by Paul Barrett
“Can we proceed?” Quinitas asked. He had taken out the hob’s sandal.
“Certainly,” Liz said. “That should hold me for a while.”
Quinitas nodded. He stared at the sandal for a few seconds and then said, “Follow me.”
We moved through the outer edges of the city, sticking to the shadows as much as possible. Quinitas’ wrinkled nose offered evidence that he wasn’t used to this part of town. We had to cross streets several times. We did so as non-obtrusively as the beginnings of a circus troupe could. A few people leaving their dead-end jobs and heading home or to a tavern glanced our way and then moved on. Citizens of the Rimside quadrants are adept at minding their own business. I kept an eye out for goblinoids, since they would be the ones most likely associated with GOBLET and thus the most interested in discovering us still alive.
After twenty minutes we stopped outside a wooden warehouse, one of several in this district. From the smell, it held grain.
“He’s in there somewhere,” Quinitas said. “What’s the plan?”
I had hoped we would track him to some hovel where he and his mate had holed up to salivate over the falchion. Then we could ambush them and take it back. A warehouse meant a mixture of open space and lots of places to hide. This complicated things. There could be just the hob in there, or an army ready to march. The only way to find out was to investigate.
“I don’t guess you can make us invisible,” I said to Quinitas.
“Of course I can. Do you have a ten-carat diamond?”
“You want me to pay you to help us?”
He rolled his eyes. Not something you expect an elf to do. “You really are that ignorant sometimes, aren’t you? I need one to cast the spell.”
I flushed. If I had thought before I spoke, I would have realized my mistake. I decided to gloss it over. “That’s an expensive spell.”
“Which is why you don’t see people running around with invisibility very often.”
“If they were invisible, you couldn’t see them,” Criz said.
It was my turn to do an eye roll. “Okay, so we can’t do it the easy way.” I looked at the orcs. “Think you can be quieter than an ox cart full of swords?”
“I don’t know,” the smart one said. “Think you could resist squealing if I punched you in the face?”
“I managed it the last time you did it.”
Liz hissed in irritation. “If you boys are going to measure dicks the whole time we’re together, I’m leaving.”
“Well put,” Quinitas said. He held up a hand to stop me from speaking. “I can reduce our noise, which will help.”
“It’ll have to do,” I said, not much liking the idea. “We’ll sneak in, see what we can find and hope for the best.” Best plan I could manage given our limited options. I often dream of getting a case where numerous possibilities are open to me. I still wasn’t convinced the hobs weren’t just going to sell the sword to Siralanna to fund their wannabe rebellion.
Quinitas picked up a worm. I had no idea how he kept finding the critters he needed.
“Is this going to make me sick?” Crizlyk asked.
“It may disorient you momentarily since you won’t be able to hear yourself move. But as long as you don’t have the constitution of a sickly newt, you should be fine.”
He made some mystical gestures, chanted a few words, and threw the worm into the air. It broke into six segments. I winced. Yeah, it was just a worm, but what a nasty way to go. The segments hit each of us on top of our heads. I felt the familiar tingle of magic. “Can we still talk?” I asked. I spoke in a normal voice. It came out as a whisper. “Never mind. You have a thing against insects, don’t you?”
Quinitas sighed. “I not even going to dignify that.”
I walked toward the warehouse. There were no guards outside and no torches lighting up the area around it. The workers had left for the evening, so we had no more curious eyes watching us.
Rather than the large loading doors, I took us to the smaller side door. Less chance of being spotted if anyone watched from inside. I checked the door. Locked. I motioned Crizlyk forward. He stepped up, pulling his ever-present lock picks from his pants. As we waited, he put the fruits of his misspent youth to good work. Quinitas raised his eyebrows. I smirked.
“I try to have well-rounded acquaintances,” I told him.
Criz had the lock open almost as quick as a key. He stepped back behind Liz. I looked at my companions. They all appeared ready. Except for Criz, who stood prepared to run.
