by Jim C. Hines
‘‘He didn’t believe me,’’ Genevieve said. ‘‘He’s ordered me to secure Avery and do nothing until he arrives. I’ve sent a second hawk to my mother, hoping she’ll be able to talk some sense into him. But even if she could reach him in time, I doubt he’d listen.’’
‘‘Wendel’s a stubborn one, even for a king. He’ll hear nothing of any plan that allows Billa’s army to live.’’ Darnak shook his head. ‘‘I’m sorry, Jig. I never should have told him of Theodore’s death. He might have listened had I not—’’
‘‘My father? Listen?’’ Genevieve laughed. ‘‘You’ve been a bird too long, Darnak. He’s never listened to me, and your counsel has been less than welcome since you returned bearing news of Ryslind and Barius.’’
‘‘What about Billa?’’ Jig asked. ‘‘You said one of her kobolds had come with a message. Why would she do that?’’
‘‘She offered to let me and my soldiers go free,’’ Genevieve said. She took a deep breath. ‘‘All I have to do is turn you over to her.’’
That made sense. Why waste her own soldiers coming after Jig when she could get the humans to do it for her? Jig checked to see if he was armed. He still had the knife he had taken from that elf, but Shadowstar hadn’t given him any divine weapons.
I’m not that good at weapons, Shadowstar said.
Naturally. Embroidery he could do. Weapons, no. Resting one hand on his knife, Jig asked, ‘‘What did you tell her?’’
Genevieve raised an eyebrow and touched her own sword, as if daring him to attack her. ‘‘That you were a sneaky, conniving little coward who had managed to escape. I asked that she give us until tomorrow night to capture you, at which time I would hand you over.’’
‘‘And Billa agreed to this?’’
‘‘Aye.’’ Darnak had wound his hands into his beard, presumably for warmth. It made him look like he was wearing snarly black mittens. ‘‘From what you said, Billa doesn’t care about Avery. She’d rather preserve her forces for King Wendel. She’ll want as much death as possible. Taking the town would cost her a few hundred soldiers, and every monster she loses is one less death to attract Noc’s attention.’’
Before Jig could ask anything more, Relka shouted, ‘‘Watch out!’’
Jig spun. A single goblin leaped from behind one of the houses and ran toward him. Jig squinted and lowered his head, trying to find a clear spot on his lenses. Through the smeared blood and snow, he thought he recognized Gratz.
‘‘Traitor!’’ Gratz shouted. He pointed a crossbow at Jig as he ran. ‘‘Regulations require me to arrest you for treason. You are ordered to—’’ Gratz slipped on a patch of ice, and the crossbow discharged.
The impact as the bolt thudded into Jig’s shoulder wasn’t as bad as, say, being struck by a dragon. But it was enough to knock Jig backward several steps. He waved his arms to keep from falling.
Gratz was already drawing a sword from his belt. Where had he gotten all of these weapons? He was supposed to be locked up, not—
‘‘Why am I still standing?’’ Jig whispered. He looked down. The crossbow bolt lay in the snow a few steps away. His cloak was unmarked, though Jig could feel a bruise forming on his chest . . . right below the symbol Shadowstar had created on his cloak.
I do make good armor, though, Shadowstar said smugly.
That won’t do me much good if he stabs me in the face. Jig drew his knife and started toward Gratz. Maybe Gratz would stumble again and impale himself, but Jig doubted it. Gratz was a trained soldier. As trained as goblins got, at any rate.
Jig glanced around. The other goblins were already making wagers and grinning with anticipation, as goblins did. But these were supposed to be soldiers too. Jig’s soldiers.
He sheathed his knife and stopped walking. ‘‘Why are you all standing about, you lazy bastards?’’
He did his best to mimic Silverfang’s disgusted anger. From the shocked expressions on the goblins’ faces, it worked. Before they could respond, Jig pointed at Gratz and yelled, ‘‘Get him!’’
The goblins roared as they charged. Soldier or not, Gratz was still a goblin at heart. He threw down his sword and fled.
Jig smiled. He kind of liked being a general.
The dining hall in the barracks had the largest tables, which made them the ideal choice for spreading out all Darnak’s maps. Unfortunately, the barracks was also one of the original elf buildings, and the table was in dire need of a trimming. Budding twigs sprouted from the edges, tickling Jig’s wrists as he leaned in to study the maps. He wiped his eyes and tried not to sneeze.
