by Hilari Bell
Tobin dropped the sack and tore it open. Bags stuffed with dried leaves to imitate bread loaves. Strips of dried bark instead of meat. A few stones to add weight. Now that he looked closely, it wasn’t his sack at all—it was too new, too clean.
His mind filled with the memory of the goblins racing away with the dummy, and fury warred with admiration. They’d been wonderfully convincing. He hadn’t even glanced at the tree where his own sack had probably been hanging in plain sight. It wouldn’t be there now. He remembered the wild chase through the forest, and suddenly saw himself, smashing through the trees and triumphantly grabbing the wrong sack. Tobin burst out laughing, clear and bright as the sun creeping over the horizon.
“How very odd. Is this your usual reaction to being tricked?” Master Erebus’ voice put the cap on the ridiculous situation. Tobin sat down and laughed until his sides ached.
“Hmm. But last time you were angry. I’m certain of it!”
Tobin wiped his eyes and looked around till he spotted the little goblin, in a tree high above him—far from his carefully laid traps. He fought down a fresh surge of laughter.
“Well, last time I was angry at my own stupidity. This time I wasn’t stupid, you were simply too smart. You see?”
“I suppose so, but it still seems odd. Are you by any chance atypical in your reactions?”
“Probably. But tell me, how did you get me out of camp? And how did you get past the repulsion charm—you’ve taken that, haven’t you?”
“Of course,” said Master Erebus complacently. “It was the mistress’ plan. The Charmers led you off with a suggestion that the camp was in the other direction. Being pixie-led, they call it in some parts. Though as far as I’ve been able to determine, there are no such things as pixies. It helped that the Sleeper kept you drowsy. While you chased after our decoy, we untied the rope, and the mistress herself removed that nasty charm so we could carry the sack off. Before you go, would you mind answering a few questions? You owe me several now, remember?”
“I know,” said Tobin, sobering. “But I’m not leaving yet.”
“And how will you live with no food?”
“I can hunt,” said Tobin. “At least for a while. And I’ll answer some questions, but there are some I won’t answer. Aren’t there questions you wouldn’t answer for me?”
“Hmm. I see your point. What questions would you answer?”
“Ah, would you like to learn about the barbarians who live in the desert to the south? I’ve been fighting them and I know quite a bit. They have some very atypical reactions.”
“Really? I suppose…”
But Tobin knew he had him. It had been the most useless knowledge he could think of.
Master Erebus arrived at midday, right on time. Tobin had spent much of the day trying to apply glue without being obvious about it. Now he fought down a surge of guilt as he watched the little man settle himself exactly where he’d sat the night before last, right on top of one of the largest patches of quickstick. Tobin had figured him for a creature of habit. Perhaps he could repay the creature with a lot of knowledge, once his sinister mistress was out of the way. The goblin might even be grateful for his freedom. But somehow, Tobin didn’t think Master Erebus’ reaction to being tricked would be at all atypical.
“Now,” said the little goblin cheerfully, “let’s begin with the background. You said you’ve been fighting these barbarian humans for several years?”
“Three. Where’s your mistress tonight? Watching out there in the bushes? With my packhorse, perhaps?”
“Surely you didn’t expect us to leave you the horses. We can sell them. We’d have taken that great gray brute you ride, but he didn’t want to come, and he was too big to argue with.”
“He’s been trained not to go with strangers. You didn’t answer my question about your mistress.”
“I’d guess you don’t expect me to. But I’m going to surprise you.” The little goblin beamed at him. “She’s not here. She has more important things to attend to than watching you starve.”
Tobin tried to control the irritation that surged from his empty stomach. All the snares he’d set had been neatly sprung when he went back to check them, and he knew full well who was behind that.
“You really should go,” Master Erebus told him gently. “This forest is ours now—which seems only just, since humans were the ones who tried to confine us here in the first place. Why are you doing this?”
