In the Coils of the Snake

by Clare B. Dunkle

  But the goblin King couldn’t give up so easily. He owed his people an elf bride if possible. Frowning, he walked down the line of elves, watching as they stepped back, shuddering, or closed their eyes in horror. Nir walked with him, his heart sinking. He knew what would happen next.

  The goblin King reached the children. Horrified, they were also fascinated, as curious children of any race are likely to be. Among them were two young girls with black eyes, he noted; perhaps one of them would do. Then he stopped in surprise. Standing with the older children was a young woman with the black eyes he had been seeking. He turned to the elf lord, angry and suspicious.

  “Why wasn’t she with the other unmarried women?” he demanded.

  “She isn’t old enough to be married,” the elf replied evenly. “She doesn’t reach her marriage moon until almost a year from now.”

  “Then she’s seventeen,” concluded the goblin. “That’s old enough to be married.”

  “That is not old enough,” answered the elf lord with some heat. “She won’t be a woman until the third spring moon. She’s still a child.”

  “That’s just custom,” scoffed Marak Catspaw. “Many goblin women marry at seventeen, and humans, too. My grandmother married at sixteen,” he added coolly.

  “Monster!” snarled the elf lord in revulsion, and he turned his back on the goblin, glaring out at the stars. No elf man, no matter how immoral or depraved, could even imagine marrying a girl before the full moon of the month she reached eighteen. To elf men, she didn’t seem like a woman at all before that date. Nir was aware that humans and goblins didn’t honor this law, and he found it almost unbearable to consider.

  Marak Catspaw turned back to the elf girl, perfectly serene. Coming from this nauseating elf lord, he felt that monster had the ring of a compliment. He studied the girl admiringly. By the Sword, she was a pretty little thing, he thought, forgetting that he had just concluded in annoyance that all elf women were pretty. Masses of silky black hair fell in soft waves down her back, and her small oval face was almost heartbreakingly lovely. She was standing perfectly still, staring through his chest at some point far away. She wasn’t sniffling like the others, and he warmed to her for that.

  “What’s your name, little elf?” he asked her.

  “Arianna, she answered in a whisper so faint that the furious Nir couldn’t even hear it. But standing so close, Catspaw could make it out.

  “Arianna, is it?” he replied. ‘Arianna, hold out your hand.”

  The young woman extended her shaking hand, but when the goblin King reached out to lay his lion’s paw over it, she jerked back with a little cry of disgust. Nir flinched at the sound and set his teeth. He had known what would happen for months now, but that didn’t make it easier to accept.

  Marak Catspaw sighed in exasperation. It was just a big paw; it didn’t drip slime or glow green, and now she was going to burst out crying. But Arianna didn’t cry. She stood exactly as before, eyes wide and solemn. Oh, well, considered Catspaw, warming to her again, the poor, deprived girl wasn’t accustomed to meeting goblins. He reached out his normal hand and took her by the wrist. This time he held her hand in place as he laid the heavy paw over it.

  The truce circle filled with a soft light as golden sparks formed all over the small hand. They glittered like stars as they grew in size, shaping themselves into delicate golden lilies, and dripped off the hand in a gentle shower, replaced by new sparks. The silent rain of radiant blossoms continued for an entire minute as the elves and goblins murmured in wonder. Only two people in the truce circle didn’t watch the charming spectacle. Arianna still stared straight ahead, petrified by the unwelcome attention, and Nir still stood glaring at the stars. He didn’t need to watch. He had tested her years ago and knew perfectly well how magical she was.

  Marak Catspaw looked at her for some time after the sparks faded away. He knew what he had to do now, but he hesitated, studying that solemn face. He frowned as he thought of Miranda’s smile. This girl probably wouldn’t smile at him for months — maybe not ever. He did wish that she would at least look at him, though. Putting his hand under her chin, he tilted her face, and Arianna lifted her large dark eyes to his.

