The Goblin Wood (7 page)

Tobin thought that whatever had happened to the criminals was important, too, at least to them. A ruthless man, this priest.

“Suppose she kills me instead of capturing me?”

“Then I’m hoping she’ll either take the rock with her, or leave your body close enough to her lair for me to locate it. I can’t claim this isn’t dangerous. But I can give you something that might help.” He rose, took a box from a lower shelf, and set it on the desk. “Open it.”

Tobin did. It looked like a loose-woven shawl. “A net?”

“Of a sort. This is magic, of a very special kind—it’s drawn to magical power and absorbs it. If you can wrap this net around the sorceress, she’ll be completely unable to work magic for as long as it clings to her.”

“What happens if it falls off?”

“It won’t fall off. I told you, it’s attracted to magic. She might be able to peel it off, but it won’t be easy.”

The priest noted Tobin’s skeptical expression. “Watch.” He reached into the chest. As soon as his hand neared the net, tendrils of string stirred, rose toward his fingers, and wrapped around them. Master Lazur shivered and pulled his hand away, and a fold of the net followed it. He closed the lid firmly on the fabric and pulled his hand free. As soon as he was out of range, the strings went limp. The priest rubbed his hand as if it was cold. “You’ll have to close it,” he said.

Tobin tucked the net back into the small chest and fastened the latch. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Such things are made only for the capture or holding of sorcerers. One of the reasons I’m giving it to you is that I’m not…comfortable traveling with it in my luggage.”

“I might be able to use this, if I could find her.”

“My guess is that she’ll find you. Or her goblins will. Which reminds me.” He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a small iron medallion on a chain.

“What’s that?”

“A charm that repels goblins. They won’t be able to get within ten feet of it. It might make it possible for you to reach her, and if you can get that net on her, you’ve won. Most sorcerers just sit down and shake when you take away their power.”

“If I bring down their leader, what will the goblins do?”

“If they were human, they’d probably thank you. But goblins are completely mercenary—they never do anything except for payment, or to avoid punishment. Once her hold over them is broken, they’ll probably just run off. But place the stone before you try anything else. Just in case.”

In case he died in the attempt. “I see.” Tobin drew a deep breath, his gaze wandering over map, chest, stone, and charm. “Isn’t there any other way?”

Master Lazur shook his head. “The barbarians are coming. We have no place to go except north. They have no place to come except here. There is nothing in this world I would not sacrifice to get the Bright Realm behind the goblin wall in time. How high do you weigh the life of a sorceress, one who has killed again and again, against the survival of this whole realm?”

Tobin’s finger traced the river curve that marked his home. He couldn’t imagine living in the woodlands, but he’d seen the barbarian armies for himself. Master Lazur was silent, letting him figure it out. Tobin didn’t like it, but surely the priest was right. How many knights, men Tobin knew and respected, had already died? If it would end the war, save the whole realm, then the life of one sorceress was a cheap price to pay.

“All right,” said Tobin. “I’ll go find this sorceress, and do what I can, though I don’t promise to kill her.”

“If you plant the stone so we can find her, you’ll have done enough. And if you survive, all the honor you’ve lost will be restored, in the eyes of the law and of the world. In fact, you’ll be a hero. Remember that tonight.”

Master Lazur took the chest and the charms and put them away. “I’ll see that these things reach you later. We won’t be able to meet again, for the goblins’ eyes are everywhere. This room is protected, but others may not be.

“I think I’ll take your brother into my service for a time. It wouldn’t be wise to place him in the Hierarch’s service until he’s had time to become a little more…politically sophisticated.”

Was this for Jeriah’s protection, or was he a hostage for Tobin’s good behavior? Either way, if the priest would keep his suspicions to himself, and keep an eye on Tobin’s impetuous brother, he could only be grateful. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Your mother mentioned it.”

“My mother?”

“Yes, she’s an old friend of mine.”

Tobin knew he should have guessed. Any scheme this devious was bound to have his mother behind it. Her friends were everywhere. Tobin knew what his father had paid; wondering what his mother was trading for these favors was downright unnerving. But he could hardly complain—this scheme might save his future, and Jeriah’s as well. He should have known she wouldn’t abandon him to disinheritance and disgrace, even if Jeri was her favorite.