I pushed the door open. It creaked once and then opened smoothly. Not loud enough to alert anyone inside. I hoped. I poked my head in and scanned the room.
Large five-foot tall burlap rectangles sat stacked three high on either side of the door, giving off their fibrous smell. Straight ahead an open space and more bundles. I listened but heard nothing unusual. “You sure he’s in here?” I asked.
“Yes, thirty feet northwest and below us.”
Below us. That most likely meant a cellar. Good. Cellars usually only had one entrance, which meant one exit. We could trap him down there. I slipped inside, and the others followed. I drew my wand. We might have the jump on our hob friend, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I went to the corner of the stacked burlap squares and peaked around.
At least a hundred goblinoids stood in the room, the closest only ten feet away.
14
My heart started beating again when I realized none of the gobs were looking my way. I also managed to keep from making a fool of myself by jumping back behind the boxes. Such a move would have earned me at least a snide remark from Quinitas.
Even though the gobs’ vision made illumination unnecessary, torches and lanterns had been placed around the stage and common area. Thick smoke drifted toward the high ceiling.
The crowd ran the gamut from boggart to ogre. They all stared at a wooden platform that stood about four feet off the ground. Posts had been erected on either side of the stage. Red banners with badly-painted yellow goblets on them hung from the posts. We hadn’t heard the gathered bobs because they weren’t talking. Or fidgeting. Or doing much of anything. They waited. It creeped me out, seeing them so disciplined. I motioned for Quinitas to join me. He stepped around and looked over my head.
“See the trapdoor?” His spell muted his voice so much I barely heard him.
I saw it. A set of hastily built stairs ran from the platform down to the floor, ending just shy of the door. It stood out because it was painted black, unlike the rest of the natural colored wood. “That’s where our guy is,” I said.
“Agreed,” Quinitas said. “But I don’t think we can get to him right now.”
“Something tells me he’ll come to us. He’s going to take the stage at some point.”
“Anyone want to tell me what’s going on?” Liz asked.
We both slipped back behind the burlap bales, and I filled Liz in.
“Do we think the sword is here?” she said.
“No idea,” I admitted, “but the one person who can tell us is here.”
“We can―” Liz started. Excited murmurs cut her off. I slipped back to peer around the corner. Quinitas took his position back over my head.
The trap door had opened. The gobs milled in excitement as they jostled to get the best view of the stage. We stood so close that if just one of them turned to look behind, we’d be spotted. Neither of us moved, wanting to see what would happen.
I felt the bundles move as if someone jerked on them. Liz scrabbled up the sides of the bales, her claws digging into the burlap. I had an idea what she had in mind. “Follow her,” I told Crizlyk. He shook his wide-eyed head. “If we’re spotted, you’re safer with her.”
He flitted toward the ceiling like a roach fleeing a torch.
The excitement swelled. I looked back to see the head and shoulders of my hobgoblin nemesis pop out of the floor. Cheers broke out as he emerged and climbed up the stairs. His female mate followed. She had something long and t
hin wrapped in a homespun blanket. I had a pretty good idea what it was.
They both stepped onto the stage, all tusks and smiles. The cheers grew louder. Clapping soon joined the noise. The two hobs strolled back and forth across the stage, soaking in the adulation. They had changed clothing. They now wore well-tailored shirts and pants of green silk that clashed with their skin. Over the right breast, a goblet was embroidered in red. They both had long velveteen capes draped over their shoulders as if they were nobles. hobgoblin nobles. The idea almost made me wretch.
As they basked in their imagined glory, I wanted to run up there, rip out her intestines, and strangle him with them. I held my anger. Dying wouldn’t help me get the falchion.
After way too long, the male hob held up his hands. The crowd silenced.
“Greetings, fellow GOBLET members.” Another burst of cheering and clapping. “We are here to report that we have returned with good news. Thanks to our skillful tailing of the witless dwarf, we have achieved a great victory.”
