Mocklore Box Set (Mocklore Chronicles)

by Tansy Rayner Roberts

  Lady Talle gave him a sharp look. “I presume there has been no word from Silversword as yet.”

  “No word, my Lady,” Griffin acknowledged. He hesitated. “Are you sure that he is trustworthy?”

  Talle’s eyes were flinty. “Of course he is trustworthy. I would trust him with your life.”

  The Gathering Hall was an immense cavern with bright bunting and fairy lights looped all around the walls. A huge mirror ball hung in the centre of it all, reflecting light outwards in a thoroughly misleading way.

  Kassa, with a recently-released Aragon trailing behind her, was stopped at the door by a woman with disturbingly black lips. “You will remove all weapons before entering,” she pronounced. Many weapons, most flickering from hidden to visible, were already heaped by the entrance.

  Aragon had no weapons because they had already been taken from him by the mercenaries.

  Kassa removed two daggers and a long coil of sharp wire from her right boot and pulled eighteen glittering spikes out of her left boot. Then she peeled up the hem of her dragon-scale coat, revealing several tiny darts which she handled very carefully. From her belt she discarded two leather pouches full of sand, a pair of embroidery shears and a small mace. From her bodice, she produced a whip with metallic edging. A slender, icy knife had been braided under her hair.

  Aragon watched this disarming process thoughtfully. Kassa looked up once and met his gaze. “I would not have been your prisoner long, Silversword. I did not need Daggar’s pet army to rescue me.”

  “I believe you,” he replied.

  Having unloaded most of her concealed weapons, Kassa noticed that it was quite warm in the Gathering Hall, and she began to remove her dragon-scale coat.

  Remembering the invisible gauze just in time, Aragon’s hand grasped her shoulder firmly. “Trust me. Keep the coat on.”

  Kassa looked as if she was about to argue, until she too remembered what she was wearing under the coat. She gave him a twisted smile.

  “That sword is a weapon, I believe,” said the black-lipped woman.

  “Tough,” said Kassa, and she walked unmolested into the hall, grasping Bigbeard’s sword firmly in one hand. Aragon followed her.

  The music was loud and intrusive. Various executive mercenaries were dancing, drinking and brawling, in no particular order. Just as a flicker of interest in the music crossed Kassa’s face, Daggar and Zelora appeared on either side of her and walked her into a corner of the room. “That sword,” said Zelora crisply. “I believe it can tell you the location of the silver.”

  “Oh,” said Kassa, shooting a dark look at Daggar. “You know about that, do you?”

  Daggar eyed Aragon suspiciously. “What did yer bring him for?” he complained.

  “It was him or a handbag,” said Kassa breezily. “A girl can’t go to a party without accessories. Isn’t anyone going to offer me a drink?”

  “Read the sword now,” Zelora commanded, infuriated by this small talk.

  Kassa gave her a long, cool stare. “I was planning t√o.” The rubies in the hilt glittered menacingly. She found the hidden clasp and opened the secret compartment. The message slid out, revealing the scratchy letters of a forgotten language. Kassa read it carefully, frowning.

  “Well?” said Daggar greedily. “Where’s our silver, then?”

  “My silver,” corrected Kassa absently. “And I have absolutely no idea where it is.”

  The goblins in these caves were just like any other. They squished together in the smallest holes, they smelled like dirt, they watched the interesting bits of the world when they chose to, particularly when the Smug Family was on. But these goblins differed from the rest of their kind in one respect. These goblins actually had a vague sort of purpose. They were guarding.

  Every now and then these squirmy, dirty little creatures would come out of their holes to explore, stretch their legs, beat each other up or go for scampers. But mostly they came out of their holes to play with the silver.

  Zelora Footcrusher remained quite calm under the circumstances. She took a deep breath and led them all to a little ante-cave full of empty buffet tables. Only then did she actually breathe out. A moment, later, she exploded. “You can’t read it?”

  “I didn’t say that,” said Kassa. “Of course I can read it. It’s Old Troll. The most complicated and highly devious of dead dialects. Not even trolls know how that language works any more.” She shook her head. “I really don’t understand my father. He devotes ten years to learning an ancient long-lost language, and he still writes his letters in crayon.”

