An Obstinate Witch

by E M Graham

  I didn’t know where to start with my search on how to get to the Ice Kingdom. No sense asking for Hugh’s help, this went without saying, despite his promise on Scarp. One of the things I liked (loved? Best not go there, not yet) about him was that he was so honourable, but this also meant he felt bound by the rulings of the Kin and would not go against them. Me tripping off to another dimension when I was supposed to be studying? This would definitely be considered going against all that.

  How to get from here to there? That was the question. I was pretty caught up in my thoughts, so much that I’d forgotten to eat my cake. A slight movement from under the table brought me back to earth, though, and a nasty smell filled the immediate vicinity.

  ‘What the hell?’ I said out loud, thinking it must be a large stray cat or dog brushing against my legs.

  I sat back to peer under the table but when I saw what it was, I almost jumped out of my seat. The creature looked back at me, aghast at being caught, trapped between the table legs and chairs. Protuberant eyes flashed left then right as it searched for escape, and its filthy stocking cap was knocked askew. There was no way out, so it chose offense as the best defence.

  ‘I only wanted a bit of cake, you mean old greedy-guts! You’re not eating it, now, are you? Think you’d spare a crumb.’

  ‘What... Who are you?’ I looked around to see if any of the humans nearby had noticed the strange creature, but no one was taking any notice.

  ‘Let me out, you fat slag, don’t be such a bully to a helpless wee goblin.’

  Well, this all made a lot more sense. My dealings with Goblin folk in the Alt back home were rare, for they tended to hang out in sewers and gutters and other places I’d prefer not to enter, and besides, they had a worse reputation than the fairies for being utter shitheads.

  ‘Fat slag indeed. At least I don’t stink like you,’ I muttered as I pulled my legs aside to allow him out from under the table.

  He unfolded himself and bared his wide mouth at me, his narrow sharp teeth all yellowed with fuzz. ‘You’re a meanie. Some of us haven’t had the same opportunities, y’know, and don’t have nice hot baths waiting at home. Some of us got to make do with what we’re given. Now, you giving me that cake or not, y’selfish hag?’

  ‘Eat the frigging cake, then,’ I retorted. ‘And get out of my sight.’

  He snatched it off the plate and scoffed it down, not bothering to shut his mouth as he chewed. ‘That’s all then?’ he said after he swallowed. He looked longingly at the plate as he scooped up the last bit of icing with his finger. ‘I’m starving, y’know.’

  ‘What, do you think I’m rich? I’m not buying more food just to give to you because you’re whining.’

  ‘Ye’re American and you got no money?’ he sneered. ‘Try pulling the other leg.’

  “I’m Canadian, you asshat, and besides it’s none of your business.’

  He slid his eyes around, looking at the empty table. ‘How come ye’re alone? Ye got no friends?’

  ‘I like my own company, thank you very much. Can you take a hint?’

  Apparently not. Uninvited, the goblin jumped up to sit in the chair next to me. ‘I could show you around, if you’d feed me, like,’ he wheedled. ‘Earn a meal. I’m from here, I know this place like the back of my hand. Americans, they always like a guide.’

  ‘Why would I hang out with a smelly goblin?’

  He eyed me suspiciously, then sniffed at the air around me tentatively. ‘You don’t smell so good yourself, you smell like... You’re a fecking witch, aren’t you?’

  ‘What if I am?’

  I could almost hear the thoughts racing in his large goblin head. ‘You’re a witch, and you’re from the Colonies...’ He leaned closer and I saw a light dawning in his eyes, then fear obliterated everything else. ‘You’re that one! You’re the new Auld Meg! Frig that, Ah’m not getting involved in this one!’

  With that, he tore out from the sidewalk cafe, knocking over chairs in his haste and pushing past people that unwittingly stood in his way.

  There’s no way I could let him get away with that. How did a goblin know about me? Was I that infamous here in Edinburgh? I’d only just arrived in the city.

  What did he know about me that I didn’t? And that name had cropped up again – Auld Meg. My body reacted even as these thoughts flashed through my mind and I took off in the path that he’d cleared through the crowds, intent only on getting my hands around his scrawny neck to wring information out of him.