  She had been watching the goblin King curiously before he had come close, so she did have some idea what to expect, but she stared in horrified bewilderment at the face looking down into hers. Everything about elf beauty was harmonious, but everything about this creature was discordant. His eyes, blue and green, made no sense to her. They weren’t a pair of eyes; they didn’t belong together. His short hair didn’t belong together, either, the golden and pale locks swirling in violent disarray as if they were fighting a battle. Used to the faces of sensitive elves, she found nothing in his expression for her to read beyond a kind of complacent cruelty. Arianna was rendered incapable of thought by that strange face. She simply stared at him without moving a muscle, her eyes huge.

  Elf beauty had its degrees, and black eyes were the limit of that beauty. They appeared only in the nobility and in the elf Kings. Gazing into Arianna’s eyes, Catspaw felt their powerful allure. He still preferred Miranda’s brown eyes, he thought loyally. Then he wondered if this were really true.

  “Arianna,” he asked in a low voice, “would you like to be a King’s Wife?”

  Even on the brink of disaster, Arianna didn’t cry. She stared up at those eyes that didn’t belong together, and felt in confusion that two people were looking at her instead of one. She looked from one eye to the other, baffled and repelled. Blue to green and back to blue again. “I’m promised to Nir,” she whispered faintly.

  “Oh, are you?” remarked Catspaw, and that settled something in his mind with a neat finality. He dropped his hand and stepped back. “Elf lord,” he said in a loud voice, “I’ll sign the treaty for this one.”

  Released from the terrifying force of those eyes, Arianna finally understood what was happening. A wave of icy dread poured over her. She turned her head and looked in mute appeal toward her fiance, but he still had his back to her. She tried to call out to him, but no sound came. “Agreed,” she heard Nir say, and Arianna’s world shattered. When she opened her eyes again, that thing had her around the waist.

  The elf woman who had been crying before was crying again, coming to take her in her arms. The goblin said, “Mother, stand back. You know how dangerous desperate magic can be.” But Arianna used none of her quiet, prodigious magic. She couldn’t. She didn’t have the right. She wasn’t a stolen bride who could fight her way back to her people. Nir had said she had to go and so she had no choice. On the verge of unconsciousness, Arianna gasped in a breath. She wondered how many more breaths she would have to take before she could finally die. There would be so many, she thought in despair. Millions and millions. She closed her eyes and began drearily to count them.

  Seylin spread the treaty out on a stand, and Marak Catspaw came to sign it, his human arm around his drooping bride. He dipped his paw into the bowl of golden ink and put his print on the treaty, holding out the paw for Seylin to wipe clean. The elf lord came up then, eyes averted from the horrible sight as the goblin King guided the faltering Arianna away. Dipping his fingertips quickly in the ink, he signed in a sideways W Then he jerked the towel away from Seylin and rubbed the ink from his fingers, turning to the stars again. He wouldn’t watch the goblins leave the truce circle.

  “Elf lord,” asked Seylin with interest, “why did you sign like that?”

  Motionless, face still, Nir glared at the stars. “Why?” he murmured absently. “Because it makes it binding.” He thought about what it had bound him to do and felt a rising sickness.

  “But why didn’t you sign your name?” persisted Seylin.

  Nir continued to gaze at the stars, ignoring the goblin completely. He was bound by the treaty. He wasn’t bound. Arianna was the one bound now, bound, shackled, and enslaved. He had known her fate months ago as soon as he had known what he had to do. He had warned his elves that the goblins
might take any unmarried girl, even a small child. He had given them the chance to leave, but he had known that they couldn’t leave him, and he had known, too, that Arianna hadn’t paid any attention. She had been his responsibility since she was thirteen, and she couldn’t imagine that he wouldn’t protect her.

  For all those months, he had eaten with her and slept by her side, and he had never once told her of her danger. He might as well have wrapped that horrible snake around her himself. He had betrayed her into hell. His magic had told him to do it, and his magic was always right. It was the best thing for his people, he had always known that. But he had destroyed a sweet elvish life because it was the best thing for his people. He only wished that he could have destroyed himself.

  “Seylin,” he heard the little goblin girl say as they walked off, “I don’t want to go back. I want to be an elf.”

