No, it was better we did this now and did it quiet, without a fight. We would find proof that this Likho was the one working this curse, the one pulling Mills’ strings.
And then, when the time came, we’d strike. I’d teach this sorcerer what became of people who crossed me.
I’d done it before. I could do it again.
Early’s voice was in my head, urging me not to go back down that road. And maybe I wouldn’t have to. Maybe.
The end of the staircase came so suddenly I didn’t even notice it. Suddenly, we were on flat ground again, and Tun was leading us into another tunnel cleverly hidden behind a door disguised to look like part of the wall. This tunnel was wider than before, and after a few more minutes it began to merge with other tunnels that split off in all directions.
Signs of life began to appear out of the dark: distant echoes of tools and machinery, the smell of something cooking. Lights and muffled laughter came from some of the side passages, but Tun lead us down one tunnel after another, avoiding all other goblins.
He looked back at us and put a long finger to his lips, and we nodded our understanding. I didn’t know if we were avoiding spies or Khataz’s people or if we were just navigating some other mob’s territory, but I didn’t ask.
And then, finally, we passed through a curtain and stepped onto a ledge overlooking a cavern bigger than any stadium I’d ever seen.
Lilian stopped beside me, drawing in a sharp breath at the sight of it.
I didn’t know what was the most breathtaking aspect of the city beneath the mountain. Maybe it was the way it seemed to climb the walls of the cavern, buildings stacked on top of buildings, whole town blocks precariously jutting out on foundations carved from the mountain.
Maybe it was the thousands of lights that sparkled in every corner of the cavern. Some came from flames, but many more were electric: naked orange bulbs and flickering fluorescent strips and multicolored Christmas lights strung along walls and windowsills.
Or maybe it was the movement of it all: goblins hurrying here and there, climbing staircases and hurrying along stone bridges, like a hive of insects going about their business.
“There’s so many,” Lilian said in a low voice.
I nodded. I’d felt the same way the first time I’d laid eyes on the Mines. In truth, the population beneath the mountain was only a fraction of Lost Falls’, but to see them all here, crammed into this space, living out their existence in the bowels of the mountain just a few miles outside of town, it was humbling, to say the least.
“I have to get back,” Tun said. “Boss’ll need me.”
Rodetk nodded. “We’ll find our way from here. Go safe.”
“You too.” The little goblin bobbed his head once more, patted the pocket where he’d stowed the vial I’d given him, then darted back the way we’d come.
Lilian was still staring slack-jawed at the city. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to plunge over the edge of the outcropping and end up getting a closer look at the city than she wanted.
When Tun had disappeared back into the dark, Rodetk turned to me, exhaling. “I got you inside. Now what?”
I scratched my beard, thinking. “We need a source of information. Someone who knows what’s going on here. Someone who can tell us about this sorcerer.”
Rodetk cocked his head to the side, then nodded to himself. “I think I know just the goblin.”
24
We threaded through alleys and passageways, sticking to the dark corners of the Mines. It wasn’t hard. The maze of tunnels that ran through the mountain reached every corner of the city, as long as you knew how to navigate them.
These tunnels had been my home four years ago while I searched for the people who’d stolen Teddy. The lights here were few and far between, providing ample darkness to hide those who didn’t want to be found.
That included us. Lilian and I weren’t the only human faces in the city—there were even a few human families who’d lived down here for more than a generation, their ancestors snatched from the surface in decades past. But we were clearly surface-dwellers, which meant we’d be noticed if we stuck to the main walkways. Hawkers would try to part us from our cash, while Khataz’s people would undoubtedly want to get a little more intimate with us.
Small squads of Khataz’s soldiers patrolled the markets and the living areas. They didn’t have uniforms, not quite, but they wore jackets and hats splashed with white paint, which made them plenty recognizable. Most were armed—rifles, shotguns, clubs, knives. Wherever they marched, other goblins would disappear, hurrying away with their heads down before they could draw attention to themselves.
It was a cold atmosphere. Nothing like I’d experienced the last time I was here. Maybe the everyday goblin on the street had been scared of me back then, worried about the witch in the shadows, but that was nothing like the quiet fear that filled the air now. No one was brave enough to step out of line or even loiter in place. Whatever Khataz and his sorcerer had done, they’d scared the people good.
We weren’t the only ones using the back passages to avoid the soldiers. Other goblins moved in the shadows, speaking in whispers and growing silent until we passed. Smugglers, thieves, assorted scum. They’d always lived in these parts of the Mines, but there seemed more of them now. More than once we were walking down a supposedly empty passage, only for me to glance back and see golden eyes watching us from the darkness.
I had ways of averting unwanted eyes from myself, but I couldn’t hide all three of us. Our best defense was speed. We had to get what we needed before word of our presence spread.
While Rodetk led the way, Lilian hurried alongside me, holding her bag tight against her to keep it from rattling. She walked with her eyes open wide, one hand touching the roughly carved rock wall of the tunnel.
“How can you see anything down here?” she whispered.
Honestly, I couldn’t really. But in my years here I’d gotten used to relying on sound and touch more than my eyesight. You got a kind of sixth sense for these passageways after a while.
