The Hollow Kingdom

by Clare B. Dunkle

  The goblin King crossed his arms comfortably and smiled in wry amusement. “Kate,” he remarked, “your ignorance is colossal.”

  Kate stared. How typical! He was just making fun of her. He was threatening the loss of everything she loved, and he didn’t even care. He closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and continued calmly, “If that’s what you think my kingdom is like, I certainly know not to ask you to come.”

  Hope swept through her. “You won’t?” she gasped.

  Marak opened his eyes again and frowned at her eager expression. “Of course not.” He shrugged. “I’ll just take you there. No sense in asking.”

  Kate felt her stomach lurch. Her pulse began pounding in her temples.

  “No!” she declared emphatically. “I won’t let you take me away.”

  The goblin put his head to one side and grinned at her through his rough hair.

  “You won’t let me? How are you going to stop me? After all,” he teased, “you can’t bash your head in every night. What if you’re too far from a tree?”

  Kate jumped to her feet and began to pace, beating her hands together. “There’s a way out, I know there’s a way!” she cried. “I have to find out what it is.”

  Marak watched her attentively. “Sit down, Kate,” he said.

  “After all,” she observed, stopping and pointing a finger at him, “you don’t have me yet.” She sat back down on the grass nearby, not even noticing her own obedience. “You haven’t been able to catch me,” she declared excitedly. “I’ve stopped you so far.”

  Marak shouted with laughter.

  “You stopped me?” he whooped. “Stopped me from doing what? Did you lead yourself home when you were lost? Did you tell yourself to go to sleep from the other side of the mirror? You haven’t stopped anything. I stopped myself. I didn’t want to upset you too much. Human minds are fragile. They don’t come back from that kind of shock.”

  A feeling of despair washed over Kate. She looked down, struggling against tears.

  “I could have put you kicking and screaming on my horse that very first night,” he pointed out cheerfully, “but I’m very glad that I didn’t because you interest me. You’re so terribly determined. I never know what you’ll do next.”

  “So this is all just a joke to you,” she cried savagely. “A cat-and-mouse diversion. I never heard of anything so cruel!”

  “Careful,” the goblin advised, holding up a bony hand. “Don’t forget logic. If I’m cruel to be patient, what would I be if I had put you on the horse that first night? Compassionate?” He chortled. “Kindly?” Kate glared at him.

  “I think you’re hideous,” she said forcefully. “You’re mean and hateful, making a game out of someone else’s misery.”

  The goblin King stopped laughing and studied her pale face. “Do you know, Kate, I believe you’re right,” he declared. “I am being cruel to you. You seem to be taking this very hard. You’re starting to lose sleep and fret about the future, and you’re listening to all sorts of ridiculous tales. This kind of delay isn’t good for you, either. The sooner it ends, the better.”

  Kate paused, alarmed. This was not the point she had been trying to make. She didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. In fact, she was making things worse.

  “But I don’t want to marry you at all!” she shouted.

  “Of course not,” Marak agreed. “I never thought you did. There aren’t any volunteers to my kingdom, but we try not to let it discourage us.” He rose and walked slowly to the center of the tree circle, studying the clear night sky.

  “I hope it won’t offend you if I leave you now,” he remarked pleasantly. “Several matters still need my attention tonight. Since you consider us enemies, I’ll guarantee your safe arrival at the Lodge, and since I consider us engaged, I’ll provide you with an escort. I’m not going to let you come to harm while you’re still outside.” He knelt by Emily’s sleeping form. As he took her hand in his, she sat up, speaking.

  “—how it got to be a truce place, anyway.” She looked around. “Oh, hello, Kate’s up.”

  “Yes, and I’m leaving now before she heads for another tree,” Marak teased. “I’ll tell you about it some other time. Seylin will see you home.” Then he was gone between the huge black oaks. They heard him give a quiet whistle and speak in a low voice. They heard his horse coming unhurriedly toward him, blowing out its breath. Then came the creaking of leather, the jingle of metal, and hoofbeats moving away.