More frenetic cheering. I could feel Quinitas glaring down at me. I warred between who I wanted to smack more, the elf or the hob.
When the cheering died down, the hob went on. “With the power now in our hands, we can finally demand the Great Wizard listen to us.” He put so much venom in the words “Great Wizard” I wondered if Gosley’s ears smoked. I noted he didn’t say Gosley’s name. There were too many rumors that doing so would put you in his sights.
“Would you like to see the talisman that will finally get us the respect we deserve?”
Whoops, cheers, shouts of “Yes!” echoed off the rafters. I could have run past screaming that I was going to kill them all and no one would have noticed.
The male motioned to his mate. She stepped forward and held the bundle out to him. He began removing the cloth as gingerly as if he were unwrapping a baby.
“Okay, whatever I do,” I said, “be ready to back me up.”
“What are you going to do?” Quinitas asked.
“I don’t know yet, but it will probably be something stupid and dangerous. Just be ready to back me up.” I hoped Liz was ready, too. “And kill your silence spell.”
He hesitated and then nodded. “Be ready for anything,” he told his goons as he made a quick gesture of dismissal with his hands.
The hob finished his unwrapping. He reached down and held the falchion aloft. It gleamed gold in the torchlight. The shouting and cheers threatened to collapse the warehouse. The hob paraded the sword around, held above his head. The entranced gobs followed his every step as if he held the salvation of the world. I guess he did in their eyes. When he had them sufficiently enthralled, he lowered the weapon. The adulation stopped as quickly as if he had cut all their throats.
“With this weapon, we will make the Wizard recognize us,” the hob thundered. “Indeed, the whole city must recognize us. We will demand our rights, or we will destroy them all!”
The joyous shrieking was about to start again. Before it happened, I stepped out. In my loudest voice, I said, “I’ve shit smarter plans than that.”
It was loud enough. Gasps came from several throats as every face turned toward me. A troll grunted in surprise. Quinitas and his orc ducklings fell in behind me.
The hob on the stage lowered the sword and looked toward me, squinting to spot me. “Step aside,” he told his minions. “I can’t see who’s talking.”
They split apart as quick as a stone hit with a chisel. The hob stared at the four of us standing there. He frowned. “I thought you were dead.”
“Sorry, still kicking,” I said. “Much as you tried to change that.”
“I did nothing of the sort,” the hob said. “We fled if you recall.”
“Of course you did, when the psychotic flame mage showed up. Before that, you punched me in the face.”
“And I had twenty men with wands pointing at you. Yet here you stand, alive and well. I have no quarrel with you. I do have a quarrel with your tall friend.”
“Then you have a quarrel with me,” I said. “He’s my client.”
“I thought his sister was your client.”
“She was. Things have changed. Our interests no longer coincide.”
“And yet you work with her brother.”
“Our interests do coincide. For the moment.”
The hob shook his head and made a tsk sound of pity. “Cooperating with an elf. What would your parents say?”
“Assuming I still talked to them, they would say, ‘We hope you’re getting paid well or at least doing something good.’ And I would say, ‘The pay’s been shit so far, but I might be helping divert a horrible catastrophe.’”
“Catastrophe?” the hob wrinkled his mouth as if he was tasting the word. “If you’re goblinkind, this city is already a catastrophe.” He walked to the edge of the stage. “Why don’t you come closer, so we don’t have to shout at each other?”
I looked at the various goblinoids before me. Malice filled every one of their beady eyes. I had no compelling reason to put myself in the midst of them. “I’m fine, and you seem comfortable screaming from a stage.”
The hob shook his head. “We shouldn’t be enemies. You’re just as marginalized as we are. Don’t you get tired of being looked down on, and not just because you’re short? Aren’t you sick of snide comments from elves and humans? And even halflings. Sick of being treated as if you’re less than they are?”
“I am,” I said. “But do you really think pulling a couple of demons in from the Abyss is the best way to get your point across?”
