“I'm afraid I can’t,” the Archgoblin said slowly. “You see, I don’t know where she is.” The sword point pricked into his flabby throat. “Please, believe me, I don’t!” he squealed.
Adam looked into the Archgoblin’s eyes, but they were too small and crafty to be believed.
“Dear boy, lower your sword, I’ll tell you everything you wish to know.”
“You'll tell me anyway because if you don’t, I won’t bother much about your miserable life,” Adam said in a hard voice, meaning the threat because, apart from the Hag, he had never disliked anyone so much as he loathed the Archgoblin.
Adam’s eyes were only too believable, so the Archgoblin came out with a torrent of words. “It’s true! I had her arrested. But it was her fault. She didn’t keep her promise, you see.”
Sweat poured down the domed brow. He could see that the miserable boy was serious. “We had a clear agreement. I kept my side of the bargain, but she didn’t keep hers…That brooch was mine by rights…but she called it her 'masterpiece' and hid it from me.” He fished in his pocket for a handkerchief and, raising it around the sword with difficulty, mopped his brow. His voice rose in resentment. “Ungrateful!” he spat out the word. “Ungrateful and deceitful…” Then he remembered who he was talking to and, taking a calmer tone, added, “I mean, dear boy, one should always honour one’s word, shouldn’t one?”
Adam lowered his sword, half-convinced. He let the point rest on the Archgoblin’s ample stomach. “Why should I believe you?”
“If you will permit it, dear boy, I’ll show you why.”
Adam nodded and stood aside. The Archgoblin took a key out of his waistcoat pocket. Going over to a large cabinet, he unlocked its heavy, wooden door. He lifted three trays, one by one, onto the table. Each velvet-covered tray contained five brooches. The jewelled dragonfly wings caught the candlelight and dazzled with the fifteen fairy crowns twinkling gaily.
“There!” The Archgoblin pointed. “That's why you must believe me. Only a fool would harm the person capable of making jewels of such…such exquisite beauty. I only wanted to scare her, to make her keep to our bargain.” His voice rose again, “Her masterpiece is mine! It’s mine by rights.” His voice broke, turning into sobs of frustration and rage. “And now she’s gone—vanished!” he choked the words out.
“Vanished? What do you mean?”
“I don’t know!” the Archgoblin shouted. “Six dead guards and an empty cell. Nobody knows what happened to your sister or her masterpiece. Earlier this morning, she disappeared! And I don’t know where she hid her masterpiece!” he wailed. “I’ve had her house turned upside down, but to no avail.”
Adam put his sword back in its sheath; it was clear that the Archgoblin was telling the truth.
“Ay, they’ve disappeared,” the Archgoblin repeated spitefully, leering into the boy’s face.
“In any case, I’ll find her,” Adam said, “and lucky for you, I believe you!”
He turned on his heel and marched out of the Archgoblin’s palace, hoping never to see that grotesque creature again. Maybe word had spread about his skill with a sword because nobody tried to stop him. He mounted Blitz and told the horse that there was no hurry. He hoped that the stallion had understood because he didn’t want to repeat his earlier experience.
Blitz understood. Guards opened the golden gates, only too glad to see the back of the ferocious warrior. They rode slowly down the hill while he thought about his sister and the Citadel of Wealth. He also thought about Sapiens and how she would have preferred them not to enter that place because accruing wealth caused many problems.
V
The Theatre of Pride
22
Adam was mid-sentence when his gaze, passing over Palustric’s shoulder, met a stranger’s eye. The eye was pale grey and belonged to an old man seated in the corner of the quiet inn. He was entirely grey—hair, beard, hooded cloak and clothes. Maybe that was why Adam hadn’t noticed him before, but it was clear that the Stranger was listening as the boy told of his adventure in the Citadel. His stare never wavered as Adam met his eye; instead, he stood up and crossed to their table, where he sat down without a word.
The old man slowly drew back his hood and smiled at Adam. The boy studied the long, thin, wrinkled face and had the feeling that he already knew him. But it wasn’t the Stranger that he knew; rather, he recognised the feeling. The Stranger seemed old, as old as the hills or the plain.
