“The Queen began speaking as the two-footeds started dessert, “The transcript my staff provided from the Bishop’s quarters indicates that he’s up to no good. Three soldiers visited him after our meeting. He directed one of them to do away with one or more of your party. He told them to implicate my sister in your demise. If Wren had not already given the man his walking papers home, this would have done it for me. We don’t need this human malefactor in Gorgurak.”
“What are you going to do?” Cloud Eye was immediately concerned, and rightly so. This was grounds for our party to pick up and go home.
“Well, I propose that my staff take you out through the under passage built into this house to one of our safe houses. As a warranty for your safety, I will go with you and stay with you tonight, along with Magrat and Gragoy. The waiting staff that I brought with me are all trained agents. They will sleep in your spots in this house tonight, along with other agents who have already secreted themselves throughout and around the house. If we can lay hold of one of the Bishop’s men, I will have grounds to expel him from Gorgurak with an invitation never to cross our borders ever again.” She smiled so sweetly.
“The Prince and the Duke may be aware of the Bishop’s activities, but none of my intelligence networks have uncovered anything in their surveillance of those two. The Bishop’s men joined the troop after the Bishop invited himself to accompany the hunting party. If we didn’t have a wyvern problem, I would send them all home right now.”
“How do you know so much?” Cat gave the Queen a measuring gaze.
“We do not trust the Regent of Nordvek,” Queen Margo sighed. “You should know since you are more familiar with her character than most. When she took power, we worked to place assets in Tammerhof and elsewhere to monitor her activities. We wanted plenty of warning if she planned any mischief toward Gorgurak. When your father was well, we did not worry so much since he proved to be an honest dealer who kept his agreements with us.”
“Despite polite fiction to the contrary, I am not an elf,” Cat had a deadpan on his face, and his tone was perfectly neutral. “How do you know you can even trust me since I am human?”
Margo and Magrat both laughed. Queen Margo shook her head and smiled, “I know you are trustworthy, young elf not born an elf. If you had proven deceitful in any way, you would not be alive today. Storm Eagle would have quietly seen to your death. The elves are very intolerant of that sort of thing. This afternoon, elven intolerance of bad character was amply demonstrated by Wren when she threw the Bishop’s animosity back in his face. It is one of the elves’ best and worst traits, which is why the humans consider elves tactless, stuck up, and maladroit at diplomacy.”
“Huh,” Cat was thoughtful. “I never gave it much thought. I found the honesty and the plain speaking of the elves a marvel and embraced it without looking back. I often wondered why my race couldn’t be more like elves. Living with elves was such a relief compared to what I endured after my sister died.”
One lonely tear made its way down his face. He wiped it away and withdrew into himself. He was always sad when reminded of her.
“I am interested in whether you plan to remove your brother and claim your position as Crown Prince?” Magrat inquired. “He is here right now, and you can kill him with a spell.”
“I am not interested in doing that,” Cat replied. “My problem is not Willam. My problem is his mother, who just happens to hold the reins of government. If I killed Willam and claimed my place, my stepmother would label me an imposter, and I would not live out the year. My stepmother would then place my little sister on the throne. Assassinating Willam is a death sentence for me.”
Cat rider stared at the table, “Besides, this is moot because I have no desire to be King. I will step in only if Willam is unworthy to rule.”
“Do you not want revenge?” Magrat studied Cat Rider.
“To what end? To satisfy my personal desire? That’s selfish. To remove Griselda as Regent? That is tempting but still selfish.
“Would it not be better for the kingdom to remove its corrupt regent?”
“That’s a nasty question, Lady Magrat, because it assumes I care about the fate of Nordvek. I do not. I feel no loyalty to the place. My only tie is my father, and he is likely dead.
Someone running came up the stairs. The hobgoblin soldier saluted and gave a message to the Queen.
“Oh my,” Queen Margo raised one dark green eyebrow, “this is interesting. All three of the Bishop’s agents from Willam’s troop are in the tunnels right now. This is much earlier than we expected. Now we can’t use the tunnel for this row of houses to leave. Suggestions, anyone?”
“Are only three men working for the Bishop, or are there more than that?” Cat Rider asked.
“No, just three that we know of,” the Queen crumpled the message.
“Then it is less likely anyone is watching the outside of the house,” Cat pondered. “If that is the case, what prevents us from walking out the front door, walking a block, getting in a carriage, and going anywhere we want? That would leave your agents to capture them while we can find a nice pub and play darts while waiting.”
“Phfffft!” Queen Margo tried not to laugh and failed. Then she snapped her fingers, and one of the serving staff ran up to the table. “Get two coaches and park them a block away, ready to leave.” The goblin nodded, turned on his heel, and ran off.
