“Did my guardian tell you that he’s not really related to me?” she asked sadly. “My sister and I are the result of an adoption several generations back. We supplanted Mr. Roberts’s side of the family, and he’s quite bitter about it.” She sighed. “He probably didn’t think it was important when he told me that story, but my nightmares and poor appetite started then. It hurt to find out that my sister and I have no real family left.”
Dr. Thatcher leaned back and nodded gravely. “I was afraid of something like this,” he said. “It explains a great deal. Miss Winslow, I don’t think you need to worry about insanity. You seem to be facing your problems very well. I can’t help feeling disappointed, though,” he added, smiling ruefully. “When I saw the wreckage in that bedroom tonight, I really thought I was on to something.”
“What do you mean?” asked Kate.
“I help people who are insane,” he declared, “but I do look for special cases. You see, there’s so much about the mind that we don’t understand. Sometimes, in great stress, people do things that are well beyond their physical powers, and sometimes insane people do them, too. It’s as if, not knowing what reality is supposed to be, they can go beyond those limits that we accept for ourselves.”
“Do you mean they can work magic?” Kate wanted to know.
“Well,” chuckled Dr. Thatcher, “I suppose you could call it that. I would say that they can do the extraordinary and inexplicable because they accept it as part of their world. For instance, we have a woman in the asylum who thinks she’s a rabbit. I have had specialists study how far she can jump. It’s amazing to watch. Another patient thinks she’s two completely different people. She crushed her foot one day, and we found her walking around on this badly damaged foot normally and without the least sign of pain. Why? Because she claimed that the other of her two selves had broken her foot. The person she was at the moment was perfectly well.”
Kate smiled, her fancy tickled by the stories. “So when you saw all the broken glass and torn-up furniture, you thought that I had done it,” she said. Dr. Thatcher nodded. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. I didn’t do it, and I don’t think I could do it, either.”
Several hours later, Kate snuggled down comfortably in bed. Yes, she was still at the Hall, and yes, her indignant guardian had locked her in again. She was once more in a ground-floor bedroom with double doors leading onto the terrace. The designers of the Hall’s fashionable newer wing hadn’t exhibited much creativity from one room to the next. But she and Dr. Thatcher had talked until early in the morning, and a new day was not far off. She had vanquished two different enemies on two very different fields of battle. Neither one was gone for good, but that was a problem for tomorrow. Today had been simply glorious, and she would take care of tomorrow when it came.
A knock at the door roused her in the late morning, and Hugh Roberts entered the room. But this was not the pompous man she had infuriated the night before. His eyes were large and grave, and his manner was uncertain.
“Miss Winslow, I’m terribly sorry,” he said hesitantly. “I realize now that I should have believed you. You said you were in danger, but I never dreamed it might be real.” Kate sat up, alarmed.
“I’m afraid it’s your sister,” he explained awkwardly. “Emily has completely vanished.”
Chapter Seven
Hugh Roberts had expected Kate to cry at the news, and cry she did. She lay on her bed, face in the pillow, and refused to look up. But he had also expected her to talk. That Kate refused to do.
“You have to help us find her,” he insisted. “You must know something about the creatures who took her. Dr. Thatcher and I will go out with the men and see if we can’t bring her back.” Kate just shook her head, mute. Hugh Roberts awkwardly stood by, not sure what to do.
“Don’t you want out of this dangerous room?” he asked. “I’ll let you out if you’ll talk to us. For heaven’s sake, I’m her guardian! I can’t just let her disappear like this!” Silence from the bed.
“I’ll send you away from here right now,” he promised. “I’ll send you someplace where you’ll be safe. Miss Winslow, please. Don’t you want to be safe from those creatures?”
