The Goblets Immortal

by Beth Overmyer

  “I didn’t earn these coins, either. They came from the sale of my family’s estate.” That didn’t seem to change her opinion about taking the money from him. “You should have something to spend. And besides, you have earned it.”

  Her look challenged him. “Have I now?”

  They’d come upon a dress shop with ready-made dresses on display in the window. There were pinks and greens and all sorts of frilly, lacy things that women were supposed to love. But Slaíne kept walking even when Aidan stopped, seemingly oblivious. “Here, take these coins and a few notes and buy three dresses.”

  It was her eyebrows’ turn to shoot up to her hairline. “What? Blimey, no.”

  Knowing it would only irk her and hinder his cause, he suppressed the smile he felt forming on his face. “Here.” He reached into his pocket and Summoned several larger notes from Nothingness, which he thrust at her. “Find yourself three or four ready-made dresses. Goodness knows I’m tired of people wondering why you’re in slacks.”

  “If’n it bothers you,” she said warily. Without finishing the thought, her hand flashed out and she snatched the money. Only then did Aidan allow the smile to break. “Don’t know what the ruddy big deal is.”

  “Thank you.”

  “They probably won’t let me in, an’ you neither. We both smell wretched.”

  Aidan hadn’t thought of that. “At the inn, I’ll call for a bath for you— While I wait downstairs, of course.”

  She snorted. “Don’ need no washin’.”

  “Quit dawdling,” he said, beckoning toward the shop. “I’ll be just here. Fetch me if you need more money.”

  With a low growl and a few more muttered words, Slaíne left him and entered the shop.

  Aidan waited the better part of half an hour, and still she did not emerge. He resisted the urge to peer through the window, quite aware that the girl was nervous and didn’t need him putting his nose in where it was unwanted. So instead, he explored the stands to the side of the building. He was certain not to roam too far. There was still the curse, which latched them together, wanted or not.

  “Definitely not wanted,” he said, causing the fruit vendor to back away a little. It was just as well; fresh fruit wouldn’t last long for his money, anyway, and wouldn’t fill a belly like meat. Aidan moved on to the next stall, which sold roasted nuts.

  “How much for these?” Aidan asked a bored man in ratty clothes that smelled of burnt wood and silt.

  The salesman took his time answering, sucking on his teeth and curling his beard between his fingers. A near two minutes later, it would seem, he at last answered the question. “Which ones might you mean?”

  Aidan gestured to the mixed nuts. “These.” He felt another human Pull coming his way, and paid it little mind. He was used to Pulls, so it was only natural to ignore it.

  “How many for these…plums are they?” asked a woman. Her voice was familiar and almost made him turn to glance, but the nut salesman was speaking and won Aidan’s attention back.

  “They’re not for sale.”

  Aidan stared at him for a moment, weighing whether or not the man was serious. “Sir?”

  “They’re not for sale.” He removed his cap and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Got anything worth trading, though? Don’t take money from strangers. Could be counterfeit.”

  Aidan nodded. “I see. I have a saddle….” In Nothingness, you idiot. Are you going to Summon it in front of him?

  The man raised a brow at Aidan and smirked. “No horse?”

  “Dead.”

  He scratched his scruffy beard. “What sorta feller lets his horse die?”

  Aidan resisted the urge to argue and stated, “Goblin ambush.”

  That drew a low whistle from the rough salesman, who replaced his cap and drew a filthy rag from his pocket. “Can I give you some friendly advice, m’lad?” He beckoned for Aidan to lean in before continuing. “Leave this town as soon as possible, a’right? There be wraiths in these parts. Last thing folks here need is for goblins to be brought down on their heads.”

  What was there to say to that? It had seemed like the goblins had sought him out specifically. Who was to say they wouldn’t find him again, this time in a town? “I’ll keep that in mind. In the meantime…what would you accept as a fair trade for a pound of pecans?”

  The man snorted. “You ain’t got the collateral. An’ this here fine young lady seems more than likely to give me proper business.”

