The Goblin Gate

by Hilari Bell

  “It would have been more expensive to bribe them to release a second son. I did consider telling him privately, but he’s such a bad liar, I don’t think he could have pulled it off. He might not even have agreed to lie, and then we’d have had to pay a lot more.”

  Jeriah paced restlessly. “You could have let me face the consequences, instead of protecting me like a child.”

  Her smile grew. “Of course, dear one. Just like you’re going to let Tobin take the consequences of his actions? Though I must say, your father took the whole affair ridiculously hard. There were several families in the area who had members involved in the conspiracy, but your father has become almost a recluse since we came back, and that’s not like him.”

  “Who else from this area was involved?” Perhaps some of the priestly conspirators had escaped. If Jeriah could get one of them to cast the gate spell…No, he’d still need the goblins to help him locate the sorceress and his brother in the Otherworld.

  “Don’t you know?” his mother asked. “I’d have thought—”

  “I hardly knew any of them.” Jeriah stopped pacing and sank into a chair. “The conspirators only recruited me because…”

  Jeriah had always known that some landholders abused their privileges. But Jeriah’s father, for all his sternness, was fair both with his sons and with his tenants. It was only when Jeriah went to the Southlands, to join his older brother fighting the barbarians, that he learned that abuses he’d considered rare aberrations could be commonplace in other parts of the Realm. Some of the Southland lords were like his father, but there were others who imposed rents so high no farmer could pay them—and disputes were settled in favor of the man who paid the biggest bribe.

  That was bad enough, but conditions in the army were even worse. Most of the officers were younger sons, whose troops frequently consisted of troublemaking tenants their fathers wanted to get rid of. And army discipline was harsher than any civilian community would tolerate.

  When the conspirators had realized that the men Jeriah played “pranks” on were invariably officers who abused their men, they had cautiously approached him. The conspirators had considered him reliable. Had trusted him with serious matters.

  The conspiracy was over.

  “I was recruited because they needed a liaison between the military branch and their spies in the palace,” Jeriah finished. “But I knew only a handful of men. They said they’d tell me more when I needed to know it.”

  “Very sensible,” his mother approved. “It’s a pity they were exposed. Do you think their goals…What were their goals—did you mention them?”

  Jeriah recognized the signs. “Don’t change the subject. We were talking about…” For a moment he couldn’t remember. His mother often had that effect on people. Jeriah, through long practice, dealt with it better than most. “Who from this district was involved in the conspiracy?”

  “Poor Kirlath Ivor, and that awful Lord Glovinscourt. You know, I thought worse of your conspiracy when I learned he was involved.”

  Lord Glovinscourt was one of the landholders Jeriah had thought was an unusual aberration.

  “Your father was the only one in the area who dared stand up to him,” his mother rambled on. “Do you remember the time that poor woman escaped, and he came after her with forty armed men! I was never more frightened!”

  “It would be hard to forget.” He’d been ten years old, trembling in a tower window with Tobin’s arms around both him and Senna as they listened to their father. The old man had stood alone at the top of the steps, telling Lord Glovinscourt to take his filthy brigands and get off Rovanscourt land. Telling him quite a few other things, too. “You wouldn’t have given her back to him either.”

  “Of course not. I’d have hidden her away, then smuggled her off to someplace out of his reach.”

  Jeriah grinned—and then realized he’d been distracted again. “Do you think Kirlath would help us? He was older than Tobin and me so I don’t know him well, but…”

  His mother’s eyes shifted aside.

  “Mother?”

  “I’m sorry, but Kirlath and Lord Glovinscourt must have been more deeply involved than you. Lord Ivorscourt beggared himself with bribes, but…They were both executed. So I think, dear one, you’d better stay away from any survivors of your conspiracy.”

  “If there are any.”

  It could have been him. If Tobin and his mother hadn’t intervened…Jeriah took a deep, calming breath. He was alive, and he was going to repay Tobin for everything. As for his mother…

  “Mother, we need to have a talk about your sleeping drugs.”

