Oswald grabbed the arm of another soldier. “Please, any news. Anything at all.”
“Shove off,” said the second soldier. He yanked his arm away and trudged on.
Oswald looked up across the ranks of men and saw the Duke. “Your Grace!” he cried. He elbowed his way through the men toward the Duke. “Your Grace, I am looking for news of my daughter. She was taken by the dragon.”
From atop his charger, the Duke looked down at Oswald. “Who is this old fool?” he said to one of his lieutenants.
“I expect he’s the village idiot or something,” said the lieutenant.
“Then give him a thumping and send him on his way,” said the Duke. He waved his hand in dismissal.
Oswald saw the wagon with Just Alice and the boy in chains. His heart filled with joy and horror at the same time. She had been saved from the dragon only to be delivered up to the Duke. “No, please, Your Grace,” said Oswald. “My daughter’s a good girl. Please let her go.”
The Duke stopped his horse. He pointed to Just Alice and said, “You’re this girl’s father?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” said Oswald. “But whatever she’s accused of, it can’t be true. She’s a dutiful girl who knows her place.” This wasn’t entirely true, but it didn’t seem like the right moment for the truth.
“Seize him,” said the Duke. “The girl will make less trouble if we have her father.”
The Duke’s men grabbed Oswald, slapped him in irons and dumped him into the back of the wagon.
Elsewhere in Middlebury, the unexpected arrival of a large group of heavily armed men quite naturally set off alarms. The town’s few defenders were badly outnumbered. The Earl rubbed his temples vigorously. The dragon was bad enough. If Middlebury was overrun, he would be a laughingstock. There was a good chance he would also be dead. But people would still laugh at him.
He rode out to meet the company and challenge its commander to personal combat. Given his age, the Earl did not care for his chances, but he had to do something. He found the company out on the edge of town, and issued his challenge. “Who goes there? Be you friend of Middlebury or—” When he saw the Princess, he vaulted from his saddle and knelt before her with surprising speed and grace. “Your Highness, how it gladdens me to see you safely delivered from the evil clutches of the foul beast.”
Princess Alice glanced back at Duke Geoffrey, her face filled with fear.
“I take it you mean the dragon,” said Duke Geoffrey.
“Your Grace, greetings be upon you,” said the Earl. “I certainly hope I meant the dragon. Pray tell me there are no other foul beasts preying upon our poor kingdom.”
“No foul beasts at all, for the dragon has been defeated and driven from the land,” said Duke Geoffrey. He smiled broadly. “And more joy still, Princess Alice has most generously agreed to be my wife.”
“Has she?” said the Earl, glancing uneasily at the size of the Duke’s company. “Why then, congratulations, Your Grace.” To Princess Alice, he added, “And best of luck to you, Your Highness.”
The Duke pursed his lips. “Best wishes,” he said. “One traditionally offers best wishes to the bride.”
“Oh, dear,” said the Earl. For some reason, the Duke had taken Oswald the Sage and his daughter, Alice, prisoner. Even more unlikely, the Earl’s own Magan hung from the side of the wagon they were shackled in. The Earl carefully avoided looking in their direction. “What did I say?”
“You said ‘best of luck.’ ”
“Did I? I’m afraid I’ve gotten a little foggy with age,” said the Earl. Out of the corner of his eye, the Earl studied Magan. There were several new dents in her, along with two strange crunched-in bits along the edge. The paint was chipped and scratched all over, nearly half gone. The Earl wondered if someone had gone sledding on her. “Please do forgive me.”
“Of course I forgive you,” said Princess Alice.
“Yes, we forgive you,” said Duke Geoffrey. “And as proof, let me invite you to join us as we ride to Farnham to seek the King’s blessing.”
“A generous invitation,” said the Earl. “Most kind, indeed, but travel is hard and, as I said, I am an old man.”
Duke Geoffrey leaned forward in his saddle. His smile vanished. “You’re quite sure you won’t come?”
