by Hilari Bell
The only metal on him was the copper shackle around his ankle and a slim chain around his neck that held a medallion—no doubt the hiding charm Master Lazur had warned him about. Tobin couldn’t see it. The chain was so tight he could only slip two fingers between it and his throat. Half an hour of careful feeling had discovered no clasp, and the chain was too strong for him to break. The Otherworld stone was in the very center of the goblin’s base—but useless because it was with him, and he was under a hiding spell.
Tobin considered throwing the stone out the window, but Master Lazur had said she might have a hiding spell covering the whole camp, and if that were true he probably couldn’t throw it far enough. On the other hand, a lot of the things Master Lazur had said weren’t true.
Was it possible the girl really was a common hedgewitch? If it was, then how had she defeated all the forces that had been sent against her? A small force could defeat a stronger one, but only if the leader of the small force was a very good tactician. To defeat stronger forces again and again, the leader had to be not merely a good tactician, but a truly great one. A general, in fact. Tobin scowled. A seventeen-year-old peasant girl? She was a year younger than he was. Tobin couldn’t believe it. But he found it no easier to believe that she was a mighty sorceress.
The door opened and sunlight streamed into the room, almost reaching the wall where he sat, which meant the sun was low, and the door was in the west wall. Tobin noticed this, but most of his attention was concentrated on the goblin woman who carried the tray in. She was almost two feet tall, what he was coming to think of as average height for goblinkind, with lank brown hair and the longest, sharpest nose he’d ever seen. The tips of her fingers were green tinged—he hoped she wasn’t the one who’d prepared whatever was in the bowl she carried. Then the smell of rabbit stew reached him, and his mouth started to water.
“Hello.” He smiled tentatively. No use being on bad terms with the gaoler who brought food. “It looks like a nice evening out there.”
“Humph.” The soft snort was her only response. She came forward, set the tray within his reach, and stepped back quickly. Rabbit stew in a wooden bowl, wooden spoon, bread, and a wooden tankard containing fresh water. Nothing he could use as a tool or a weapon, unless he wanted to hit her with the tray, which he didn’t. He was far too hungry.
She stood with her arms folded, watching him eat. His attempts at conversation met with no response. Even his thanks, when he set the tray away from him, went unanswered. She took the tray away and returned with a large clay pot, whose purpose was obvious. Tobin was grateful that she didn’t insist on staying to watch him use it.
When she’d gone, he investigated the room. His chain wouldn’t let him reach the windows, but he could still see parts of a clearing with trees not too far off. The walls were made of stacked sod bricks. He could probably dig through them with his bare hands, but since the chain kept him prisoner he saw no point in trying.
The ceiling was made of wood planks, supported by thick beams. It was easy to see why they’d attached the other end of his chain to a ceiling beam; aside from the door and window frames, they were the only wood in the hut. His bed, which consisted of a rough mattress stuffed with straw, several blankets, and his cloak, was the only furniture.
Tobin sighed and turned his attention to the chain. It was linked to a spike driven deep in the beam. Tobin grabbed the top of the chain and tried to work the spike back and forth, leaning all his weight on it. It didn’t budge. He might be able to loosen it—in about a week.
He sat down and studied the shackle around his ankle. There were hinges on one side and a lock on the other, but he had no tool that would either break the first or pick the second.
His headache was coming back, but he took advantage of the last of the light to study each link in the chain. They were as thick as the tip of his little finger and welded solidly.
Tobin sighed again and went to bed. He was exhausted now, and his head throbbed. Perhaps morning would bring some opportunity to escape.
Morning brought the green-fingered woman with his breakfast. She served him in silence, and he ate again, uncomfortable under her angry gaze. He was almost finished when he heard a slight scrabbling at one of the windows. Glancing up, he caught a glimpse of half a tiny face and two wide hazel eyes.
“Be off with you!”
Tobin jumped at the sound of the little woman’s voice—he’d almost decided she was mute. She hurried out the door. “Didn’t I tell you to leave the human alone? Tadpoles eat your toes!”