Tobin shook his head. “If I tell you, you’ll start asking questions I’m not going to answer. Are you here alone?”
“Of course not. I’m not that foolish. But since you’ll be leaving soon, we’d better get down to business.” He turned, reaching for his ink horn, and a curious expression crossed his face. He tried to stand and failed.
Tobin leapt to his feet and scrambled up the rock. It only took him a few seconds, but Master Erebus was half out of his britches by the time Tobin reached him. He hadn’t expected to see Erebus struggle with such furious determination, twisting and biting. Still he couldn’t defeat Tobin’s superior strength.
When he’d bound the creature’s small wrists, he stuffed him back into his britches and carefully fastened the waistband. That would hold him until the glue lost its grip. The forest had fallen silent as they struggled. Tobin could feel the presence of the watchers, but he didn’t bother to look for them.
“Whatever you’re thinking, it won’t work. I’ll tell you nothing.” The goblin’s voice was cool for the first time—cool and fearless. Tobin felt a stab of admiration. Master Lazur had said that goblins had no courage, but maybe Erebus was “atypical” himself.
“I don’t need any information,” Tobin told him. “If your mistress cooperates, you won’t be hurt at all.”
The little goblin’s eyes widened in alarmed comprehension. His spectacles had fallen off in the struggle—his face looked naked without them. “I’m nothing to her. Completely worthless.”
“Really? I thought you were one of her closest advisers.” If her power over Erebus was this great, he’d have to gag him when he laid the second part of his trap, or the goblin would warn her. But first he had to get rid of the watchers.
He drew his knife and bent over Erebus, feeling the goblin shrink from the steel. He should probably cut the little creature to prove he was serious, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead he put all the determination he could into his voice. “Tell your mistress that I want to talk to her,” he said to the silent trees. “Tell her she must return my horse, my gear, and the charm she stole, and come unarmed—”
“I told you, she’s away,” Erebus interrupted. “It’ll be days before she can get here. You’ll be starved to death by then.”
“I hope not,” said Tobin loudly, “for your sake. Because if she’s not here before I fall asleep, I’ll cut your throat before I nod off. Tell her that,” he called to the trees.
A moment later he felt the watching presence vanish. A bird chirped tentatively, and he knew he and Master Erebus were alone.
CHAPTER 9
The Hedgewitch
Makenna wiggled under the screen of bushes and stared at the settlers’ camp. She’d chosen her spying spot with care—she could lie comfortably in the shallow, dry hollow for many hours. The brush along its rim would shield her from the sharpest-eyed human, but she still had a fine view of most of the clearing where the settlers had chosen to build. It was even downwind, so the dogs couldn’t catch her scent. That was a mixed blessing—the smell of fire, animals, cooking, and waste came clearly to Makenna, and her nose wrinkled. Dirty, smelly, noisy creatures. The stench of humanity was as familiar as a childhood nightmare.
They looked to be well organized, and better equipped than most. Better armed, too.
When she’d risen at the wall to give the warning, half a dozen men had lifted crossbows. If Cogswhallop hadn’t done some scouting earlier, she might not have been able to complete the look-away spell in time. And they’d sear
ched around the wall longer than most. She had no regrets about not finishing her warning speech—these people had obviously been warned. Perhaps that was why so many of them had come together.
They looked as if they’d gotten information about other things, too, for they were equipped with woodworking tools, and most of them were busily erecting a large building, probably a church. Why not build cabins first? She cast a curious eye over the herd of horses at the other side of the clearing. Even at this distance it was easy to make out the great plow horses, six of them, towering over the smaller beasts.
They’d need at least three pair to get fields cleared in time for spring planting, and if they worked very quickly, they’d likely make it. But she wasn’t going to give them the chance.
