Where There Be Humans

by Rebekah L. Purdy

  “Well, half-blood, you’ve managed to embarrass me again,” he seethed. “But this will be the last time.”

  I stood, arms crossed over my chest. “I’d say it was a fair fight. It isn’t my fault you can’t wield a blade as well as I can.”

  He took a step closer, his chest puffed up like a beast in heat. “You’ll never be more than a goblin peasant, Ivy. No one wants a halfer.” Vane spat on my boots.

  My face grew warm, and I gulped in several breaths, trying to stay composed, to be the better person. But tears burned in my eyes. Why did it matter that I wasn’t full-blood? I was still a goblin.

  And something else.

  A giggle sounded from nearby, and I glanced up to see Birdie Dundry smirking. I hated her almost as much as Vane. The two of them deserved each other like a pair of arse cheeks.

  Pudge stood up beside me. “Apologize right now,” he said.

  “Not a chance.”

  “What did you say?” Pudge reached for the collar of his shirt.

  “You heard me, Wayfarer. I’m not apologizing to her.”

  Dorian glowered, coming up from behind him. “He might not be able to make you apologize, Vane Girt, but I can. You either apologize to Ivy Archer or I can make arrangements to have you put on gutter duty, or worse.”

  Pulling the prince card. Dorian only did that when he was really upset. For the most part, he tried to fit in—kind of like me.

  Vane’s fists clenched at his sides, and his face twisted in rage. “I’m sorry.”

  “Say it like you mean it.” Pudge tightened his grip on Vane’s tunic, jerking him forward.

  Dorian smiled. “Yes, tell Lady Ivy you’re sorry and mean it.”

  “I—I’m sorry for calling you a half-blood,” Vane stammered as others gathered around.

  Dorian motioned for Pudge to release him and waved Amos over. “Bring him down to muck out the stalls. He’s not to be released until the end of classes.”

  “Yes, your highness,” Amos said and grabbed Vane by the arm.

  As Amos led him away, I had a feeling Vane wasn’t finished with me and somehow he’d see I was put in my place.

  Pudge frowned, then ripped a section of cloth from the bottom of his tunic and knelt down in front of me, where he wiped the spit from my worn boots.

  “You—you didn’t have to do that,” I said. “Please stand up, Pudge.”

  The rage drained from his features. “It was nothing. I mean, it was really the prince that stopped him.”

  That might be true, but it was Pudge who’d first come to my defense. My legs trembled beneath me. Every time he smiled at me, I wanted to sing and dance and race through the village, shouting his name. Which of course was as crazy as the bones Pudge carried around. I definitely wasn’t about to tell him all that, either. We’d been so close for so long. Besides, it was probably just all the time we’d been spending together…or at least that’s what I told myself.

  I sighed, catching Birdie’s sharp glance. And I’d angered yet another goblin. But this one had claws as well as high hopes of snagging Dorian’s attention, and she unsheathed those claws any time he even looked at another female.

  “Back to class,” Headmistress Kimblay said.

  We sat through more hours of history, map and star reading, then painting and mathematics. When the school bell tolled, I said goodbye to Pudge and headed across the main yard of the palace, following the line of lanterns still twinkling in the darkness. Vane watched me like a predator stalking its prey.

  “Why don’t you let me escort you home?” Amos appeared at my side, carrying a lantern. “My shift’s over, and you’re on my way.”

  “You don’t have to,” I began.

  “Sure I do. You’re not allowed to be out after school by yourself. Your father’s rules, or have you forgotten them?” Amos chuckled. He knew about my wild romps through the village and the numerous fights I’d been in over the years. Okay, so did half of Gob Hollow. But I was getting better. It’d been months since I’d done anything foolish. I didn’t exactly have time for anything but training, school, and sleeping. But Father insisted I come right home.

  The streets were quiet, shadows clinging to the sides of the stone buildings. Hob Market was winding down, and the vendors and dealers packed up their stands, putting their unsold items back into carts. Younglings clung to their parents as everyone bustled home to eat their late meal.