“My wife is doing poorly. I should not leave her side,” said the Earl. “I must decline.”
“That saddens me,” said the Duke.
“Surely you have but to look to your radiant bride and all care will melt away,” said the Earl. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to my wife.” Without waiting for a response, the Earl jumped back onto his horse and rode off. The Earl might have been an old man, but he was not an old fool. The size of Duke Geoffrey’s body of men, Oswald and his daughter taken hostage, his own Magan seized and, most especially, the look of fear in Princess Alice’s eyes—the Earl knew what all of it meant: he had to beat Duke Geoffrey to Farnham.
He rode toward his castle until he was out of the Duke’s sight. Then he turned down a series of side alleys and rode around the back of the market. At the edge of town, he took the foot trail that ran toward the old mill. After a few miles, he came to the low stone wall that marked the far side of Evan the Broad’s cow fields. Judging that he had gone far enough, he followed the wall north to where it met the Stanhope Road.
Horses gallop faster than men in armor march, so the Earl had a lead on the Duke despite taking the back way. Just how much of a lead, however, he had no way of knowing. Hard as it might be on a man his age, the Earl thundered down the road as though the Foul One himself rode at his heels.
The great ship lay snug in her berth in Farnham’s harbor. A long line of porters carried crate after crate down the gangplank. Casimir stood on the deck and watched them with satisfaction. Then one of them stumbled and nearly lost his footing. A large wooden crate pitched forward wildly and began to slip off his back. With a mighty grunt, the porter righted both himself and the crate. The porter was a brawny man.
“Be careful, you oaf,” Casimir called down at him. “Those silks are worth ten of you.”
The porter squinted up at Casimir for a moment before letting go of the crate. It dropped to the pier with an almighty crash. “Sorry, sir,” said the porter. “It slipped.” He jumped down onto the pier and joined the crowd of porters waiting to come back up onto the ship.
“You did that on purpose!” shouted Casimir. “Curse you! I’ll report you to the harbormaster! I’ll have you flogged! I’ll—” But it was too late. As soon as the porter joined his fellows, Casimir lost track of him. Stanhopers were all pale as ghosts; they all looked alike. Maybe the harbormaster would agree to flog the whole lot of them. Casimir spun on his heel and found himself face to face with the Factor. “Where’ve you been?”
“Sorry, sir,” said the Factor. “I was indisposed.” He did look a little green.
“Wanted to squeeze one last sick out of the trip, eh?” said Casimir.
“I wouldn’t say that I regret our arrival,” said the Factor. He gazed out over the rooftops of Farnham. “And it does look like a pleasant little village.”
“Opportunities never look promising,” said Casimir. “If they did, someone would have snapped them up already.”
“I’m quite sure you’re right,” said the Factor in a tone that suggested just the opposite.
“Hang your lip,” said Casimir. “Now, keep an eye on these stumblefoots. They’ll drop my cargo in the ocean if they can get away with it. Little men always want to take their betters down a notch.”
When Just Alice and Oswald were reunited, they cried and kissed each other on the cheek. They also tried to hug, but the chains made that impossible. Oswald said how worried he had been. Just Alice took this the wrong way, so she pointed out that Oswald’s getting himself taken hostage meant that she would now have him to worry about. And when Oswald looked a little hurt by her saying so, they had to cry and kiss and fail to hug each other again.
Dinner was just bread and a scoop of beans. While they ate, a nearby group of soldiers built up a great fire. One of the guards nudged another and pointed. Around the fire, the soldiers were passing wineskins. One after another, the guards got up to join the soldiers. When only one guard was left, he checked the shackles of the four prisoners before joining the other guards and soldiers around the fire.
“What happened?” said Oswald once he was gone.
With a few interruptions from the boy, Just Alice told Oswald the story of her rescue, the Princess’s rescue and the Duke’s treachery.
When she was done, Oswald simply nodded. He thought for a long moment and said to the boy, “Son, the debt that I owe you is one that can never be repaid. If ever there is any service I can perform for you, you have but to name it.”
