“You’re insane.”
“Our own eyes, and our telescopes, tell us that only these Five Worlds exist in the Abyss. Science cannot yet tell us why there are no other worlds, but in the other worlds there are texts that speak of the Five Worlds passing from one reality—a plenum,with an abundant variety of worlds and other colossal celestial bodies the likes of which we can only speculate—to this one. I had not found such a text in goblin literature until now.”
“This only means you’re not that well-read in goblin literature,” Huiln said, “as I have encountered this thought in Luenara, among other writers.”
“That’s correct,” said Eurilda, “but she read it in the Zolm.”
“Speaking of which,” Huiln said with some heat, “you’re taking a nonsense rhyme as on par with the Zolm and the Alfyrian Coda?”
“Your attentive questions are very sweet, and I’d be grateful for a second set of eyes on my research, but shouldn’t we stick to the task at hand? And the reason why the rhyme is so important is that it gives further credence to a theory being developed by the best minds in Uenarak: the catacombs lie under every city in the Five Worlds; only they aren’t catacombs or ruins, but living artifacts of an otherworldly reality tangent to our own. As our own worlds spin, suspended, in the spider’s Abyss, the ancient worlds are held in abeyance, but their memory leaves an imprint in our soil. Not only do we settle on these points of influence, but we can move through the paralyzed realities like water into a glass, which is how we shall make our way into the king’s castle.”
“So under us is an otherworldly civilization, and my whole life I’ve been walking across graves?”
“Except they live.”
“That’s debatable. A trapped life, waiting for another universe to return, may never resume. Life in perpetual abeyance may as well be death.”
“Shithouses aren’t powder rooms,” said Khyte. “And catacombs are catacombs. However, Eurilda is always right, so if she says shithouses are powder rooms, or that a goblin nursery rhyme means catacombs under the castle, I believe her until she says otherwise. The more you doubt her now, the more insufferable she’ll be later when she’s proved that shithouses are, indeed, powder rooms.”
“This is a high-risk venture, and I have no reason to trust her.”
“Trust her? Trust me, Huiln.”
“I trust Khyte,” said Kuilea, “so we will test the giantess’s path, whether it leads down ancient roads paved in another reality, or into catacombs we forgot building.”
Huiln shrugged, and said, “I agree with my sister. Yuyunil iourta trevek il kapota.”
“I know that idiom,” Eurilda answered. “‘Regret, like agreement, is easily shared.’ It’s like one in giant, except instead of agreement, we say ‘bad company.’”
After a long silence, Khyte, who would have preferred to build on a different note, finally said, “Do we have an accord?”
Starting with Eurilda, each one nodded.
“How, then, do we enter these catacombs?” asked Kuilea.
“Better to ask how are they being accessed,” said Huiln, “and why is their existence not common knowledge? Since we’re determined to use them, I have an admission to make: I know the answer to both questions. They are protected.”
“Protected by whom?” asked Eurilda.
“The Bankers’ Guild—my employers. You’re correct in at least the material foundations of your metaphysics, giant, as the catacombs exist; not only have I seen them, but I have visited them to serve the interests of the Bankers’ Guild. I can take you to these catacombs, but none can know.”
“Take us there after breakfast,” said Khyte.
“There is no more.” said Kuilea. “You’ve eaten all the seconds.”
“I’ll put on some oats,” said Huiln. “I’m still hungry, also, and still a little wiped out from scaling Irutak. Judging by her namesake, Irutak’s the strictest god.”
“I respect Irutak more than any other Nahurian,” said Khyte. Though there was a little laughter at Khyte’s quip, the ponderous mood at the table helped him realize that everyone’s best interest, including his own, would be served by playing along with all three, though he didn’t yet understand their motives, Eurilda’s least of all. That Khyte had witnessed a lot of magic and was spoiled by Eurilda’s powers made him skeptical about predicting the future, which he considered as efficacious as hope—which is to say, as accurate as the likelihood of what one was predicting. Compared with foretelling the future, other magics followed sensible rules, and while Eurilda talked large and may have indeed been fluent with the runes and glyphs, it looked like she made it up as she went along.