  At this Aidan turned, half-expecting to see Slaíne, though the Pull was all wrong – too weak and brittle in all the wrong places. Without thinking, he Summoned the silver sword into his hand.

  It was the seer he had met at Prewitt Manor.

  Chapter Ten

  The seer was paying with a set of crystal candlesticks, which she drew from a tattered carpet bag. She paid no mind to Aidan, nor did any of the shopkeepers.

  Good. No one had seen him Summon the blade; his secret was safe. But he would not be safe long if he did not find Slaíne and flee…if there was anywhere safe left in the world.

  “I’ll be with you in a moment, Mr. Powell,” said the seer without turning. “But yes, why don’t you run inside and fetch that young miss? I’ll be wanting to talk with her as well.”

  The salesmen gave strange looks as Aidan hid the sword behind his back – Dismissing it out of sight – and ran around the side of the building. He didn’t care. He needed to find that blasted girl. Where had she gone off to?

  She was sitting on the shop steps, three paper parcels resting in her lap. Upon seeing him, she picked up the packages by the strings, as if afraid they would bite her. “Mr. Aidan, you look like you’ve seen a wraith.”

  “We need to leave, Slaíne. They’ve found me.”

  Slaíne’s eyes grew wide with fear, before lighting up with a fierce excitement. “Meraude is here, is she? I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time. Where is my….” Her voice trailed off as a frown formed on his face. “What? No Meraude?” Her face paled. “Oh goodness, the nymph creatures didn’t find us again? I didn’t think they was really dead—”

  He grabbed her by the elbow and steered her into an ally on the other side of the bakery. “No, Slaíne, Lord Dewhurst is here.”

  It was her turn to frown. “Lord who?”

  Aidan rolled his eyes as she shook off his grip on her arm. “Just the man who says I murdered his family.” Only after the words left his mouth did Aidan realize Slaíne would have no idea what he was talking about. He had never filled her in on that particular part of his history.

  “Lord Thing says you murdered someone?”

  “Lord Dewhurst, and yes. He’s here. Or, at least, his servant is. We haven’t much time before they find me, and then I’m a dead man.”

  It seemed to take a moment for her to process the new information, and when she did, she looked angry. “All right. We sneak out an’ all, but then you’re explainin’ what’s really going on.”

  Aidan nodded. “Fair enough. Now hurry.” He Dismissed her parcels so they wouldn’t hinder her, and they ran for the end of the alley…which ran into a dead end right around the corner where it abutted another building.

  “Lord Ingledark,” said the seer, who’d crept into the alley behind them, “I come in peace.”

  He paid the witch’s words no mind, but again Summoned Slaíne’s silver blade from Nothingness and pushed the girl behind him. “Where’s your master?”

  The seer’s shoulders heaved. She looked much older than when he’d last seen her. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but she seemed to have aged twenty years. “If my so-called master were here, milord, wouldn’t you know it?”

  She made a fair point. If any Pull was familiar, it would be Lord Dewhurst’s; Aidan had been actively avoiding the man for the better part of his life. Still, her word alone wasn’t worth
going on. He kept the blade raised. “What do you want?”

  “Who are you?” Slaíne surprised Aidan by asking the seer. She seemed more curious than afraid, as if Aidan’s suggestion of the woman being dangerous wasn’t enough for her. Aidan hoped she wouldn’t have to find out for herself.

  “You mean to run me through, eh, milord?”

  “Some sorcerer,” Aidan spat. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the woman, though he could feel Slaíne moving around him.

  The middle-aged woman laughed, of all things. “Sorcerer? You should know better than to believe that for a second, Lord Ingledark.”

  “Stay back, Slaíne.”

  The girl did not heed his words, but moved around him before he could grab her with his free hand. “Do I know you?”

  The seer frowned. “No. But I know you.”

  Wherever this was going, Aidan was certain he wasn’t going to like it. He moved cautiously as his traveling companion stepped closer to the strange woman. “She’s not safe. She’s betrayed me once already.”

  The woman sighed. “Yes, and for that I am sorry. I had not had my bonds broken then.”