  Amos and I walked in silence toward the outskirts of the village. We came to the narrow pathway that led to my house, built into the upper levels of stone. Along the path were several small shops. The owners were dimming candles and getting ready to close for the night.

  “Well, here you are, delivered safe and sound.” Amos gave me a pat on the shoulder. “And so you know, all of us guards are rooting for you. The council is foolish if they don’t pick you for the Mission.”

  I laughed. “You’re just saying that because you trained me.”

  “I suppose you’re right. See you tomorrow—and before the bell tolls, I hope.” He waved.

  “I’ll try.”

  Slipping down the path, I jumped when the door to Benchley’s Books and Baubles flew open.

  “Psst, Lady Ivy,” Gob Benchley whispered, sticking his head out like a tortoise peeking from its shell.

  He held the door open farther, and with a quick glance over my shoulder, I darted inside. The scent of musty books soothed me, and I stared at the lone candle glowing on the table. Shelf upon shelf was lined deep with books. I could almost taste the written word in the air around us. It felt homey, welcoming.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  The elderly goblin hobbled about to close the shutters, then to his desk, where he produced a key and unlocked the rollaway top of the desk.

  “I had something come in that you might be interested in.” He grinned, his wrinkled skin looking like a month-old mushroom. He leaned closer. “A book on humans.”

  That got my attention. My heart collided with my ribs, and a gasp escaped my lips. “What? Where did you get it?”

  He knew of my illegal research. How much I wanted to find out where I’d come from. Because I did have a few similar qualities to humans—or at least what I’d read of them sounded like I did.

  “A peddler from the Outer Realm stopped in today.” Gob Benchley handed me the leather-bound book.

  The title read: Where There Be Humans.

  Indeed, exactly what I wanted to know. Excitement raced through me. “Are there pictures?” I asked, flipping through it.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know. But I think you’ll find the information of high quality. According to the peddler, there are detailed accounts of how they live and dress. Someone even sketched a map of the land beyond the Outer Realm. But don’t you go telling anyone about this, or it’ll be the death of me.”

  “I promise.”

  Okay, so most goblins believed humans were fairy tales. But I didn’t. I believed these fantastic creatures existed. Father, of course, didn’t want me reading about them or trying to live in a world of make-believe. If he knew about my secret stash of books, he’d tie me up in the gutters and force me to do hard labor for a month.

  “How much?” I asked, breathless.

  “Two pieces,” he said.

  I dug through the purse belted at my waist and handed over the coins. This book was well worth it. Shoving my purchase into the pack, I thanked Benchley and hurried back down the path. I’d have just enough time to eat late meal before meeting up with Pudge.

  Tonight, I was going to get some answers, either from the Archives or from my new book.

  Chapter Three

  Narrow stairs made of carved rock led up to our estate. A wooden archway beckoned me into the main yard. Fruit trees lined either side of the walkway; chest-high stone walls surrounded the property
. Moonlight illuminated the lone bench near the fountain, a place I often went to read. The warm breeze shifted, grasping hold of my hair like invisible hands.

  With a sigh, I moved toward the wall and peered down at Gob Hollow. I could just make out the palace in the distance and the shops and homes below.

  “There ye are.” Cook rubbed her hands on a cloth. “Yer meal’s going to be cold if ye don’t come in and eat.”

  “You always say that, and it burns my mouth like I’ve sucked down boiling water.” I ambled to the door and into the house. “I’ve got to put my things away, then I’ll be down.”

  Stone floors echoed my footfalls as I grabbed a lantern and headed up another flight of stairs. They spiraled around until I stepped onto the white marble floor of the second wing. Old paintings of ancestors and scenes of Gob Hollow lined either side of the hallway. Wrought iron sconces were evenly spaced between the rooms, casting eerie silhouettes. When I got to the end of the corridor, I shoved open the heavy wooden door. Making sure Cook wasn’t behind me, I hurried to my armoire. Click. The hidden door at the back unlatched, and I unlocked a second door carved into the wall and slid my newest book inside with the others.