Candles burned in holders formed of living vines. The too-sweet smell of perfumed beeswax did nothing to help Jig’s nose.
Darnak had placed the bulk of his figurines on one side of Avery to represent Billa’s army. Others were scattered through the woods to either side. ‘‘Billa’s sent scouts through the woods, probably to make sure you don’t try to flee.’’
He set another group of blocks at the top of the valley. ‘‘Once Wendel arrives, he’ll send his cavalry down, hoping to ride right over Billa’s monsters.’’
A third line marked the elves on the opposite side of the valley. ‘‘If we could somehow drive Billa’s forces across the border, the elves would help—’’
‘‘Billa’s monsters won’t retreat,’’ Jig said. ‘‘It’s probably against regulations.’’
‘‘It doesn’t matter,’’ said Genevieve. ‘‘We have to stop Billa before my father arrives.’’
‘‘Wendel ordered you to sit tight,’’ Darnak said.
‘‘I know.’’ She picked up several of the figurines from within Avery, setting them in a line outside the walls.
Jig studied the map. Darnak didn’t appear to have a figurine for Billa, so he had used a large gray pebble instead. That pebble was currently guarded by several thousand monsters, most represented by larger metal blocks.
Jig frowned and looked closer. The figurines Genevieve had moved outside the wall were all goblins, though there was something odd about the frontmost one. He picked it up and peered more closely. Darnak had painted amethyst spectacles onto the goblin’s face.
‘‘You promised to kill Billa for me, remember?’’ asked Genevieve.
‘‘Your goblins will pretend you’re a prisoner.’’ Darnak split a path through Billa’s forces, then moved the goblins through. ‘‘Once you’re within range, you charge. It’s a desperate plan, but you’ll have the advantage of surprise. Theodore’s mistake was to attack in plain sight. Might as well have sent a note telling Billa exactly when he’d be dropping by.’’
‘‘One of his mistakes, anyway,’’ Genevieve said.
‘‘He was overconfident, and it killed him.’’ Darnak’s voice was tight.
Jig studied the map. Overconfidence wouldn’t be a problem for goblins. He moved the figurines into the center of the army, near the pebble that was Billa. ‘‘Say we somehow manage to catch Billa by surprise and kill her. What happens then?’’
Darnak fiddled with his quill. Genevieve stared at the map.
Jig reached out and pushed the blocks of Billa’s army until they surrounded the goblins. ‘‘We’re all going to die.’’
‘‘I told you this one was clever,’’ Darnak said quietly.
This was the point where any reasonable goblin would have fled for his miserable life. Yet Jig didn’t move.
‘‘The orcs will be closest,’’ he said. ‘‘They’ll probably be the ones to kill us. And then they’ll turn toward Avery.’’
‘‘Not necessarily,’’ said Genevieve. ‘‘For those who do, the walls will hold until my father arrives.’’
‘‘We’re hoping there will be some squabbling,’’ Darnak added. ‘‘The death of their leader will be an enormous blow to morale. Not to mention they’ll have to sort out who’s in charge, with Billa gone.’’
Jig tried to imagine the chaos. Whenever a goblin chief died, the smarter goblins made themselves scarce for the next
few days, emerging to see who had survived long enough to seize control. Given the size of Billa’s army, Jig wouldn’t want to be anywhere near that power struggle. Though that likely wouldn’t be a problem, since he would be dead before it began.
Genevieve plucked the blocks from Darnak’s map. ‘‘With luck, they’ll give up and go home. Can you imagine my father’s face? Him and his army arriving to an empty field.’’ Her expression was wistful. She frowned as she studied the map. ‘‘What if Jig’s goblins betray him? If he’s smart enough to realize what could happen, maybe they will, too. They’ll rejoin Billa to save themselves.’’
‘‘Not Relka,’’ Darnak said. ‘‘I get the sense that one would walk into a dragon’s maw for him. A few of the others, too. As for the rest, well, Jig’s already told them what Billa has in mind.’’
‘‘We should do this soon.’’ Jig turned the tiny, spectacled goblin over in his hand. He wondered if Darnak could sculpt a little spider to go with it. ‘‘Before they have time to think about it.’’
