"But half of them are still running around without a stitch on—and now I get a good look at them, they . . . well, they're a lot more like us than seems quite decent, under the circumstances. You ought to cover your eyes, Sera!" Jed replied, over the excited chatter of their hobgoblin escorts, who kept leaping about at their feet, pointing and gesturing, as though to call attention to the many excellent qualities of their goblin goods.
"They cannot have any inherent modesty," said Sera, still looking about her, strangely unembarrassed. There was so much to see, she could not have seen it all had she explored the market for days. "But I believe it's said that a love ornamentation is one of the traits that distinguish the sentient races from the beasts. What do the Glassmakers say?"
"I seem to remember something like that, in one of Master Ule's books. And something I do remember: dwarves and Men and gnomes, they're the Artisan Races, united by the common delight they take in the work of their own hands. It seems we share that with these hobs as well."
But then he added: "These creatures may have attained rationality, but if they had any sense at all, then why did they build their city here—under the town—and not out in open country where they could live unmolested?"
"Because they somehow feel attracted to us," said Sera. "You see how they copy our clothes and ape our manners." Indeed there was a group of hobs, male and female, who seemed to have got up some sort of a quadrille in the center of the market, and were dancing gaily to some silent measure. "I believe they have been changing . . . perhaps slowly at first, down all the ages, but more rapidly since our people first settled here, hundreds of years ago. And the more civilized they become—why, the more they feel drawn to us, despite the danger."
***
They never knew how long they spent in the hobgoblin market, exploring the shops, examining the offerings of the goblin craftsmen. Jed had a watch, but forgot to consult it until the end, and then he was horrified to discover the hour hand pointing to midnight.
"They'll be sick with worry by now, Miss Barebones and the rest, imagining the worst," he said, replacing the watch in his satin waistcoat. He slipped his coil of rope back over his arm and shoulder, then picked up his lanthorn again and took Sera by the hand.
"Yes," she said, with a weary sigh. "I suppose we had better go back now. You did mark the way that we came?"
"I did," said Jed, as they started back toward the tunnel. "And took note of every turn as well."
This time, Jedidiah led the way, while Sera followed behind. It was slower and harder going uphill, and by now they were both exhausted. Jed's green velvet coat had a rumpled look, he had scuffed his shoes, and one brass buckle was missing—a fortunate find for some lucky hobgoblin. As for Sera, the hem of her gown was tattered and dusty, the dress was beyond repair, yet she accounted that as nothing, for she now wore the sea-ivory necklace safe around her throat, where she meant it to stay forever. The goblin who had lured her into the caverns with it had returned the charm, with a grand flourish and a very creditable attempt at a bow.
"We must tell the people up above," said Sera. "We must bring some of them—those we can trust—down here to see the goblin city for themselves. Mr. Jonas, and Miss Barebones, and the vicar. They will understand what it all means. And perhaps if somebody makes a real effort to communicate with the hobs . . . there must be some way that we can continue to live side by side, without causing each other so much trouble and grief!"
"If we could speak to them," Jed replied, "there is no guarantee that we could then convince them to leave off their chewing and their digging and their thieving." He sounded so weary now, it was not surprising he should take a grim view of things. "Nor any guarantee that our people would like them any better, once they knew the truth. We don't mix much with fairies, or selkies, or kobolds, you know . . . we display an unconquerable prejudice against trolls and giants, for all they are as intelligent (or near as intelligent) as we are."
"Fairies and selkies and kobolds and the like keep to their own concerns, far removed from ours," said Sera, trudging along with her head down. "It would not make sense for us to mix with them, or they with us. And as for giants and trolls—really, Jed, they eat people, as you very well know. Whereas these creatures are only destructive and, I regret to say, rather light-fingered."
"But there you have it," said Jed. "Honest citizens don't feel much sympathy for 'thieving rascals,' not even their own kind. If people up above learn about this hobgoblin city, if folks accept that the hobs are Rational Beings, then they may come down here, one day soon, with guns and nets and ropes, round up a dozen or more hobgoblins dressed up in stolen finery, and string them up like so many pickpockets or housebreakers, as an example to the rest."