  Aidan groaned as Slaíne moved in far too close to the woman. “I really wouldn’t—”

  The girl waved him off, all attention on the seer. “What bonds? Like a curse?”

  For all the smarts Aidan thought the girl possessed, she was behaving foolishly. Any closer and she’d be within attacking distance from the seer. Slaíne, he knew, had no weapons. The girl was defenseless, so with that thought in mind, Aidan reached into Nothingness and Summoned one of his copper daggers, discreetly so that neither woman would notice. One thought, and he could send the dagger flying at its intended mark…if only he knew that Slaíne would not get in the way.

  As if answering his thoughts, the seer said, “You hit the girl in the back with the dagger, milord. Right when you think the shot is clean.”

  Slaíne turned with a frown for Aidan. “Why do she keep calling you ‘milord’? And who did you hit with a dagger?”

  Aidan’s blood ran cold. “What?”

  “Pardon my tenses. You will run the girl through with the dagger if you attempt anything. She’ll die in a pool of her own red blood, and you, Lord Ingledark, will have to live with yet another noose around your neck.”

  Aidan glared. “Did you see it happen?”

  The woman said simply, “I am the seer.”

  What choice did he have? The woman might be telling the truth, and as irritating as the girl was, he did not want to run Slaíne through with a dagger. Without another thought, he Dismissed the smaller weapon, and lowered the sword to his side. “What do you want?”

  “What do I want? That is a rather complicated question. I think the real question here is what do you want, milord?”

  “Excuse me?”

  At last Slaíne stepped to the side of the alley, her expression troubled. Now was Aidan’s chance. All he had to do was Dismiss the blade, and Summon it long enough to deal a deathblow to the witch of a woman. But slaying goblins and nymphs was one thing; killing a human, no matter how much he questioned their humanity, was a whole other thing.

  “You’re a good man.” She said it a second before Aidan Dismissed his blade, making Aidan believe that she knew what he’d been planning. “Now, can we please take this somewhere more comfortable and – less confined?” She sniffed and made a face. “And, no offense, but the pair of you stink to high heaven. You’ll be wanting to freshen up first, I think.” She turned from the pair and led the way into the open market.

  Slaíne looked back at Aidan, waiting for his lead.

  As tempting as it was to take Slaíne and flee in the opposite direction of the seer, Aidan decided that he was simply too fatigued to run very far very fast. Besides, he reasoned with himself, it would be good to know what Lord Dewhurst was doing and where he was at the moment. If anyone could answer that, it would be his slave. And a seer. Convenient. He only hoped that he would not be drawn into another trap. “Fool me once,” he muttered.

  “Sir?”

  He shook her question off. “Come on.” They followed the woman out into the middle of the square, where she was looking at some frost-bitten rosebuds.

  “Ah, what a shame. Some young things aren’t meant to last, are they?”

  Aidan wondered if she was perhaps using a metaphor. He hated metaphors. They made him think of his uncle.

  The woman startled Aidan out of his darker thoughts by gasping. “But look at this. One bud looks like it’s going to make it.” She prodded the red tissue with her dry fingers. “Yes. Very lovely. This one will bloom into something beautiful.” She looked once at Slaíne, then threw a wink in Aidan’s direction.

  The wink, whatever it meant, was missed entirely by the girl, who was frowning at the bush. “Never really liked flowers. They never last. An’ they only look pretty. They’re feisty buggers, certainly.”

  “Everyone has their thorns, young miss. Even you, I reckon.”

  That caused Slaíne to look up with a frown. “Who are you? What do you want?”

  “Not here, not here. We’ll go to that inn that beautiful young woman recommended to Mr. Powell. What do you think?”

  Aidan was only half-listening; he was busy feeling for Pulls. What if this town was full of iron? Maybe his enemies were in hiding, their Pulls disguised by the repulsive metal.

  “Mr. Powell, I said why don’t we get indoors? It’s not safe being outside at nighttime. We’d be ambushed by robbers, you mark my word.”

  “Not with you on our side, I am sure,” Aidan added dryly.