“Thank you, sir,” said the boy. “Maybe you could think of a way to escape?”
Oswald stroked his beard a moment. “That might be a little too…practical for a sage,” he said. “Perhaps your goblin friend could help—”
“Do not insult me, sir,” said Mennofar.
“And it’s no good me asking him if this scheme or that plan can work,” said the boy. “He’ll just say yes, because it’s the future, and very nearly everything is possible.”
Mennofar smiled his pointy-toothed smile.
“I see. I see,” said Oswald. He leaned in and whispered, “Still, I’m pretty sure we’ll be rescued soon.”
Just Alice leaned in, too. “What? How?”
“The Earl saw right through the Duke,” said Oswald. “I’m sure of it. You saw how he acted.”
“I thought that was because his wife was sick,” said Just Alice. “Why am I the only one who misses these things?”
“I missed it, too,” said the boy, earning himself a smile from Just Alice. “Besides, so what if he did?”
“He’ll be riding to Farnham to warn the King,” said Oswald. “And the King will send the army to rescue us.”
“Rescue the Princess, anyway,” said Just Alice.
“We’ll be rescued along the way,” said Oswald. “You can stake your life on it.”
“We do not have much choice in the matter,” said Mennofar.
That thought stopped the conversation dead. Everyone sat in silence for a moment, staring into the inky dark of the night sky. Finally, Just Alice said, “Papa might be able to help free you in another way.”
“What other way?” said the boy. He rattled his chains at her.
Mennofar grumbled a little.
“Papa is a terribly clever man, and he knows all kinds of things,” said Just Alice. “He’s a fully qualified sage.” In the dark, she slid her hand into the boy’s. “And he can be trusted with a secret.”
“Yes, of course,” said Oswald. “Whatever this matter is, you may rest assured that I will never reveal it.”
The boy hesitated.
“Do you want me to tell him?” said Just Alice.
“No,” said the boy, and he told Oswald his story, from the murder of Tibor to the day the two of them met.
When he was done, Oswald said, “Well, that is quite a story.”
The boy nodded.
“And you, sir?” said Oswald to Mennofar. “You still will not simply reveal the truth?”
“My honor as a goblin forbids it,” said Mennofar. He smiled toothily.
“Very well,” said Oswald. “To sum up, for as long as you can remember you have been held as a slave by this man Casimir—do interrupt me if I get something wrong—and what we know from Mennofar’s answers is that you were not born free nor were you freed. And finally, we know from his answers that you are not a slave, is that right?”
“Yes,” said the boy. “The problem is how to prove it. Maybe some obscure point of law or—”
“Based only on what you have told me,” said Oswald with great drama, “I already know that one of the answers Mennofar has given is false.”
“An outrageous suggestion,” said Mennofar.
“Really?” said the boy. “Which one?”
“Oh, I haven’t the foggiest idea,” said Oswald, stroking his beard.
It was too much. “How? How?” said the boy. “How can you know one is false if you don’t know which one?” Tears filled the boy’s eyes.
Oswald patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said. “I know it by logic. If several things, taken together, lead to a contradiction, then at least one must be false. Here, everything we know says that you both are and are not a slave. That is not possible. Therefore, at least one of the things we know is false.”
The boy looked at him expectantly.
“Unfortunately, logic cannot tell us which one,” said Oswald.
“Well, then logic can go hang,” said the boy. “What else have you got?”
Oswald said nothing.
“Well?” said the boy angrily. “What is it? Am I a slave? Is that it?”
“Yes,” said Mennofar.
“No fair. That wasn’t one of my questions,” said the boy. “I was talking to— Wait, what did you say?”
“I said yes,” said Mennofar. “By all the laws of the Kingdoms, you are a slave.”
“A slave?” said the boy. “How can I be a slave?”