‘‘Sunrise would be best,’’ Genevieve said. ‘‘The sun rises almost directly behind Avery. It will work in your favor.’’
Jig nodded. There were a few things he needed to take care of, if he was to lead the goblins into battle. He stood to go.
‘‘Jig, wait.’’ Genevieve hesitated, then reached down to grab a long, cloth-wrapped bundle from the floor. ‘‘I promised you a sword.’’
Jig took the bundle. It was lighter than he had expected.
‘‘This was my brother’s short sword,’’ she said. ‘‘Companion to the blade he carried when he fell. The elves gave them to him as a gift, the first time he snuck into their woods.’’
‘‘You really think he’d want you giving that to a goblin?’’ Darnak asked.
Genevieve grinned. ‘‘No.’’ She reached out to grab Jig’s arm. ‘‘My father passed the law ordering us to kill goblins on sight. The worst thing you could do to him is to succeed where his son failed.’’
Jig’s answering smile made his jaw ache. He had been clenching it so long it hurt to do anything else. Whatever flaws Genevieve might possess, she certainly knew how to motivate a goblin.
CHAPTER 14
The son was born a twisted blue runt with comically oversized ears.
‘‘Are you sure that thing came from Golaka?’’ One of the nursery workers hobbled over. She was a hunched, wrinkled thing, leaning heavily on a yellow cane. ‘‘I’ve seen rats with more meat.’’
The goblin holding the baby jabbed her claw into his belly. He batted weakly at her finger. ‘‘He’s a pasty little mouse. He hasn’t even cried.’’
‘‘Nothing wrong with a bit of quiet.’’ The older goblin tucked a bit of hard candy into her cheek. ‘‘Maybe he can teach you how to keep your mouth shut.’’
‘‘Careful, Grell.’’ The younger worker balanced the baby in one hand and drew a short sword with her other. She jabbed the sword in Grell’s direction. The baby turned his head, eyes wide as he followed the tarnished steel. He was an observant thing, and if that goblin wasn’t careful, she was going to drop him on his head. If that happened, Shadowstar intended to give her a smiting like the world had never seen.
‘‘Put that away,’’ Grell said, rapping the sword with her cane. ‘‘Kill me, and you’re on your own come diaper-changing time.’’ She grinned. ‘‘Remember those dried fruits I swiped from that last group of adventurers? Well, a few of the brats found them. It’s going to make diaper duty pretty exciting for the next few days. But by all means, run me through with your little sword and wipe their arses all by yourself.’’
The other goblin stared at her sword. She looked as though she was half tempted to fall on it. With a sigh, she rammed it back into her sheath. ‘‘Why don’t you check diapers, and I’ll take the runt outside for the wolves.’’
Tymalous Shadowstar shook his head. That runt had potential, for a goblin. Besides, it was kind of cute the way those ears kept flopping down into his eyes. Shadowstar couldn’t simply let him die.
He concentrated on Grell, but she mentally swatted him away like a bug. So he turned to the younger goblin. Aggressive and angry, she was a true goblin, willing to do anything to get her way.
‘‘Wait,’’ she said. ‘‘I have a better idea.’’
‘‘You have an idea?’’ Grell snorted. ‘‘And here I thought I’d seen everything.’’
Shadowstar whispered, and the goblin said, ‘‘I’ll bet you a week’s worth of diaper-changing duty that you can’t keep the runt alive long enough to see his first full moon.’’
Grell’s cane clicked against the obsidian floor as she limped over to take the baby. ‘‘A month,’’ she said.
‘‘A month it is.’’ The other goblin touched the hilt of her sword.
‘‘Try it, and I’ll make you eat those diapers.’’
Shadowstar grinned. He was starting to like these goblins.
Jig scowled at his new sword. The blade was light as air, and stronger than any human steel. Had any goblin ever possessed so fine a weapon?
If they had, Jig suspected they would have soon thrown it away. For Jig had learned the true nature of the elves’ magical weapons. In addition to being so strong and sharp and light, the sword glowed orange in the presence of orcs and ogres . . . and goblins. Every time Jig looked at his own sword, it burned an image of itself onto his eyelids.
‘‘Stupid elves,’’ Jig muttered. He turned to Darnak. ‘‘Can’t you turn it off?’’
Darnak chuckled. ‘‘The steel remembers the light of the forge. Be thankful it doesn’t recall the heat as well.’’ He closed the box of figurines and crammed it into his pack.