  “So if you can read it, what’s the problem?” asked Daggar, sounding a bit desperate.

  “Listen to this,” said Kassa scornfully. “Where the strongest swimmer reaches, far beyond the hills and beaches, down into the goblin’s space, hidden where the trolls give chase. Hah! It’s a children’s rhyme, or something equally stupid.”

  Zelora’s eyes were distant for a moment. “It is gibberish,” she said crisply, and then she stalked away at a steady, reasonable pace.

  “She knows,” said Kassa quietly. “Daggar, she knows something!”

  When money was involved, Daggar could move surprisingly fast. He headed off Zelora’s escape route. “We can do this the easy way,” he said pleasantly. “Which means that you help us, and we give you a share of our silver.”

  “My silver,” said Kassa firmly.

  “Her silver,” Daggar corrected himself without missing a beat. “Or we can do it the hard way, which means that no one gets happy. Which is it to be, Footcrusher?”

  Zelora glared at all of them, her eyes glinting in a fetching shade of red. “You will relinquish your claims to the gargoyle?” she asked after a moment.

  “You married him,” said Kassa with a careless shrug. “We’ve got a few days until full moon. It’s up to you what happens while he’s in manform.”

  Zelora pondered in silence. “Very well,” she said finally. “I will show you and Daggar what the riddle means, as long as you honour your deal with the Hidden Leader.” She glared at Aragon. “But not him. This one is not to be trusted.”

  “Silversword comes,” said Kassa in a hard voice.

  Zelora looked surprised, but not as surprised as Aragon himself.

  “Ey?” said Daggar in bewilderment. “Can I jump in here with the stupid question and ask why yer willing to give this blatant villain another chance?”

  Kassa looked at Aragon and couldn’t honestly think of a good reason. “Because,” she said firmly.

  A weakness, thought Aragon Silversword. All the better to kill you with…

  It was evening. The moon was high, and swelling into fullness. The water swept gently against the shore, making contented little lapping noises. Too soon till full moon, thought Daggar. He had barely two days before the Profithood Retirement Scheme swung into action. Something else was worrying him. “How did Kassa get her hands on that sword?”

  “She’s a witch,” said Aragon shortly. “Didn’t you know?”

  There really wasn’t anything Daggar could say to that, so he just kept trudging across the damp sand.

  “Here,” commanded Zelora Footcrusher.

  Aragon dropped his armful of shovels and sat down, scowling. “Where is she?” There was little doubt as to which she he referred to.

  High, black boots made neat imprints in the sand. Layers of silk shimmered. The bodice was tight-fitting, low-cut and black. Leather. The skirt flared out in a scarlet swish. She had found a large, wide-brimmed black hat from somewhere. Her dark red hair glowed eerily in the bright sunlight. With hands on hips, she surveyed the beach slowly.

  Aragon Silversword, leaning comfortably against a large rock, watched Kassa from behind lidded eyes. “The costume change will help, will it?”

  “Presentation is important,” she replied serenely.

  “Would not a pointed hat be more appropriate?”

  She turned blazing golden eyes in his direction. “I—am—not—a�
�witch!”

  “Whatever you say,” Aragon replied with an almost-smile.

  “So where do we dig?” grumbled Daggar, who didn’t like the idea of manual labour.

  Zelora came as close to looking embarrassed as they had ever seen her. “Look,” she said finally, “I know this is where I explain this ancient legend to you, but I’m not going to do a faraway voice, all right?” After they shrugged and nodded, she continued. “Fine, then. They say that below this bay, many hidden underwater caves are contained within each other. It is said that if you swim down far enough, you can reach the seventh layer of caves, where there is air to breathe. It is also said that goblins guard the caves, and that trolls consider it their favourite hiding place.”

  “Who says all this?” said Daggar curiously.

  Zelora lost her temper. “Look, I didn’t have to tell you…”

  Kassa snapped her fingers, ignoring them both. “Folklore! Why didn’t I think of that?” She tossed her shovel to one side. “Let’s go swimming.”