“I’ll be watching you when I scry for the stone,” Master Lazur continued. “I can see and hear what happens around it, so you don’t have to worry about reporting to me. Just remember—if you succeed, you can get it all back, and more.” He paused, eyeing Tobin gravely. “And remember also that the Seven Bright Ones are watching over you. Whatever happens, you are always in their hands. May their grace go with you.”

A whip cracked and someone snickered. Tobin tried to meet their gazes boldly, defiantly, but he couldn’t seem to raise his eyes from the wet, torchlit stones of the courtyard. It had rained that afternoon while he huddled in his cell thinking about Master Lazur’s offer and trying to prepare himself for this.

His heart pounded sickly, and his hands, bound in front of him, shook despite his efforts to keep them still. It was a sign of manliness to pass through the gauntlet without screaming or fainting, and Tobin had resolved with all his will to do it. Now he couldn’t even raise his head to meet the eyes of the men he had fought beside. Men who had trusted his honor.

His first flashing glance over the courtyard had told him that only twenty of his peers had shown up to express their scorn—a great relief. With enough men, the gauntlet could kill as surely as the executioner. It was an even greater relief that his father wasn’t among them. He couldn’t have borne that.

The guards tied his ankles with an eight-inch hobble. If he tried to run, or even take a long step, it would trip him. So he’d take short steps, Tobin told himself, trying to quiet the frantic pounding of his heart. He would be free when it was over. Only twenty men. How bad could it be?

A knife cut through his collar, then rough hands gripped it and tore his shirt open. The cool, rain-scented air swept over his exposed skin, making him shiver. Once it was over, he’d be free, he reminded himself desperately.

They were shouting now, taunts, challenges, and strange, animal sounds. Tobin could barely hear them over the blood beating in his ears.

A guard pushed him, and the hobble caught his ankles, bringing him down. They laughed. Anger gave him strength—he’d behaved with honor, whatever they thought! He lurched to his feet, before the guards could lift him, and looked ahead.

The gauntlet stretched before him. Some of the men held the whips still at their sides, but some whirled and snapped them. They were the ones doing most of the shouting. Demons take them.

Tobin lifted his head and stepped between the first two men. He was braced for it, but the crack of the first cut made him jump. He just had time to think that it wasn’t so bad, when the pain bit and he clenched his teeth against it. He took a short, hobbling step, and the second blow fell.

It was held to be a sign of manliness to pass the gauntlet without screaming or fainting.

Tobin did not succeed.

He lay on his stomach, staring at the wet grass. There was enough of the gray, predawn light to see droplets of water shivering down the long stems. His clothing was as wet as the grass. The cool wind numbed the throbbing agony in his back, except when he tried to move, so he’d stopped moving.

He had a vague memory of his hands being lashed to someone’s stirrup, of being dragged, staggering, down the dark, cobbled streets, through all seven tiers of the city. They’d thrown him out of the main gate at the bottom of the city’s hill, and he’d managed to crawl off the road before passing out. When he wakened, he crawled for what felt like a long time but probably wasn’t. When he’d wakened again, he’d crawled some more.

A whistle sounded; distant, piercing, familiar. It reminded him of Jeriah, and he blinked back tears. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d been hoping that Jeriah would be waiting by the gate at the bottom of the hill.

No one had been there. Not Jeri, not either of his parents, or their servants, or any of the men he’d thought his friends. The whistle again. Was it nearer? It repeated itself, insistently.

He’d really thought that someone would be waiting for him, maybe even Master Lazur. He was beginning to think there was a flaw in Master Lazur’s plan, for he felt like dying in this cold, grassy place. He hoped the priest wouldn’t be too badly inconvenienced if he did.

Perhaps Master Lazur had assumed his friends would come and pick him up. But it seemed the friends he’d made so easily were easily lost, and the father who’d disowned him would hardly come and save him, or permit his wife to do so. And Jeriah, who hadn’t come once to visit him, would hardly come and—

The whistle! It was Jeriah’s whistle! The all-clear signal for hundreds of games of knights and bandits, many years ago.

It sounded again, unmistakable now that he’d recognized it. Trust his brother to expect him to remember a signal they hadn’t used for years.

