The Goblin Gate

by Hilari Bell

  “Didn’t you ever wonder what price your father paid for your brother’s life?”

  “He bribed the judges. He had to sell a lot of land.”

  “Others sold land and offered bribes. It didn’t save them. But in your brother’s case there was a favor we needed. A favor from a man of impeccable integrity. A man no one would ever believe would give false testimony.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Lord Glovinscourt, Jeriah. He opposed the relocation, and he was rich enough to stir up trouble. Unfortunately, he wasn’t involved in the conspiracy—a sign of good taste on the part of the conspirators, I might add. He was a despicable man. When it was his word against your father’s, no one believed him for a minute. He went to his death on your father’s oath, but your father lied. And to lie a man’s life away is a crime for which your father would be stripped of rank and lands. If they let him live at all.”

  “I don’t believe a word of this! My father would never lie under oath.” But it accounted for so much: why he’d taken Tobin’s disgrace so hard; why he’d become a recluse—he’d been trying to protect the rest of his neighbors. Even his anger at Tobin…Jeriah wiped his hands on his thighs. “I don’t believe you.”

  It was a lie, and the priest knew it.

  “It doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not; I have—” Someone rapped politely on the door, and the priest rose to answer. “I have proof. Though I don’t blame your father—no one practices honor when it matters. I’m not being unreasonable about this, either; Brallorscourt will only act if he believes that you’re behind my…difficulties. Give up trying to blackmail me, lad. You’re an amateur.” He opened the door.

  Senna stood there, with two guards gripping her arms. Her face was streaked with dirt and tears.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “So sorry.”

  “What’s going on here?” Jeriah’s voice sounded hollow in his own ears. Did this have something to do with his mother’s scheme? Had she used Senna—

  “Your mother was using your sister as her agent,” Master Lazur said calmly. “And there are dozens of witnesses who’ll testify to that—truthfully, as it happens. She’s only doing it to put pressure on me, but conspiracy to thwart the Hierarch’s orders can merit the death penalty if it threatens the safety of the Realm. And trying to stop the relocation definitely qualifies.”

  Senna’s face went white. Jeriah drew a shuddering breath. “Let her go.”

  “Unfortunately, I need her to make your mother behave. I was going to confine her to a room in the lady’s maids’ quarters, but with all of you Rovans being so…active, I think she’d better go to a cell. At least for the next…three weeks? No, make it a month, so everyone can be certain. See to it,” he told the guards.

  In a month there would be no chance that Tobin was still alive.

  “Wait! You don’t have to lock her up. I’ll…”

  He’d what? Give up trying to save his brother?

  Senna was crying as the guards dragged her away. Every muscle in Jeriah’s body shook with the need to follow, to wrest her out of their hands and keep her safe—but that wouldn’t keep her safe; it would only end with him in a cell beside her. He had to keep his wits, to stay free. To find some way to prevent this priest from destroying everyone he loved.

  “Did you blackmail Tobin into helping you in the first place? Did you…” He stopped, but not in time.

  “Did I use your involvement in the conspiracy against him? There was no need—his own problems were lever enough. And I’ve never found proof of your guilt. I haven’t tried very hard. You don’t believe it now, but we can still work together.”

  “I’d rather die than serve a man like you!”

  Master Lazur shook his head. “A man like me…because I’m willing to make sacrifices for the good of the Realm? What are you doing right now, except sacrificing the Hierarch to save your brother?”

  Jeriah was silent.

  The priest went on. “You’re not evil, and neither am I. You have courage and intelligence—and when the relocation commences, we’ll need all the brains and courage we can get. Once you’ve gotten those names from your mother, I’ll send your sister home. By then enough time will have passed that you’ll have no further reason to defy me, but—”

  “Because Tobin will be dead!” Jeriah put in bitterly.

