The Goblin Gate (24 page)

Tobin would have been ill for some time now.

Wait for me, brother.
On this of all days, surely the Bright Gods would hear his prayer.
Just hang on till I can get there. I’m coming.

Finally the sun set. Nevin and Jeriah helped the Hierarch inside—he shook with exhaustion, but he had less than an hour to rest.

“He has to appear at the feast,” Nevin fretted, “and watch the dancing till midnight—it’s traditional. But if he gets too tired, demons can take tradition! I’m putting him to bed when he needs to go.”

A chill ran along Jeriah’s nerves—he needed those hours before midnight. “He did well today, and did it bravely. All he has to do is eat, then sit and watch. Surely he can manage. Besides, you said Master Zachiros is responsible for him in the evening. We have leave to join the festivities as soon as the high table’s been served.”

“You can spend the night drinking and dancing if you want—and I’m sure you will. I’ll stay where I’m needed.”

“Suit yourself.” Jeriah shrugged away the sting. As long as he was free between the end of the feast and midnight, nothing else mattered.

Nevin served the Hierarch himself, but helping to keep the exhausted ruler’s true state from becoming obvious took all of Jeriah’s attention. The senior council lord and the second-circle priest, who sat on the Hierarch’s right and left, did their best as well. Hungry now in spite of his taut nerves,
Jeriah snatched a meal in bites as he passed to and from the kitchen. Finally, the last dishes were removed and the tables cleared away. Master Zachiros took Nevin’s position at the Hierarch’s shoulder, and Jeriah was free.

But Master Lazur’s eyes kept straying to him.
Not yet. Not quite. Dance awhile, let him see you in the crowd, let him lose himself in his own conversations.

Jeriah took his place on the dance floor. He smiled, laughed, and must not have mangled the sets too badly, though afterward he couldn’t remember his partners.

The eighth set, also by tradition, was the threshing dance. The dancers took up their wands and formed a circle, no partners needed. No one to miss Jeriah if he slipped away.

The drumbeat throbbed in heart and bone as they danced their way through the plowing, sowing, reaping, and finally threshed the grain, their wands pounding the floor. If the Seven Bright Gods were the source of all life, why did dancers throughout the Realm take up wands every spring and do their best to dance the seed from the soil? Was this dance older than the Bright Gods themselves?

It was the kind of question that used to horrify Tobin. Suddenly, sharply, Jeriah missed his brother. If this didn’t succeed…

Master Lazur was deep in conversation with what looked like half the council.

Even Master Kerratis, a cup of wine cradled in his thin fingers, was talking with friends, not watching Jeriah. In that
whole, vast, crowded room no one was paying—

He saw her eyes first, luminous gray surrounded by small, sharp features and a cloud of dark hair—her pale gray gown as drab as ever. Maybe it did set off her eyes, but it made that warm skin look muddy. A deep red, or a really brilliant blue, would make her glow…though they might not have suited
her
. Koryn was a creature of shadows and corners. Dragging her into the light would be as unkind as driving a bat out of its cave.

And perhaps she preferred the shadowy corners because it made spying on Jeriah easier. She watched him openly now, making no effort to hide it, though she must have seen that he’d noticed.

He couldn’t absent himself while she was looking. If he simply walked out and ran from her, she might report his odd actions to Master Lazur, and Jeriah’s scheme would come to an end right there.

He had to make her leave him. But how…?

It turned out someone else was watching him, after all. A strong hand clapped his shoulder so heartily Jeriah staggered a step.

“So.” Marof’s voice was thick with wine. “The nettle’s looking at you. Got her blooming yet, Rovan?” He tried to wink, but both his eyes closed.

“No, I…haven’t,” said Jeriah. “Though I think…”

It would make him look like a total cad. Jeriah had sisters. He despised men who made that kind of bet. But it would
get Koryn out of the way. And if he could get her to slap his face, in some spot she’d have difficulty escaping from, it might take her some time to report the matter. If she wanted to report it. And when Jeriah lost and paid—because he was going to say he’d lost, no matter what happened—her reputation would be spared. It was Jeriah who’d look like a callous, brutish idiot. But not a traitor.

“…I think I could get her blooming tonight,” he finished firmly.