Too bad, foolish ones. You should have turned back at the wall instead of wasting all this effort, for all you’ll do in the end is get on your horses and—
An odd uneasiness caught her attention. Horses. There were six great ones, but there were also many others, almost…fifty? What did a settlement this size need fifty horses for? A few of the others might be big enough to pull a plow, but most looked like riding horses—and surely they’d only need a handful of those. Horses were expensive; expensive to buy and expensive to feed, if you didn’t have a grainfield. An oddity—and sometimes those turned into traps. She frowned and turned her attention to the people.
The nearest were the men standing guard around the camp. It was a sensible precaution—another sign that these people had learned something about the Goblin Wood. They wore the rough tunics of hired men or servants, but they stood straight and attentive. They’d be hard for humans to get past, but she was confident her goblins would manage.
Makenna studied the humans for some time before she realized that there were too many hired men for a group this size—unless they were very well off, and rich folk didn’t leave their comfortable homes to plow up the wild lands.
Though there were many women and children among the settlers, almost all of the servants were men. This, too, was odd. Not inexplicable, but strange, just like that knight hunter with his charger and his goblin charm.
A smile crept over her face as she remembered his laughter pealing through the woods. She remembered her own fury at being tricked by goblins. That open laughter at his own expense was charming. Makenna scowled and then grinned again at the memory of the leaf-covered goblins. Because of the goblins’ fear of fire, the Makers were the only ones who’d known anything about gisap glue, which had to be boiled. Erebus had been fascinated, and Cogswhallop, who’d been caught in the trap, hadn’t appreciated his interest.
Makenna continued her watch. The humans’ building began to rise. She had to admit they were fast workers—they got a lot accomplished before they set up kettles to heat the midday meal.
But they weren’t miracle workers. A servant near her end of the clearing was trying to make a fire with wood still wet from yesterday’s rain. He got the tinder going, but no matter how hard he blew, the soaked wood above it failed to catch. At this rate, it would be tomorrow before the family this man served got a hot meal.
Evidently the servant had reached the same conclusion. He stood abruptly, glaring down at the damp wood. Then he made a single sharp gesture and the wood roared into flame.
Makenna’s eyes widened in astonishment. Fire-start was a simple spell, one of the first she’d learned, but no one would take a hedgewitch as a servant. And though she might not have seen him place the pitch-soaked pinecone that was the best essential object for this spell, she was certain he couldn’t have drawn the rune without her noticing it.
Only a priest could work magic like that—with will and word alone. And priests served no one but the Hierarch and the Seven Bright Gods. This man was a priest in disguise. Probably many of the servants were disguised priests or—Her eyes shot to the perimeter guards. Now that she knew what to look for, their alert posture all but shouted “soldier.”
Makenna crouched lower in the hollow. Her hiding charm was so familiar that she usually noticed it no more than she noticed her navel, but now its hard smoothness was comforting. It was a trap! The whole settlement was a trap. If she hadn’t seen that careless priest, she might have fallen right into it, but now…
A cold smile crossed her face. Watching closely, she soon spotted all seven of the priests in their hired men’s clothes. There were almost fifty soldiers—fifteen of them formed the perimeter guard, and they changed the watch with military precision. Aye, they’d be tough, but her goblins could get past. She’d fight any human who encroached on the goblins’ territory, but fighting the priests, who had ordered her mother’s death, was her favorite revenge.
It crossed Makenna’s mind, as it sometimes did, that her mother wouldn’t have used her own magic to do harm.
Her mother was dead.
Try as she might, Makenna couldn’t spot the place where their weapons were hidden. The Spoilers would need to know where to concentrate their attack, and there were dozens of covered carts and wagons. It would also be dangerous to try anything without knowing what magical defenses the priests might have set up, and how the soldier’s interior guard was organized. She’d—
Something shook her boot, making her jump. It was Cogswhallop. She signaled hastily for silence, and he glared at her, for of course he knew better than to speak, but with this crafty lot she wasn’t prepared to take the slightest chance. She followed him back into the woods, down one of the narrow, twisting paths the goblins favored, ducking when the branches were too low.
“Well?” she asked when they were safely away. “What is it?”