Actually, a heated sword would have been nice. At least he would have been able to feel his fingers.
Genevieve had already gone off to prepare her soldiers, leaving Jig and Darnak alone in the barracks. Jig bent to pick up the goblin figurine, which had fallen onto the floor beneath the table.
‘‘Keep it,’’ Darnak said. ‘‘As for the sword, the magic will wear off in time. Most elven blades lose their power after a thousand years or so. Two thousand at the most.’’
The sword cast about as much light as a muck lantern or torch. Still, it was a far cry better than the old kitchen knife he used to carry. Not that he expected it to make much difference. Sure, Jig’s sword could help him avoid stubbing his toe in the darkness. Billa’s could kill a god.
A tugging on his cloak drew Jig’s attention. Smudge crept slowly up the hem, toward Jig’s neck. He took slow, careful steps, as he did when he was hunting. Just beneath Jig’s chin, the fire-spider stopped. One leg at a time, he turned to face the sword.
‘‘Odd pets you goblins keep,’’ Darnak said.
Smudge pounced. The move was so sudden Jig nearly dropped the sword. Smudge landed on the blade, slipped, and fell into the snow.
Instantly, Smudge was scrambling for Jig’s leg. He climbed up again and crouched, waiting.
Jig started to smile. Smudge probably thought he had discovered the world’s largest glow-fly. He waited until Smudge pounced, then flicked the blade out of the way.
Next time, Smudge was smarter. He simply ran down Jig’s arm and onto the blade. He steadied himself on the crossguard and tried to take a bite out of the edge. After a few such attempts, he turned around, all eight eyes glaring up at Jig.
‘‘Don’t get mad at me. I never said you could eat it.’’ Jig ran a finger over the bristly fur on Smudge’s back. ‘‘Darnak, I have to ask you for something.’’
‘‘Genevieve’s in charge,’’ Darnak said. ‘‘Not me.’’
Jig shook his head. ‘‘No, it’s nothing like that. Will you take care of Smudge for me?’’
Darnak cocked his head. ‘‘That’s Smudge? I thought that little guy got himself squished back when you and Barius fought.’’
‘‘He . . . he survived.’’ Had he ever thanked Shadowstar for that miracle?
No.
>
Jig sheathed his sword and held Smudge out to Darnak. ‘‘He doesn’t deserve to die out there.’’
Slowly Darnak opened his hand. Jig poked Smudge, gently at first, then harder. Smudge lowered his body, his feet heating Jig’s palm. Finally Jig grabbed him with his other hand and pulled him free. ‘‘Don’t let him get near your beard unless you want to lose it. And try to keep him out of the cold, if you can. When this is all over you can take him back to our lair. There’s a fire-spider nest in the tunnels below our cavern. If you put him into the garbage crevasse, he should remember how to find it.’’
Darnak held the fire-spider at arm’s length. ‘‘Wouldn’t it be making more sense to give this beastie to another goblin?’’
Jig shook his head. ‘‘Most goblins don’t like them very much. Fire-spiders sneak into the distillery and the muck pits. They like to eat the muck. When I was young, a distillery worker startled a fire-spider that was hiding in one of the pans. The explosion killed four goblins and deafened nine more.’’
From the look on Darnak’s face, Jig might as well have given him a pile of wolf scat. With his free hand, Darnak twisted his beard into a rope and tucked it down the front of his shirt. ‘‘You sure it’s me you’re wanting to look after him?’’
‘‘If you say you’ll protect him, you will. You’re like that.’’ Jig glanced at the map. ‘‘And he’s safer with you than with me.’’
Slowly Darnak nodded. ‘‘True enough. I’ll do my best to care for the beast—for Smudge—and to get him back home where he belongs. My word on it.’’
Jig searched his pockets for something to give to Smudge. He found one tiny troll toe, covered in purple lint, but Smudge wasn’t interested.
Jig’s throat felt as though he had tried to swallow a toe. A big one. He blinked and turned toward the door.
‘‘Jig!’’ Trok burst inside and stomped snow from his boots. ‘‘We caught Gratz. He’s outside. Nobody knew where you had gotten to.’’
‘‘Oh.’’ That was good. Maybe he could give pieces of Gratz to Smudge as a final present.