By now, they had reached the catacombs again and could walk upright, side by side.
"Very true," said Sera. "Yes, they might do something like that. So we must be very careful whom we tell, just at first. But if the Power that created these creatures intended them to grow in wisdom and in stature until they grew fit to live as companions to Men and dwarves and gnomes, then surely it would be sinful on our part—now that we know so much about them—not to make every effort to bring about some sort of reconciliation."
"I won't argue religion with you," said Jed, stifling a yawn. "The more so because I am half way inclined to agree with you. And it seems that we have been chosen by the hobs themselves, to act as their emissaries to the world up above, and that makes us obligated to carry the word. But we won't be very popular, you know, not with all the folks who have been preaching extermination!"
But the word "preaching" started Sera thinking, when they emerged from the hole at the top of the hill and came out into the starry, windy night. "But I believe there may be a number of people who will be very much inclined to listen to everything we have to say . . . thanks to the ranting and posturing of that mountebank—Hooke, or Tynsdale, or whatever his name is—who may have inadvertently prepared the way for us."
She felt a smile begin to dawn as they started down the hill. "We may be able to make use of his sermons in ways that he never expected!"
CHAPTER THIRTY
In which Moses Tynsdale plays the Villain.
Too exhausted to tell the half of what they had learned, Jed and Sera put the whole narrative off until the next day, when their friends gathered together in the parlor at Mothgreen Hall. As Jed had predicted, their story produced varying reactions. Mr. Jonas, Miss Barebones, and the Reverend Mr. Bliss—who had been treated, along with Lord Skelbrooke and Elsie, to the whole tale—proved both sympathetic and eager to learn more.
A night-time visit to the hobgoblin city easily convinced these kindly souls to espouse the hobs' cause.
"It is possible," said Lord Skelbrooke, "that the early settlers here were misled by a superficial resemblance to the hobs across the ocean, and these aren't the same sort of creatures at all. From all one hears, they are considerably less vicious."
"They aren't vicious at all," Miss Barebones maintained stoutly. I have said all along . . ." What she had said all along turned out to be a great deal, which those returning with her from the hobgoblin city were forced to listen to all the way home.
Others, like Mr. Herring and the gentlemen of the Guild, who received a less complete narrative a day later, had reservations, but allowed that the matter certainly bore further examination.
Many strange stories began to circulate through the town, but at least the Guild members proved discreet, and Jed's and Sera's names did not circulate with them. Moses Tynsdale was in his element, making all that he could of the situation—on what mischievous impulse, Skelbrooke could scarcely imagine—but on the whole, and as Sera predicted, his efforts did rather more good than harm. What the end result of all this might be, no one could tell, for it was too large an issue to be settled overnight, but Sera and Jed, in private consultation, agreed that the situation looked promising.
"It was just so simple to call the hobgoblins 'ver
min' and treat them accordingly," said Sera. "But now that we have forced the good citizens of Hobb' s Church to really think, they will keep on thinking and asking questions until they finally reach the truth. "
Of course, Sera came in for a good deal of scolding at Mothgreen Hall. Miss Barebones held the minority viewpoint: "Miss Thorn and her brother were perfectly safe the entire time, for Uncle Izrael was undoubtedly with them. And now that we have discovered his secret, dear Uncle Izrael can rest in peace."
And perhaps she was right: the Academy was so surprisingly quiet in the days that followed that it began to look like the ghost (and the goblins as well) had finally been laid. But Elsie was very much shocked by all the risks that Sera had taken—and said so many times a day—while Francis Skelbrooke said less, but made his displeasure more keenly felt.
"I cannot think you perfectly understand the danger in which you now stand," said his lordship, very white about the lips. "Or you would never have been guilty of such foolhardy behavior."
