In the Coils of the Snake Page 20

  “I’ll go downstairs and get rid of Tattoo for you,” she said. “Come back and visit me again, Seylin. I’ll be glad to talk to you.”

  She found her guards playing knucklebones by the fountain. “Let’s take a walk,” she suggested, and the three of them started off.

  As soon as they were out of sight, a large black cat crept out of the shadow of the stairway. He froze in concentration for a second. Then he leapt into the fountain’s wide basin. No splash sounded, and no ripples rose as he hit the water. The black cat simply disappeared.

  • • •

  Miranda spent the next several days in her comfortable room, reading and rereading her books. Meanwhile, the two guards killed time below. Hunter was growing restless, trapped inside day and night. He was missing howling winds, autumn storms, and the leaves cascading from the trees. It began to wear on his temper.

  One night, he pulled out his pipe and tossed it back and forth for a minute. “This is no life for an elf,” he declared.

  Tattoo was reading Robinson Crusoe. “It’s not much of a life for a goblin,” he noted.

  Hunter glared at him. “I thought you goblins just adored caves,” he said.

  “We prefer the ones with goblins in them,” replied Tattoo. He grimaced as Hunter began playing his pipe. “Look, do you mind?” he protested. “That thing hurts my ears.”

  “Your face hurts my eyes,” snapped Hunter, “but you don’t catch me complaining.”

  He put away the pipe, but Tattoo had picked up his bad mood. The goblin put down his book and began wandering around the fountain with a scowl. For some time he maintained silence, determined to keep up appearances in front of the enemy, but finally his frustration got the better of him.

  “At least you know why you’re here,” he burst out. “Your lord left you responsible for Miranda, so you have to be. But me I’m here day and night for no reason at all! My mother’s dying, and I can’t even be there.”

  “I know why you’re here,” announced Hunter casually. The tall goblin stopped and stared at him.

  “You don’t! You can’t!”

  Hunter shrugged, picked up his pipe, and started playing softly. “It’s goblin revenge,” Tattoo suggested. “And what a revenge!” The blond elf shook his head. “All right then, why am I here?”

  “Because that lying beast you work for is going to kill Nir as soon as he gets home,” responded Hunter, “and then he wants you to marry Sika.”

  Tattoo stood still for a long minute. “Marak isn’t a lying beast,” he said automatically. He sat down to give the matter further thought. “How do you know he wants me to marry Miranda?”

  “The elf goblin told her so when he came into camp to fetch her,” replied Hunter.

  Tattoo stared despondently into the distance. “I call that meanness,” he sighed. “Seylin knows perfectly well I’ve wanted to marry his daughter Celia ever since we were little pages. So they’re going to make me marry a foreigner. They did the same thing to my father.”

  “I’d say your father was lucky to force some poor elf girl to marry him,” observed Hunter.

  Tattoo pulled his knife from his boot and began to play with it. “Technically, Mother forced Dad to marry her,” he said moodily. “I don’t know how anyone could force Mother to do anything. And now I’m stuck here in this boring place, facing marriage with a human. What did Miranda say about it when Seylin told her?”

  Hunter opened his mouth to convey Miranda’s passionate refusal, but he looked at Tattoo’s miserable expression and stopped. He hated goblins, he reminded himself, and he would be happy to face Tattoo in battle, but there were some things that a man simply shouldn’t do.

  “It never mattered,” he answered with a shrug. “Nir wouldn’t let her leave.”

  “Oh,” said Tattoo. He turned his knife blade and studied it. “It’s a great honor, being chosen to marry a non-goblin bride,” he muttered. “I know my family would be thrilled. But you take it from me,” he said earnestly to Hunter, “elves and humans are nothing but trouble!”

  After Hunter’s revelation, Tattoo avoided his potential bride’s company, leaving Miranda puzzled and hurt at his quick departures. She came downstairs less and less often. This left the goblin and elf with nothing but each other for entertainment, and neither one was pleased about it.

  “No!” declared Tattoo one evening when Hunter began tossing his knucklebones invitingly in the air. “I refuse to play that stupid game one more time!”