I took a small vial from my pocket. “Put a couple of drops of this in your eyes. It’ll make it easier.”
She grimaced, pushing the vial back at me. “No thanks.”
“It won’t hurt. Stinks a bit, but it’ll help you see.”
“No potions,” she said firmly.
I scratched my head. “Well, I guess I can make a charm that’ll help you instead. I’ve got some things in my bag. Just tell me what you are, and I’ll whip up something that’ll work for you.”
Her eyes flashed in the dark and she shook her head. “You’re not getting out of our bet that easily.”
Rats. With a shrug, I tucked the vial back into my pocket.
“You’re holding up pretty well for a man who thinks he’s been shot dead,” she said to me.
“Thanks.”
“You’re still angry about it?”
“You could say that,” I said.
“Early thinks you should let it all go. Make peace.”
“I wish it was that easy.”
A small smile flickered across her face. I think she thought it was too dark for me to notice. “The anger is good. It’s powerful. It’s righteous. Use it while you can.”
I glanced at her. “Didn’t expect to hear that from you.”
She ignored me. “But it can’t take you all the way. When it’s time, do what Early says. Let it all go. Because if you don’t…”
She seemed like she was going to say more, but instead she closed her mouth and let the words hang in the air. I studied the shadow of her face in the dark, trying to make some sense of her. I’ve studied grimoires written in medieval German that were easier to read than she was.
“Why’d you come here with me?” I said. “Really. I know you want to find the hag, but there are other ways you could have helped. You could’ve stuck around helping the ghouls. You could’ve gone with Early to Lockhart’s library. But you came here
. Why?”
She hesitated, then glanced at me. “You’ve been a good friend to me since I came to Lost Falls. The community isn’t always welcoming to outsiders. I guess you know that.”
I nodded. “They’re a bit of an ornery bunch, I’ll give you that.”
“Well, I figured us outsiders have to stick together,” she said. “And besides, you deserve to find out the truth about what happened to you.” She looked straight ahead, and whispered to herself in a voice I don’t think I was supposed to hear. “We all do.”
Rodetk pulled up his hood to hide his face as he squinted out the tunnel opening. “There are eyes everywhere here,” he said. “If I’m recognized, Khataz’s people will be on us before we can blink.”
“What do we do?” Lilian asked.
The goblin looked us over, his lip curling. “Act like you belong.”
He slipped out of the tunnel and joined the bustle of the walkway. Lilian and I followed.
We were on one of the middle levels of the city, in what I guess you’d call a residential neighborhood. Buildings rose up on either side of us, cobbled together from wood and stone and leather and fabric of all colors. It was halfway between a medieval city street and a refugee camp. Power cables ran along the walkway and formed tangled networks overhead. Lights hung down like beads of dew from a spider web.
We had to hurry to keep up with Rodetk as he weaved among the other goblins on the narrow stone walkway. Goblins huddled in small knots of twos and threes, muttering quietly to each other as they moved. Most of the snatches of conversation I heard were in English, apart from the occasional scattering of goblin words. There was no unified goblin language, and the goblins who’d settled under the mountain here nearly a century ago had come from countless backgrounds—leading to an awful lot of ethnic tension—so English had become a kind of lingua franca for them.
From the open windows of the buildings around us came the smell of woodsmoke and cooking fires, meat roasting and strange subterranean vegetables stewing. I knew from experience that most of what came out of the grub farms was damn near inedible, but after our trek up the mountain and down into its bowels I was getting hungry enough that it didn’t smell so bad.
Rodetk turned down an alley, leading us deeper into the press of buildings. Finally, after two more bridges, he waved us to a stop and we pressed ourselves into the shadow of an overhanging balcony.
“There,” he hissed, pointing across the walkway to a doorway at the top of a long and crooked wooden staircase. “That’s it.”
“How can you be sure she still lives here?” I said.
“That’s her mark above the door.”
When I squinted, I could just make out the symbol painted above the doorway in faded red-brown. Blood, most likely. Part of an old superstition some goblins still clung to. It was supposed to ward off wandering spirits who might come seeking shelter and flesh to eat.
Hell, maybe it worked. I was smart enough to know there were an awful lot of things about the world I didn’t understand.
“No lights inside,” Rodetk said. “She’s probably not in.”
“Let’s find somewhere to wait.” I looked around and spotted a dark alley behind us, where we’d have a decent view of the doorway. “There.”
We settled in, slumping down with our backs against the wooden walls on either side of the alley. Lilian and I shared a drink of water and a chocolate bar. She offered the water bottle to Rodetk, but the goblin waved it away.
A pair of Khataz’s soldiers trooped past outside, swaggering like they owned the place. With a shout, one of them snagged the collar of an elderly goblin trying to hurry past with a sack slung over his shoulder.
“Where d’ya think you’re going?” the soldier snapped, ripping the sack from the goblin’s hands.
He tossed the sack to his comrade while he shoved the elderly goblin up against the wall. As the second soldier upended the sack on the ground, the first kicked the elderly goblin’s legs apart and began to search him. The other goblins on the street quickly disappeared, eyes carefully turned away.