  Chapter Six

  Kate realized that she had been sitting in the same position for some time. She climbed stiffly to her feet, terribly tired.

  The huge black cat moved silently through the trees to join them. “Hello,” he piped in a thin, reedy voice. “The King says I’m to walk you to the Lodge.” Kate jumped and gasped, feeling abruptly that she did have weak nerves, but Emily yelped in delight.

  “Oh, Seylin!” she cried. “You clever cat! You can talk!”

  The large feline sat down. “Well,” he said in an abashed tone, “I’m not really a regular cat.” He turned his round eyes with their huge black pupils on Kate. “Are you ready to leave now?” he trebled politely.

  Kate swung her arms, hesitating. It was still nighttime, or at any rate very early morning. She hated to leave the safety of the tree circle.

  “I don’t know, Em,” she said cautiously to her sister. “Maybe we should stay here until the sun comes up.”

  “You don’t need to worry,” Seylin assured her earnestly. “I just look like a big cat, but I can protect you with magic. The King wouldn’t have made me your escort if he didn’t think I could handle the job.” Kate detected a note of pride in this last statement.

  “Yes, well,” she demurred, trying not to think about the extreme peculiarity of debating courses of action with a giant cat. “I’m not questioning your ability to protect us from ordinary dangers. I’m more afraid of your King than of anything else out there.”

  “Oh, you didn’t hear him say he was going back to the Hill?” said the cat. Kate had a swift mental image of Marak sitting on some rough-hewn rock throne, maybe with spears crossed over it, presiding over a drunken revel of hooting goblin warriors.

  “But what if he didn’t really mean it?” she said warily.

  There was a tiny silence. The huge cat’s pupils contracted in surprise, the round golden eyes full on her.

  “You think the King lied?” Seylin asked in a horrified squeak.

  Startled, Kate opened her mouth to answer and then shut it again. She thought of her goblin tormenter as her own private nemesis to rail against and loathe, almost like a monster she had invented herself. The idea of his having an outside existence, a reputation, and loyal friends had simply never occurred to her. She felt very peculiar.

  “I—I—well, why don’t you lead?” she stammered apologetically, and then fell into an embarrassed silence as they walked away from the old oak trees.

  Emily walked beside the huge cat, admiring his thick black fur. “I had a cat where we lived before,” she chattered, “a big tabby one. He was wonderfully fluffy, like a soft winter blanket. I miss him terribly. He had green eyes. I hope he’s happy with the cook. She always gave him butter because she said it was good for a cat’s coat. Is it? Could you always talk? Do all goblin cats talk?”

  “I think butter’s good for everybody,” Seylin avowed seriously. “I have a cat, too, a white one with blue eyes. She spits at me when I try to talk to her in cat. Cats can’t really talk, at least I can’t understand them when they do, except when they say things like ‘feed me’ or ‘get away.’ Some of the real cat goblins act like they can understand more. Oh!” he said as Emily tripped on a tree root. “I forgot you can’t see well. Here”—and rearing back on his hind legs, he made a motion with his right paw. Kate was amazed to see a small silver orb appear in the air. It cast its faint radiance like a captive moonbeam on the shadowed path around them.

  “Oh, Seylin, you can do it, too!” Emily cried, enchan
ted with the reappearance of her favorite trick. The cat reared back on his hind legs again and gently batted the shining globe from one paw to the other, clearly enjoying the attention. The light threw silver ripples down his thick, sleek coat as it bobbed back and forth in the air.

  “That’s elf magic,” he said proudly. “The King taught me how to do it, and nobody in the whole kingdom can do it but me and the King. Isn’t it pretty? It’s a little moon. Of course, it’s not good for much when the moon’s just a sliver because it’s a sliver, too, and you don’t get anything at all when the moon is new. That’s how elf magic generally is. It’s pretty to look at, but it doesn’t really get you anywhere. I know lots. Do you want to see some more?”