"I do understand the danger," Sera retorted, "but really, I cannot live my whole life as though I expect the Duchess or her minions to snatch me away, anytime that I happen to step out-of-doors for a breath of fresh air. I will not become a prisoner of my fears."
"No one wishes to make you a prisoner—certainly not I," said Skelbrooke. "I know you are accustomed to a certain amount of freedom. More so, I fancy, than a young lady more conventionally educated would have enjoyed. But with Jedidiah and I both eager to serve as your escort, you have no need to venture out on your own."
Out of consideration for his feelings, and even more for Elsie's sake, Sera kept to the house for several days, never venturing farther than the garden, alone or in company. Though Friday was Midyear's Day, she did not elect to go into town to view the festivities, and Sunday she did not go to church.
In the afternoon she was extremely vexed when Jed arrived to beg a private word with his lordship, and he and Skelbrooke went out into the garden, leaving her alone in the parlor.
As though they can better protect me by keeping me in the dark, thought Sera. They are treating me like a child!
But in fact, the subject under discussion under the fruit trees was one which neither gentleman could possibly have broached while Sera herself was present. Jed began by clearing his throat impressively, as though about to deliver a carefully rehearsed speech. As indeed he was, though the speech was of the briefest.
"My lord," he said. "Since I am now acting in the capacity of Sera's brother, I believe that it is my duty to ask you just exactly what your intentions may be."
Skelbrooke smiled sweetly. He had been expecting something of the sort for some little time now. "Why, I intend to marry Sera, of course. Did she never tell you so?"
Jed shrugged. "I heard something to that effect, not from Sera," he admitted cautiously. "And it set me to wondering, because somebody told me once, a long time ago, that you didn't like women. Worse! That you held the entire sex in contempt."
"Ah," said Skelbrooke, contemplating the highly polished buckles on his shoes. "You had that from Hermes Budge, I think. There was a period in my life when my sentiments were exactly as you have described. I should tell you, Jedidiah, that when I was your age, I fell briefly under the influence of a very wicked woman. For some time after that I regarded women as the source of all evil. "
He glanced up sharply, looking Jed directly in the eye. "But I am not blind, I am not a fool. It did not take me long to perceive that women are as often victims as villains in this world . . . rather more often, I should say. I have tried very hard since then to make up for my earlier prejudice. Though even so, a long time passed before I was willing to put myself in any woman's power by falling in love with her."
Jedidiah frowned at the dapper figure pacing beside him. "And how would you describe Sera?" he asked bluntly.
Skelbrooke shook his head. "I know that Sera, because of her years of poverty, sometimes regards herself as the victim of circumstances, but she is so strong and courageous, that she must eventually overcome all obstacles. At the same time, her essential honesty, her generosity of spirit, will always prevent her from preying on those weaker than she is." His lordship smiled brilliantly. "Sera is neither victim nor victimizer. That is, I believe, her principal grace."
Jedidiah returned the smile, a trifle reluctantly. "It appears that you understand her very well, that you see her with a fair degree of clarity. But—"
"—but you," said Skelbrooke, "wish that Sera might also achieve such clarity in her estimation of me. Fear not, Jedidiah, she will not marry me until she does! Sera loves a challenge, but she abhors a mystery."
***
By Monday, Sera had become so restless in her confinement that frustration finally overcame her desire to spare those who loved her unnecessary worry. Moreover, the time was rapidly approaching when they would all pack up and set sail on the Otter. Easily convincing herself that she could not depart on that or any voyage without the bare necessities for a respectable existence, Sera declared that she must and would go into town.
Naturally, Lord Skelbrooke insisted that he accompany her, insisted, too, that they take the gig, which had arrived an hour earlier with Jedidiah when he came to pay a call on Elsie. It appeared that Jed's resolution to keep a distance from Elsie had not served to conquer his very real concern about her failing health.
"I suppose you imagine I am like to be run down by a mail coach or a diligence if I should so much as set my foot down in the road," said Sera, holding herself very stiff and defiant. But she allowed Skelbrooke to help her up into the light carriage, and silently arranged her feet so as not to bump against Jed's antique fowling piece, under the seat.