  “I don’t swim,” said Aragon immediately.

  “Tough cookies,” said Kassa Daggersharp. “We’re going in.”

  The water rippled slightly, and then was still. The Cellar Sea is quite possibly the most placid ocean in the known universe. The tides are so mild as to be almost non-existent. Legend says that this is due to the Great Purple Kraken, who got tired of the noisy ocean life and did the magical equivalent of asking the neighbours to turn the radio down. Another legend claims that the water remains quiet at the express desire of Skeylles, the Fishy God who rules as Lord of the Underwater. Yet another legend claims that it is all because of the hedgehogs, but most people don’t pay any attention to that sort of legend.

  Suffice to say, the Cellar Sea remained calm and placid until Zelora Footcrusher burst out from under it, gasping lungfuls of air and sending violent ripples in every direction. One of these ripples eventually became a tidal wave which swallowed a whole fishing village, but that is another story.

  “I have never been able to reach beyond the fourth level,” said Zelora when she had her breath back. “It must be impossible!”

  “Nothing’s impossible when money’s involved,” said Kassa Daggersharp, standing waist deep in the water and peering down into its murky depths. She frowned suddenly. “Aragon, bring me my sword!”

  Aragon was still sitting in the shade of the large rock. He opened one eye. “I don’t swim,” he said again.

  “Well, bloody well wade!” Kassa yelled.

  Very slowly, Aragon stood up, walking to where the water lapped the sand. With an expression of sheer distaste, he waded out to where Kassa stood, grasping the sword hilt lightly.

  “You too,” Kassa called.

  Daggar, who had so far managed to stay dry, shuddered and bravely shouldered a shovel, rolled up his trouser legs and started squelching towards them. “Where are those mercenaries who were supposed to be helping us?”

  “They’re ready and waiting for your Mistress Daggersharp to deign to find a use for them,” Zelora snapped. Daggar couldn’t help noticing that she had been in a bad temper for a while now.

  Kassa peered at the sword as Aragon handed it to her. “You know, I can think of lots of uses for some spare mercenaries now. Would you fetch them for me, there’s a dear?”

  Grumbling darkly, Zelora made her way towards the shore, splashing deliberately as she went.

  “That got rid of her,” said Kassa with some satisfaction. “No offence, Daggar, but I think this expedition will be more successful without any military intervention.”

  “What expedition?” asked Daggar suspiciously, but Kassa wasn’t listening. Grasping her sword, she stared out at the obnoxiously calm sea.

  “Now,” she muttered to herself. “How would my father get down to an impossible underwater cave?” After a moment’s contemplation, her eyes brightened and she snapped her fingers. “Of course! Mermaids!”

  Daggar got as far as saying “Wha…” before thirteen pairs of slender hands grasped him by the legs, pulling him underwater at a frightening speed.

  It was not a pleasant ride. Daggar refused to believe that he could breathe water, despite the obvious evidence that he was doing so. He hardly noticed the luscious water-sprites who were dragging him below, and paid no attention to the lovely tails which curled seductively around him, attempting to remove his clothes.

  He was vaguely aware of Kassa waving her father’s sword around in a threatening manner. The mermaids shrieked in burbles and twitters, trying to hide behind each other while keeping hold of their prisoners. Finally, as Kassa came dangerously close to slicing a piece of tail, the mermaids consulted with each other and flung the three humans down to the bottom of the ocean.

  Daggar was no longer breathing water but sharp, dusty air. He had landed face-first in a cave full of sand. Coughing and spluttering, he realised that his clothes were not even wet. A moment later, Kassa, Aragon and the sword crashed in on top of him.

  Kassa picked herself up, spitting out sand. “That would be right,” she said scornfully. “He couldn’t just dig a hole for his treasure like anyone else, ohhh no, he just had to bring sex into it.”

  Daggar’s eyes were still wide and horrified. “Gah, gah, gahhghh,” was all he could say for at least ten minutes.

  Aragon’s grey eyes were dazed. “Kassa,” he said flatly, when he regained his poise. “Don’t do that again. Not ever.”