To Khyte, however, most adventuring was improvisational; for instance, there was a tit-for-tat kind of information dealing at which he excelled, and he could tell that while the goblins gave away the farm, Eurilda revealed nothing they didn’t know. For all he knew, Eurilda used him to approach Huiln, whose association with the Bankers’ Guild she may have known beforehand. And in the sense that they were useful in negotiation, Eurilda’s runes were very powerful indeed, as her interpretation had compelled Huiln, Khyte’s least forthcoming friend, to divulge this guild secret. If Khyte was correct, their current plan was merely a strategy to move them like pawns through Eurilda’s game, and only she knew the rules and the stakes. Which meant that Khyte had play to his own strengths if he wanted to beat her and the goblins as well, because unlike the giantess, he knew not to underestimate either of his goblin friends.
After Huiln and Khyte finished the oatmeal, Huiln led them to the House of Hwarn’s commodious recreational room. The goblin cast pencils and large sheets of paper on his gaming table, then drew the rough outline of a building, indicating surrounding landmarks with scratches and hash marks. When the others took chairs, Khyte leaned on the table’s opposite side to watch the drawing take form.
As Huiln sketched Bankers’ Plaza, the Kreona city block in which the Nahurian banking empire’s headquarters resided, Khyte recalled that Huiln worked for the Bankers’ Guild as a freelance consultant, a lucrative position that gave him free time for off-world travel. The Bankers’ Capital Building seemed a normal one-level goblin business, but descended to twenty-nine sublevels. To accommodate goblin acrophobia, each floor had its stairwell in a different location, so that each only dropped so far, and so that you had to learn each floor’s labyrinthine layout to continue your descent. To the goblin mind, the idea of a central stairwell that stretched up or down into dizziness was madness.
As architects planned the thirtieth level, they ran into a snag—the catacombs. Not only was the towering, if subterranean, Bankers’ Capital Building revealed to be queasily perched over the cavernous catacombs, and supported only by solid earth on it sides, like an over-sized carrot dangling over a hungry gopher’s tunnel; not only was this mammoth subterranean grotto unsuited for the thirtieth level due to goblin phobias; but the cavern and catacomb walls, the unusual edifices—indeed, everything in the catacombs—were also assayed to be a high percentage of precious metals, including copper, silver, and gold.
Huiln had to take the better part of an hour to explain to Khyte, Kuilea, and even the studied giantess, why so much precious metal was bad. The bankers’ acumen was such that they were only excited about their discovery for five minutes before they remembered the economic consequences of allowing the precious metals entry into the Nahurian economy. The fortunes of most rich goblins were still based on the gold and silver standard, and with the emergence of such a large quantity of those precious metals, their value would plummet, along with rich goblins’ fortunes. Those that are rich prize their supposed superiority as much as their wealth, and wish to share neither with the poor, or none will be superior, none will be rich, and all will suffer equally. The bankers were more dismayed when continued exploration revealed the catacombs’ extension under all of Nahure, and the existe
nce of the catacombs became the best kept secret on the Goblin World, with only a handful outside of Kreona that knew the truth. That said, because the secret was uncovered in Kreona, everyone who was anyone in that fine city knew something about it.
“And,” said Huiln, “there are those that make an unofficial withdrawal from what we call the ‘Blank Bank,’ because there is endless capital for withdrawal without making a debit mark in the ledger. This is my role in my consultancy—smooth over the reports so that the funds mined from the catacomb can trickle in, invisibly, to certain partners.”
For Khyte, to hear his friend talk so openly about fraud was shocking. However, this satisfactorily explained Huiln’s recent behavior. If money had become a lower priority to Huiln than a dryad princess he did not know, Huiln had no doubt embezzled enough of the Blank Bank to last four generations.
“Here’s our first hurdle: As a consultant, unless I am invited to cook the books, I only have access to the first ten levels, and am barred from the nineteen levels below it and the Blank Bank.”