Without asking, the Stranger reached across, helping himself to their bread and cheese. He tore hungrily at a chunk of bread, saying indistinctly, “Please forgive my forwardness, but I have travelled so far.” They had difficulty understanding his words, spoken with a full mouth. Adam leant back in his chair, studying their uninvited guest while the log-fire pleasantly warmed his back. He marvelled at the cleverness in the grey eyes; nothing was hidden from those eyes, he thought.
Before the Stranger bit off a large piece of cheese, he mentioned, “My name is Deductio,” and went on munching. Lar looked startled while Palustric gasped: “The Wizard of Reason.” So that was why he seemed familiar; Adam understood now: that was how he had felt in Sapiens's presence before ever entering the Citadel.
“This cheese is delicious,” Deductio said, sitting back. He looked at each of them with those steady grey eyes, then placed his hands wide on the table. “Dear friends,” he said indistinctly with a bulging mouth, “the world is in danger.”
Adam wasn’t sure he had heard correctly, but the wizard went on, “The hobgoblin, Pride, has taken Emily to himself; he wants to use her to arrive at you. Pride is the evillest of the hobgoblins—if not stopped, his dark forces will crush us all, like flowers in a mailed fist.” Deductio brought his fist down with a crash on the table to better make his point. He studied Adam’s face with sad eyes, kind but troubled.
The three shocked friends waited for him to continue, but the wizard calmly helped himself to another piece of cheese. “This is heavenly.” He waved it appreciatively before it disappeared into his mouth. He munched away in silence. Lar tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at Palustric, who shrugged at him, confused. Adam was struggling to understand anything. After a while, he said, “But why does this person, Pride, want to reach us?”
The wizard frowned and swallowed his cheese. “Pride has learned about the Key of Ingenuity.” Deductio smiled thinly at Palustric stiffening in his chair. He addressed the dwarf directly. “He knows that your people have built an impenetrable fortress to house the Key. Pride is blind, but his eyes are everywhere. He is well-informed; thus, he knows that the Key is just as unattainable as it was when with Lentor. However, there is one difference, one important difference—”
They waited, but Deductio remained silent as before.
“We’re the difference, aren’t we?” Adam said suddenly.
Deductio nodded. “You reason well, my boy.” He placed a hand on Adam’s arm. “Only reason can save us all now—” He broke off as the inn door opened and watched through narrowed eyes as a goblin entered. He waited until the goblin had gone to the bar, then continued in a lower voice, “That is why the Council of Wizards has sent me to warn and advise you. Pride knows that the only way he can gain the Key is to draw you to himself to take possession of your souls. Pride is an expert in corruption; he has countless misguided souls in his power. Once in his grasp, he will use you to arrive at the Key, and the result for the world—for us all—will be unthinkable.” The wizard sat back in his chair again. “Act quickly! Return to the Citadel!”
“Oh no,” Adam groaned, “that’s the last place I want to go.”
“My boy,” Deductio said gently, “where would you expect to find Pride if not in the Citadel of Wealth? There you will find the Theatre of Pride.”
“The Theatre?”
“Ay.” Deductio tore off another piece of bread and munched thoughtfully while the three companions studied his face impatiently. “It is a Theatre of Illusion,” he said in a muffled v
oice. “You should know that Pride has a seven-fold nature. Each aspect of his nature is deadly and on its own is enough to corrode any man’s soul. Alone in Pride are the seven united. That's why, as I said earlier, he is the evillest. The door of his Theatre is open to everyone. Admittance is free, but the final cost is incalculable.” Deductio’s eyes glittered fiercely, and he went on, “Pride uses his Theatre to draw souls to himself, you see. By nature, he is too proud to present himself. Others must go to him. Emily is an exception; she was taken to him by force and is lost inside the Theatre. Even if Emily’s soul was already open to Pride; find her and bring her out. The risk is greater than you can possibly imagine, my friends—” he looked around the anxious little group, “not only for your souls, but I repeat, for us all, myself included.”
