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by Vivian Vande Velde

  Feordin said, "I can see her from here. But if I tip my head, I ... sort of ... can't."

  She was beginning to fade out for us, too.

  For me.

  "I hate this," I screamed.

  One of the goblins tapped his head. "I think they all should be checked for werewolf bites," he said.

  34. PRISONERS (PART III)

  Hours ... minutes ... seconds...

  Trying not to call attention to ourselves, we examined our cell. There were no loose blocks of stone, no hint of tunnels under the floor. The bars didn't feel like metal, which I suppose was good, because if they had been metal, they probably would have been iron, and who knows what effect being surrounded by iron would have had on Thea and me?

  At first we thought, Oh, boy. The bars are just needlepoint: we could rip our way out of here. But when we tested our strength against it, the fabric might as well have been metal for all the damage we caused.

  And I couldn't see that we'd ever be able to overcome the guards anyway.

  Hours ... minutes ... seconds...

  I was no longer able to convince myself that it was all part of Shelton's programming glitch.

  My mind began skittering around the idea that my mother could die. Really die.

  I mean, looking at it logically, normally parents do die before their children. It'd even happened to a few of my classmates, besides Noah Avila. But I'd never really considered it happening to me, never imagined day-to-day life without Mom.

  For the first time, it occurred to me that some day I was going to have to face both my parents' dying. Unless I died first. For the first time, it occurred to me that someday I was going to die. Oh, sure, I'd thought of dying before. As in: And then they'll be sorry they didn't treat me better ... didn't let me go to the rock concert ... didn't increase my allowance. I'd thought of it. But I'd never Thought of it. And suddenly there was nothing grand or noble or romantic about it.

  Hours ... minutes ... seconds...

  The torches burned low and were replaced.

  The guards changed.

  Breakfast arrived.

  The goblins who delivered the food were noisy, or at least one of them was. It was morning in Sannatia, he announced in a voice even more gravelly than the average goblin's. Were they going to get a chance to execute the prisoners?

  The others didn't know. Didn't care. Didn't look up from carving their initials into the wooden table.

  The kitchen goblin whistled a monotonous tune as he ladled what may well have been yesterday's stew into what may well have been yesterday's tin bowls. Perhaps his helmet's cheek protectors interfered, or maybe he was just a lousy whistler. It got on my nerves after about ten seconds.

  His companion kicked stray coins back into the cell from the batch I'd thrown last night. After the fourth one hit my kneecap, I realized he was aiming at me.

  I scooted back on my rear end. I avoided their eyes, trying not to look annoyed, which they might take as provocation. Or scared, which they might also take as provocation. The others were all sitting farther back and were pretending not to notice. Mom hadn't awakened since the previous evening.

  The talkative one shoved the bowls under the door. "One for you," he said, sliding a bowl toward me. "One for you." He shoved one in the general direction of Nocona. "One for you." The stuff was slopping over the sides and onto the floor. He should have just left them by the door like last night's guard. "And one for you, and you. And—oops, one left over. Anybody else in there?"

  I sucked in a cold breath, but he wasn't looking at where Mom was. Just an idiot goblin who didn't know how to count. Quickly I averted my eyes again.

  "So," he said to the other three goblins. "What do you guys do for entertainment?"

  Our guards had been on duty for four hours. They were one-third tired and two-thirds bored out of their minds. They'd taken off their helmets and loosened their armor straps, and the highlight of their watch had been when they'd had a contest to see who could spit the farthest. They didn't like these bright and spiffy new guys any better than I did.

  "I've got an idea," the talkative goblin said, and that made me nervous, because I sure hoped we didn't have anything to do with his idea of entertainment. I pretended to be engrossed with the tip of my boot, but out of the corner of my eyes I watched him reach into his pocket.

  "Pick a card," he said. "Any card."

  Pick a card?

  Slowly, very slowly, I looked up.