  That night when Jeriah went out to the garden shed, he brought his cloak and a saddlebag the bandits had cut up. He could have asked a groom to mend it, but he thought he’d be less likely to fall asleep if his hands were busy. Surely the goblins couldn’t bespell him when he was awake and ready for them. He put out the milk bowl, took half a dozen stitches, and began to yawn.

  When he awoke just before sunrise, there was a pillow under his head, and the saddlebag, neatly mended, lay beside him. He didn’t even have to look to know the bowl was empty.

  Three dawns later, Jeriah picked up the wild brillnuts they’d left beside him and stumbled to his feet. The goblins had mended his tunic, polished his boots, and returned a knife he’d lost two years ago. He rubbed his face, almost too weary to swear, and started back to the house. He’d been napping through the early hours of the night, but it wasn’t enough. He was no longer certain if it was goblin spells or natural exhaustion that knocked him out each night.

  And yawning his way through his father’s lectures on oat blight and fertilizer wasn’t doing either of them any good. The memory of his father’s sarcastic comments roused a tired flash of resentment. He was bored, but he’d been going short on sleep all week, and he was trying. He was also losing time. Seventeen days had passed since Tobin had entered the Otherworld.

  It was his furious awareness of time slipping away that had led Jeriah to add a few drops of his mother’s sedative to the milk the previous night. He’d wakened from the familiar sleep, cold, stiff, and missing every button and tie that held his clothing together. Thank the Bright Gods no one had caught him dumping the untouched milk and returning the bowl to its place with one hand holding up his pants! But the goblins seemed to have forgiven him; this last bowl of milk had vanished as usual, even if they hadn’t returned his belt and buttons.

  Jeriah rinsed the bowl in the horse trough, wrapped it in his cloak, closed the kitchen door quietly behind him…and almost walked into his father.

  “Ah…” Slices of bread and cheese on the table explained his father’s presence—he’d said something yesterday about an early start. But how could Jeriah explain himself? “Sir, I was just—”

  “Jeriah.” The old man’s face was hard. “The position of heir doesn’t give you the right to abuse your privileges.”

  Jeriah gaped at him. “Do you think I was…was…?” Of course he did—what else could he think? The way the local girls sighed over Jeriah had given him something of a reputation in the district. He didn’t believe he deserved it, and if it kept his father from looking for another reason he might have been out at night, he should be grateful. Even so…

  “Sir, you can’t believe I’d use my position”—his voice grated on the word—“to abuse anyone, man or woman!”

  “I don’t think you’ve been forcing girls.” Anger stained his father’s stubbled cheeks. “But I do think you haven’t considered how your position as heir affects the people who will one day be under your hand. Sometimes just knowing your rank makes them do things they ordinarily wouldn’t.”

  Deep inside Jeriah something began to crack. Was this his father’s real opinion of him? That he had neither honor nor decency?

  “Sir, I—”

  “You weren’t brought up to be the heir, so you might not understand this like Tob—like your brother did, but—”

  Restrain
t shattered. “If he was so perfect, why can’t you even say his name? If he was so perfect, why did you disinherit him, and send him off into danger, instead of bringing him home and keeping him safe? I’m sorry you don’t have your perfect son anymore, but I’m…I’m…” Jeriah had the sense to stop there. His stomach was shaking. His hands were shaking.

  His father’s face was scarlet. “I knew you were jealous, but I never knew how much. Perhaps it’s not surprising that he went off with you and—” He stopped himself, but it was too late.

  “Finish it,” Jeriah whispered. “Go ahead, say what you’re thinking. He went off with me and he didn’t come back. You think I killed him.”

  “You could have stopped him.” The old man’s voice was shaking too, his face twisted. “By your own account, all you had to do was make some noise in that priest’s tent, and Tobin and that sorceress would have been caught, and he’d still be here!”