  Seriously, I had no intention of setting into motion all the awful, terrible things that happened later. You have to believe me on that one, because Cromwell and the Covenanters sure didn’t.

  7

  THE LITTLE GREASER WAS RIGHT, he knew his way around the Royal Mile and he dashed this way and that, down alleys and up lanes, until I guess he thought he’d lost me. But I was close on his tail, and I simply followed my nose as we came back out on the main boulevard.

  ‘Seriously, the Cathedral?’ I panted as I paused outside St. Giles, the massive Gothic stone church looming up above my head. I didn’t look to the right, to the spot where Hugh and I had sat yesterday evening. ‘Are goblin kind even allowed into holy places?’

  There was no line-up at all to get into the Cathedral, which was a good thing because I didn’t have time to stand around queuing. I pushed past the blue-haired volunteer at the desk. She wasn’t happy with me, but I didn’t need the brochure she refused to hand over anyway. My nose was on full alert for the little green critter.

  Yet once inside I had to stop, if just for a moment. Even though I was raised with no belief in God, basilicas and cathedrals always get to me the moment I step into the main body and look up. Wa-a-ay up. The air and the space created by the soaring arches, the stained glass like jewels of light, they leave me speechless every time. I can’t help it, the beauty overcomes me.

  And it gave the goblin time to hide, but I soon sniffed the sneaky little bastard hiding inside the Eagle pulpit. Besides, his dirty stocking hat was visible over the wood.

  ‘I see you!’ I hissed. As my steps drew closer he gave a squeak, and like a flash he ran off down to the farthest corner of the huge cathedral. Maybe it had been a few years since he’d been inside, maybe he hadn’t reckoned on the glass doors barring his way to the bathrooms in the basement. I could see him hesitate, then turn into the section marked The Thistle Chapel.

  At the doorway I stopped. This was a small enclosed space, albeit one with a ceiling just about as high as the cathedral’s. I carefully shut the two heavy oak doors to prevent his escape.

  ‘Alright, you malodorous scum goblin,’ I said with gritted teeth. ‘Show yourself, or I’ll... I’ll unleash a spell on you.’ I lifted my arms and pointed my fingers in a threatening manner. So I didn’t actually have any spells in mind, and I was huffing and puffing from the chase, but it was enough to scare him.

  This all might sound like I was being a little harsh to the pathetic creature, but he was a goblin, and that’s how they expect to be treated. I would never have gained respect by being nice to him.

  He was quivering behind a pew. With a victorious cry I reached in and tried to lift him by the scruff of his neck, but he was a solid little bugger and I only managed to thump him against the wooden box enclosure.

  ‘Ow! You’re hurtin’ me,’ he cried.

  ‘Then come out and talk to me.’

  By this time he was sniffing and snivelling, the snots running freely out his nose. He stood before me and I could finally get a good look at him. I’d never examined one of his race so closely, which is not surprising as they aren’t pretty sights. Short with a potbelly but stick-thin arms and legs, this goblin was greenish in colour, sort of like the pallor that comes to a human suffering sea-sickness, but it was his natural hue. His ears were pointed, and his sparse hair looked greasy to the touch.

  Voices echoed behind the doors, tourists wanting to come into this chapel, bu
t I wasn’t finished with him yet and didn’t want any interruptions. I’d been forbidden to use my powers until the Kin figured out how they could harness or defuse my extreme moonlight magic, but surely no one would notice a tiny holding spell. That’s if magic even worked in a Christian church, especially a Presbyterian one, but there was only one way to find out.

  ‘O Portae lignum solidum,’ I said under my breath. My Latin was crap as I’d never learned it properly, only enough to cast spells, but it seemed to do the trick of holding the doors tightly shut. I didn’t know how long it would hold though, I probably didn’t have much time.

  ‘I want to know what you’ve heard about me,’ I hissed as I towered over him in a menacing manner. ‘Out with it. I need to know.’

  ‘You’re that witch,’ he whispered, his eyes huge as saucers.