“You won’t like it.” Cogswhallop scowled. “That clumsy pen pusher went and got himself caught.”
“Dung! By who? The knight? Is Erebus all right?”
“Oh, aye,” said Cogswhallop laconically. Makenna fought an impulse to shake him. “He’s fine so far—just held. The knight fellow wants his stuff back. The charm, too. Me, I’d let him slit the worthless scribbler’s throat and whistle for it. Do you know what he went for? Information about those barbarian humans in the southland deserts! Of all the worthless—”
“Cogswhallop,” said Makenna through gritted teeth, “would you do me the favor of telling me exactly what the man said?” She knew full well that despite the rivalry between them, Cogswhallop would never abandon Erebus, or any goblin, to die at human hands. But this was no time for private quarrels!
The goblin sighed. “You’re to come yourself, unarmed, bringing his charm and all the rest of it, before he falls asleep…or he’ll cut the pen pusher’s throat.”
Makenna took a deep breath and calmed herself. “Feel later” was the first rule of combat. “How long ago was this?”
“About four hours.”
“What!”
“Well, the scribbler only took two others to watch after him, can you believe it? They were Bookeries, too, all primed to take notes in case he missed anything. They’re not quick travelers—it took ’em several hours to get back to the village and find me, and I came straight for you, but it’s not a short trip.”
“And it’ll take the same amount of time for me to get the charm and get back.” Makenna was already walking faster. “I hope he got some sleep after we robbed him. If he hurts Erebus, by St. Maydrian’s hand I swear I’ll kill him.”
“I hope you’re not planning to just walk in there,” said Cogswhallop, trotting beside her. “It’s a trap, gen’ral.”
“Of course it’s a trap. There’s a lot of those about lately. I wonder—Well, no matter. I’m an old hand at springing snares, Cogswhallop. He’ll get no meat from this one!”
The setting sun was dyeing everything red when Makenna approached the knight’s camp. He looked tired, dark circles ringing his eyes, but the knife at Erebus’ throat was steady. Carefully—she must go carefully. She eased forward a step.
“I’ve brought all your things.” She gestured with the bundle she held. “Even the charm. I’m
unarmed, just like you asked.”
“What about my packhorse?” He sounded wary. His helm was plain, just a dome and nose guard, but it concealed his expression. He was wearing all his armor, protecting everything but his legs, which would make it harder for the troop to seize him. Erebus, on the other hand, was completely unprotected. His throat, bare beneath the knife, was unmarked, but he twisted like a creature in torment, squeaking something behind his gag, over and over. He didn’t seem to be hurt.
“The packhorse?” Impatience crept into the knight’s voice at her silence.
“I’d already sent him to be sold in Brackenlee when I got your message. He’s days gone, or I’d have brought him, I swear it. The horse is nothing to me—I’ve got money here,” she shook the bundle hard enough to make the coins jingle, “for you to buy him back.” She eased forward a few more steps.
Erebus had stopped wiggling. Just as well. A Maker, with their clever hands, might have worked free, but the Bookerie didn’t stand a chance. He was speaking as clearly as he could through the gag—it sounded like “ah ret.” All wet? She took another slow step. “Will this content you?”
“No,” said the knight, and she stopped, shocked.
“But I couldn’t get your packhorse, truly!”
“Then you will have to give me something else, won’t you?”
“What do you want?” It was coming now—she was about to learn his purpose.
“I want you to swear a binding oath, by all the Bright Gods and the Dark One, your master, that you’ll leave the Goblin Wood and never return, or ever trouble those who seek to live here.”
Contempt for the stupid lordling welled within her. Did he think he was in a heroic ballad, where oaths were as binding as chains? She bit back her eager agreement. He was a fool, but that didn’t mean he was an idiot. Carefully.
“But that would mean I must leave my home!” She tried to sound pleading, instead of mocking. “All I care for is here. Will nothing else content you?” Another step. Another.