“There are four obstacles in all,” said Kuilea. “Getting a master key to the BCB, navigating the catacombs, finding an entrance to the king’s castle from them, and the fourth is the rescue itself.”
“The Princess may be in a state of regrowth triggered by King Merculo’s abuses,” said Khyte, “and we may need to carry her to safety. Let’s call that a possible fifth.”
“And the sixth,” drawled Eurilda, “is working in a group. With so much that can go wrong, we must be able to trust every one of us. And we may need to trust others, if our rescue could be abetted by bribery or full-fledged coconspirators. A banker or clerk at the BCB to provide access, an architect for catacomb maps, and most importantly, an ally within the king’s walls to look for a passage to the catacombs, tell us the dryad’s condition, and to facilitate our escape.”
Eurilda wasn’t one to mince words, and her analysis silenced the table—this was the kind of venture that could cut a life to pieces.
“If a banker had the architects’ maps,” said Huiln, “or if an architect still had the keys to the lower levels, we would only need one or the other. In which case, we could limit our coconspirators to two—one in the castle, and one at the BCB.”
“Even better: a bankers’ consultant could get his hands on both the key and the maps.”
“Don’t put this on him,” said Kuilea.
“Eurilda’s right,” said Huiln. “If she can’t test my commitment, I’m not committed, and it wasn’t right to involve you. In fact, why involve anyone who isn’t necessary?”
Eurilda laughed. “You’re so noble.”
Huiln’s face contorted, as if something very rude was about to pass his lips, but he swallowed it instead. “What don’t you believe?”
“What I believe is immaterial to what you believe. But to clarify: You stealing what we need is the right course of action.”
“If we agree—which I’m not saying that I do—who is our ally in the king’s camp?” said Khyte.
“We must assume there is at least one among the king’s retinue that is not without conscience, and with whom the king’s torture of the dryad do not sit well. To discover the weak link in the king’s chain of retainers, we’ll acquaint ourselves with them all. So on the next session of the king’s court, we will turn you in, so that we might use it as a pretext to sit among the king’s courtiers.”
“You’re joking!” said Khyte. “If they didn’t kill me on sight, and by some miracle my case managed to be heard by the king, and not summarily served by his headsman or torturers, he’d skin me alive like the dryad—only my skin wouldn’t grow back.”
“The monster betrays her ignorance,” said Kuilea, “for the House of Hwarn, like any great house, may appeal for the king’s justice, no matter how small the offense. Moreover, the king is notorious for deciding in favor of his allies, as justice is less his concern than avoiding assassination and staying in power. However, Khyte, as you are an offworlder, there would be even odds between your execution and your acquittal.”
“And we would be liable for the damages you incurred at the Copper Croc,” said Huiln, “adding insult to your beheading.” He moaned, ignoring Khyte and Kuilea’s incredulous stares.
“With that as your position,” said Kuilea, “whether or not you are occupied at the BCB, I’ll trust no one other than myself to accompany Khyte. As the court is known to ask for stiffer penalties for unsworn offworlders, I’ll testify to his love for our noble House. I’d grieve if any part of Khyte was lost, for no sister by blood has more affection than I.”
“This would make our party three,” said Eurilda, “for I must see the conversation of the king with his court, and hear their arguments, to determine if any among them has sympathies for offworlders.”
“Failing that,” said Huiln, “one with political interests opposite to those of Merculo could do.”
“Not anyone,” said Eurilda, “but the right political enemy could be useful to us. We must rub shoulders with as many of them as possible to determine who could be our ally in the dryad’s escape.”
“We should wait for success in Huiln’s endeavor at the BCB,” said Khyte. “Why throw myself at the king’s mercy for nothing?”
“This is a rescue,” said Huiln. “Not a heist. Gold and jewels wait on the thief to liberate them, but a tortured dryad should not have to wait for her rescuers to be bold. I say that we act together, as I will succeed.”
“And that is that,” agreed Eurilda. “Would you be my guest at an upcoming gala in Uenarak? Giants are prone to overlong conversations.”