  The talkative goblin had his back to the cell. He wasn't wearing the troll boots, but that could just have meant Robin had smartened up. His companion was watching me. Were the eyes orange? It was hard to tell in this light. I mouthed the name "Marian?" figuring, if not, what could it hurt? She gave me a look like "Well, finally," then winked. Then, in a very gruff voice, she growled, "Hey!" like I'd tried something, and drew her sword.

  The guards jumped to their feet, grabbing their crossbows up from the table.

  But Robin had been waiting. His sword was out a fraction of a second before they even started to move, and there was nothing to warn them that it wasn't just a case of his reflexes being faster than theirs.

  Until he swept off the head of the nearest guard.

  The others let their crossbows drop with a clatter; there was no time for setting up. Instead they whipped out their swords and closed in.

  Marian was real good; Robin, now his advantage of surprise was gone, was already backing up, giving ground.

  He was marking time, I realized, waiting for Marian to finish off the one guard then come and help him.

  And there wasn't enough time.

  Already the guard had Robin backed up to the bars of our cell.

  I grabbed a handful of the coins on the floor and threw them at the guard's face.

  He barely flinched, but it was enough to give Robin an opening. He lunged forward, skewering the hapless guard with his sword.

  A moment later, Marian finished off her man, too.

  It happened fast, about ten seconds from the time Marian had yelled, "Hey!" The group inside the cell cheered, though I'm not sure they really knew what was going on till Marian removed her helmet. Then they cheered even louder.

  "Thank you, thank you," Marian said, trying to fluff up her helmet-flattened hair. It took me a moment to remember that she was Noah, that Robin, kneeling in front of the lock mechanism, was Dawn Marie. Marian looked us all over; then, real quiet, she asked, "Where's Felice?"

  "Here." I pointed, though it was obvious she wouldn't have asked if she could see from where she was standing. Despite all the excitement, Mom was still asleep. "She's beginning to fade. You have to stand just right to see her."

  Marian glanced at the others, to make sure that I wasn't the only one who thought she was there. She shifted, first one way, then the other to align herself with the position from which I could see Mom. She sucked in her breath sharply. It might have been because she still hadn't believed me, or it might have been because Mom had lost almost all the characteristics of Felice. Instead of a gypsy bar wench, she looked like somebody's mother, except for the fact that if you looked at her straight-on you couldn't see her at all.

  Marian closed her eyes and whispered something. I didn't catch it, but then again, I didn't figure I was supposed to. To Robin she said, real snappy, "What are you doing?"

  "I'm trying to unlock the gate."

  Marian reached under her goblin tunic and pulled out her gauntlets of power. "Step aside," she warned. Holding her sword two-handed, she struck the bars. They separated like strands of yarn.

  "Now," she said to Cornelius, "what in the world happened to you?"

  "I'm stuck," our wizard said.

  "No kidding. Here, do you trust me?"

  "No," Cornelius said, watching her approach with her sword.

  She stuck the point into the box and worked to jimmy the cover open.

  "If you cut my hand off, that's not going to help."

  "Be quiet. I'll have you out
in a second."

  There was a loud crack! But what had happened was that the sword had snapped.

  "Hmmm." Marian grabbed the box with one hand and the cover with the other. She strained to pry them apart but finally had to give it up.

  "Maybe I can help," Robin said.

  "It's magic," Marian pointed out.

  Robin, kneeling next to one of the dead guards, held up a ring of keys.

  "Which one though?" I asked impatiently.

  "Probably this one, marked 'Magic box key.' "

  "If the key's as good as the box..." I started, but Robin inserted the key into the lock before I could finish. There was a click, and the cover swung loose.

  There were none of the promised magic goodies; in fact, the box was empty despite the fact that it rattled, but at least Cornelius's hands were free. He rubbed his wrists gingerly.

  "How about you?" Marian said to Nocona. "Those bonds magic, too?"

  "We put them on," Feordin explained. "He's been werewolf-bit."

  Nocona said, "And I haven't turned into a werewolf yet. Can't you see I'm not going to? Please. Let me loose. If I start to feel funny or anything, I swear I'll let you know."

  Marian shook her head.

  "Please," Nocona said, sounding more angry than pleading.