  “I know just how you feel” was Seylin’s reply. And then they were gone.

  Chapter Five

  “Goblin King,” said Seylin, catching up to Catspaw, “let me tell Miranda.” He glanced down at the silent elf bride. She had her eyes tightly shut, and she kept stumbling. After a minute, Catspaw picked her up and continued walking. Her head dropped onto his shoulder as if she were asleep.

  “No,” replied Marak Catspaw in a low voice. “Seylin, I’ll tell her myself It’s only fair,” he added bleakly.

  “Nothing’s ever fair about the goblin King’s Bride,” commented Seylin, “not even when we think it’s going to be. But you did the right thing. Such a King she’ll give us!” He remembered Kate’s dreadful homesickness when he was a boy. “She’ll settle in,” he said encouragingly.

  “Poor little elf,” growled the goblin King. “Completely abandoned! I can’t understand how he could simply hand her over like that. I would never do that to one of my people,” he added, pleased to have another reason to despise the elf lord.

  “You wouldn’t have much need to do it,” observed Seylin. “I don’t think the elves are interested in a goblin bride. You’re sure about talking to Miranda? There’s nothing to be gained by it, and there are some things to lose. She’s bound to be distraught, but she’ll calm down after a few days. And you’ll be facing enough hysteria tonight.”

  They came to the cliff face and walked through into the underground kingdom. Seylin glanced curiously at the quiet elf. She had missed her last look at the stars.

  “I know I will,” sighed Marak Catspaw as they walked down the polished black corridor. “I’m going to leave Arianna in the King’s Bride chamber with Mother while I talk to Miranda. She won’t be afraid of her, they’re both elves. The door will be locked, and Mother can join the women in the inner room if Arianna panics and tries spells. She could certainly do it, with such impressive magic,” he added admiringly.

  “I’m not so sure she could,” Seylin mused as they walked past the great iron door. When it clanged shut behind her, Arianna shivered in Catspaw’s arms, but she still didn’t open her eyes. “This girl’s not reacting like any bride I’ve ever read of. She’s not fighting at all. I don’t know why not,” Seylin concluded with a puzzled frown.

  “I think she’s being brave,” said the goblin King complacently as they passed the lovely grove of slender metal saplings. Sometimes Seylin still sounded like the tutor he had been. “Adviser, I want you to go wake up Miranda and bring her to the blue throne-room antechamber. But don’t tell her anything about tonight, and that’s an order.”

  “All right,” said Seylin. “Goblin King, please don’t make any promises to Miranda. And that’s a request,” he murmured gloomily.

  • • •

  Miranda paced the small room nervously, waiting for Catspaw to arrive. The King must have come home early from the dwarf mines and decided to hold the marriage right away. She felt a little anxious at the thought of the bloody ceremony, but a King’s Wife needed to be strong, so she gave Catspaw a bright, unworried smile when he finally came into the room.

  The goblin King stopped at the sight of that smile and just looked at her for a minute. He realized how deeply attached to her he had become. She was so lively and interesting, so proud and sophisticated. They would have been very happy.

  Miranda’s smile faded as he stood and stared at her. “What’s the matter?” she asked, nervous again. “Has something happened? Is the ceremony tonight?”

  “Yes,” replied Marak Catspaw. “Yes to both questions. The ceremony is tonight, and something has happened.” He paused, but there was no point in pausing, so he went on again. “Miranda, I can’t marry you,” he said. “I have to marry someone else.”

  Miranda stood there, completely stunned, her face turning white. Catspaw tried to think of something to say that would make her understand. He had done the right thing, of course. Everyone knew that. Everyone except her, and she was the one who mattered.

  “I have to do it,” he explained. “The elf lord gave us a bride. I wouldn’t have given you up for a regular elf, but she’s an elf from the highest noble families. She’s very magical, and that’s important for the Heir.”

  Miranda fought back tears. Marak hadn’t raised her to snivel. He had raised her to be a King’s Wife, but she wouldn’t be one now.