The old grey wizard’s eyes stared into Adam’s. They seemed to penetrate the soul he had just been talking about. Adam shuddered. A long silence followed. Each of the four was lost in his gloomy thoughts.
“Have you any idea what a hobgoblin could do with the Key!” Palustric burst out.
Deductio’s eyes bored deeper into Adam’s.
“He’s not just any hobgoblin; there would be no limit to his evil inventions,” Palustric added, half to himself.
“Then, I have no choice,” Adam said slowly. “In any case, Emily is in danger. I have to save my sister. I must go to the Theatre alone.”
“Not without me!” Palustric objected.
“This is my affair,” Adam refused to discuss the matter and half-rose.
Palustric grabbed his sleeve. “You can’t stop me coming!” he said, red in the face.
Deductio tapped on the table impatiently. “Neither of you is using a grain of reason,” he said disapprovingly, looking at the silent pixy, who grinned at him.
“Knowledge and reason speak; ignorance and wrong shout, is it not so, wise wizard?”
“Exactly!” Deductio rapped on the table with his knuckles and stared at Adam again, who sat down again slowly. “Without our little friend, your mission will fail.” The wizard smiled at the pixy. “Now you can put all your sayings to a greater purpose, Lar. Use them to unmask each of the seven natures of Pride. The only way to make him ineffective is to tear away his disguise; without it he cannot convince—”
“Why can’t you come with us, Deductio, wouldn’t it be simpler and safer?” Adam interrupted.
“Impossible,” the wizard said. “Pride does not open his door to Reason. Nay, my friend, sadly, without me, you must risk more than death: your very souls. I can only advise you of the danger and how to proceed.”
Adam nodded. The grey wizard went on: “Once inside the Theatre, you will find seven closed doors. Choose one and enter. The Theatre is all illusion, and Pride will present one of his natures to you. Unmask him because Pride cannot bear to be exposed for what he is. Exposure weakens him, and total exposure will weaken him severely, perhaps enough to nullify him for a long time. On the other hand, if you cannot see through his disguise, he will slowly possess you with that aspect of his nature, then we are lost, all of us. You must not fail! Once you realise his true nature, our little friend here will know what to say to wound him most effectively.”
Lar nodded solemnly, pleased to be of such importance.
“If you have not erred and you are lucky, you will find Emily in that room. Her soul is possessed by one of the natures of Pride. As yet, we do not know which, even if I suspect. The fact remains that she will be a slave to that vice until you unmask it before her eyes, then you can escape and—well, that comes later.” Deductio paused and wrinkled his brow. “I feel sure that Pride will hold back that part of his nature which has taken Emily until last. In that way, dear friends,” Deductio shook his head sadly, “I fear you will have to face an awesome seven-fold task. May Reason be on your side!”
The wizard took each of them by the hand in turn. Adam felt a tremor pass through him in that instant. Could it be that he was thinking with a clearer head, or was it just a momentary impression? Deductio didn’t shake hands but held each one firm while looking its owner straight in the eye. The wizard held the pixy’s hands longer than the rest.
When he let go, Adam stood up. “We might as well start at once.”
“No!” the wizard cried, surprisingly. “The Archgoblin has given orders for your capture should you re-enter the Citadel. Where, no doubt, Pride would subject you to an ordeal to weaken you mentally before having you taken to his accursed Theatre. They have strengthened the guard, so you must be very careful.”
“But the Theatre is in the Citadel. How can I get there?” Adam looked at Deductio.
The grey wizard stood up. “My friend, my task is complete for the moment. Lose no time, neither throw yourself heedlessly into danger. I know that in the end, reason solves every problem. So, it is reason that you must use. Farewell!” He pulled his hood close to his face. He called the goblin landlord and recommended him not to tell anyone of his visit. Then he slipped out of the inn.
23
The morning passed without inspiration. The three friends ate lunch in dismal silence, which contrasted with their heated arguments before the meal. The Citadel boasted massive stone walls, a drawbridge and many armed guards at the gate. There didn’t seem to be any way in; after all, in a Citadel of goblins, a boy, a pixy and a dwarf would stand out, even in disguise. The afternoon was passing in the same way as the morning when Adam, who was sitting with his head in his hands by the fire, leapt up with a cry.
