in and pulled closed tall drapes. “If there’s people out there looking for you, you can’t go parading in front of the windows.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen so many books.”

  “Are your hands clean?”

  He examined them. They were free of dirt except under the fingernails.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “You can look at them. Don’t bend any pages or break the spines.”

  Spicy took a book off the shelf at random. “I’d never do that.”

  The red woven binding had black lettering stamped into the front cover.

  Of Coastal Flowers.

  Each smooth page held an illustration of a plant along with a description and medicinal use.

  “Witch’s Teeth,” he read. “Recog…nized by its dual-colored pink and yellow flower. Grows in low wet soil. Blooms in spring. Su…su-scept-a-ble to frost. Can be brewed in tea along with car…or. Carob. As a treat-ment for dia…diar…”

  “This is painful.” She snatched the book from his hand. “Diarrhea.”

  “I would have gotten that.”

  She replaced the book and removed another. This one had a boat on the cover.

  “Danger Island,” he read. Illustrations covered each page. A human boy appeared to have washed up on a beach.

  “Pedro was the only survivor,” Spicy read smoothly. “The boat which carried his family was lost to the sea.” He looked up at her. “What happened to his family?”

  “You’ll have to keep reading. I’m going to warm some soup. You can tell me when I come back.”

  So Spicy sat with his book and continued with the story. There were no other people on the island, but Pedro met a talking bird, a talking turtle, and a talking crab. No danger, though. Each friend helped him build part of a boat. But when it was time to leave the island, none of his new friends would join him. On the final page, Pedro was sailing off and waving as the bird, the turtle, and the crab stood together on the island watching him leave.

  “The End.”

  “Your lips move when you read,” the girl said. He hadn’t noticed her return. She set a tray with a bowl of soup on a desk. “Eat it before it gets cold. And don’t get any on the books.”

  “Is there a part two?”

  “No, that’s it. That’s the end. You pick up another book and read a new story.”

  “So Pedro isn’t real. This is just made up, like a children’s book.”

  She let out a laugh. “Adults can read fiction, too. Pedro’s no more real than a talking crab and whatever else happens in that story. But they’re all real and alive while you’re reading, at least in your head.”r />
  Spicy nodded and decided he liked listening to her talk.

  “The real trick is to find the made-up things in books that aren’t fiction,” she said.

  “Is that what you do here? You get to read all these books? Are you an apprentice to the human sage?”

  She smirked. “Barberos is no sage. But he does have the best library in Bliss. Once I’ve done my chores, I get to spend as much time here as I want. Plus, he sleeps a lot.”

  “Wow. This must be a dream job. We weren’t introduced. I’m Spicy. What’s your name?”

  “Daphne. What kind of name is Spicy?”

  “The first thing my mother wanted after I was born was flatbreads with extra peppers. What does Daphne mean?”

  “It doesn’t mean anything. My mom didn’t name me after her favorite flavor.”

  Daphne watched as Spicy ate. It was a chicken and potato soup and it tasted very salty. But it might have been the best thing he had ever eaten. When he was done, she took the tray.

  “Want more?”

  He nodded. She returned in moments with the bowl refilled. He was struck by the appearance of her hands. In addition to the ink stains on her fingertips, her knuckles were swollen and a few of her finger joints misshapen.

  “Your hands…”

  “Whenever I would spill, break a dish, or make a mistake that required the rewriting of a page, Barberos would smash my hand with a paperweight. When I first came here, he would have me place my hand in a door and he would slam it.”

  Spicy stared in shock.

  She gave a wan smile. “It’s okay. He hasn’t had the strength in the past few years to do much of anything. I care for most of his business. He sleeps a lot. I get to spend time reading. And writing.”

  “You write? Like letters and words?”

  “I get to write whatever I want. Poems, mostly.” She looked at one hand. “And I remember that it would be worse for me if I were one of the slaves working for any other family in Bliss.”