  At Emily’s enthusiastic confirmation, he winked out the globe, and black shadow swallowed up the path. “I did that because this looks better in the dark,” he explained. The huge cat held out his paws and swiftly tapped the path before them, shrilling out a few words of command. Nothing happened for a second. Then a soft glow emanated from the ground at Seylin’s feet as a tiny silver plant broke through the earth. Gracefully unwinding and arching through the air, it grew rapidly into a bush with shining silver leaves. Buds formed at the ends of its delicate branches and blossomed into a mass of shimmering golden lilies. The leaves rustled musically in the night breeze, and as the lilies swayed to and fro they tinkled like a carillon of tiny bells. Kate and Emily stared openmouthed, completely captivated by the plant’s beauty.

  “That’s my best one yet,” piped the cat. “The King says I do it even better than he does, but they don’t always turn out this good. It must be because the moon’s close to full. Elf magic generally strengthens with the moon. That’s sort of silly if you think about it because you can’t really count on the moon.” The cat waved his paw through the unearthly apparition, and the glorious plant disintegrated into a sparkly snowfall. In a few seconds, its shining particles vanished with a quiet whisper, and they were in darkness again. The cat relit his tiny moon and started down the path, the silver globe bobbing along just above his right shoulder.

  “I can do more than elf magic, of course,” he added, padding along. “I’m good at goblin magic, too. It’s lots more practical, like if you need to fight somebody or open a locked door. But I can’t do any dwarf magic. Dwarf magic depends on stones, and they can tell if you’re not dwarf. I’m not dwarf at all. The King can do some even though he doesn’t look dwarf. Agatha does dwarf magic a lot, and the real dwarves do it without even thinking. It’s how they carry their loads and do their building and making. They’re such little people, but they can do more with stone and metal than any giant ever could. They can just make the earth do anything.” Kate remembered Agatha bolting them to the ground, sticking them into place as if they had grown roots.

  “Couldn’t you teach me how to do a little magic?” Emily begged as she trotted to keep up with the cat. Seylin laid his ears back a little.

  “I don’t think so,” he said apologetically, “not if you’re just human. Humans don’t have any magic. Agatha says they don’t need it. They live just like cattle, chewing up the land and raising herds of babies. Everybody knows they’re God’s favorites; they already get everything their own way. Elves and goblins got their magic from the First Fathers, and dwarves say they’re related to rocks, so they just know how to ask rocks to behave. Agatha says there’s some humans who talk with the devils and get them to do things, but she says that’s not magic, that’s stupid, because devils always make sure they get paid better than they work.”

  The trees began to thin as they came within sight of the Lodge. All its windows were dark. Seylin immediately put out the little moon.

  “I’ll be right here if you need me,” he told them. “I’m glad it’s not raining anymore. I have to look just like a regular cat all the time when I’m outside. We’re not allowed to attract attention. Humans would think it was funny if they saw a dry cat sitting in the rain.”

  As she thanked the cat politely, Kate felt her head beginning to hurt. She was a little overwhelmed by all the help she had received that night from goblins. There was something deeply wrong in these unnatural monsters rallying around her, if only because the most urgent help she needed was some means to escape them. It made it very hard for her to decide how to battle them when they kept rushing solicitously to her aid. It was beginning to make her feel rather ridiculous.

  Emily was feeling no such qualms. Tonight was without question the most thrilling evening she had ever had. Of course, she could understand Kate’s outraged feelings about being a potentially captured bride—after all, who wanted to be a bride?—but goblin life obviously had its advantages. Pets, for instance. Even Seylin was allowed to have a cat, and for heaven’s sake, he was one himself! And he could work magic, too. Emily felt a pang of envy. All she could do was embroidery. A lot of good that would do her if she ever had to open a locked door. Nor could she imagine people standing around marveling at a display of needlework.

  Considering her lack of magical abilities, Emily decided it was a good thing that the Lodge doors were never locked. Kate and Emily slipped inside and tiptoed up the stairs. Kate felt like lying down on her bed without even changing clothes, she was so tired, but instead she involved Emily in a whispered council of war. Emily told her what had happened while Kate was unconscious, and Kate told her about the goblin King’s decision to bring things to a swift conclusion.