The two-footeds talked about wine while we waited. Not being a wine drinker, I had little interest in the subject. Another of the Queen’s agents ran into the dining room and whispered into the Queen’s ear. She frowned.
Very softly, she addressed the table: “the Bishop’s men are already in the basement. We don’t know what they are doing. They could be settling in to take a nap, or they could be advancing. There are two of my people concealed in the basement, but they can’t move without revealing themselves.”
“If they settle in, we need to get you to safety,” Magrat told her sister, “and if they don’t, we still need to get you to safety.”
Many minutes passed, and nothing happened.
“I think you should leave, Margo,” Magrat whispered. “Let’s make the usual noise for seeing someone off after dinner. If it looks like they aren’t moving for now, we will all walk out and get into the carriages.”
Queen Margo nodded her agreement, and we all got to our feet.
“Wait,” the Queen held up a hand, “won’t this many people on the stairs make too much noise.”
“I believe we elves can get down the stairs without making any sound,” Cloud Eye stated softly. “We are professional hunters, after all.”
“But can Cat Rider get down the stairs without thumping his bad leg?” Magrat asked. Cat Rider really did make noise when he walked, especially on these wood floors.
“I’ll go down on Fuzzy,” Cat grinned.
“Well then, let’s move,” the Queen ordered.
I was disgusted when the three elves slid down the banisters.
“Show-offs,” Cat muttered as he rigged the stirrup strap and got on my back. I padded down the stairs, a little concerned that they might creak under my weight, but it was a needless worry. We silently stood outside the front door and waited for the goblins to catch up.
The Queen, Magrat, Gragoy, and two goblin servers-cum-agents came down with Magrat and Margo discussing goblin wines. The three older goblins stepped through the front door, and the two agents went back upstairs with audible footsteps. We walked with no noise to the two waiting carriages.
As we started getting in, the Queen walked up to Cat and me as he rolled up the stirrup strap and put it into its case on his belt. She looked at the two of us with an impish smile, “You know, riding on the back of a mountain cat looks like fun.”
“It can be,” Cat remarked.
I had to cast mind talking since I always drop the spell when I’m not using it. *Are you hinting you’d like a ride?*
“Why, yes!”
*Cat, rig the stirrup strap and shorten it for the Queen since she has shorter legs than you.*
Magrat stuck her head out a carriage window to see what the delay was, “Sister, what are you doing?”
By now, the Queen was getting comfortable on the riding pad with her hands grabbing my two shoulder straps. “Going for a ride, sister. Alright, Fuzzy, just how fast can you go?”
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While I was taking the Goblin Queen for a run, the Queen’s agents set off sleeping gas bombs in the basement of Magrat’s townhouse. The hobgoblins stripped the captured men down to their underclothes. They cuffed, shackled, and locked the prisoners in separate cells in the guardhouse for the palace. Their morning meal was water and oatcakes laced with goblin truth serum. For humans, goblin truth serum is also a narcotic.
Wren and I were invited to listen to the interrogation of each prisoner along with every senior minister. The Queen was there too. The goblins and Wren were seated on chairs on the other side of a thin partition from where the interrogation took place. I got a folded-up blanket to lie on.
We heard chains when hobgoblin guards brought in the first prisoner. His interrogator was a short, thin goblin in a black robe wearing thick glasses. He looked harmless, but he talked like a lawyer.
“Your name, please.”
“Simon Green.”
“And where are you from?”
“Tammerhof.”
“What is your occupation?”
“I’m a member of the personal guard of Queen Griselda Oster, Regent of Nordvek.”
Everyone in the listening room sat up and traded looks. Queen Margo scowled.
“If you work for Queen Griselda, why are you here?”
“The Queen told her son that he had to take us with him for protection since his ballista troop are all siege engine experts and not real soldiers.”
“Why were you in the basement of the First Minister’s house last night?”
“His Eminence, the Bishop, wanted us to kill the tall lady elf if she had her own guest room and then set the house on fire. If that weren’t possible, we would poison the elves’ food with argalgol and leave argalgol bottles where they would be found.”
“Why were you taking orders from the Bishop?”
“The Queen told us we were to follow his orders even if the Prince or Duke told us otherwise.”
“The Bishop told you to kill someone from another kingdom. Did you question his orders to murder a foreign princess?”
“Nope. We have to kill someone every now and then. It’s part of the job. We get a bonus in gold for every person we successfully put away.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
That was how the first interrogation went. The second interrogation was similar. The third added something.