Tobin set his food down and went as far as he could toward the window. He couldn’t see her, but he heard her voice scolding, and a childish voice replying.
“Your child?” he asked when she came back for the tray. “I don’t mind if they’re curious.”
“She’s not mine. And I do mind.” She said it coldly, but at least she’d answered.
“Why?” he pressed on. “All children are curious.”
“Not about humans. I don’t want them having anything to do with humans, ever!” Bitter passion filled her voice.
“Have you been injured by humans?” he asked cautiously.
“Aye.” There was a world of irony in the soft word. “You might say I’ve been…injured.” She met his eyes and he flinched at her pain. “The only reason I let you live, human, is that the mistress insisted.” She picked up the tray and left then, and he was glad to see her go.
When the knock fell on the door, he was delighted. “Come in, Master Erebus.”
The door opened on the little goblin’s astonished expression. “How did you know it was me?”
“Because you’re the only one who’d knock,” Tobin told him. “I’m glad to see you. Come in and sit down. We can talk.”
“Oh, no,” said Erebus ruefully. He closed the door and sat carefully, several feet beyond Tobin’s reach. “I’ve gotten into enough trouble talking to you. Not that I blame you, mind. You have your duties and loyalties, just as I have mine. But I’m telling you nothing of the mistress or anything else.”
“You mean I’ll have to rely on my talkative gaoler for information? Thanks a lot.”
“Not speaking to you, is she? Well, she’s bitter. She has reason.”
“Why? Oh, all right, don’t tell me. I just hope she’s not the one who’s fixing the food.”
“Oh, Natter wouldn’t poison you, if that’s what you’re thinking. She’s a gentle sort, for all her sharp tongue.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it. Speaking of seeing, I’m going mad in here. Is there some way I could go outside? Just for a bit of exercise? I’ll give my word….”
Erebus was shaking his head. “I’ll not be taken in by you twice, Sir Tobin. May I call you Tobin? And even if I could be, others wouldn’t. You’re going to stay right here until the mistress decides what to do with you.”
Tobin rubbed his thumb over the stubble of his beard. “In for a long wait, am I?”
“Sorry, I’m telling you nothing this time.”
“Will you at least tell me how Fiddle is? If you’re having trouble taking care of him, perhaps I could help?” He didn’t really believe they’d let him out, but it was worth a try.
Erebus’ eyes shifted guiltily. “Well, I suppose I could tell you about that. The mistress sent your horse to be sold.”
“Sold!” Tobin’s voice spiraled up. “To who? What’s happened to him? He could be whipped! Starved! I’ve got to—”
“Calm yourself,” said Erebus serenely. “He won’t be abused, he’s too valuable. Todd—Ah, the mistress’ agent is a tinker. He knows the worth of a good horse.”
“But why?”
“The mistress said you’d be less likely to try to escape on foot than on horseback, and—”
“But he’s my horse! How dare she sell my horse?”
Erebus shrugged. “At least she didn’t sell him to the horse eaters. You can always buy him back, if you get free. Think of it as a small payment for ou
r hospitality.”
“But…but…” There was nothing he could do, curse her! And Erebus was right, a horse as good as Fiddle would be well treated. The humor of it began to strike him—protesting wildly at the sale of his horse when his life was threatened!
Erebus beamed, sensing his change of mood. “Speaking of payment,” he continued, “I’d like to get the information you owe me now.” Paper, pen, and ink appeared as if by magic. “About those barbarians…”
Outrage warred with humor…and lost. Tobin laughed and told him what he wanted to know.
The next time Tobin heard the scrabbling at the window, he was ready, glancing up cautiously, not wanting to startle them. But as soon as they saw him looking, the eyes vanished. He heard muffled giggling outside the window, but it soon faded away.