  "Sorry," Marian said.

  Nocona scrambled to his feet. I don't know what he thought he could accomplish, with his hands tied behind his back and her wearing her gauntlets of power. She shoved him back, and he went skittering across the width of the cell.

  "Come on, Nocona," I said, "my mom's really sick. The most important thing is that we get out of this game as fast as possible."

  "I want to help," he said.

  "Then stop taking up our time." Sure, I felt sorry for him, but I'd be a lot more sympathetic if he'd just shut up and come along quietly.

  "I wouldn't do this to you," he said.

  And he probably wouldn't have.

  I probably wouldn't have, if I wasn't convinced this had stopped being a game when Mom's headache had started.

  "Felice," Thea said. "Felice, you have to get up now."

  Nothing.

  "Mrs. Rizalli?" Thea went to shake her shoulder, and her hand passed right through her.

  I could see Mom was breathing, which was the only thing that kept me from going into total panic. "Mom. Mom. Mom, get up. We've got to go now."

  There was absolutely no reaction. It wasn't like she was too sleepy to respond. It was like she didn't hear us at all.

  "Harek," Marian said. "We're going to have to leave her."

  "No way."

  Cornelius said, "The goblins can't see her: she'll be perfectly safe here. I can put an Invisibility spell on her to be sure."

  Abandon my own mother?

  "The other choice," Robin pointed out, "is for us to just sit here until the next shift of guards comes on. But that's not going to do her any good."

  "I guess," I said. I wished that she was awake so that I could ask what she thought. Not that I was in the habit of asking my parents for advice, but adults have a way of always sounding so sure of themselves. I wondered how old I'd have to be before I'd know all the answers. "What if she wakes up, and we're all gone, and she's scared?" Did parents ever get scared?

  Nobody said anything.

  "All right," I said. "The Invisibility spell."

  Because I was scared.

  Because I thought that if we didn't end this game sooner than its natural run, she wouldn't ever wake up to be scared.

  35. DAY FIVE

  We debated leaving Nocona locked in the dungeon, in a separate cell from Mom, but in the end decided we'd feel more secure if we had him where we could see him. We even tied a gag around his mouth because werewolves are chaotic, which means they don't care whose side they're on. He might decide at an inopportune moment to yell a warning to the goblins.

  "I wouldn't—" he started, but the rest was a muffled mumble of complaint. Werewolf or not, by then he looked mad enough to kill all of us.

  The troll boots, Robin explained, were back on the troll. Marian had brought the crystal though, and they gave Thea the sword, Orc Slayer.

  The rest of us retrieved the weapons the goblins had taken from us.

  "Back where we started," Robin announced chipperly.

  "Except my mother's sick," I said.

  "Except I don't have my mace," Feordin said.

  "Except we're weak from wounds and from not eating in I-can't-remember-how-many days," Thea said.

  "Except we don't have Brynhild and Abbot Simon," Marian said.

  "Except we don't have Nocona," Cornelius said, for which Nocona scowled.

  "Yeah," Robin said, "except for that."

  Even Marian gave him a dirty look.

  Cautiously we went up the dungeon stairs. Nobody there, in any of the brightly colored hallways, nor in what we could see of the courtyard outside.

  "It's midday," I groaned, noting the shadows.

  "It's always midday here," Robin said. "That's why the goblins go through the tapestry when it's night in Sannatia. It's the only chance for darkness they get. When we came through, it looked like about six, seven A.M. outside."

  "How did you get in, by the way?" I asked. "I never thought Marian would get you back here in time."

  "Ah, well. I bought a horse from the old man, Fred, with the money I won playing cards with you." He flashed a smile and wiggled his eyebrows at me. "I was halfway through the caves when Marian and I ran into each other."

  "We got to Sannatia just about dusk," she interrupted, "and hid in the old granary. We watched the goblins until finally a couple came close to where we were, and we jumped them and took their stuff. We mingled until the captain ordered everyone back in."

  Cornelius said, "You mean that all the goblins are doing in Sannatia is just exercising and getting R-and-R and that sort of thing? They aren't really doing anything?"