"You will be so good as to direct me toward whichever shops you prefer to visit," said his lordship, as they entered the town.
Sera (who really had no place particular in mind) cast about for a minute before she remembered something that she needed to buy. "I should like to visit Mistress Morgan's establishment first, if you please. I am in dreadful want of hairpins, and I simply cannot set sail without them."
"Of course," said his lordship, amiably enough, "one quite understands the burning necessity."
It was only as he held the door of the shop open for Sera to enter and she passed under the mermaid figurehead that she realized her mistake. Besides hairpins, ribbons, and laces, Mistress Morgan also sold silk stockings, garters, and other intimate feminine trifles. It was not an establishment often frequented by the male sex, and certainly not one which a young lady might wish to enter in the company of a gentleman.
Sera blushed, but swiftly decided that a hasty retreat would only make matters infinitely worse. While his lordship folded his arms, leaned up against a counter, and proceeded to entertain a number of very pleasant fantasies, Sera purchased her hairpins, declined to examine any of Mistress Morgan's other intriguing wares, and swept out of the shop. Skelbrooke was mightily amused by her discomfort and had the poor taste to show it.
"And where next, Miss Thorn?" he asked cheerfully, tipping his hat. "I daresay there is someplace in town where you can purchase pomade and hair powder, and I am reliably informed that perfumes and lace mittens are to be found at Madame Rush's."
Sera did her best to crush his impertinence. "I thank you, Mr. Carstares, but of course I shall be needing none of those things. I do, however, wish to visit Mr. Jakobson's bookshop. I have the desire for some improving literature."
"But naturally, Miss Thorn," his lordship replied sweetly, "I myself refuse to embark on any voyage without a full library on board." And Sera eyed him suspiciously, wondering what imp of mischief currently animated him.
They were strolling down the street after their visit to the bookshop when Sera called out in surprise. "Lord Sk—Mr. Carstares, how extraordinary! Is not that Elsie walking with Mr. Tynsdale?"
The young woman in question wore a gown of white tiffany tucked up over a pale blue petticoat, altogether in Elsie's styl
e, and she wore also a straw hat with a gauzy veil, which did little to disguise her features. Her posture, the very gestures that she made with her hands as she spoke to her companion, were all Elsie's. Sera, who knew her cousin so well, did not think she could be mistaken. Yet hadn't she left Elsie, pale and exhausted, sitting in the garden at Mothgreen Academy, with the solicitous Jed at her side, not more than an hour since?
As the girl in white and the itinerant preacher turned down a side street, Sera hurried to overtake them, and Skelbrooke, perforce, came along with her. "It is Elsie," said Sera, as they turned a corner and gained a better look. "But how comes she to be with Mr. Tynsdale, whom she knows to be dangerous and deceitful?"
She called her cousin's name but received no answer, Elsie and the clergyman continuing on, quite oblivious. Sera and Skelbrooke had closed the distance to less than fifty yards when Tynsdale and Elsie climbed into an old-fashioned cabriolet drawn by two horses, and set off at a great pace. But as she stepped into the carriage, the girl had turned her face in Sera's direction, and Sera had recognized not only her familiar features but also the odd blankness of her expression.
"She looks just as she used to do, when Lord Skogsrå was magnetizing her," said Sera, with a sinking sensation.
"It is evident," said Skelbrooke, detaching his arm from Sera's, "that Euripides Hooke has her somehow in his power, equally evident that we have just witnessed an abduction. I will pursue them in Mr. Herring's gig."
Sera ran after him down the street, glancing back over her shoulder as she did so, searching the street for a glimpse of a passing constable. Naturally, there was no lawman on hand in this moment of need.
"I shall come with you," said Sera, climbing up into the gig beside his lordship.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Thorn, but you must do nothing of the kind," he said. "I fear that I shall be driving headlong into great danger."
"Do you think I care anything for that, when Elsie may have need of me?"
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