“I think it’s the only way to get our point across,” the hob said. “We’ve tried protests. We’ve tried petitions. We’ve even tried pleading! We’ve tried to do it the right way. And all it’s gotten us is spit on, laughed at, and pushed even further aside.” Grumblings and mutters of assent from his followers. “So when Calithan sent us word of what his master was creating—his real master, not that elf bitch who enslaved him—it was a sign from Gratash the Powerful that it was our time to step to the fore.”
Cheers erupted. I glanced at Quinitas. His jaw had clenched at the insult to his sister even though he knew what she was. Family loyalty is a strange thing.
When the noise died down, the hob continued. “It is time for GOBLET to take the lead and better the world for our people. Time for—”
“You have no idea how powerful what you’ve got is, do you?” I shouted.
“We know exactly how powerful it is,” he said. “Calithan told us Silas had built a great machine for the Greenstreet Clan. The falchion was the final piece to make the machine work. With the falchion in our possession and knowledge of the machine’s location, we would have the city under our thumb. They would give us what we want, or we would summon the Demon Twins and have them raze the city to the ground.”
“Leaving you with what?” I said. “A charred ruin. That makes no sense. Besides, it does you no good if you don’t know where the machine is.”
“We don’t, but I bet the elf does.”
I looked back at Quinitas. “Do you?”
“I do.”
His flat admission so shocked me that someone could have breathed toward me and I would have fallen over. “Where?”
“I’m not going to tell you. And I’m not going to tell this lot.” He raised his voice. “Because I also know it’s so heavily guarded that you wouldn’t stand a chance of making it in, not with twice the numbers you have here.”
“How long have you known where the machine is?”
“Since I’ve known about the sword.”
“And you swear to me you want to destroy the sword, not use it to summon the demons yourself?”
“I would think you know me better than that by now. I’m arrogant, yes. It’s my birthright to be so. I’m not psychotic. My sister has that mantle for herself. I swear on the honor of my Clan that I want to destroy the sword.”
Siralanna aside, I did believe Clan Greenstreet had honor. Still, Qu
initas knew some dark magic. Maybe—
He saw me hesitate. “As a Clanmage, I am bound to protect my Clan from anything that would destroy it. Using the sword for its purpose would do exactly that.” His golden eyes turned hard as the metal of their color. “I want to melt it into slag.”
He convinced me. I nodded and gave an ear-piercing whistle. “Liz!”
From somewhere between the roof and the top of the burlap bundles, an arrow flew through the air. It struck the hob in the upper arm. He screamed and dropped the sword. It clanged to the stage, followed by a splash of the hob’s blood.
Eyes turned to see the commotion. I drew my wand and pointed it toward the hob. “The next one goes through your skull,” I said. A hundred pairs of eyes glared at me. Their pure malice had transformed to deadly anger. If stares could kill, I would have been disintegrated where I stood.
“I’ve come to realize you’re not evil,” I said. “Just painfully misguided. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to leave out the back door along with your minions. You’re going to leave the sword behind. We’re going to take the sword and destroy it. You’re all going to live to fight your rebellion another day, another way.”
I saw an orc reaching for his wand. I pointed mine at him. “If someone does anything stupid, I’m going to open fire. The elf behind me is going to start flinging destruction spells like confetti.” I smiled as I felt the tingle of energy gathering at my back. “It’ll be a hell of a lot of fun.”
I looked at the hob. He snarled at me with fury in his eyes. He glanced up to where the arrow that almost skewered him came from. I chanced a peep and saw Liz up there, bow nocked, arrow aimed. Criz stood behind her, barely visible. The hob turned his head back to me. “You’re making a huge mistake.”
“Possibly, but I’m willing to take that chance.”
The hob moved to pick up the sword. I stepped up with my wand and shook my head.
He straightened. “At my command, every one of these freedom fighters would be on you, your shit-licking elf, and his orc ass-kissers.”
“Yes,” Quinitas said before I could speak. “And it would take you months to replace your losses before you took me down, assuming you were even alive to recruit anyone.”