Khyte nearly had something to say about how Eurilda could put words into every hole in a discussion, but refrained from opening his mouth and jeopardizing his—well, whatever he was to the giantess.
Chapter 4
The Princess Heist
Having diagrammed the king’s castle on a large slate, Huiln and Kuilea then divulged its contents, including Merculo’s staff and the number of courtiers likely to be on hand. After that, they fell upon a heavy repast of stew, salad, and two entrees, one hot and one cold, prepared by the silent staff of the House of Hwarn. The combination of a big breakfast, words piled on words, a quick lunch, and Khyte being the fatted, apple-mouthed pig of their plan, took a heavy toll upon him once he had a moment to consider his plight, and the young barbarian’s mood came crashing down.
Huiln looked even sadder than Khyte as the goblin departed friendless on his deceitful undertaking. A few minutes later the others left for King Merculo’s castle, with Khyte in the middle of the red-hot enmity between Kuilea and the giantess. Literally in the middle, for the young barbarian placed himself between them.
“How do we proceed?” asked Khyte. “We won’t just walk in? If I were a King’s man, I would suspect us.”
“Of course they will,” said Eurilda. “and as we want them to take us directly to the king, we want to be suspicious. We want to be under his nose so we can take the measure of his courtiers.”
Kreona’s industry and restaurants made it a smoky city to begin with, but now it was exceptionally hazy due to the rising condensation of yesterday’s cloudburst. The scintillating radiation of the Abyss enfolded dim rainbows in the hot shade; it would have been a good day for laziness, reading, games, and drunkenness. As they wended the streets between lunch and dinner hours, bistro tables were bused of their cups, plates, and flatware, and busboys tossed brown mop water to the sidewalk. There was a line for an art gallery, cashiers had their hands full at book and grocery stores, coffee house baristas ran trays of beverages, and the Grand Goblin Library’s double doors were propped open.
In a hospitality district, they shuffled slowly, first inhaling the warm, sweet smell of breads and pastries, the tangy and pungent aroma of melted cheese, and the sour odor of spilled beer, then passing the troughs and stables where the kembir sw
illed and snuffed as their masters slumbered, feasted, or shopped. The swinish beasts seemed nearly as common as goblins, serving both as steeds and beasts of burden, hauling wagons and coaches in teams, and they swaggered with much more purpose than the king’s guard, who chewed junjin weed as they leaned on gaslamp posts, fences, and estate walls.
At the end of the hotel concourse, they passed through a gate, designed ostensibly to provide security for traveling humans, elves, and dryads. Khyte suspected it was really there to create a gullible captive audience that would willingly pay prices five times higher than those outside. Sneering at the persistent merchants as they hawked fruit smelling of sweet rot, battered meats, and cloaks and boots with tags that might make the High Tzhurarkh himself choke in disbelief, they filed through the gate while the guards’ sloth-shy eyes slipped back and forth under heavy eyelids.
A few ramshackle tenements and hole-in-the-wall shops, whose main products appeared to be the dissolute youth that patronized these derelict establishments, created a tumbledown buffer between the hotels and a pennant-decorated university of gray stone. As these youths also sprouted in this institute of higher learning, Khyte guessed the broken-down apartments serviced the needs of those aspiring to goblin greatness.
“To our right,” said Eurilda. “Guards. Step up your pace, but not so that we draw their attention.”
“Wouldn’t that speed things along?” asked Khyte
“They would all try to take credit for your arrest,” said Kuilea, “and it would complicate things. No, our destination is Merculo’s castle.”
Surrounded by expert schemers, Khyte began to think he had given himself too much credit. While he wasn’t leagues behind his friends’ reasoning ability as they assumed, he was at least a step behind. However, their tendency to underestimate him worked to his advantage, as they explained the steps in the plan until he understood them better than they did. While they were stuck in the abstract, following the web of cause and effect, he saw the eight-eyed consequences, and realized their plan was doomed from the start.
A Spell Takes Root Page 7