“Yeah, the Prince and the Bishop had words before he called us to his room and gave us orders,” the third prisoner explained. “The Prince was real mad that the Bishop was being a jerk to the elf lady. The Bishop said the Prince shouldn’t waste time on a heathen barbarian pretend royal. The Prince said he intended to request formal courtship with the elven lady and that the Bishop was making that impossible with his bad attitude.”
Oh my. When Wren heard that, the look on her face was choice.
After they led the third prisoner back to his cell, the interrogator walked around the partition and bowed to the Queen, “My staff should be done with making transcripts of the first two interrogations by now, Majesty. I have just sent the third upstairs for copying.”
“I believe we can begin discussions without transcripts for now,” a grim Queen Margo stated. “Please, Justicar Salsa, instruct your staff to bring the transcripts to the cabinet room, and then please come and join us.”
As the Justicar left, the Queen glared at the floor for a moment and then straightened, “Gargle!”
“Here, my Queen,” the Generalissimo stood up.
“I want all the Nordvekkians confined without violence. Use gas if you must. Put the Duke and the Prince under house arrest in their guest rooms after removing all their weaponry. Put each soldier in a separate cell until we can interrogate them all. Shackle, chain, and gag the Bishop and put him in the pit.”
“What about diplomatic immunity?” Magrat protested.
“That’s a human conceit, not a goblin one,” Queen Margo said in a level and calm voice. “I believe I am favoring a more elvish approach given that one of the people the Bishop targeted was my blood sister. He meant to either burn you to death or frame you for the death of a foreign princess who was our invited guest. Had he succeeded with the latter, it could have caused a war. You know how intolerant and hot-headed the elves can be when they’ve been wronged. We do not need to be kind to someone who just committed an act of war.”
Gargle looked at the two sisters, waiting to see who prevailed.
“I would argue not to put our friend the Bishop in the pit. He has not been judged yet; therefore, it is not lawful,” Magrat said in a monotone.
“You agree he’s a danger if not confined?” the Goblin Queen posed.
“Oh yes,” Magrat was thoughtful, “especially his mouth.”
“I will amend my orders, Gargle,” the Queen ordered. “Gag the Bishop and wrap him in chains from shoulder to foot. Then put him in a cell, preferably far from any other prisoner, window, or skylight. Let him sit in the dark in chains. He’s a bit on the fat side. We will do him the favor of looking after his health and helping him lose weight. Don’t bother to feed him until tomorrow.” The Queen looked at her sister, “Is that acceptable, sister dear?”
“It will suffice,” Magrat said in a pleasant tone of voice.
“Well then, shall we retire to the cabinet room?” Margo smiled sweetly.
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Wren and I were not invited to the meeting of the Queen and her ministers. We went shopping in the souk guided by Gragoy. Having the opportunity to talk to him at length, I discovered that Gragoy grew up in a village specializing in orchards. He showed a significant liking for books and was disinterested in fruit and nut trees. Noting he was unsuited for the village trade, his family adopted him out to a family in Kizdangengar in the ward of scholars, librarians, and teachers. He was now retired and spent his days keeping house for his busy wife or reading in the Academy Library on the seventh ring.
Gragoy was an excellent guide since he knew all sorts of obscure trivia about the city, regaling us with interesting stories from goblin history. I’m sure our passing the bookstore run jointly by the Royal Scriptorium and the Academy Library was purely by accident. It was a terrible experience for me, encountering all those books and no way I could buy any and take them with me on a hunting expedition. Then I found one that both Cat and I wanted.
“Fuzzy?!” Cat squawked as I pulled the hem of his elkskin tunic, which is as big a hint as I can give. “What, Fuzzy? Don’t tell me you found a book? Now, why am I not surprised? Alright, alright, I’m coming.”
I led him to the bookshelf, where I saw the title on the spine of a codex. Then I bonked his leg so he would put my glasses on my nose first. If I didn’t get my glasses now, Cat would be too absorbed in looking at the book that he would forget. I think every goblin in the shop stopped to watch Cat put my glasses on me. Was it really all that interesting? I thought it was a bit of a pain. I’d much rather not be farsighted because I like reading.
Having significantly improved my near vision, I spotted the book immediately and stood on my hind legs, balancing with one paw against the bookshelf and putting my other paw on the book. Then I dropped back to all four on the ground.