On the morning of his fourth day of imprisonment, he wakened to the growling of thunder. The sky was gray, and he couldn’t guess the time. He thought it might be late, for he’d worked on loosening the spike far into the night. The spike was beginning to shift just a little as he pushed and pulled at it. The shackle was turning his skin as green as Natter’s fingers.
Natter seemed disturbed by the weather when she brought his breakfast and nodded absently when he remarked that the storm would be a bad one.
The thunder grew louder. Tobin had thought the goblins would be busy preparing for the storm and was astonished when the door opened, revealing a rectangle of writhing dark clouds and a tiny goblin girl, hardly more than a foot high. She was slender, her nose quite short for one of her kind, and she looked very young in spite of the determined set to her jaw. Her eyes were a familiar hazel.
“Hello,” said Tobin softly, trying not to startle her. “I believe I’ve seen you, but we haven’t met. I’m Tobin.”
“My name’s Onny.” She took a wary step forward, and then jumped as the thunder crashed.
“It’s getting closer,” said Tobin. “Are your people ready for the storm?”
“They’re doing that now.” She inched forward, wary and graceful as a hummingbird. “They’re all busy, so now seemed like the best time to—”
“To come see me? Then you aren’t supposed to be here? I’m glad you are,” he added hastily. “I don’t like being alone with the storm coming in.”
It thundered again and the girl flinched, then wrinkled her nose. “That’s a lie. You’re not scared of the storm.”
“Well, not a lot,” Tobin admitted. “Are you?”
“Of course not. Only babies are afraid of thunder.”
“I see. And I see you’re not afraid of the mistress, either.”
She looked puzzled.
“Because she told you not to come here, and you have,” he explained.
“Oh, the mistress didn’t say anything about you.” Thunder crashed again and she winced. “That was just Natter. The mistress is away now.” She edged toward him.
“Really? Where is she?”
“She’s off spying on the human village,” said the girl. “Fa was upset about it, but she wouldn’t listen.”
A brilliant flash lit the windows, and thunder exploded right on top of them. The child jumped and clapped her hands over her ears, her face white beneath the scattered freckles. Then she leapt forward, touched his knee, and darted back to the door like a fish out of a net. “It was a dare.” She flashed a smile at him and ran out as the first heavy drops splattered down.
The spike was beginning to shift. Working it grimly back and forth, Tobin wondered how much the girl had learned about the settlement. Everything, if she was as clever with them as she’d been with him. She’d have been there for days by now. And what would she do with her knowledge? He had to warn them. If he could get there in time, perhaps they could—
The spike came loose. Tobin, in the act of pulling back on it, lost his balance and fell, the chain rattling down around him. He stared at it stupidly for a second, then a shout of joy welled up in his throat and he had to struggle to suppress it.
Grinning triumphantly, he jumped to his feet, slinging the chain over his neck to keep it out of the way. He snatched up his cloak and hurried out the door, closing it behind him. If he was lucky, his escape might not be noticed until Natter brought his dinner.
Stepping into the storm was like stepping into a waterfall—he had to pull up his hood to protect his face or he’d have been unable to see at all. At least no one was likely to see him.
Soon the ground began to rise and Tobin climbed rapidly, exalting in his freedom after days in the cramped hut. At the top of the small hill, the trail ended in a cleared space where an ancient pine had fallen. Then the woods began.
Tobin plunged thankfully into the trees. Soon he’d be far from the goblin’s base—but wait! He’d almost forgotten the Otherworld stone.
Tobin looked back. The rain fell in torrents. He could only see about ten feet, but considering the rise he’d climbed he guessed the small clearing would give a good overview of the goblin camp. It might not be out of range of any spells she’d placed, but if he left the stone among the trees, whoever found it wouldn’t know what direction to go next. If he left it here, when they found the stone they’d find the goblin base without fail.
The great fallen pine lay across the back of the clearing, near the forest. Tobin darted into the rain and tucked the stone out of sight beneath the huge tree. Done! He’d accomplished his mission. Now all he had to do was warn Master Lazur that the sorceress knew about him, and he’d be free to go home.
