I turned to Etanun. “You are a great hero.” The surge of power I had known seemed to vanish, and I felt small and weak beneath his gaze.
“As are you,” he replied with a gentle smile that was strange and beautiful on his warlike face. “Reign long and well,” he spoke in echo of his brother.
“Will you return one day?” I asked him as he turned to go.
“I will,” he replied. “To see how you are getting on.”
Then he left. With his promise soaring in my heart, I returned to the feasting.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Alistair whispered.
They stood in the earl’s empty bedchamber, which was a disaster. The goblins had torn the room apart while searching for Mouse and Alistair. The heavy bed-curtains hung in tatters on the broken bedframe. Every piece of furniture from the flimsy screen to the heavy wardrobe had been gouged with stone weapons, and the wardrobe had also been partially burned.
The three invaders had slipped into the chamber from the passage, Eanrin working the locks from the outside without any apparent difficulty. Alistair wore goblin armor so heavy he could scarcely stand upright. The helmet, which was swiftly bringing on a headache, disguised his face, and the jagged visor muffled his voice. “They’re not going to believe I’m one of them,” he growled.
Mouse, huge skirts gathered in her arms, stepped from behind the earl’s broken screen. Alistair and Eanrin both looked at her, and the cat gave a noncommittal nod. “Not bad,” he said.
Mouse scowled and reached around to fumble with one of the many ties and braces. The light green gown was gorgeous with heavy embroidery. It must have belonged to one of the ladies of the castle and was entirely impractical. It was hardly possible to walk in the thing, much less run.
Alistair spoke behind his visor. “You look very pretty.”
Mouse looked to Eanrin. “He sounds concerned. What did he say?”
“He said they’re never going to believe you’re a girl.”
Mouse clamped her mouth shut but shot a swift glare Alistair’s way. Alistair turned to Eanrin, attempting but failing to shove up the visor. “What did you tell her?”
“I told her you’re afraid to face goblins.”
“That’s not true!”
“Then stop criticizing my brilliant scheme. If you can manage to humble yourself and follow an order, recite to me your part.”
Giving up on the visor, Alistair let his gauntleted hand drop to his side. “I’m to march her through the castle like I’ve caught a prisoner, somehow drawing no attention to either of us.”
“Good. And once you’re in the great hall?”
“We’re to fetch the Chronicler in the midst of the distraction you will have provided.”
“Excellent.”
“But won’t he be chained?”
“Oh, he definitely is.”
“How are we to manage that?”
“Find the key, I would imagine. This is your side of the rescue, my dear boy. You can’t expect me to do everything.”
“What if someone stops me on the way to the hall?” Alistair persisted. “They’ll know as soon as I open my mouth that I’m not one of them.”
“Then don’t open your mouth. Grunt and growl; pretend you’re too good for this world. Besides, I told you, I’m going on ahead. I’ll take care of any in your way and give you a clear path.”
Mouse, who had only understood Eanrin’s side of the conversation anyway, stepped forward then. “What of that great goblin?” she asked. “What will you do about him?”
“I told you, I’ll see to it,” said the cat-man, his voice as smooth and calm as a summer stroll. “Your job is to rescue the Chronicler, understand?”
“But who will rescue us?”
Eanrin shrugged, sank to the floor in his cat form, and trotted to the cracked door. “I had rather hoped you’d rescue yourselves.” And with a flick of his tail, he slipped out into the hall. “Remember,” his voice called back to them, “we’ll all meet in the inner courtyard!”
By the time they reached the doorway, the corridor beyond was empty.
This really was a dreadful world.
So Ghoukas thought as he staggered up the stairs from the kitchen into the keep. For one thing, it was much too cold. Not that Arpiar was a realm of balmy comfort. Icy winds blew across its broad plains, driving luckless goblins back into the warrens below, thankful for the warmth of close tunnels. But here the cold seeped into the bones. It crept through every crevice and cranny until a goblin felt he could never escape it.
Ghoukas growled as he stumbled along the corridor, laden with findings from the castle storerooms. Corgar had sent for food, and he would be disappointed in Ghoukas’s feeble scavengings. Did mortals know what real food was? Did they know anything?