  “Precisely. And you might bear in mind that I didn’t send him into the Otherworld—in fact, I was trying to stop him! Hmm. This will be hard for someone your age to accept, at least for a while. I believe I’ll let Nevin return to the Hierarch and send you to the border for a time. Brallorscourt may object, but I can use someone to keep an eye on things there, and it will remind you why the relocation is important. You can go there straight from your home—I’ll send a courier to bring back your mother’s list. It’s almost summer on the border, but since the barbarians took the Southlands there’s still some action. I’ll probably bring you back before the winter campaign—though you might be needed more in the south. Anyone who can lift a sword will be needed for that, I fear. You can leave for your home right after Equinox.”

  “That’s only four days!”

  Tobin would have been ill almost a week by then—Jeriah’s time was running out.

  “Which will leave you no time to hatch futile, dangerous schemes. Because if those spell notes vanish from the vault, I’ll use my evidence against your father. And if anyone in your family stirs up inconvenient rumors, I’ll charge your mother and sister with conspiring against the Bright Gods’ will. Give it up, lad. Tobin will be dead in week, two at the outside. Accept his death.” He came around the desk and opened the door, ending the interview. “There’s no way to reach your brother in time. Unless…”

  “Unless what?” Jeriah was on his feet, shaking with rage.

  “You’ve tried blackmail. Had you thought to try bribery? Some of the conspirators survived, and we know at least one of their leaders escaped. If someone you know—your friend who holds the envelope perhaps?—could name a few of those survivors, I might be persuaded to give up my spell notes. If we capture the leader, I’ll forget about the charges against your mother and sister and cast your gate spell myself!”

  “Why should I believe anything you say, demon spawn?”

  “Because the conspirators, even the small number that remain, are more dangerous to the Realm than a handful of goblins and a hedgewitch. And with your brother home, your mother would have no reason to cause more trouble. I’m always willing to trade up. Think it over. Just don’t think too long.”

  Jeriah found himself walking in the wood that covered part of the palace grounds without remembering how he got there, but he desperately needed to be alone.

  Trapped. He even knew where the cursed notes were! Master Lazur must have enjoyed watching him blunder around the palace, knowing the notes were safe in the heavily guarded vault. No wonder he hadn’t been worried when Jeriah broke into his office. Even if the goblins could steal them, Master Lazur would destroy his father.

  His father, who had lied a man to his death! Admittedly, Glovinscourt wasn’t much loss…. But with that on his own conscience, how dared the old man be so angry with Jeriah over an accident! Although flooding that village might have cost lives. That was why his father had been so angry.

  Was Master Lazur right, that no one practiced honor when it mattered?

  The trees began to thin, moonlight shining on the surface of the ornamental lake. Jeriah turned and plunged back into the woods at a different angle. Even if he could get the notes—out of a stone vault with iron doors surrounded by the sunsguard—Chardane wouldn’t cast the gate spell unless he destroyed Master Lazur. Which he couldn’t do, because the priest would then destroy Jeriah’s family.

  Senna had never been in serious trouble in her life—much less locked up in a cell! She must be sick with terror.

  Tobin was probably sick already. How long would it take the goblins to find him in the Otherwor
ld? Jeriah might be too late, even if he got that gate cast tomorrow!

  In four days Chardane would move against Master Lazur herself. As soon as it came out that the Sunlord was being drugged, Master Lazur would know Jeriah had been part of it, and then…He had to stop Chardane. But how?

  There was one way. A cold hand wrapped around Jeriah’s heart and he pushed the thought aside. He came to another edge of the wood; the Hall of Justice loomed through the trees. He turned back, walking faster, but the idea intruded again.

  If he turned Chardane over to Master Lazur, he could save both Tobin and his family. But Chardane would die, taking dozens, perhaps hundreds with her. That would be as bad as anything Master Lazur had done. To destroy property was one thing; for destroying lives there was no reparation. Tobin wouldn’t want to be saved at such a price!

  But if Jeriah didn’t stop Chardane, most of his family would die. What would happen to Tamilee, if everyone she loved was executed?