“Oh, Fuzzy, what a find! Here, hold my walking stick,” he held it so I could grab it with my teeth. “Oh my! Oh, this is heavy.” He pulled it down but started to lose his balance. “Dammit!” The book started falling, but Cat was already chanting. Everything stopped. Then Cat regained his balance, followed by the book righting itself in midair and floating. Cat made a little gesture with his hand, and the book placed itself on the nearest viewing table. There was an unexpected outburst of applause from all the goblins in the shop. It startled both Cat and me. Cat regained his composure first and made a panache-filled bow to his audience.
“I should have asked for help,” Cat said as he pulled out a chair for me to sit on. I just barely fit. He seated himself and opened the Lector Achflakalstrebr’s Compendium of Races, Monsters, and Arcane Creatures, with a Special Appendix of Life Forms of Caves, Caverns, Ruins, and Dungeons, Revised Edition. On the title page in Goblin Gothic script was printed: “Reprinted By Special Arrangement of the Royal Scriptorium with the Royal Gorgurak Academy Library, Seventh Ring, West Quadrant, Mail Stop Three.”
“Let’s see what the table of contents looks like,” Cat turned the page, which was a dedication to King Kobaltkartoflen. The next page started the text with the first entry on Aardvark, whatever that creature was.
“Wow,” Cat’s eyes were wide behind his mask, “this must be an old text if it doesn’t have a table of contents.” He flipped through the pages and stopped when he spotted: “Ælf, argent. Ðe tallest tribe of þe tallest of þe humanoid peoples, þe argent ælfs reside in ðe Getcel Forest betwixt ðe Blasted Steppe and ðe Mountains of ðe Moon on ðe Continent of Zhataffeln. Unlike oþer æfen peoples, ðe argent ælfs...”
“Oh, Fuzzy, this looks like a great book! Let’s try wyverns.” He went to the back of the book, looking for W. There was no W. “Tell me I’m not going crazy.”
*Alright. You’re not going crazy. Happy now?*
“Fuzzy,” he gave me an impatient look, “that wasn’t helpful.”
*But you told me to tell you that,* I retorted.
“Why is there no W?” He glared at the book.
*Look for the letter wynn. It looks like a Y that’s lopsided to the right or a cursive P that’s missing its stem. It may also look like a letter rho. It’s an old form of W.*
“Oh!” He found it quickly once he knew what he was looking for. He read: “Ρyvern, schnee. Ðe race of ρyverns ðat resides in ðe norþ are pure argent and prefer cold places. Ðey may come souþ ρen it is ρinter and find food by finding animals ðat move. If one is still, ðe schnee ρyvern, and all oþer ρyverns too, ρill not see you.”
“Fuzzy, we need this book,” Cat caressed the page. “What a find. Go find the others. They need to see this.”
I hopped off the chair and found Wren looking at pattern books to set up looms. She was very into weaving when she wasn’t out running courier errands for her father. I rubbed up against her leg and purred.
“The two of you found a book,” Wren stated as a fact. She knew both of us too well. “Now you want to show it to me because I control the money.” I just purred a little more and rubbed the side of my snout against her knee.
“Alright, book addict who can’t even turn her own pages, lead me to this literary wonder.”
I hopped back on the chair when we got to where Cat was sitting. Wren looked over Cat’s shoulder.
“You can read that? Those are ancient letters. I don’t know what that one is,” Wren pointed at the one that looked like a cursive lower-case D that was crossed at the top.
*That is called a thorn, which has an unvoiced TH sound.*
“Do you know all these letters, Cat?” she sat down.
“Some of them,” Cat looked up from the book. “Fuzzy knew the ones I had never seen before.”
“That is a huge book, Cat. There’s no way we can take it with us.”
“I was afraid you would say that,” he sighed. “I have learned more about wyverns in the few minutes I’ve sat here. There’s so much here. Look at this, Wren. Feeding habits of three varieties of wyverns, when they hunt, mating customs, preferred habitat, even what their poop looks like.”
“Cat, it’s not practical.”
“Listen to this, Wren: ‘They may come south when it is winter and find food by finding animals that move. If one is still, the snow wyvern, and all other wyverns too, will not see you.’”
“What? Seriously?”
“So when the wyvern attacked Owl,” Cat enthused, “it must have found him because he was skiing. If he had hidden and not moved, the wyvern might not have continued the attack.”
“What else does it say?”
“Wyverns are like trolls: they are magical creatures that can talk to other magical creatures with mind talk, but non-magical creatures like goblins and elves can’t hear them or talk to them.”
“That must mean wyverns are intelligent, and Fuzzy here can talk to them,” Wren was thoughtful.
Gragoy wandered over, curious to see what book we had found. “Oh, that’s a copy of Achflakalstrebr’s Compendium. How exciting! It’s hard to find. It must be a new acquisition because I would have bought it if it had been here last week. It’s a real treasure. Is that the original or the reprint?”