“Stop your bloody squirming,” the soldier barked. “Big sack for an old worm. What are you trying to sneak into midtown?”
The other soldier held up a couple of gnarled grey vegetables that looked a little like turnips. “Healroot.”
“That’s a restricted item,” the first soldier said in the old goblin’s ear. “You should know better, worm.”
“No, you don’t understand,” the goblins begged. “My sons, they—”
“Tell it to the Justice. Come on, move.”
They dragged the old goblin away. His cries echoed down the street, but no one came to help him.
The three of us hunched down in the dark of the alley, staying still and silent until the soldiers were gone.
“I didn’t know it had got this bad,” Rodetk muttered, almost to himself. He stared at the backs of the soldiers through narrowed eyes, his long fingers scratching at his calf. “I should’ve come back sooner.”
“Why did you leave?” Lilian asked.
Rodetk glanced at me, his eyes meeting mine. For a moment, it felt like we were back in the bad old days, on opposite sides, doing our best to kill one another.
“I had to flee,” he said, “for my own safety.”
“What do you mean?” she said. “I thought Early said you were in the Lord’s Guard.”
“I was,” he said. “Until Likho came. The sorcerer…he knew those of us loyal to the city—loyal to Khataz—would be a threat to him. We’d try to keep him from casting his spells over Khataz. So he had half the Guard poisoned in a single evening. It was only luck that I avoided the same fate.”
I remained silent while Rodetk spoke, trying to suppress the guilt churning in my stomach. Was this all my fault? Rodetk had said that Khataz had brought in the sorcerer because of me. Khataz had never been the most stable ruler, but if I hadn’t come in and stirred things up, would it have got this bad?
I didn’t like goblins. I had my reasons for that. But that didn’t mean I wanted all this.
All I’d wanted was to get Teddy back.
Rodetk was looking at me again, frowning as if he could read my thoughts. He glanced away.
“Likho murdered my men,” he said. “Now I see he’s laid claim to my home as well. If I get the chance, I’m going to put a knife in his throat.”
“No,” I said. “Not until we know more about this curse.”
The goblin spat. “The curse is your business, Turner. I told Early I’d help you. I owe him that much. But if we see Likho, I won’t let him slip away.” He lowered his voice. “Not again.”
I dragged my hand across my face. He was going to get us all killed.
But before I could argue, Lilian pointed to the doorway across the street. “Look. There’s a light on.”
“She’s inside,” Rodetk said, jumping to his feet. “She must’ve come in a back way. Come on.”
Before I’d even pulled myself up, Rodetk slipped out of the alley. Lilian shot me a look and we set off after him.
The walkway was quieter now, even though the soldiers had moved on. I didn’t know what time it was; down here beneath the mountain, time seemed to have little meaning. We made our way to the building across the way, where Rodetk was waiting at the bottom of the wooden staircase.
“Whatever happens,” he whispered, “we can’t let her out of our sight. We can’t afford to have her raising the alarm.”
I nodded.
“Wait,” Lilian said, looking from Rodetk to me. “What exactly are we talking about here? You’re not planning to hurt her, are you?”
“It won’t come to that,” Rodetk said. He crooked his finger at us and started creeping up the staircase. She frowned, but after a moment she nodded. We followed Rodetk up the stairs.
When we reached the top, Rodetk gave us a look. I nodded. We tugged aside the leather curtain that hung over the doorway and strode inside.
A small
, hunched goblin woman looked up from her desk, her eyes widening behind gold-rimmed spectacles. She squealed and threw back her stool, still clutching a pen in her hand. The papers on her desk fluttered at our entrance.
“Don’t be alarmed, storykeeper,” Rodetk said. “We just want to ask you some questions.”
25
“You…you can’t be here,” the storykeeper said to Rodetk. She backed away until she bumped into another teetering pile of papers stacked against the wall. A small fire burned in the brick fireplace behind her. “Khataz says you’re a traitor.”
“From what I’ve heard,” Rodetk said, “Khataz doesn’t even speak with his own tongue anymore. He has his sorcerer do it for him.”
The storykeeper’s eyes grew even wider as I stepped out of the shadow of the doorway behind Rodetk. “Who are these humans? Why have you brought them here? Khataz has forbidden all surface-dwellers except—”
“Never mind them,” he said. “Now sit back down, before you have an aneurysm.”
When she didn’t move, Rodetk rounded her desk, picked up her fallen stool, and planted it back on its legs. Trembling, the storykeeper sat.
She was dressed simply but neatly in the hand-stitched blue robes of her profession. Storykeepers were the guardians of goblin history. When the goblins had fled to Earth along with the rest of the Strangers, most of their knowledge had been lost. It was up to the storykeepers to ensure that didn’t happen again. Some acted more like investigative reporters than historians. They could gain access to almost anyone in the Mines, from the lowliest mobster to the Lord himself.
Which, of course, was why we were here.
“I’m calling in your debt,” Rodetk said to her.
She hesitated. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
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