  “An elf bride,” she said evenly. “She’s very beautiful, isn’t she? Of course she is,” she said, tossing her head back. ‘All elves are beautiful.”

  “That has nothing to do with this,” said Catspaw. “That’s not why I’m marrying her.”

  “But she is, isn’t she?” persisted Miranda, fixing him with a deadly look.

  “Yes,” said the goblin King. “So are you.” He watched as she turned away and glared at the wall. “Miranda,” he tried again, “I’d rather marry you. If I had my choice, I would marry you. But I have to do the best thing for my people.”

  “And I’m not it,” she concluded. “After all those promises. I’m not the best thing, am I? And your people deserve the best.”

  He didn’t answer her. There was no point. After all, it was true.

  “And how convenient that I’m not one of your people,” she added. Her tone was still even, but her voice was beginning to shake. “You’ll do the best thing for them, won’t you, but it doesn’t matter what happens to me.”

  “Of course it matters,” he said. “You know you matter to me. I’ll do anything I can for you, anything.”

  “Except marry me,” she said bitterly. She dropped her head and began to cry. She didn’t care anymore that Marak hadn’t raised her to be a crybaby. He hadn’t raised her to be anything, as it turned out.

  “I know you’re upset,” Catspaw said. “But you’re so strong. You’ll overcome this. I’ll marry you to any goblin you name and give you anything you ask for. You know I’ll always care about you,” he added coaxingly.

  Miranda’s head came up slightly at this speech, and a dangerous look came into her eyes. “Will you really do that?” she asked quietly. “Will you give me anything I ask for?”

  “Of course I will,” said the goblin, forgetting Seylin’s request. He was pleased to see her recovering so quickly.

  “Then give me my freedom!” spat Miranda in a fury. “Let me out of here! I don’t want to be around you for another minute, I don’t want to be around goblins for another minute, and I certainly don’t want to stay down here and marry one!”

  “I can’t do that,” concluded Marak Catspaw helplessly, caught completely off guard.

  “Oh, you can’t!” cried Miranda in disgust. “You can’t seem to do anything I want, can you!”

  “You know you belong in the kingdom,” Catspaw insisted reasonably. “You’re the ward of the goblin King and always will be.”

  “I don’t belong anywhere!” she cried. “You lied to me! You said you would give me anything! But you’ve always lied to me, haven’t you? You said you’d marry me, too.”

  Catspaw stared at her for a long moment. Lying was a serious matter to a goblin King. “Very well,” he said finally. “I’
ll give you what you asked for.” He studied her distraught features with a worried frown. “Where are you going to go?” he asked.

  “That’s no business of yours,” she hissed. “I’m not one of your people.”

  “Where are you going to go?” he repeated steadily. She wiped her eyes and reflected that he hadn’t let her out yet.

  “I’ll go back to my family,” she replied, looking away.

  “That’s a lie,” he observed. She glared at him. How nice to be magical, she thought bitterly.

  “I’ll go watch the sunrise,” she concluded more quietly. “I haven’t seen it in months.” And because this wasn’t t a lie, he didn’t find the danger in it.

  “All right,” he said. She was calming down again. This would doubtless be for the best. He hadn’t promised to let her out for good, of course. He could give her the freedom she had demanded for one day, under careful guard, and then have her brought back into the kingdom.

  Whispering, he walked up to her and placed his paw on her forehead, where the golden Door character glimmered. Then he continued to stand there for another minute, his hand on her hair, regretting his choice of brides.

  He was so close to her, she thought miserably. Close enough to kiss her. She wished with all her heart that she had a knife in her hand.

  “I’ll have Tattoo accompany you,” the goblin King decided. “He’ll get some things together for you to take.”

  Miranda jerked away.

  “I don’t want anything from you,” she said in a low, deliberate voice. “I don’t want to take a single disgusting thing of yours with me. I won’t take your guards, and I won’t take your money, and I won’t take your rings,” she added, voice rising, jerking them off one by one. ‘And I won’t take your bracelets,” she cried, ripping them off and flinging them at him.