Chapter 168

Slowly Beating

I had yet no music for the yurt. It was enough for me to hear the crashing of the sea. I had set it up on the sand before Hawkin’s pier. Barnacle-eyes’ sloop was moored there, and it knocked against the dock with every other wave.

Her crew had dwindled to twenty-five goblins, and almost every one was wading in the sea. Some ripped razor clams from rocks. Others reeled in fishing nets they had borrowed from Hawkin. They put everything they caught into 15.5 gallon barrels.

As I withdrew a giant purple tuna from my inventory, I knew there was no way it would fit in a barrel. It would instead have to go in the smoker for a few hours. Fileting the beast was a simple matter of peeling one side off the spine and ribs. The bones were crunchy, and chalky clouds plumed from betweeny my fangs as I munched. After rubbing the tuna with salt and pepper, I submerged it in the channeled blue smoke of smoldering oak. I laid the filet on the rack, and it sizzled. Before shutting the smoker door, I placed cubes and wedges of hard cheese upon the filet. There was enough wood to keep the smoke up for another hour, so I gulped down a barrel of Anti-gravity beer and sat lightly upon a cushion at the threshold of the yurt.

Smoke and the smell of purple tuna drifted over the pier from over the yurt where the smoke stack poked out. The goblins put their noses to thy sky, and they often cast glances my way. As they fished, cleaned the sloop, organized materials ashore, and completed what Barnacle-eyes called help-tasks, the goblins slowly made their way closer.

Those that pried clams from beneath the surf started meandering on the sand. Those that fished began bringing over emptier nets at a time. Other goblins came sniffing and chewing their lips as they walked by. Their eyes would get big, and they would look over my shoulders.

Oh, little goblins. They were hungry, weren’t they.

Stink-lip popped up from beside the tent flaps. “Barnacle-eyes told us you’re not gonna eat us. So you’re not gonna eat us?”

“I’ll try my best,” I said.”

“Barnacle-eyes told us you have fish to trade. So you have fish to trade?”

“I am like an ocean.”

“Guess you do look a little blue…and gooey. So anyway, do you have fish to trade? And Barnacle-eyes said you have cheese to trade. So do you have cheese to trade? She said you also had beer.”

“Yes. Cheese and beer and smoked fish and a world of things.”

“Barnacle-eyes said we could ask you for lunch. So can we ask you for lunch?”

“Come in.”

I repositioned behind the low table where I spread out smoked fish and smoked cheese and bottles of Goblinspuck. As soon as Stink-lip ventured in, goblins sprinted in after him.

Gabby was one of the first top arrive, and she was hauling Sweet-thumps by his hand. “Have you met Thrush before? He’s a monster!”

Sweet-thumps gave her high and deep nods. “I’ve known him for almost…” He counted several of his fingers. “…a goblin hand’s worth of years.”

“He has the best smoked fish and the best cheese. Wanna trade with him?”

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“Come on in!” I said. “I’m trading for high-fives today.”

“You better be ready,” said Pinky-chew. “Cause I’ve got lots of those!”

Barnacle-eyes was one of the last to arrive. With one arm around Slime-tooth’s back, she helped the slow goblin dawdle in. “You wanna catch up to Captain Ella?” she told him.

“I certainly do!” said Slime-tooth. “I’ve got a stomach to use, and it’s no use not using it!”

There was more than enough for everyone. It felt like an achievement to turn each of their bellies into a fat, round bulge. Eating among such creatures that gobbled their food was an absolute delight! The fish was full of salt and flavor! The cheese was rich, sharp, and creamy! The beer bubbled ferociously, and the malt and okra had many goblins shaking their heads in what seemed like impressed bewilderment.

“All right, snots! Let’s get back to it,” said Barnacle-eyes. {“We don’t have onions and garlics anymore so we gotta collect the clams and grab the fishes!”

“Aye, aye, Admiral!” said the goblins.

They filtered out on wobbly legs while they cradled their full bellies with two hands.

“You gonna stay here?” said Barnacle-eyes to Slime-tooth who lay back upon a row of newly available cushions.

“I’ve got a good view right here,” said Slime-tooth as he rolled to his side to peer out of the yurt.

Barnacle-eyes skipped off to help her goblins.

I popped open a cold bottle of Goblinspuck.

“Still thirsty?” I said.

“And starving too,” said Slime-tooth. “I’ve been starving for more than a year. No matter how much I eat, I still feel hungry.”

“This is the clone brew made with okra. It’s called Goblinspuck, and it won a bronze medal in a competition. It has your name on it.”

“Well I’ll be. Is this really my name?”

“Yes.”

“Barnacle-eyes is a special goblin, isn’t she?”

“No. She smells like all the rest. But she’s my friend.”

“The beer’s okay. The humans must’ve done away with the ptooey. Doesn’t taste as good. It’s close though.”

“Yes.”

“I never thought too much of you until the mutiny,” he said.

“I know,” I said.

“Why’d you do it? Rescue goblins?”

“My friend asked me to.”

“You’re not a goblin, but I like you.”

“I’ve been more goblin some days than other days.”

“Even if one day you were all goblin, you still wouldn’t be a goblin.”

“Yes I would,” I said.

“No,” said Slime-tooth. “You’d have to have lived a goblin life alongside other goblins to be a goblin. That’s where the heart of a goblin comes from.”

“Does that mean I’m not a nightream? I’ve never met another nightream.”

“I’m talking about goblins.”

The goblins wrestled with clams while the surf slapped their legs. More than one or two goblins fell into the sea everytime a fishing net was spun out. A few had fallen asleep, belly up, on the sand. We passed the bottle of Goblinspuck back and forth. Every now and then, Barnacle-eyes’ commanding voice rang out like a belting seagull.

“How long will Barnacle-eyes live?” I said.

“How would I know?” Slime-tooth craned his neck as if to locate the Admiral. “I hope a good long life. A short life can be longer than the longest life if it isn’t good. But the longest life can feel like the shortest if there isn’t any bad in it. Life’s gotta be somewhere in the middle, but still on the good side.”

“How long do goblins live?”

“I’ve never known a goblin that’s lived long enough to have a natural death. I’m the oldest goblin I know, and I didn’t bother to keep track of how many goblin hands it’s been.”

“As long as humans?”

“Less than half of that. And less than half of that half for most.”

“I’m going to spend more time with Barnacle-eyes and her goblins. I love eating with them. And Boggo and Ella will be there too.”

With a tight sigh, Slime-tooth’s head dropped. He curled up as if he were in for a long sleep. I heard his heart beat slow until it was the slowest I’d ever heard a goblin’s heart beat. It reminded me of ripples on a calm lake that were in no rush to reach the shore. I could hear his slow breaths. It sounded like he was holding something in his breath. It reminded me of the way that creatures breathed around pain.

Oh, little goblin.

I draped a bandit’s blanket over Slime-tooth and left a whole dreambon by his side in case he woke hungry.