  "You got it," Robin said.

  "What a bust." Cornelius wasn't the only one disappointed.

  "Yeah, but," Thea said, "that can't be the only reason they did away with all the inhabitants. Besides, if it had been only goblins, they would have just slaughtered the people. And there weren't any bodies. And what about the treasure in the dungeon? Goblins don't collect treasure like that."

  Marian shrugged. "We didn't find out anything about that. We heard the captain order one of his men to get food for the prisoners, and we figured that had to be either you or the princess and her Grand Guardsmen. So we followed the goblin to the kitchen, then ambushed him on the way here. The rest," she gestured expansively, "is history."

  Feordin said, "This is all very fascinating, but what next?"

  "Ah-ha!" Robin said. "We have the answer to that, too. When we were peeking into the kitchen, we saw another goblin in there besides the guard we'd followed. This other guy had a silver tray—with crystal dishes, no less—a flower on the tray, linen napkins with gold embroidery, and much fancier food than what you guys got."

  "So?" Feordin asked. "The chief goblin?"

  "At the least, I'd say," Thea said.

  "Maybe the mastermind behind what happened at Sannatia?" I suggested.

  "We won't find out here," Robin said. "The kitchen's this way." He started down the aquamarine hall and we followed.

  All along the hallway, twin rows of portraits watched our progress. Elves, dwarfs, members of the various races of humans: the pictures were very realistically done in needlework, much more realistic than the castle tapestry that had led us here from the nursery in the governor's palace. I thought of those spooky old haunted-house movies where the eyes in pictures follow the people around.

  Luckily the eyes in these pictures stayed where they belonged.

  The first two doors we passed were closed. The third was open. Robin peeked in, then looked back at us with his finger to his lips. Quickly but quietly he tiptoed past. One by one we followed. Last in line, hustling Nocona, I peeked in. A library
. With a goblin dusting the books. Fortunately he—or she—had his back to us. Nocona gave no indication that he wanted to get the goblin's attention.

  Several closed doors later, Robin motioned for us to halt at a point where the hallway went around another corner. He gathered us in real close, then whispered, "There's about six more yards—"

  "Three," Marian interrupted.

  "Whatever. Not very far. Then there's the open door to the kitchen. We've got to pass through there, because the goblin with the silver tray went out into a hall that way."

  "Any kitchen staff?" Cornelius asked.

  "Yeah," Robin said. "Maybe six or seven."

  "Closer to ten," Marian said.

  Robin sighed.

  "What we've got to do," Feordin told us, "is take them totally by surprise. Wipe them out fast before they have a chance to make an outcry."

  From the kitchen came the clatter of pots and pans, the sizzle of fat dripping into a cookfire, the voices of goblins carrying on the day-to-day chores of a scullery. The smell of fresh-baked bread and savory meat pies was almost enough to make me cry.

  Robin got out his slingshot and a stone about the size of a cherry. The rest of us held our swords ready. Stealthily we approached the corner, rounded it together, and spread out across the width of the hall so that each of us could see what the others saw. What we saw was a busy morning's kitchen. Eight of them to six of us. Not counting Nocona.

  We were halfway to them when one of the goblins looked up from scrubbing a pot and saw us.

  Before he could utter a sound, Robin's slingshot twanged. The goblin pitched forward onto the counter. For another two seconds nobody noticed, and by then we were in the room.

  "Escaped prisoners!" the cook yelled. He picked up a carving knife as long as my arm, but Cornelius blasted him long-distance with Wizards' Lightning.

  It took less than a minute to kill them. They'd all been real old or real young, and for the most part they'd been so disconcerted, they tried to fend off our swords with spatulas and colanders. I felt sick about it, and it didn't help when Feordin referred to the cook as being deep-fried. I fought a wave of nausea and looked up to see Nocona watching me with pure loathing. If he could have talked, he probably would have asked how come I had sympathy for goblins—who weren't even people—and yet could heartlessly tie him up and keep him out of the game.