It took only moments to set up a bet that tonight he would “make the nettle bloom.” Even the drunken louts who were wagering weren’t crass enough to get specific about what that meant. And since Jeriah intended to lose, even if it only referred to a passionate kiss, it hardly mattered.

Now, as he wove through the crowd to the corner where Koryn sat, he faced the hard part—he had to get her to go with him. And Koryn was neither drunk nor a fool.

“Good Equinox, Mistress Goserian.”

“Good Equinox, Master Rovan.” Her voice was dry. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“And you aren’t? I know you can’t dance, but half the women and three quarters of the men aren’t dancing either, and they all seem to be having a fine time. If you’d just let yourself…”

Jeriah hadn’t figured out how he was going to lure her to a secluded spot, but scolding her for sulking in the corner wasn’t going to help.

“I’m sorry. Maybe sulking in corners is how you enjoy yourself. I have no right to judge.”

That hadn’t come out quite the way he’d intended.

“No, you don’t.” The gleam that leapt into her eyes at the prospect of a debate looked remarkably like enjoyment. Gods, she was prickly.

“As it happens,” she went on, “I liked watching the threshing dance. Though it occurs to me that if the Seven Bright Gods are the only ones with the power to create life…”

“Why are we dancing for it? I thought the same thing!”

Here was someone who wasn’t a bit shocked by his blasphemous musings. And there were things she enjoyed. Things she wanted. That was what he had to use against her. Suddenly, the solution fell into place.

“I need to talk to you,” Jeriah told her. “Alone. Without anyone to see. I think tonight would be a good time for that.”

“Why alone?” she asked reasonably. “There’s no one listening now.”

“Well, it’s not me you need to talk to.” Jeriah lowered his voice carefully. “I’ve…made contact with someone who might have some of the answers we talked about.”

Koryn’s eyes widened. “That night on the terrace…”

Jeriah leaned closer, the picture of someone whispering words of romance. “It wasn’t a rat. But they’re not about to come into the palace again, so you’ll—”

Koryn held up her hand for silence. “We’re going outside?
Let me get a shawl. This silly gown’s too thin to go out at night.”

“You should have warned me to get my boots too,” Koryn grumbled as Jeriah led her through another tangle of brush. “If I’d known we’d be thrashing around in the wilderness, I’d have changed.”

This pang of guilt was worse than the last three, but Jeriah suppressed it, too. Maybe he was a cad, or even worse, but he needed her out here in those ridiculous, slick-soled slippers.

“You knew they were goblins,” he said. “Did you expect them to join us in the Hierarch’s sitting room? Especially after what almost happened to their first messenger. Meeting us in the ravine guarantees their safety, because they can get in and out of it so much more easily than humans.”

The small, steep-sided ravine that drained the ornamental stream would also be hard for a crippled girl in a formal gown to climb out of.

He hated using her injury as a weapon against her. Particularly when he remembered how she’d been crippled. She was the hero…so what did that make the person who betrayed her?

“What would goblins know about barbarian magic?” Koryn asked. “I never found any connection between them in my research.”

“There’s no connection.” Jeriah had already decided to
tell as much of the truth as he could. “But I was looking for magic that didn’t come from any of the Gods, and that’s what the goblins have. It may not use the same source as the barbarians’ magic. The goblins I spoke to said the barbarians are as quick to kill them as they are to kill us. Maybe quicker. ‘They regard us as a delicacy’ is the exact quote. That’s one of the reasons they might be willing to help us.”

“What’s the other reason?”

“We’re here.” Jeriah paused on the brink of the ravine. The trees had thinned, revealing the steep banks. It wasn’t some canyon she’d be trapped in forever, Jeriah assured his complaining conscience. Only a twenty-foot scramble. And having used this ravine to meet conspirators, before they’d all been hanged, Jeriah knew there were easier ways in and out of it. He just didn’t want Koryn to find them quickly. “Let me help you. This bit’s tricky.”

She got herself down with less assistance than he’d thought she’d need, wrapping her skirt tight and sliding down the rougher sections on her butt. When they reached the bottom, the first thing she said was, “What’s the other reason the goblins are willing to help us?”

The brush had reduced her hair to a wild tangle, and the moonlight softened the angles of her face. Jeriah wished it had softened her brain.