“It’s the reprint. If it’s that rare, that makes me want to buy it even more,” Cat caressed the paper some more.
“If it’s the reprint, it’s a mere four hundred years old,” Gragoy explained. “The original edition was written more than six hundred years ago. The original doesn’t have the appendix on subterranean creatures. No one knows who added the appendix, but it is accurate. The reprint is the preferred version because of it.”
Cloud Eye meandered up and looked over Cat’s shoulder, “whoa!” He started reading. “What’s the weird-looking P?”
“It’s called a wynn,” Cat remarked as if he had always known what that letter was. “It’s an early form of W.”
Cloud Eye read a few more lines, “You know, we could use this book.”
“Not you too!” Wren rolled her eyes. “How can we travel with that huge thing?”
“Easy,” Cloud Eye looked at Wren as if she was being dense. “We buy a packhorse or mule. It could carry our packs too, and we could travel faster and farther, and be less weary at the end of the day.”
Wren groaned, “And how do we keep this valuable book safe on the road, in the rain and the snow, and when fording rivers and climbing mountain passes?”
“Oh.” Cloud Eye finally ran into Wren’s brick wall of questioning.
“Easy,” Cat said. “Fuzzy or I would just levitate it over river fords. And we can buy or make a waterproof box for it.”
“And just how much is this tome?” Wren grimaced.
“The price slip said ten gold, but don’t fret, Wren. I’ll cover it,” Cat pulled a small drawstring pouch out from around his neck. “I have here two Nordvekkian gold sovereigns that I could never spend in Elvenhome, so I should get two gold back as change. We can use the change to pay for a carrying box to keep it safe and dry.”
We found a leathercrafter experienced at making waterproof cases in the souk. She sold us a box that fit the book. It came with a buckled oil cloth wrap to keep it dry in the rain. When we were done shopping, Cat was worn out, so Gragoy and I took him back to the townhouse. Gragoy carried the box and book for us. I took Cat on my back. The three elves didn’t come with us because they wanted to shop more.
The trip back up to the third ring took longer than it should have. Goblin children heading home from school kept asking to pet me. Even if it is an imposition, I am always patient and kind to children. It was fun to mind talk to them because they didn’t expect it.
Gragoy set the book up on the dining room table, and the three of us indulged ourselves in reading it. Magrat, in her ceremonial robes, returned home and frowned at us.
“Gragoy, dearest,” she used that overly-sweet voice that every wife uses on an erring husband, with those loving tones just before the metaphorical dagger landed in the metaphorical stomach. “I see you found a book and friends to read it with you,” her smile was dripping vitriol. “Did you forget about dinner?”
The look of panic was all the answer she needed. “I see,” she shook her head in frustration. “Why don’t you pick up some take-out at the yam cakes place? Leave out the grubs and rat tails. Humans don’t eat those. And pick up some raw meat for Fuzzy.”
He hung his head, “Sorry, dear, I got distracted.”
“So, which book is it this time?” she heaved a great sigh.
“Achflakalstrebr’s Compendium,” he grinned.
“You found a copy?”
“With an intact appendix,” the grin got bigger.
“And how much did that cost us?”
“Not mine,” he pointed at Cat. “Cat Rider bought it.”
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“Look what we found, Cat!” Cloud Eye gushed, running up the stairs with a cloth-wrapped parcel in his hands. “These are great,” he put the parcel down and untied the cloth to reveal four black cat-face masks. “Here, try one on,” he handed a mask to Cat Rider.
“In public?” Cat squeaked. He was wary of showing the wreckage of his burnt face.
“This isn’t public, Cat,” Wren walked into the dining room with Owl on her heels, “and all of us have seen your face before.”
“Will you tie the laces for me, Wren?”
“Of course,” she gave him an encouraging smile. Cat had problems with tying laces because of his partially-paralyzed left hand. Owl was the one who usually helped Cat with his boots and mask every morning. Soon all four were wearing the masks. They looked good in the new cat masks, but I might be biased.
Magrat updated us on the status of the Nordvekkians. The interrogations revealed a fourth agent of Queen Griselda. He joined his colleagues in the guardhouse jail. Both the Duke and the Prince volunteered to take the truth potion to prove their innocence and ignorance of the Bishop’s actions. The goblins took the Prince and Duke up on the offer. Their interrogations cleared them of all suspicion.
Queen Margo decided that the Prince, Duke, and innocent soldiers could go wyvern hunting. The fate of the five incriminated Nordvekkians was still a matter of debate when we left two days later.