  “If they didn’t execute him as her accomplice, maybe he would! But I couldn’t be sure of that. I tried to stop him and it wasn’t good enough, just like I’ve never been good enough. But clear your mind of one delusion—if I was jealous, it wasn’t because I wanted Rovanscourt. I didn’t and I don’t.”

  He couldn’t endure this. He couldn’t stop talking. Jeriah backed toward the door, away from his father, away from rage and pain.

  “I don’t want this place, do you hear me? I never wanted it. I hate…”

  He stopped. “May the Dark One take the lot of you!” He turned and ran.

  Jeriah threw a saddle onto Glory’s back, fumbling with the cinch. He set off at a gallop for the east wood before he remembered it had been sold. Sold, to buy his brother free of his crime. Cursing, he turned Glory toward the north road and galloped until her heaving sides forced him to slow.

  “How could Father think such…such vile things?”

  Glory’s ears swiveled. His mother’s voice echoed in his memory:…. unreasonable to expect him to understand, when you and I and Tobin have all been lying to him from the very start. She was right. His father had no idea what was going on—no wonder he was drawing false conclusions. He must have noticed that Jeriah wasn’t grieving for Tobin as the others were. As he would have been, if he still thought his brother was going to die. That was the source of his father’s…disgusting conclusions.

  I should tell him the truth. Even as Jeriah thought it, anger swamped him. After what he’d said this morning, the old man could whistle for the truth!

  He thought of going south and rejoining his old commander. Of finding some way to repel the barbarians and covering himself with glory and honor.

  He thought of going north, of becoming one of the explorers who were mapping the vast woodlands, and never setting eyes on his family again.

  He thought of rescuing Tobin and bringing him back, of his father praising Jeriah’s courage with tears of joy streaming down his face.

  But even as he thought about it, Jeriah knew that all of those plans were…lightweight. In order to rescue Tobin Jeriah had to get the spell notes from Master Lazur, which meant he had to have his father’s permission to return to the priest’s service, and that meant he had to go home. He swore softly and turned Glory around.

  It was midmorning when Jeriah rode into the stable yard and dismounted. His father would be out on the land now—he’d planned to spend the day on the other side of the river. So with luck, Jeriah thought, he might avoid his whole family till dinner. He unsaddled Glory, rubbed her down, and led her back to her stall…where he found Sennahra waiting for him.

  “I saved you some breakfast.” She put down her book and gestured at the covered basket by her side.

  “How did you know…?”

  “Everyone with a room on that side of the house knows. You were both yelling.”

  She stood and brushed the straw from her skirt, waiting while he fetched water and oats for Glory. Then she led the way up the ladder to the loft, which had always been their place for secret councils. It smelled of hay, dust, and peaceful memories, and Jeriah’s stomach rumbled.

  Senna snagged an apple from the basket, and it occurred to Jeriah that neither of the girls seemed to be grieving much. He’d noticed his mother spending a lot of time with them. What lies was she telling now? He didn’t have the nerve to ask.

  “Father didn’t mean it,” Sennahra said. “You must know that. He’s hurting, so he was looking for someone to hurt back. I’ve been tiptoeing around him for days.”

  “I know, but he was so…so…” Rummaging through the basket was a good excuse to conceal his expression. Only when he found half a cold meat pie did Jeriah realize he was hungry. “You don’t believe I got Tobin lost deliberately, do you?”

  “That,” said his sister judicially, “is probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say. And you say a lot of stupid things.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  They grinned at each other; then she sobered. “Jeri, there’s something I have to know. If we hadn’t locked you up like mother wanted would…would it have turned out differently for Tobin?”

  Jeriah’s mind filled with soothing words; but even though Senna was a horrible liar herself, she could frequently tell when he was lying.

  “I don’t know. There’s no way to know what might have happened.”

  Tears rose in Senna’s eyes, but she blinked them back. Her courage was more moving than if she’d let them fall, and the need to tell her the truth welled up in Jeriah’s heart. But Senna would insist on trying to help him. Besides, to give her hope and then have Tobin die after all would be horrible. For himself, Jeriah had no fear of failure—if he couldn’t bring his brother home, he wouldn’t be coming back from the Otherworld either.