He was crying. He took a deep breath, which hurt his back, and pursed his lips. It took several tries to get an answering whistle out of his dry mouth, and it was soft and wavery. But Jeriah must have been listening hard, for the calling whistle sounded again, nearer, demanding, and in just a few moments Tobin heard his brother thrashing through the grass.

“Tobin! Are you…? Bright Ones’ mercy.” Jeriah’s voice had fallen to a shocked whisper. Tobin turned his head painfully. He tried to tell Jeriah he was all right, but his voice wasn’t working. A flask appeared at his lips, and he lifted himself slightly to gulp down the cool water. When his head fell again, Jeriah’s cloak was beneath it.

“Demon’s teeth! Tobin, how could you let Mother talk you into this?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m glad you came.” He groped for his brother’s hand and it closed around his instantly, warm and strong.

“
Doesn’t matter?
Are you trying to prove you’re a candidate for sainthood? No, don’t answer, I always knew you were an idiot and now I’m sure of it! Don’t talk—I’ll get my horse and get you out of here before you freeze. You’re soaked, do you know that? And your hands are like ice. No, I said don’t answer. I don’t have time to argue with lunatics.” A soft hand stroked Tobin’s hair. “We’ll talk later.” Jeriah rose and ran, swishing away in the long grass.

“How could you let Mother talk you into this?” Jeriah asked again. He sounded furious, but his hands were utterly gentle as he carefully cleaned the cuts on Tobin’s back with a soft rag soaked in witch heal.

Tobin lay warm and drowsy on the pallet in the shepherd’s hut where Jeriah had taken him. He felt almost too comfortable to answer. After the first sting, witch heal had a numbing effect, and the throbbing pain in his back had subsided. The fire, where broth was heating, combined with the sunlight pouring through the holes in the east wall to heat the abandoned shack beautifully.

“Well?” Jeriah demanded.

“She talked. She cried. You know Mother. Besides, she was right; they’d have been much harder on you.”

“Dung!”

“Don’t swear,” said Tobin automatically.

“All right, but of all the—” Agitation made Jeriah clumsy, and Tobin winced. “Sorry. No, I’m not sorry—you almost deserve this. I’ve never heard anything so stupid in my life. Give me one good reason why you should take the blame for my actions.”

“Because they might have killed you.”

“And you think Father couldn’t have bribed them for me, just as well as you?”

“Yes, but…” He stopped himself, but Jeriah wasn’t slow.

“You’re not sure he would have? Well, maybe he wouldn’t, but he had a right to know the truth, and I always knew I was taking that chance.”

When had his brother’s voice become so steady? “So how did Mother talk you into agreeing?” Tobin asked. “I…wondered about that. Especially when you didn’t visit me.”

“I’ll bet you did,” said Jeriah grimly. “Mother didn’t talk me into anything. I know her too well.”

“Then what happened?” Tobin turned in time to see a blush wash over his brother’s face.

“She drugged me.”

“What?”

“She drugged me. She’d just come up with her ‘wonderful’ plan and I’d refused. I might run off, but there was no way I’d let you take my punishment. She got hysterical, and when she finally started to calm down, she got herself a cup of tea. She said she needed it, soothing, you know? She got me some at the same time, and I didn’t want to upset her, so I drank it and—”

Tobin’s shout of laughter woke the pain in his back and he gasped, twisting. Jeriah pushed him back gently.

“Don’t do that! Anyway, I started to yawn, and the next thing I remember is waking up locked in the attic storeroom with an awful headache. The second in three days, I might add.”

Tobin chuckled in spite of the pain. “You thought you knew her so well.”

“Yes, but I didn’t think she had drugs in her tea cabinet! I should have. She’s always been fiendishly effective, our feather-headed mother.”

“So what did you do?”

“What could I do? I yelled at the girls every time they poked food under the door, but Mother had them completely mesmerized. Finally I twisted a hinge off a chest and filed through the door so I could lift the latch, but it took days. Then I stole a horse and came straight here. I got in just after sunset, and by the time I found out what was happening they already had you in the courtyard. I knew I couldn’t stop it in time, so I got this place ready and went to get you. I could kill Mother for this.”