  “I don’t blame you,” replied the elf. “You always lose. What do you goblins do for fun, then? Make faces at each other?”

  “I don’t always lose,” grumbled Tattoo. He thought for a minute. “Adding corners is a game we play in the guardroom.” He retrieved a piece of meat from the table and laid it on the ground between them. “Adding corners is really just illusion magic, a variation on the solid shape manipulation drills you did as a child.” Hunter’s stare went blank. “Oh, good heavens!” Tattoo groused. “Didn’t you learn anything at all?”

  “I surely did,” responded the elf promptly. “I learned how to be hungry. My mother and father were dead by the time I was nine, and I was hunting to feed myself and my little sister.”

  Tattoo was taken aback. Maybe these pretty elf men were tougher than they appeared. “I’ll show you how,” he continued more respectfully. “You take anything at all” — he gestured at the meat — “and you change its appearance into a simple solid shape, like this.”

  The meat became a shiny silver triangular pyramid, a tetrahedron. Bemused, Hunter picked it up. It felt heavy and cold, like metal. Each face of the tetrahedron was a perfect equilateral triangle.

  “That’s a game?” he wanted to know, putting it back down.

  “That’s just the start,” said Tattoo. “The next person has to add a corner to it.” As he looked at the tetrahedron, it changed shape. Now it looked like a silver ax head. “Go on, it’s your turn.”

  Hunter studied the figure. It dissolved and became the piece of meat once more.

  “You lose,” said Tattoo. “That happens when an opponent can’t visualize the shape and add to it.”

  “What a stupid game,” remarked the elf.

  “No, no,” insisted the goblin. “It’s fun once you learn how.” The meat became a tetrahedron. “Your turn.” The tetrahedron became meat again.

  “A really stupid game,” commented Hunter.

  “Oh, come on!” said Tattoo impatiently. “Even our children can work this magic.” The meat became a tetrahedron. After a long moment, a spike appeared from one face.

  They played for several hours, and Hunter always lost, but he improved steadily. They finally reached the point where the goblin had to do more than glance at the figure to change it. He looked over the spiky object before him and added another spike.

  “Your turn.”

  Hunter stared at it for several seconds. It turned bright pink. “Hey!” exclaimed Tattoo. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” sighed the elf. “I got a little bored. Our games don’t make you think so much.”

  Tattoo studied the figure. Then he shrugged. He turned it purple with green dots.

  When Miranda came downstairs, her two guards were staring at a brilliantly colored object that was covered in spikes, nodules, and twists. A blue eyeball on the end of one spike appeared to be watching her. She let out a shriek. Tattoo flinched, and the creature dissolved into an ordinary piece of meat.

  “You lose!” exclaimed Hunter with satisfaction. “Hello, Sika,” he said, smiling up at her. “I just won a goblin game.”

  • • •

  In a quiet room in the palace, Tinsel sat by his wife Sable’s bedside, his silver face haggard. Sable’s breath hissed in the room, loud and shallow, as her daughter Fay chanted the spell that forced the elf woman to stay alive. They no longer let Tinsel work the lifesaving magic. He was too tired and distraught.

  The magic that sustained the black-haired elf wasn�
��t working terribly well. The unconscious figure on the bed had grown gaunt. Her skin was dry and dull now, and her lips were cracked. Little by little, she was becoming a corpse before their eyes.

  The goblin King and his two lieutenants came into the room, but when Tinsel looked up with a hopeful expression, Marak Catspaw shook his head. The Scholars had done a full review of every spell in the kingdom’s books, and they had found nothing that would help.

  The silver goblin dropped his head and began to sob. His daughter put an arm around him as she continued her work. “Don’t keep her like this,” he begged brokenly. “If you can’t bring her back, just let her go.”

  “We will,” promised his sovereign grimly. “But not just yet. That murdering elf will die before she does. He’s back in three days. We’ll surround the camp with the entire Guard and terrorize it until he decides to attack us. Then we’ll annihilate him bone by bone. After that, we’ll stop the magic. Sable will die avenged.”

  Tinsel wiped his streaming eyes. “I want to help,” he whispered.