Face in the pillow, Kate considered. Did she want to be safe? What difference did being safe make now? How could the heartless beast have done it, how could he? She knew the goblin had been furious when he left last night, and he had said once that he was a poor loser. But how could anyone—even someone inhuman—have threatened her little sister? Poor, dear Em, all alone in those hideous caves, surrounded by howling monsters. But surely they wouldn’t hurt her. Surely they wouldn’t turn her into a goblin bride. She was just a child! The goblin King had said so himself. It must be his way of getting even with Kate. She remembered him laughing, saying, “Do you know that she wants to be stolen by goblins?” It was all very well for Mr. Roberts to talk about bringing Em back to the daylight, but Kate knew that he would never succeed.
Kate paced her room that day like a tormented soul. When Hugh Roberts came several more times to plead with her, she remained absolutely firm. She knew exactly what she had to do. She watched the terrace outside her window closely. As twilight fell, she saw the familiar face of the big black cat peering out from the shadows and called him over to her with a gesture. Looking first left and then right, the cat cautiously approached her. She waved him down to the terrace doors, which didn’t shut properly. There was a small gap between them.
“Seylin, where is the King?” she asked, speaking softly for fear of being overheard.
“He’s in court now,” piped the cat.
“I need to see him right away.”
The cat looked at her through the glass of the double doors. His round golden eyes grew rounder.
“You do?”
“Yes, but don’t call him, Seylin. I need you to take me to see him.”
The cat’s eyes were huge now.
“You do?” he squeaked. “All right. I’ll take you.” He paused for a second. “The King will surely be surprised.”
“Good,” said Kate grimly.
The cat laid his paws on the doors, and they swung open. How easy, thought Kate disgustedly. How childishly simple. She stepped quickly across the terrace and into the darkening forest, the black cat in the lead.
Half an hour later, they were standing in front of a cliff face. Seylin reared up on his hind legs, balancing quite easily. “Here, take my paw,” he said. She did so. “It might help if you close your eyes.” Kate closed her eyes. “Now, five steps forward.” This is it, she thought. Drippy caverns. Darkness. She felt dizzy. She counted off five steps, then opened her eyes and blinked in astonishment.
She was not in a drippy cavern, at least not yet. Instead, she felt as if she had walked into the middle of a kaleidoscope. Mirrored surfaces faced her on all sides. Even the floor was a fractured mirror. She and the black cat were reflected hundreds of times, each time at a more drastic angle. She began to feel rather seasick. Black-cloaked guards approached them from many directions. It was a few seconds before she realized that this was only one guard reflected many times.
“Oh, do you have your eyes open?” asked Seylin. “I’d close them again. This can be confusing if you’ve never seen it before. It’s supposed to make it hard for enemies to find the next doorway.” She gratefully shut her eyes as Seylin talked to the guard. They walked forward. Now the drippy caverns, she thought.
But no, they were in a long, straight corridor of polished black stone, lit by globe-shaped lamps hanging from brackets on the walls. Goblin guards of various sizes and shapes walked about the corridor. Some of them took Kate’s breath away. They all appeared to be wearing a variation of Marak’s normal black attire, and this combined with the black stone of the corridor made them difficult to see. Kate realized how appropriate such a uniform was for creatures who would only be out during the night. No wonder humans seldom saw a goblin!
At the end of this corridor was a huge door several tim
es higher than Kate. It appeared to be solid iron. She looked around, waiting for another guard to emerge and let them through. Instead, a deep, hollow voice rang out. It seemed to come from the door itself.
“Hello, little Seylin,” said the voice.
“Hello, door,” piped the cat.
“Didn’t I just let you out?” asked the door, sounding puzzled.
“I need to see the King,” Seylin said earnestly.
“Who is the pretty woman?” asked the deep voice.
“She needs to see the King, too,” said Seylin.
“Are you sure I should let her in?” The door seemed rather doubtful.
“The King wants to see her, too,” Seylin assured it.
There was a pause. “He could see her out here,” the door suggested.
“He’s in court. Come on, door, I’m in a hurry,” complained the cat. The door slowly swung open, and they walked through. Kate stopped on the other side, feeling rather overcome.