He climbed to his feet, hindered a little by the weight of his wet cloak, and entered the woods again, heading south.
Tobin tramped wearily through the darkness, wishing he still had his boots, for his soaked slippers offered little protection from the stones and branches that littered the forest floor. He stepped on the sharp end of a branch and hopped, cursing.
Then the ground disappeared and he was falling, striking things. He flung out his hands, shouting, then hit the bottom, his left ankle twisting beneath him. Pain shot through his leg.
Tobin blinked, but he couldn’t see anything but darkness until he thought to look up. There was a lighter patch in the blackness above him. He’d fallen into some kind of pit.
He thought about moving around, exploring the area by touch, but he didn’t have the nerve. Suppose this was just a ledge and another, deeper, pit lay right at his feet—he’d heard of such things. No, no exploring. He’d told Jeriah he was no hero, and it was true. He would stay right here until daylight.
His first awareness was that every muscle in his body was clenched and shivering. He then realized that this was because he was wrapped in something cold and heavy—it was his struggle to throw it off that woke him.
He opened his eyes and for an instant thought he was back in the hut, for the wall before him was also of earth. But there were stones embedded in this wall, and higher up, roots poked out of it. At the top he saw, not planks and beams, but green boughs and a snatch of sky. Of course, he had fallen into a pit.
Groaning, for his bruises had stiffened during the night, Tobin unwrapped his wet cloak. The chain rattled as it slid off his shoulders. The pit was roughly circular, about eight feet across and twelve feet deep. The floor was littered with fallen debris.
The air, heavy with the scent of fresh rain and damp earth, woke a raging thirst. Several nearby rocks had puddles in the hollows. Tobin rose to go to the closest, but as soon as he stood waves of pain shot from his left ankle, and his vision darkened.
When it cleared, he saw his ankle was mottled with bruises and swollen to twice its normal size. Tobin couldn’t tell if it was broken or only sprained. Either way, he couldn’t walk let alone climb out. Would it be worse to be recaptured by the goblins, or to die of starvation? Tobin surveyed his dripping surroundings. At least he wouldn’t die of thirst. He crawled painfully to the nearest puddle and drank.
Tobin sat and gazed at the top of the pit. He’d tried to climb out several times, and failed. Now the su
n was getting lower, not setting yet, but casting a tint of gold across the sky. It was pleasing, and he gazed at it for several minutes before he became aware that a familiar pair of hazel eyes was gazing back.
“Onny?” The eyes jerked away, and he heard a muffled yelp.
“See,” said a piercing whisper. “I said he’d see you if you stared like that!”
“So?” said the girl, defiantly loud. “He can’t do anything. I think he’s stuck down there.”
Five pairs of eyes popped over the edge and looked down.
“I dunno,” said a doubtful voice, also familiar though he couldn’t place it. “He could be faking, or something.”
“Don’t be silly, Miggy.” Onny’s whole face came into view as she leaned forward. “Are you stuck down there?”
“Yes, I am,” said Tobin. “And if you want to recapture me, I’d like that very much. Have you got a rope?”
“No.” Five faces peered down at him now. Besides Onny, there were two goblin boys, another girl, quite small, and an adult Tobin vaguely recognized from when they’d captured him. Miggy, yes, that was the name. “We didn’t know we’d need one when we found your tracks. You can’t get out without one?”
“If I could,” said Tobin reasonably, “I wouldn’t be here. I fell in last night and hurt my ankle.” He held it out so they could see the swelling. They gazed down at it for a moment, then the heads vanished. Most of their discussion was muffled, but he could hear mournful protests from Miggy, and a very young voice piping “Me, too!”
After several minutes Onny’s face returned. “We’re sending Miggy back for help, while we stay here and watch you. As long as you’re down there and we’re up here, it’ll be perfectly safe.”
“You shouldn’t tell him that, you nit,” said one of the boys. “You might give him ideas!”