  “All right.” Senna sighed. “You can keep your secrets. Just like Moth—Oh, that reminds me; I’m supposed to tell you that Mother needs you to go back to being Master Lazur’s assistant as soon as you can, and if you can’t manage it yourself, she’ll have to—”

  Jeriah choked on a mouthful of pie. “Stop her! Whatever she’s doing, I…ah…Tell her I can manage that myself. What’s Mother up to? Do you know?”

  “Not very much. She says she may have to use leverage, and that she’ll tell me all I need to know when my part comes.”

  “Wonderful.” At least his mother didn’t consider him a complete incompetent. Still…“I’m counting on you to stop her from doing anything stupid,” Jeriah said firmly.

  “I’m more worried about stopping you.” Senna put her apple core back in the basket. “Where are you going every night? And don’t spin me tales about a girl—you haven’t been home for a week, and Father’s taking up all your time.”

  “If you can see that, why doesn’t he?” Jeriah asked bitterly.

  “Mostly,” said Senna, “it’s because plain men are always suspicious of the handsome ones. Haven’t you noticed that?”

  Jeriah chewed and swallowed as he thought about it. “Maybe. Sometimes. But I’m his son.”

  Senna shrugged. “You’re both men.”

  “Humph. Aren’t women suspicious of beautiful women?”

  “No. Jealous, catty, and shrewish, but not suspicious. And you’re not going to distract me. If…if you’re meeting the conspirators…Please, it’s so dangerous.” Her voice quivered. “If the authorities get even a hint that you were involved, they’ll—”

  “It’s not the conspiracy. I haven’t heard a word, not a whisper, from any of them since they were exposed. I think most of them are dead. By St. Spiratu’s voice, I’m not involved anymore.”

  “Then what are you doing?”

  He hesitated, but why not? “I’m trying to meet someone, but they…they aren’t coming to the rendezvous. It’s not conspirators, truly. But I have to keep showing up till they arrive.”

  Senna waited until it was clear that he wouldn’t say more. “Why don’t you write them a note and leave it at your rendezvous? Then you could get some sleep
.”

  She packed the remains of their breakfast and prepared to descend. Jeriah stared at her with his mouth open.

  He didn’t even know if they could read. But he didn’t know that they couldn’t, either!

  I need to speak to someone who knew Makenna of the Goblin Wood. Please have them contact me.

  Jeriah smiled grimly and laid stones on the corners of the paper to hold it flat beside the bowl. Short and sweet. He had no idea who to address it to, but the goblins certainly knew who he was. He’d pushed the bowl deeper into the bushes, where they’d be able to find it but the gardeners wouldn’t. Jeriah intended to sleep late tomorrow morning.

  His father was carefully polite over the next few days. Neither of them mentioned the argument, which suited Jeriah fine, but the tension was still there. So Jeriah wasn’t surprised to find himself dreaming that his father was tying down his blankets, holding him to the bed.

  “What are you doing?” If he hadn’t known he was dreaming it might have been frightening, but since he was almost awake anyway, Jeriah decided to let the dream run its course.

  “We have to tie you down,” his father said sadly. “I’m sorry, son, but they found out about the girl. Now they’re going to drown you.”

  “What girl?” Jeriah demanded, trying to free his arms. But there was a girl, he dimly remembered, a beautiful blond girl and he was in love with her. She smiled gloriously at him and he smiled back. Why was she helping his father with the blankets?

  Jeriah’s mind struggled for wakefulness and finally broke through.

  “Ugh.” His skin was sticky with sweat. He started to sit up, but his blankets were stretched tight across the bed, holding him down. Something…someone was perched on the footboard.

  For an instant Jeriah thought he was still dreaming. The creature was a man, only two feet high. His nose, all the lines of his face, were long and sharp. His clothes were well made but worn. He eyed Jeriah shrewdly, up and down, as if he could see his body through the blankets. He was visibly unimpressed.