  “You’ll have to get more rest,” warned Catspaw. “Then we’ll see.” He left the room with his lieutenants.

  As the door closed, Seylin turned. “Goblin King, I would recommend that you reconsider this plan,” he said. “Revenge is one thing, but you must consider the cost. Your father—”

  Marak Catspaw exploded.

  “My father!” he exclaimed. “Oh, yes, I know all about it. Father never hurt an elf. But he’d have hurt this one, and long ago, unless I’m very mistaken. Father wouldn’t have stood by and watched his ward turned into a slave, and he wouldn’t have gotten Sable killed, either. It’s time, gentlemen, that you faced a sad fact,” he concluded angrily. “My father is not ruling this kingdom.”

  Seylin glanced away, embarrassed, and Richard studied the floor with a frown. Catspaw glared at them both, frustrated and discouraged, but neither one looked him in the eye. The King was just opening his mouth to say something far more bitter when a voice behind him spoke.

  “And why is that a sad fact, dear?”

  Kate stood behind him in the hallway, surveying the three of them. Delicate and beautiful she might be, and they were undoubtedly the rulers of the realm, but she had watched them grow from boys into men, and her steady gaze told them so.

  “Marak was a great King,” she said quietly, “but he would be the first to remind you that his brilliant plans only worked half the time. His revenge on my guardian brought disaster, and he promised a human girl that she would be your wife when he had no right to do so. Don’t turn him into something that he wouldn’t want to be. He would laugh at you for making him into a legend.”

  Richard gave a wry grin at this, and Seylin looked thoughtful, but the goblin King crossed his arms, unmoved. “You’ve always known it,” he pointed out with cynical fatalism. “You said yourself that I wouldn’t be a King like my father.”

  “Of course you won’t,” replied Kate with a smile. “Because you’re more like your mother. Did you think that would disappoint me? Excuse me now; it’s my turn to watch with Sable.” And she disappeared through the door.

  Marak Catspaw stared after her for a moment with a very odd expression on his face. When he turned around, he found that Seylin was smiling, as if he were calling to mind an old and well-loved joke.

  “Catspaw,” he pointed out, “one of your parents saved this kingdom. Sometimes I make the mistake of forgetting which one.”

  The goblin King nodded thoughtfully, frowning a little, but his unmatched eyes were alight with satisfaction. “Very well, adviser,” he said calmly. “Give me your advice. I’m ready to listen to reason.”

  “I only wanted to point out,” replied Seylin, “that if you take your whole Guard to the elf camp and carry out a brutal revenge on their lord right in front of them, you’re likely to cause such despair that the elves won’t submit to your rule. They’ll refuse your commands and die provoking additional attacks.”

  Marak Catspaw considered this. “That’s quite true,” he agreed.

  “Instead, I suggest that you call for a meeting and have all the elf warriors come to the truce circle. They won’t be able to launch an attack in there, and they can consider your proposals more calmly. Send your Guard in as well, to protect goblin lives.”

  “He’s right that the elf lord is likely to take some goblins down with him,” opined Richard.

  `And what do you suggest we do with the elf lord?” demanded the King, growing angry again. “I suppose you want me to send him into the circle, too.”

  “No,” said Seylin resignedly. “I know you better than that. I’ve been doing quite a bit of study on this issue, and I see no way to avoid a fight. The best plan I can suggest, to minimize loss of life, is this: Meet the elf lord outside the circle. Propose a duel. And then kill him yourself.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Miranda awoke to a feeling of dread. This was her elvish eighteenth birthday, the night she was supposed to be married. This was the night when Nir would find out that he would never see her again. For two weeks she had remained numb and disinterested in life. Now her grief surprised her. The last thing she wanted was to be alone. She hurried downstairs to find the others.

  Hunter and Tattoo had cleared the low table. They knelt across from each other, staring at an ordinary bun. As Miranda watched, the bun wavered back and forth on the table between the opponents. Then it flew into the air and socked Hunter in the stomach.

  “Ha! I win,” declared Tattoo.