  That was what Koryn had experienced. No wonder she was obsessed with avenging her family—it was a miracle she was walking around sane!

  But how many people would Jeriah have to kill to prevent it? And wasn’t condemning the Hierarch to his drugged half life as bad as killing him?

  The branches snatched at Jeriah’s face and hands as his pace quickened again. Could he destroy Chardane and the Hierarch? Surely he owed Tobin and his family more. The lesser of two evils. How many times had Master Lazur been seduced by the lesser evil, committing one crime after another, sliding step after step into darkness? How many lesser evils had Jeriah already accepted? Maybe the priest was right. Maybe they weren’t so different after all.

  No. It had to stop. He refused to take even one more step down that terrible path. Not one more death.

  Even if his family died for it?

  Jeriah was almost running when something wrapped around his ankle and brought him crashing to the ground. He sat up, rubbed his throbbing elbow, and looked at the long root that stretched like a trip rope across his path.

  “It was the only way to stop you.” Daroo’s voice came from a bush several feet away.

  “You could have called my name.”

  “I tried that three times.” The goblin scrambled out to crouch beside him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything. But there’s nothing you can do.”

  “I suppose a hero like you has to solve it all alone?” Daroo snorted. “You’re a fool, but Fa says a body has a right to make a fool of himself. He sent me to say we’ve finished the third level, and is there anyplace on the fourth level you’d have us search first?”

  “Nowhere. It doesn’t matter anymore. I know where they are, but even if you could get them I can’t let you, and you can’t get them anyway, and in four days it’ll be too late!” Jeriah buried his face in his hands.

  “What?” The boy’s eyes were wide with confusion. If Jeriah was going to call off the search, he owed the goblins an explanation. And sometimes Daroo had ideas.

  He told the young goblin what he’d learned about the Hierarch, what his mother and Senna had done, and what Chardane and Master Lazur had said. “And Tobin’s running out of time,” he finished. “Any suggestions?”

  “No. It’s a fair poser,” Daroo admitted. “Even if you do nothing, bad things happen. Though you’ve got a fine chance to be a hero when that poor old man gets saved.”

  “At the cost of my family’s destruction? Dark One take being a hero! I don’t want to be a hero! I just want my family to live.”

  “But to get that, you’d have to do worse than not-being-a-hero. You’d…”

  He went on talking but Jeriah didn’t hear. The idea filled his mind, blinding, deafening. “Not a hero.”

  “What? Jeriah, are you all right?”

  “I don’t have to be a hero. I don’t! It might work!”

  Daroo rose on tiptoe to feel Jeriah’s forehead. “No fever. Maybe I shouldn’t have knocked you down.”

  “No!” Jeriah grabbed the child and shot to his feet. “I’m all right, really. If I’m not a hero it might work! I have an idea!” He spun Daroo in a jubilant circle.

  “Put me down! I suppose you’ll try to work it all by yourself? Again?”

  “No,” said Jeriah, sobering. “To bring this off I’ll need all the help I can get.”

  INTERLUDE

  Makenna

  ONLY A WEEK. ONLY A week they’d been camped beside the new stream before it too had died.

  At least this time they were prepared. This time the watch called the alarm the moment the roiling stream began to flatten, and they had rushed into the water and filled every container they possessed before the stream’s flow had stopped.

  Makenna hadn’t bothered to go upstream to search out the cause, but this time she’d told the scouts to find a lake, which wouldn’t disappear the instant something cut off its source.

  Something. Now that they knew what to look for, several goblins had seen the creatures—though they didn’t all look like trees. One, they said, seemed to be made of grass, and another resembled a tumble of stone come to life.

  All the creatures had departed before the goblins could speak to them, and however different their appearance, Makenna was certain they were one tribe, one clan…one enemy.

  She could do nothing about that now.