  Over the past year, I’d been doing research on my possible lineage. The urge to know my ancestry kept me up when I should be sleeping. If I got caught by the wrong person, I could face a hefty punishment, like imprisonment. However, the need to know outweighed the risk.

  Before going back down to the dining hall, I set out my cloak, hiding my dagger beneath it, and then ran a brush through my long hair.

  “Make sure ye wash up before ye sit down to eat,” Cook hollered from the kitchen, the scent of her infamous pork stew and bread wafting in the air.

  A basin of water sat on a counter at the back of the dining hall, a cloth laid out for drying my hands. Two places were set at the mahogany table, a decanter of wine and a decanter of juice sitting in the center.

  Flames flicked in the marble fireplace, the head of a stag hanging above it. Its lifeless eyes seemed to stare right through me. A log in the fire crackled, making me jump. What was wrong with me? Dumb question. I was about to break into one of the most important buildings in Gob Hollow. A building I’d barely seen the outside of, let alone the inside.

  “Just stay calm,” I whispered.

  “What’d ye say?” Cook came into the dining hall with a cast-iron pan of stew, followed closely by a servant carrying a platter of hot bread.

  Forcing a smile, I walked over to the table and sat down. “Nothing, just muttering to myself.”

  “Are we to expect yer father this evening?”

  “No, the council has meetings to get through.”

  Cook slopped some stew into a wooden bowl, then cut a chunk of bread off and handed it to me. “So all the talk about a Mission is true?”

  “Yes.” It was hard to hide my excitement.

  “And I suppose ye want to go?” Her robust body filled the chair across from me.

  “More than anything. Dorian”—I began—“I mean, Prince Dorian said he’d put in a good word for me.”

  “Like ye need a good word from him,” Cook said under her breath.

  “What?” I squeaked, trying not to laugh.

  “Never ye mind. But don’t think I haven’t noticed how much ye been talking with him. Or how he’s joined us the last few Hagsdays for picnics.” Cook reached over and patted my hand. “Do ye fancy him?”

  “No. I mean, he’s great with a sword but not really my type. Too pretty. And even if I did think of him that way, he’s the prince, and I’m only a half-blood.”

  Cook slammed her fist down on the table, and I jumped, nearly knocking my bowl of soup over. “He didn’t tell ye that, did he?”

  “No, he didn’t say anything of the sort.” My voice softened. “But I know what everyone thinks of me.”

  “So do I. They think yer beautiful and a good warrior. The Hag’s arse if I don’t hear Amos down at the tavern telling everyone about yer fighting abilities.” Cook dipped her bread into her bowl. “Yer something special, Ivy girl. Just because a few eejit nobles’ kids talk bad about ye doesn’t mean yer less.”

  “Do you think I’ve got a chance to go on the Mission?”

  Another servant came around and poured me a glass of juice. I took a sip, letting the tart taste of apples trickle down my throat.

  Cook grinned. “I do. Between yer father and Councilor Wayfarer and all your extra training, they’d be foolish not to send ye. But let’s not worry about that; tell me about yer day. Hag knows I’ve heard enough rumors about ye swinging into the courtyard for class.”

  I went on to tell her about school and Vane, and even the part about Dorian and Pudge standing up for me. And when I finished, I heard the distant toll of the bell. I jumped to my feet.

  “Listen, I’ve got to meet Pudge for an evening walk before bed.” I rushed toward the stairs to grab my cloak and dagger.

  “Oh no ye don’t, girly! Yer father said no going out after late meal.” Cook stood, hand on her hip. Her eyes narrowed at me.

  “We’re just going for a walk,” I insisted. “And we need to discuss our strategies for getting on the list.” Please believe me. Sometimes it stunk having a nosy household.

  Cook threw her hands in the air. “Fine, but I tell ye what, if ye so much as get into an argument or bit of trouble with anyone in the village, so help me I’ll take a switch to yer backside.”

  Cook always threatened this and rarely followed through—but she still sent the fear of the Hag through me. “Thanks. I owe you.” I ran up the stairs.