Ahead of her lay what she knew must be a vast cave, but it didn’t resemble one at all. She seemed to be looking across a narrow valley under an intensely black night sky. She stood on a wide street that dipped down to the shallow valley floor and then rose up again beyond it. Beside her, rows of trees filled with colored lights marched down the slight incline. Along the very bottom of the valley ran a small river, and the street crossed it on a low, arched bridge before climbing upward again through elegant formal gardens.
On the far side of the valley, the street became the entrance steps to a palace so wide and so massive that it completely blocked their view of whatever lay beyond. Story upon story of colossal square windows shone out onto the park. The architecture reminded Kate of ancient Greece or Egypt—that is, if a titanic ancient temple could rise so high into the sky. No, not the sky. No friendly stars winked down at her. Kate squeezed Seylin’s paw in a flurry of panic and pictured the stars that were just coming out in the sky beyond this cave. They settled into their proper places in her mind, their silvery light mingling with the rising full moon, giving her the courage to face whatever lay ahead.
“Do you want to go back out?”
“Oh, no, I’m sorry, door,” answered Seylin. “We were just looking around.”
“Because I don’t know if I’m allowed to let you back out,” said the door gravely.
“No, no, thanks,” replied the cat, and started down the street toward the palace.
“I’ll have to wait for orders,” the door said stubbornly as they walked away.
“It’s really so stupid!” fumed the cat in a shrill hiss. “They’re all like that. The King says they’re just supposed to delay an enemy long enough for the rest of us to find it and kill it.”
They were passing the rows of glimmering trees. These looked like graceful saplings perhaps three times Kate’s height, but she could see that they were entirely artificial. The slim trunks and branches gleamed like solid gold, and throughout their crowns, huge, jeweled flowers bloomed. From the boughs hung colored lanterns, casting a faint light that illuminated dark green stone, not grass. The garden paths between the rows were mosaics of pale, polished rock.
As they walked, the delicate flowering trees gave way to thick summer growth, the rich green stone leaves almost paper-thin. Soon they passed dark bronze trees loaded with stone foliage in polished reds, oranges, and yellows and came to Kate’s very favorites, the trees by the river. These had trunks and branches of silver, the slender boughs loaded with delicate, tinkling clear crystals. Beneath them shone snow white paving stones. The crystals caught the pale light of the lanterns and refracted it in delicate rainbows onto the stone below.
“We need to hurry,” Seylin urged as Kate lingered to look at the beautiful trees. Tugging her along, he crossed the river. The shallow water foamed over rapids carefully composed of small cubes of rock sticking up from the shallow riverbed. Water in Kate’s world would catch the moonlight, but this river needed none. The many bubbles of foam appeared to shine with their own soft light.
Now the pair was climbing toward the steps of the palace. Beds of fanciful jeweled flowers alternated with musical fountains, and lamps of all colors lined the paths. Kate felt again that the light was rather faint. How beautiful these gardens would be in the daylight, she thought. Then, with bitter disappointment, she realized that it would never be day here. She was seeing the gardens not at night, but as they would always be.
The palace had no doors. Kate and Seylin stepped into an entrance hall several stories high, its outer wall pierced by huge windows. The enormous chandelier needed no candles because the crystals themselves shone. In their dim light, a huge double staircase curved up before the pair. On the wall between the wide flights of stairs, a mosaic of glass tiles sparkled with all the colors of a sunset.
Seylin pulled her down a corridor to the right. Kate felt rather giddy. She could absorb her surroundings only in snatches—here a hall with walls and floor of polished jade, there a hall of burnished lapis lazuli. While there was artwork everywhere, none of it represented anything she could understand. The smooth floor sparkled with scatterings of brilliant mosaic tiles in complicated, almost random patterns, and the walls were inlaid with horizontal bands of contrasting stones. They turned a corner and whisked by a tiny feathered creature rather like a yellow mop head.
The big black cat led Kate through a deep arch, and she gasped. She stood on a broad landing between two wide, curving staircases under an enormous dome. Below her lay the circular floor of this vast round chamber. The room was dimmer than Kate found comfortable, but she could see at a glance that it was bustling with monsters, all of them stylishly—not to say foppishly—dressed. Seylin towed her down the staircase, bumping through the crowd, and Kate felt that she would never draw breath again.