  That made the old woman laugh. “Enough of this gabbing. There is work to be done.”

  Though he knew he couldn’t trust her, Aidan followed, now searching for empty places, the repulsion of iron. Yet as they walked and he felt, he found nothing. Only Pulls. Pulls from buildings, the steady anchors that were not strong enough to hold him in place. Pulls from smaller things, such as supplies and furniture inside the buildings. And there were, of course, Pulls from people, the only real anchors that he would have to let go of if he needed to Dismiss himself.

  He walked past all of these, feeling his way without seeing much. Aidan could’ve closed his eyes if he wished, but it was dangerous relying on the feeling of Pulls; he’d tried it as a younger man, walking with his eyes closed. He had wound up walking straight into a giant puddle that turned out to be quicksand. It was Isaac the beggar – now Isaac the Roma, Aidan recalled – who had helped him out of that mess.

  The memory of Isaac made him think of the Goblet that he’d held in his possession for a brief moment. The man had said that he’d liberated the magical vessel from Aidan’s uncle. Isaac could not have known what it was; otherwise he wouldn’t have parted with it so casually. But why give it to Aidan? It was magical, true, and so was Aidan. He hadn’t realized that the thought had been bothering him since their encounter with the elves. He hadn’t had time to think. Too much had happened between then and now.

  “Is this our stop? Mr. Aidan?” Slaíne was staring at him funny. “Your shoulder hurtin’ again?”

  “Hmm?” It was then that he realized he’d been rubbing the spot where the nymph’s blade had pierced him.

  The seer gave him a look that Aidan didn’t know what to make of, and ushered them inside the inn he’d been directed to. The woman wasted no time in ordering a private room, a full supper, and a round of something strong to drink – “Not too strong, mind” – and managed the small staff something dreadful.

  Slaíne looked at him and smirked. “Must be used to gettin’ her own way.”

  Aidan gave her a wry smile, but did not respond to that. “Don’t eat or drink what you’ve been served until I’ve had time to inspect it.”

  She snorted. “For what? Poison?” When he didn’t laugh at her joke and his smile vanished, th
e girl’s brow creased. “You think she’d kill us?”

  He gave the seer a quick look; she was walking ahead of them, reserving sleeping quarters and irritating the innkeeper. “She betrayed me once. I don’t think she’d hesitate to do so again, even with her supposed newfound freedom.”

  Slaíne’s frown deepened into a scowl. “You don’t believe her?”

  “Two cursed people just chance to meet in a small, obscure village? She’s a seer. Of course she knew of your affliction. Why not use it to gain your trust, thus gain mine in return?”

  That did not seem to sit well with Slaíne, whose jawline set. “I still say—”

  “Well, it’s all settled,” the strange woman said, returning just in time to keep Slaíne from offering more objections to Aidan’s concerns.

  The girl wiped her nose on her right sleeve and followed the middle-aged woman into a small yet cozy room in the back of the inn. Once the door had been shut by a servant, Slaíne dropped down in a chair with her back to the door like she had never sat in a chair and relished the idea. As absurd as it seemed to Aidan at first, it might very well be that she’d never actually sat in a chair.

  “Now, then, you’re going to ask me what Lord Dewhurst is about.”

  “You read my mind.” Aidan’s tone was dry, but he kept his face void of emotion. No need to tell this woman any more than she might’ve guessed. He took a seat only after she sat, and the one he took faced the door. He may have Pulls to warn him, but he would not risk another ambush at her hand. “So, why the change of heart? You seemed rather gleeful to hand me over to my death.”

  The gap-toothed woman sighed and drew her reed pipe from inside her inner riding jacket. “I was eager, milord, because I was offered freedom in exchange for your life. But you take for granted what I am.”

  “What are you?” Slaíne asked. Unable to sit still, she got up and started poking at the sad fire in the fireplace.

  Aidan sighed. “Slaíne, you’re not—”

  “Leave her be.” The woman lit her pipe, puffed out some blue smoke, and put her muddy boots up on the table in front of her.