  “This is it, Em, I know it,” she said urgently. “This is my last chance, and we have to make it work. We haven’t tried to escape on foot. We might make it.”

  Emily thought about this for a second. Then she sighed, thinking of her soft bed.

  “All right. Where are we going to go?” she asked gloomily.

  Kate shot her a swift look of gratitude. “I don’t know yet. We’ll just go as far away as we can. Maybe we can get off goblin land in one day if we start early.”

  Emily looked extremely skeptical. “We can’t even walk as far as Hollow Lake in one day,” she pointed out, “and the goblin King said he stole his wife by the lakeshore.”

  Kate shivered at the thought of the poor mad bride. “We’ll go the other direction, away from the Hill, and we won’t bring anything but a picnic basket so we can avoid attracting attention. Go tidy up, Em, and put on a clean dress. We can’t walk down a country road with blood and dirt all down our fronts. But don’t light a candle, or Seylin will call the others. And don’t wake up Aunt Prim!”

  Emily slipped out, and Kate changed quickly, wadding up the old dress and stuffing it under her bed. Then she put on clean stockings and picked out another pair of shoes. She remembered losing one of her favorite pair in the woods. This was the second dress in a week, too, that she had destroyed in midnight scrambles. She surveyed the meager choices left in her wardrobe and sent bitter thoughts in Marak’s direction. Then she splashed water into her washbowl and combed the blood out of her hair. By the light of the setting moon, she surveyed her uninjured forehead in the mirror. Try as she might, she could find no sign of the large wound Emily had described.

  Emily tiptoed back in, carrying her shoes. She made a face when she saw Kate.

  “Why are you wearing that nasty blue thing?” she wanted to know. “It’s all faded, and the sash makes you look five years old.”

  Kate felt that this was just the sort of comment calculated to undo her resolve. “I have far more serious things to consider than the condition of my dress,” she declared a little tragically. “I’m really beyond those sorts of petty concerns right now.”

  “That’s good,” said Emily. Then she brightened. “I know. If the goblin King sees you looking like that, maybe he’ll change his mind.” Kate didn’t see any reason to honor this with a reply. She grabbed her shoes and headed down to the kitchen. She pulled out a small wicker basket and piled some provisions into it.

  “Let’s go,” she whispered. “It’s already dawn. We’ll leave by the front door. If Seylin’s still where
he said he would be, we can keep the house between us.”

  In a few minutes, they were hurrying down the gravel track through a rustling, dewy meadow, the forested hills to their backs now and the fields before them. Somewhere on these fields, Kate remembered with a sinking heart, the goblins had kept watch around their bonfire. She wondered just how far their magical kingdom extended.

  The exhausted girls stumbled along the pebbly track, stepping on their long shadows as the red sun rose over the Hill behind them. Kate’s shoes were cracked at the toes, and her feet began to ache. She tried to turn over the events of the night in her mind, but it all began to run together and change. She was arguing with Marak. She was yelling at him, and he was laughing. Agatha came and looked at her palm, telling Kate to be careful. “I see danger in this hand,” she said, her black eyes huge, “from someone very close to you.”

  Someone very close. Kate came out of her doze with a start. She heard the clopping of horses’ hooves coming along fast behind them. Swiftly she grabbed the sagging Emily by the arm and glanced around for cover. There was none to be had. They were in the middle of a mowed field with not so much as a rock wall in reach. Kate’s heart pounded as she whirled to face her enemy. What right, she thought furiously, did he have to be out during the day?

  The dogcart bowled into sight over a slight ridge. The old mare stopped a few feet from them and dropped her head, blowing heavily. Hugh Roberts climbed down from the seat, his wig askew and his round face brick red with anger.

  “Miss Winslow,” he remarked heatedly, “you are quite beyond our ability to handle.”

  He drove the girls to the Hall in silence. Emily fell asleep on the way.

  “Come with me, Miss Winslow,” he ordered, leaving the cart at the door. Kate climbed down and looked back at her sleeping sister, a lump in her throat. I’ve lost my last chance to escape, she thought. I won’t see Em again, and now I can’t even say good-bye.