  ‘Yeah, tell me about it,’ I said. ‘Seriously, tell me what you’ve heard.’

  A muffled knocking sounded on the door, and a voice raised in question. We both glanced towards it.

  ‘What will you give me?’

  I stared him down, pathetic little bugger that he was. I had nothing to give him except the credit card, and that would be no use to him.

  But it could buy things for him. I looked at the shoddy boots on his feet. Scuffed and ripped along the edges, the leather was barely holding together.

  ‘I’ll get you new boots.’

  He gave a squeak of surprise, not expecting any sort of kindness and certainly not this level of generosity, and his eyes were wary.

  Someone was hammering on the door by now – I wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer. One thing I’d learned on Scarp was that at the beginner level, spells can’t just be cast and left to go about their business, and it takes an inordinate amount of psychic energy to keep an action going. The closed-door spell had about a minute left on it.

  ‘After you talk to me,’ I added.

  In Goblin-speak, this meant I might or might not follow through with my promises, and this was more to his comfort level.

  ‘Where can we go to have a quiet parley?’ I asked, glancing back at the doors which were being pummeled by many fists now. There was quite a commotion building out there.

  ‘I know a place,’ he said.

  I lifted the spell, fully confident he wouldn’t run away this time, not if he thought he could trick me out of the price of a pair of new boots. I sagged a little, not realizing how much energy it had taken to raise a spell on hallowed grounds.

  The doors swung open. There was a quite an angry crowd had gathered out there in the Ante-Chapel, and a man in a dark suit glared at me, ready to give me a right telling off.

  ‘Oh thank God, eh?’ I cried in my most Canadian voice, forestalling any yelling as I ran towards him. ‘I thought these doors would never open. Oh, the trauma I’ve suffered here. I oughtta sue you guys!’

  That shut everyone up pretty quick and they let me pass out without a word, my new companion quietly at my heels.

  HE LED ME ALONG THE ROYAL MILE, slipping into a dark covered alley that soon opened up into a narrow lane bordered by tall houses on one side of the incline and an iron fence on the other.

  ‘In through here,’ he said, squeezing himself through the bars and into the lush green bushes on the other side.

  ‘I can’t get through there,’ I scowled at him. The space was no more than eight inches wide, with his squishy pot belly it was a tight fit even for him.

  His head popped back out of the greenery and he rolled his eyes. ‘Told ye you’re a fat slag,’ he muttered then disappeared again.

  Before I could return the abuse, his long fingers had unlatched the gate from the inside and he beckoned me in.

  ‘This is someone’s private garden,’ I whispered as I looked all around me. The bushes protected us from view from the laneway, but we were directly in front of a lace covered kitchen window and a glass-fronted door. I peered in. The interior was very, very tidy with the bare minimum of furniture in the room.

  ‘It’s alright,’ he said in a normal tone of voice. ‘This is an Air B&B property. They can’t rent it right now because of tax issues. We’re safe.’

  We settled onto the plastic wicker chairs on the small flagstone patio and stared at each other across the glass-topped table.

  ‘Hey, Goblin – I can’t keep calling you that,’ I said. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Trevor.’ This was said with such bravado that I knew it wasn’t the one given by his goblin mother.

  ‘Seriously? Trevor? That doesn’t sound very goblinish. No way is that your real name.’

  His narrow lips set obstinately. ‘I want to be called Trevor. You couldn’t even pronounce my real name, not with your clumsy human tongue.’

  I shrugged. ‘Have it your way, Trevor,’ I said, then got down to business. ‘I need to know. How do you know about me, and what do you know?’

  ‘Why is that important? Don’t you even know who you are?’ He was pretty insolent for a goblin looking for new boots.

  ‘Never mind your questions.’ I needed to know because there was so much unknown in my life right at that moment. Hints and bits and pieces and promises from Hugh were just not enough. My life was no longer under my control, and knowledge was the only thing which could help me feel I had a handle on things, and give me an idea of where my future was headed. There was a large faction of the Kin solidly against me, and the more I knew what was rumoured about me, the better equipped I’d be. I’d rather not have gotten my information from this smelly, disregarded creature, but right now I had no other options.