“Let’s go!” and was out of the door before Lar or Palustric had time to say a word. They chased after him towards the centre of the village. By the time they caught up with their long-legged friend, they didn’t have the breath to ask questions. In any case, they recognised the small, dark house with solid stone walls and clean, little window which Adam entered. Lar and Palustric followed him inside, where the wizened goblin sat in his usual place by the hearth, just as they had left him weeks before.
“I told you it'd bring you no good, heh, heh!” The withered goblin shook his white-tufted head at Adam’s tale. “Bad gold that! But if you want to get into that place again, you’ve come to the right goblin! Heh, heh, heh!” He chuckled like a child.
He raised his thin arm, causing his blanket to fall aside as he pointed to the corner of the room. “In the chest,” he said. “Go on, go on, open it! What’re ye waiting for? There’s a plan, but be careful! It’s fragile. My great grandfather drew it, you know. He won the Forty-first Archgoblin’s Public Competition to design the Citadel! Heh, heh! Very clever, he was, you know, heh, heh!”
It was already evening by the time Adam had finished studying the map. He made some notes on a sheet of paper and, after thanking the old goblin and warning him not to tell anyone of their visit, returned with his companions to the inn.
They waited for nightfall, and Adam breathed a word of thanks for the clouds above as they set off under a particularly dark sky. Before long, they came to the moat which circled the Citadel. They crept along, doubled up, making themselves as small as possible (which was easy for Lar).
Adam peered into the gloom of the opposite bank. “It must be here somewhere,” he repeated to himself. He grumbled about the high reeds at the water’s edge but, at a certain point, he indicated a small opening, like a dark stain, under the wall on the other side. “Here it is!” he breathed excitedly. “It’s a culvert, a part of the drainage system,” Adam said. “We’ve to swim across to it and squeeze through, it’ll take us under the walls and into the Citadel.”
“Master!” Lar whispered urgently, tugging at Adam's sleeve.
“What’s up, Lar?”
“I can’t swim!”
“Can you swim, Palustric?” Adam asked anxiously because he hadn’t thought of this important detail in his planning.
“Ay, that I can!”
Adam breathed a sigh of relief. He lowered himself into the water of the moat and gasped at its iciness. Good job the moat wasn’t wide, he
thought.
“Hurry up, Lar, climb on my back,” he ordered. The pixy was afraid but tried not to show it and obeyed his master. They were soon across to where Adam helped Lar into the black hole, before squeezing in after him. They heard the scuffling of tiny feet running away through the concrete tube, which was slimy and stank, but they were through in no time, with Palustric on their heels. The rusted hinges of an old iron grating at the far end surrendered at once to their combined forces.
Before long, they stood dripping and shivering in a dark corner of a back street in the Citadel. Their wet clothes clung to their bodies. “Let’s go!” Adam said. “Before we freeze to death here.”
Twice, the cobbles rang under the boots of the goblin night-watch; so, they slipped into an alleyway where the darkness kept them hidden from the goblin lanterns. Adam had pored over the plan of the Citadel so that he didn’t once lose his way in the maze of narrow streets. Only when he arrived at the large portal which he expected to be the Theatre did he have a doubt. He saw no posters or lettering there. At the very least, he had expected a sign over the door because theatres always have signs of some kind there. He was about to say as much to Lar when clouds of different colour began to swirl in the glass of the main door until they formed into letters and then into words:
THE MOST MAGNIFICENT THEATRE
ADMISSION FREE
AT ANY TIME OF DAY OR NIGHT
The three companions gazed in astonishment at the lettered pane, then Adam looked at Lar, who was trembling. Adam wasn’t sure whether from cold or fear, but it helped him to decide. He pushed the door open and led his friends into a sumptuous entrance hall. Red and gold velvet covered the semi-circular wall that contained a series of doors.
“Seven doors!” Palustric exclaimed.
“Look!” Lar pointed to one of the doors where golden letters flashed out the words:
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