  “Fine,” Kassa agreed in a too-friendly voice. “You’ll be making your own arrangements for transport home, then.”

  As they looked up through the layers of caves, they could see a ceiling of salt water, and a bevy of fish-tailed maidens blowing kisses at them.

  “Interesting,” was all that Kassa said.

  “Gah, gah, gaggghhhgh,” replied Daggar.

  “So,” said Aragon Silversword. “What do we do now?”

  “We fight the goblins,” said Kassa steadily, brandishing her sword.

  “What goblins?” Daggar managed to choke out intelligibly, just as the swarm of vicious little goblins attacked them.

  13

  The Mating Habits of Trolls

  Screeching and twittering and smelling of dirt, the goblins swarmed from everywhere. There were hundreds of them, all small and knobbly and brown and making nasty noises. They swarmed over Kassa, pulling her hair and attempting to dive down her tight leather bodice. They swarmed up Aragon’s legs, jeering and jabbing at him with long gnarled fingers. Daggar was still curled up in a protective ball, so he remained unmolested for the time being.

  “Don’t touch me, you wingless insects!” Kassa screamed angrily, prising them off her arms and slapping the intruding little paws away. “These are my caves!”

  “Our caves, our caves,” chorused a hundred unpleasant little voices, none of them quite in sync with the others.

  Kassa leaped up on a rock, glaring down at the gibbering mass. “Where is my silver?” she demanded.

  “Our silver, our silver,” twittered the goblins.

  Several leaped into her hair from above, and Kassa flailed at them, trying to pull them out. She kicked at several more, lost her balance and fell from the rock.

  There were hundreds of goblins chittering below, trying to see up her skirt, and they almost certainly would have cushioned her fall if the ground had not at that moment opened up and swallowed her whole.

  Aragon was surprised, which didn’t happen very often.

  Daggar crawled to his feet shakily, still clutching his shovel. “What I want to know, is why Bigbeard’s dyin’ wish was for us to bring shovels, if he didn’t mean us to dig for the treasure.”

  Aragon took the shovel from Daggar and used it to bat away several goblins. They hit the cave walls with three thunks and a splat.

  “Ey, lateral thinking,” approved Daggar. “Where’s Kassa, then?”

  “She fell through a hole,” said Aragon, gesturing to where Kassa had fallen through the hole.

  Daggar
peered at the ground, frowning. “I don’t see any hole.”

  “There was one there a minute ago.” For every half-dozen goblins Aragon squelched, a dozen more scampered up and pinched at him.

  Daggar was examining the ground that had swallowed Kassa. “There’s a trapdoor,” he reported, opening it up and looking down into darkness. He prodded cautiously around with one hand. “It doesn’t lead anywhere. Solid rock, unless I’m very much mistaken.”

  “We’ve lost her, then,” said Aragon. “Careless of you.”

  They both sat down on the rock, ignoring the swarming goblins, and only occasionally bothering to bat them away.

  “I suppose,” said Daggar, very slowly, “the silver is ours now.”

  Aragon considered this. “What about your pointy-toothed lady friend?”

  Daggar thought about Zelora for a moment. “Ey, what would she do with a fortune in silver? I’ll spend her share.”

  Aragon looked at the ceiling reflectively. “So, you are willing to sacrifice your closest living relative and betray your lady for a potential fortune?”

  “That sounds about right.”

  “I like the way you think. Of course, the silver may not even be here.”

  Daggar sniffed the air. “Oh, it’s here, all right. I can smell it.”

  “I thought that was the goblins.”

  “No, I definitely caught a whiff of wealth for the taking. It must be close by.”

  “Much as I respect the skills of the Profithood,” said Aragon dryly, “I would prefer some more tangible evidence.”

  Daggar stood up to stretch his legs, squelching half a dozen goblins as he did so. “C’mon, let’s go find it, then. My neck’s starting to feel endangered. Yer know how it is, professional death-threats an’ all.”

  “I would have imagined you to be greatly experienced with people wanting you dead.”

  “Usually only family and friends. This is different. It’s business.”

  “So it’s agreed,” said Aragon sharply, standing up. “We find the silver and split it in half.”