  I wasn’t going to tell him that though.

  ‘You’re the witch that’s been touched by the Crystal Charm Stone.’

  I nodded solemnly. ‘That is true.’

  ‘You have powers beyond belief.’

  I inclined my head a little. Eh, maybe not that much. At least not right now while the moon wasn’t full. But he also didn’t need to know that.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ I said firmly. ‘How did you, a goblin in Edinburgh, find this out?’

  He snorted. ‘After what Auld Meg did, you think the supernatural world is not going to keep a close eye on the Kin? We’re survivors, not idiots.’

  ‘What did this Meg do?’ I was beginning to get genuinely curious about this legendary character. ‘I mean, I know the Stone gave her powers, but no one will tell me what happened, or how they overcame her. They only say Ooh, Auld Meg, scary stuff. No actual details.’

  He looked askance. ‘And how did you grow into adulthood without hearing about her and knowing all the ghastly things she did? Were you brought up in a cave?’ Then his face lightened with understanding. ‘Oh right, you’re not from here.’ He sat for a moment in thought, kicking his legs, which didn’t reach the ground, then adjusted his stocking cap.

  He was making calculations in his little goblin brain, and a crafty look came across his visage as he thought of a way to profit off me. His greed was stronger than his fear. ‘I imagine there’s a lot you don’t know,’ he began, sidling his eyes over to me in speculation. ‘I imagine you need the help of a native here in Edinburgh. Someone you could have, maybe, on retainer, like.’

  Now it was my turn to think, for he had a point. It would be good to have a supernatural on my side in this place where I knew no one except Hugh and the Venerable Nachtan (I didn’t count Mrs. Mac, because she’d renounced magic), as I did have loose plans made which involved the next full moon. Oh, yes, I intended to make full use of my extraordinary powers when they came round again, because who knew how long they would be available? The Kin would stop me the moment they figured out how to, I was sure of that, so I had to work against them. I didn’t know then how the goblin could help me, but he wouldn’t be expensive. An uncertain ally, perhaps, and one I couldn’t trust because of his goblin nature, but an ally nevertheless.

  I was damn sure I’d get to my mother, somehow, some way, it was going to happ
en.

  I nodded in agreement. ‘Okay, a retainer,’ I said.

  ‘Five pound a day.’ He jutted out his receding chin

  ‘As if!’ I laughed back at him. ‘Your kind doesn’t see five pounds a year. What good is cash to a goblin?’

  ‘Would be nice,’ he said deflating, looking down at his ragged boots. ‘Just to have money, see what it feels like...’

  ‘No one who can see you to take your money would let you in their shop.’ That came out sort of convoluted, but it was true. There were Alt stores that took modern cash, but no self-respecting shop owner would let a goblin darken their doorstep. Word would get out, and it would turn off the nicer kind of customer, and that was never good for business.

  ‘How about food, or more clothing?’ I asked him in a far gentler voice. I’d hurt his feelings, and I found myself feeling kind of sorry for him. After all, it wasn’t his fault he’d been born a pathetic goblin.

  He lifted his head to look at me, a mixture of cunning and longing in his eyes. ‘Anything?’

  ‘Within reason.’ I stared him down with a frown on my face to make up for my lapse into niceness.

  ‘A red scarf? Can I have a red scarf?’

  Seriously? All he wanted from life was a piece of red fabric?

  ‘Yeah, I guess you can, we’ll find you one somewhere,’ I said in an offhand manner. There had to be the Scottish equivalent of Dollar Stores here – perhaps not along the touristy Royal Mile, but close at hand. After all, Edinburgh was famous for its university, and where there are students, there are cheap clothing stores.

  He narrowed his eyes in disappointment, and I realized I’d given into the bargaining too easily. ‘That’s only to show you around, mind,’ he said sullenly. ‘If you wanted more it’ll cost.’

  ‘You haven’t earned your boots yet,’ I pointed out. ‘So don’t get too full of yourself. Tell me about Auld Meg.’