  Looking over the meadow they were about to abandon, Makenna saw that all the small tents were down and packed. In fact, most of the goblins seemed to be waiting for her, so Makenna swung the heavy pack onto her shoulders. She didn’t dare leave Master Lazur’s books behind, because the bridge out of this world had to be built with magic. Somehow. She had tried. She’d gathered the goblins into a spell group, and they had pooled all the magic they possessed and poured that power into the gate spell’s runes—and watched it sink into the surface the runes were cast on as if this whole world were a magic-sucking sponge.

  In truth, Makenna was beginning to believe that was exactly what was going on—or at least a pretty good analogy. Every goblin reported that their innate magic had been reduced to the merest trace. Makenna felt as if her own magic was evaporating the moment it was generated, like a trickle of water poured into a hot pan.

  Of course, evaporating water was on her mind now. Once they reached the lake, she’d have time to experiment further—though if their enemies could move whole hills at whim, maybe she shouldn’t be so certain of that.

  But they needed time so badly. Time for the Greeners to build up their food supply, since they didn’t dare plant. Time for Tobin to heal.

  He’d wanted to walk to the lake, but Charba forbade it. Dozens of goblins had volunteered to carry him, not even demanding a token payment for the service. Charba was frankly baffled as to why he was so sick, but she said that given rest and nursing, most folks recovered from most illnesses, most of the time.

  The lake would give him time to rest, to heal, Makenna resolved grimly. Time for her to scour Master Lazur’s books and find some way to get them out of this world. For the Otherworld wasn’t a refuge—it was a death trap. A trap into which she had led them. And she’d get them out, too. Every one of them. Somehow.

  CHAPTER 13

  Jeriah

  JERIAH HAD THOUGHT HE WAS nervous the first time he broke into Master Lazur’s office; his past anxiety was nothing compared to his bone-deep knowledge of the stakes he played for now.

  The beginning of Sunset Prayer rolled over him, and he turned to the flowers where Daroo hid. “You’re sure he’s gone?”

  “Five minutes ago, with the rest of them. Here are the jars. Hurry!”

  Jeriah hesitated at the door, and then knocked softly before pushing it open. “Master Lazur? Anyone here?” This time he had an excuse ready, but the office and bedroom were both empty. They must have accepted his claim that his headache was too severe for him to attend the Hierarch at prayer—he’d been pale and tense enough to make it plausible.

  First the jars. He opened the cabinet Nevin had ca
ught him searching and felt around the top shelf. There was enough room to plant the medicine jars behind the stacked papers, but he had to slide the stacks forward several inches. Would Master Lazur notice the papers had been moved? No help for it.

  The dark crockery blended with the shadows, making the jars almost invisible. Chardane had supplied them, along with the herbal mixture in them—guaranteed identical to the Hierarch’s “medicine.”

  A plan that would destroy Master Lazur without putting her people at risk had delighted Chardane, and she’d willingly promised that once her cadre gained power, the Decree of Bright Magic would be revoked. With that promise Jeriah had bought the goblins’ cooperation. His whole scheme was built on a tottering stack of promises, like the piles of paper on Master Lazur’s desk.

  It took a long time to find the documents that had been assembled for tomorrow’s council meeting. Jeriah knew they were discussing the relocation, but there were so many sessions…. His lips tightened. They’d be having some meetings they didn’t expect, if this plan worked.

  By the time Jeriah was sure he’d found the right documents, the evening prayer was drawing to a close. He pulled one of the new maps of the Goblin Wood out of the stack—they’d certainly need that—and tucked it quickly into the papers on the cabinet’s top shelf.

  Jeriah was closing the cupboard door when a thought struck him. The muted rumble of praise and response signaled the end of prayer as he dug rapidly through the documents till he found another map of about the same size. Outside the office Daroo hissed a warning. Jeriah shuffled the map into the same place as the one he’d removed and fled, reaching his own room just before the crowd flowed down the steps from the temple. His heart was thundering and his stomach rolled. All his other plans had failed, and they’d been simple compared to this one. But he refused to follow in Master Lazur’s footsteps, and it was too late to back out now.