“I don’t know how much you know about goblins,” he said, “but they always demand a price for their services.”

Koryn snorted. “Everyone knows that.”

Was she standing more awkwardly than usual? Jeriah didn’t want her hurt. Just delayed for an hour or two.

“Come sit down on this rock.” He led her over to it. “We may have to wait awhile.”

They’d have to wait forever, since his goblin allies were currently deep under the palace—and probably wondering what was keeping Jeriah so long!

He had to do this. He had no choice.

Had Master Lazur thought that, when he committed his first betrayal? Jeriah had sworn to take a different path, and here he was, doing something his whole being screamed was wrong…for the greater good.

But Koryn wouldn’t die. And if he didn’t get her out of the way tonight, Tobin would.

Koryn had followed him, but a frown creased her smooth forehead. “Are you stalling me?”

“No,” said Jeriah. But he was stalling. He didn’t want to lose…what? They were hardly friends. He would certainly lose her respect when he tried to kiss her, when he told her he’d lied and brought her to this isolated spot with seduction in mind. But he had no reason to suppose she respected him now. It was just…He didn’t want to see her hurt, or frightened, or even made uncomfortable. And he’d have to do at least some, maybe all of that, to make her slap his face.

“The thing is”—he helped her settle onto the flat rock—“I’m not sure you’re going to agree to what the goblins want. In exchange for their aid.”

As much of the truth as he could tell. And being involved with one plot should make him look more innocent of being involved in another. At least, he hoped it would.

“So what do they want?” Koryn asked. “You’ll have to tell me, sooner or later.”

She was right.

“The goblins want their leader back,” Jeriah said bluntly. “The girl who took my brother into the Otherworld. Think about it for a minute before you say no. Her army is shattered and scattered, and she told Master Lazur under a truth spell that she’s only a hedgewitch—she hardly has any magical power at all! She couldn’t even dent your precious relocation! And—”

“And your brother could come back with her.”

Was it only the moonlight softening her face?

“Jeriah, I don’t have their leader in my back pocket—or you brother either. I told you before, I don’t even know where Master Lazur’s spell notes are!”

But Jeriah did, and if Master Lazur ever heard about this part of the conversation…he’d believe Jeriah had lured her out here to win his bet. Particularly if Jeriah got his face slapped trying. And if he was going to get those notes in time to save his brother, he’d better start now.

Jeriah stepped forward, only a small step needed, and bent to press his lips on hers. He’d intended to be a little rough, a little intrusive. But he hadn’t known her lips would tremble when he touched them. Or be so soft. Or cling so gently
when he finally pulled away.

He stood staring down at her, at the wide, colorless eyes…that suddenly narrowed in suspicion.

“What are you up to?” she demanded.

Now was the time to tell her about the wager. Now he’d have to tell her, because that hadn’t been a face-slapping sort of kiss.

“Nothing,” Jeriah heard his own voice saying. “I just wanted to…um…”

“Rubbish!” she snapped. “You wouldn’t drag me all the way out here for a kiss, and I already told you I don’t know where those accursed notes are. Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you, and you know that too. So what are you—”

All Jeriah’s seething emotions boiled over.

“You really wouldn’t tell me, would you? You’d let my brother
die
rather than take the slightest risk that your precious Master Lazur might be wrong about something. They’re right, what they say about you, nothing but nettles and ice, because you’re so wrapped up in your own obsession, in your hate, that you can’t even feel anything else!”

Her thin hand flew up and slapped his face, the sound echoing in the empty ravine.

Jeriah took a step back. Then another. Then he turned and scrambled up the slope as if the barbarian army were after him.

“Hey,” she called. “Wait! I can’t get out of here. Jeriah, wait!”

Jeriah kept walking.

She’d slapped his face. He looked like a total cad. He’d accomplished exactly what he’d come for, and he hadn’t even had to maul her, physically.

Only to betray a friend. Only to hurt her heart.

A wind was rising and the new leaves whispered. The room Cogswhallop had showed him on the map was behind the kitchens, which were now full of servants enjoying their own feast. Jeriah had to circle around the terrace and work his way through several corridors. As well as he knew this level, it took him several minutes to locate the door, which looked more like a cupboard than the entrance to a room. The rattle of the chain washed over Jeriah as soon as he opened the door.