The first sight of Marak had been enough to send Kate into a tearful panic, and Marak himself had mentioned the possibility that a girl would want to run back home after a glimpse of his goblin subjects. Kate stared at the jumbled assortment of huge ears, strange limbs, fur, feathers, and hair, unable at first to sort out anything of what she saw. Then she began to form scattered impressions. The girl in the yellow satin evening gown with her hair in a tall coiffure would have been pretty except for her extreme resemblance to a cat. Her small round face, huge eyes, and tiny nose were startling enough, but the little split cat mouth and the foot-long whiskers made Kate feel queasy. Then there was the burly man in the elegant red coat. His left arm was normal, but his right was huge, brown, and furry, and it ended in four-inch-long claws. And there were all the little creatures in the crowd, many no taller than Kate’s knees. Some of them stood on rolling metal platforms and were wheeled about by liveried servants.
Monster piled on monster in her field of view: the eight-foot-tall, unbelievably thin man with a long, long gray face; the woman with the dog’s paws and large, floppy spaniel ears who looked quite elegant in a rose-colored dress of shirred silk; the figure with high stiltlike legs who wore the most remarkable deep blue trousers. Goblins obviously favored wigs, lace, ribbons, bright colors, and extravagance. Even those creatures who had fur or feathers wore something rich and vibrant, if only a jeweled turban or a hat with a long plume.
Everywhere, turning toward Kate from the crowd, were pale goggle eyes, huge cat eyes, glowing red eyes, bright bird eyes, as the creatures caught sight of the one thing that did not usually appear in goblin court: a pale-faced human girl. A whispering, growling, hissing sprang up as she walked by. Kate became painfully aware of her smudged, tearstained cheeks, her tumbled hair, her cracked shoes, and her crumpled blue dress with the ripped sash. She and the goblins stared at each other in mutual horror. Kate had never in her life seen such frightful deformities, and the goblins had never seen such a hideous dress.
Seylin stubbornly towed the near-fainting girl across the huge expanse of floor to the throne, an elaborate affair that resided under an embroidered canopy on a broad circular platform of stone. And on that r
aised circle, his back to her, stood the King, talking to two other goblins as they looked together at some manuscript spread out on a golden stand. He was elegant in a suit of dark green cloth, his striped shock of hair neatly tied back with a black velvet ribbon. Over the suit’s tailored coat, he wore a short black cape painted with strange golden symbols. He wore no boots; his dark green breeches buckled at the knees, ending in fine black stockings and low shoes. Her own father, greeting important visitors, had never been more formally or fashionably dressed.
As they approached and the King turned, Kate realized in a flash what it meant to be elf-pretty in a goblin world. Once she had burst into tears at his inhuman appearance. Now she almost did so again at the strangely welcome sight of his familiar, somewhat human face amid the monstrosities and deformities of his goblin subjects.
Seylin stopped before him and swept into a deep bow. Kate looked at the big cat and didn’t know what to do. Should she curtsy? If she tried, would her knees collapse and simply dump her onto the floor? Before she could decide, Marak stepped forward and captured her hands in his.
“Kate!” he shouted. “What in the name of all you call holy are you doing here? You are the last person—the very last person—that I expected to see!”
All day Kate had imagined her defiant glare as she spat out her little speech, but now that the moment came, she could barely pronounce the memorized line. It was a good thing Marak had excellent hearing because most of it came out in a whisper.
“I have come here of my own free will to say that I agree to marry you if you will release my sister unharmed.”
There! She’d said it. Kate braced herself for his triumphant laughter. Instead, she saw the King stare and then glance sharply at Seylin. Her heart stopped. Had she come too late?
Marak noticed her shattered expression. “Of course, Kate, of course,” he hastened to assure her. “I’ll do it gladly.”
Kate let out the breath she had been holding. A wave of relief swept over her and left her shaky. Em would be all right. That was the important thing. It didn’t matter what happened to her.
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