Mennofar put a sad expression on his face. “It is with some regret,” he said, “that I will be obliged to ask that you put that request to me in the form of a yes-or-no question, or, perhaps more realistically, a series of yes-or-no—”
“Mennofar!” snapped Just Alice.
“All right, all right,” said Mennofar. He turned to the boy. “Your mother’s name was Reka, and she was born to a peasant family in High Albemarle. One year, there was a drought, and the crops failed. When his tenants could not pay their rents, the Count of Mossglum took one child from each family instead. Reka was sold to Casimir and grew up a slave in his household.
“Your father’s name was Kelemen, and his people were vassals of the Duke of Esterly. The Duke tried to overthrow the King of High Albemarle. He pressed all of his vassals into a great army and met the King’s forces in battle. The Duke was defeated and hanged. His soldiers were all sold into slavery.
“Kelemen, along with many others, was put to work loading and unloading Casimir’s ships. Reka’s duties included cooking for the dock slaves. She grew fond of Kelemen and slipped him extra food, little treats, that sort of thing. Eventually, um…er…well, in the way these things happen, you came along,” said Mennofar. “Your mother was a slave, your father was a slave, and so, by law, are you.”
“What happened to Reka and Kelemen?” said Just Alice.
“And what about my father’s ring?” said the boy. “If he was nothing but a slave, where did it come from?”
“Not long before you were born, Casimir sold a great many of his slaves, including Kelemen,” said Mennofar. “Reka and Kelemen did not want to lose each other, and they did not want you to be born into slavery. So Reka stole a hammer and snuck into the warehouse where Kelemen and the others were chained up, waiting for the ship that would take them away. They used the hammer to break his chain and escape. But they were caught before they made it out of Albemarle City. Kelemen was hanged on the spot, but Casimir wanted something back on the loss of two slaves. They waited until after you were born to hang Reka. Your ring is the link of chain Reka and Kelemen broke to escape.”
“You told me I was supposed to be free,” said the boy. His mind raced and he had trouble catching his breath. The image of Tibor’s body with one eye pointed slackly down came to the boy’s mind for the first time in months. Even though he had known what Rodrigo was going to
do, he had just closed his eyes. Doing the utmost to save his master was the duty of every slave, but he had done nothing to save Tibor. When Mennofar had told him he was not a slave, he had let himself think he was off the hook for that. Now that he knew better, a clutch closed in around his heart.
“I wish things were different,” said Mennofar, and he even turned a little darker to prove how sad he was.
“You tricked me,” said the boy. One by one, the Ninety-Nine Duties of a Slave marched through his head. He had violated nearly all of them. He had even let himself feel hatred for his master. He turned away to hide the tears forming in his eyes. “I turned renegade because of you. I defied the will of my master—of the gods.”
“No need to give me so much credit as that,” said Mennofar. “You ran away all on your own. Before we ever met.”
And it was true. “You’re right,” said the boy. “I only believed you because I wanted it to be true.” The boy sank even lower. He had defied his fate and denied Casimir his due. He knew there would be a price to pay for such selfishness. His gut went soft at the thought of burning in the fire and serving the Foul One in the Pit. Forever.
“Hang on,” said Just Alice. “You can’t be both a slave and not a slave, can you?”
“No,” admitted the boy.
Mennofar smiled. His skin turned a rich emerald green.
“So are you sure he really told you that you weren’t?” said Just Alice.
“Of course,” said the boy.
“But how did he tell you?” said Just Alice. “What words did he use?”
“I said, ‘Am I really a slave?’ ” said the boy. “And he said no.”
“Mennofar?” said Just Alice.
Smiling even more broadly, Mennofar shook his head.
Just Alice looked straight into the boy’s eyes. “What, precisely, was the question you asked him?”
“Um,” said the boy. “Uh…” He racked his brain, but it was hard to think with Just Alice’s gaze boring into him.
“The question, precisely as put to me,” said Mennofar, “was, ‘Am I truly and justly a slave?’ ”
The Goblin's Puzzle Page 15