  “We were playing three buns out of five,” protested Hunter. “That was three buns out of five,” said the goblin. “Hand it over.” Scowling furiously, the elf pulled his deer-bone pipe from his belt and gave it to Tattoo. “At last!” exclaimed the goblin happily. “A peaceful evening!”

  “Not exactly,” remarked a voice behind them. Seylin stood in the doorway. “Tonight will be remembered for many things,” he said, “but it won’t be remembered for peace. The elf lord returned last night to find Miranda missing. He sent a message to the goblin King, declaring the treaty null. He intends to meet the goblins in battle and fight to the death — to his own death, and the death of every warrior he has.”

  The three stared at Seylin in shock for a moment. Tattoo was the first to speak. “Twenty two warriors against the King’s Guard. That won’t last long. Sorry,” he added to Hunter.

  “It means the end of the elves!” breathed Miranda in dismay. “Catspaw won’t let that happen.”

  “Marak Catspaw sent a messenger asking the elf lord to come to the truce circle,” replied Seylin. “He doesn’t intend to kill the warriors, just the lord himself The goblin King thinks he can reason with the elves once their leader is dead.”

  “Well, he’s wrong,” snapped Hunter.

  “The situation is desperate,” agreed Seylin. “It calls for careful handling. Even with the best intentions, it may well end in disaster, and the end of the elves will mean the end of the goblins. I can think of only one way to avoid this catastrophe. I need Miranda’s help.”

  The guards looked puzzled and stared at her blankly. She stared just as blankly at Seylin. “I’m nothing but an ordinary human,” she protested. “I can’t even work magic.”

  “Elves and goblins need their magic to survive in a human world,” said Seylin. “I’m not asking you to work magic. just come with me to the truce circle and swear to stay there until I give you permission to leave. Whether you like it or not, or even understand it, you’re at the heart of this entire conflict. As long as you’re inside the circle, that’s where the conflict will be, and the truce circle magic will keep it from being bloody.”

  “I’ll come with you,” promised Miranda.

  “Not without my permission,” declared Hunter. “She’s my responsibility.”

  “And I can’t let her go anywhere,” announced Tattoo. “I have my orders.”

  “Which were what?” prompted the elvish goblin.

  Tattoo paused to th
ink. “I have to stay here as long as Miranda does, as her goblin guard.”

  “Fine,” answered Seylin. “She’s leaving in just a minute, and that leaves you free to go, too. I’ll bring both of you men with us if you’ll swear to remain with Miranda inside the circle. Otherwise, I think I should explain something. I learned magic from the old goblin King, I taught magic to the new goblin King, and I don’t intend to let either one of you jeopardize your own race’s future.”

  Both guards looked at each other and then at their feet. They didn’t know what to do.

  “Don’t you want to be at your old friend’s side tonight?” Seylin asked Hunter. The elf brightened at the thought. “And, Tattoo, I had a suspicion that you wanted to marry my daughter Celia,” he remarked. The goblin gave him a deeply reproachful look.

  They followed Seylin out of the cavern and into the guardroom. Tattoo gaped at the bulky forms lying on the floor.

  “You sent Lash and Jacoby to sleep?” he demanded frantically. “Yes, well,” demurred Seylin. “Their orders were different from yours.”

  Tattoo gazed in disbelief at his snoring comrades. “He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?” he sighed.

  “The goblin King?” asked Seylin. “Oh, I wouldn’t think so. Probably just me,” he suggested with an encouraging smile.

  Outside, they found bright twilight and a crisp breeze blowing. Seylin collected them at the cliff. “I need your permission to conceal you,” he said, “for your protection and mine.”

  “You’ll make us invisible?” asked Hunter.

  “No,” lectured Seylin. “Real invisibility is impossible. The spells either make you look like something else, or they make you be somewhere else. This spell makes us look like shadows, so stay in the shadows or you’ll be spotted at once. Hunter, hold Miranda’s hand, and you and Tattoo hold my hands.” The four large black shadows hurried self-consciously across the grass and vanished beneath the trees.

  In half an hour, they arrived at the truce circle, and Seylin rendered them visible, or at least conspicuous, again.