  “Ye owe me more than once,” she called after me.

  With my cloak secured and my dagger belted at my waist, I hurried out the door and down the path. Gob Benchley had gone home for the night, his store now dark. Music from the tavern echoed off the stone, the smell of pipe smoke and ale heavy in the air.

  Curious, I brushed off one of the dingy windows to peer in and saw Amos and some of the other guards tossing back pints.

  “I thought ye were going for a walk?” Cook said, suddenly behind me.

  “Ahh!” I screamed and spun to face her, catching my breath. “You scared me to death.”

  Cook’s eyes narrowed. “The tavern is no place for ye. Now move along.”

  A smile tugged at my lips. “Say, were you heading in there?”

  “That’ll be none of yer business. Ye have yer fun, and I’ll have mine. But don’t ye dare be out til dawn. Ye know bedtime is before sunup.” Cook pushed around me and into the tavern.

  With a chuckle, I continued down through the village. Darkness seeped in from every corner. The dim lanterns swinging back and forth from the posts along the road did little to light my way. As I came around to the Stone Arch, I spotted something atop one of the roofs. It was crouched down, wings spread behind it. But it stood so still, as if it were dead.

  I screeched, backing up against the wall. Just then, moonlight peeked through the cloud cover, revealing Gob Artisan’s stone gargoyles. “Brilliant, let a hunk of rock scare you stupid,” I grumbled to myself, the grip on my dagger handle loosening.

  “Who goes there?” a guard called from his perch as I approached the palace gates.

  “Lady Ivy Archer.”

  The guard motioned for the door to be opened and waved me through. “You heading to your quarters at the palace?” Looking up, I recognized him as Raleigh, Amos’s nephew.

  “Yes. Father is in meetings tonight, so I thought I’d bring him a change of clothes for tomorrow.”

  “Very good. Take care, milady.” He bowed, and I walked through.

  Talk about dense. He didn’t even notice I wasn’t carrying clothing. With a glance over my shoulder, I made sure he faced the village before I veered away from the palace and headed down a hidden path. Hedges lined either side of the walk,
and statues holding lanterns stood every few feet. Tree branches hung over the path like a roof made of greenery.

  My heart thudded in my chest as I approached the granite archway leading into the yard of the Gob Archives…and I gasped. The structure was built of white marble; twelve columns surrounded the whole thing, and lanterns hung from the ceiling, twinkling like stars. In front of each column sat a bench and a statue representing each of the Twelve Hag virtues: Strength, Power, Kindness, Purity, Wisdom, Stealth, Charity, Bravery, Dependability, Faith, Honor, and Loyalty.

  The Goblin Hag was a goddess witch of sorts. It was said that when goblins first came to be, she’d bless them with certain virtues. She was the strongest being, but one day the darkness had tricked her, killing her and sending her soul to the stars. Goblins still prayed to her, as she supposedly would give favor to certain goblins or even punish others.

  I shivered at the last thought. When I glanced back to the statues, I noticed the one wielding a sword seemed to stare right through me, as though questioning my strength and courage. My blood thrummed in my ears. Then the statue’s eyes opened, and I felt the flesh on my back burn.

  Pain dropped me to my knees, the impact forcing the air from my lungs. “Oof!”

  What was going on? Frantic, I searched the courtyard. When I looked at the statue again, its eyes were shut. “I must be imagining things,” I whispered.

  I climbed to my feet, the skin between my shoulder blades stinging like I’d just been flogged with Kimblay’s switch. As I neared the Archives, I searched for Pudge, who was still nowhere to be found. He’d better not have bailed on me.

  A rustling in the trees had me diving for cover, and then I heard the sound of groans coming from above.

  “Ivy, is that you?”

  “Pudge?” There he was, hanging from the tree in a net. “How in the witch’s tit did you manage this?”

  “The King’s Council has this place guarded by booby traps. I stepped into one.”

  They’d definitely caught a booby, all right. “Well, hang on while I cut you down,” I said.