“I—I—well, why don’t you lead?” she stammered apologetically, and then fell into an embarrassed silence as they walked away from the old oak trees.
Emily walked beside the huge cat, admiring his thick black fur. “I had a cat where we lived before,” she chattered, “a big tabby one. He was wonderfully fluffy, like a soft winter blanket. I miss him terribly. He had green eyes. I hope he’s happy with the cook. She always gave him butter because she said it was good for a cat’s coat. Is it? Could you always talk? Do all goblin cats talk?”
“I think butter’s good for everybody,” Seylin avowed seriously. “I have a cat, too, a white one with blue eyes. She spits at me when I try to talk to her in cat. Cats can’t really talk, at least I can’t understand them when they do, except when they say things like ‘feed me’ or ‘get away.’ Some of the real cat goblins act like they can understand more. Oh!” he said as Emily tripped on a tree root. “I forgot you can’t see well. Here”—and rearing back on his hind legs, he made a motion with his right paw. Kate was amazed to see a small silver orb appear in the air. It cast its faint radiance like a captive moonbeam on the shadowed path around them.
“Oh, Seylin, you can do it, too!” Emily cried, enchanted with the reappearance of her favorite trick. The cat reared back on his hind legs again and gently batted the shining globe from one paw to the other, clearly enjoying the attention. The light threw silver ripples down his thick, sleek coat as it bobbed back and forth in the air.
“That’s elf magic,” he said proudly. “The King taught me how to do it, and nobody in the whole kingdom can do it but me and the King. Isn’t it pretty? It’s a little moon. Of course, it’s not good for much when the moon’s just a sliver because it’s a sliver, too, and you don’t get anything at all when the moon is new. That’s how elf magic generally is. It’s pretty to look at, but it doesn’t really get you anywhere. I know lots. Do you want to see some more?”
At Emily’s enthusiastic confirmation, he winked out the globe, and black shadow swallowed up the path. “I did that because this looks better in the dark,” he explained. The huge cat held out his paws and swiftly tapped the path before them, shrilling out a few words of command. Nothing happened for a second. Then a soft glow emanated from the ground at Seylin’s feet as a tiny silver plant broke through the earth. Gracefully unwinding and arching through the air, it grew rapidly into a bush with shining silver leaves. Buds formed at the ends of its delicate branches and blossomed into a mass of shimmering golden lilies. The leaves rustled musically in the night breeze, and as the lilies swayed to and fro they tinkled like a carillon of tiny bells. Kate and Emily stared openmouthed, completely captivated by the plant’s beauty.
“That’s my best one yet,” piped the cat. “The King says I do it even better than he does, but they don’t always turn out this good. It must be because the moon’s close to full. Elf magic generally strengthens with the moon. That’s sort of silly if you think about it because you can’t really count on the moon.” The cat waved his paw through the unearthly apparition, and the glorious plant disintegrated into a sparkly snowfall. In a few seconds, its shining particles vanished with a quiet whisper, and they were in darkness again. The cat relit his tiny moon and started down the path, the silver globe bobbing along just above his right shoulder.
“I can do more than elf magic, of course,” he added, padding along. “I’m good at goblin magic, too. It’s lots more practical, like if you need to fight somebody or open a locked door. But I can’t do any dwarf magic. Dwarf magic depends on stones, and they can tell if you’re not dwarf. I’m not dwarf at all. The King can do some even though he doesn’t look dwarf. Agatha does dwarf magic a lot, and the real dwarves do it without even thinking. It’s how they carry their loads and do their building and making. They’re such little people, but they can do more with stone and metal than any giant ever could. They can just make the earth do anything.” Kate remembered Agatha bolting them to the ground, sticking them into place as if they had grown roots.
“Couldn’t you teach me how to do a little magic?” Emily begged as she trotted to keep up with the cat. Seylin laid his ears back a little.
“I don’t think so,” he said apologetically, “not if you’re just human. Humans don’t have any magic. Agatha says they don’t need it. They live just like cattle, chewing up the land and raising herds of babies. Everybody knows they’re God’s favorites; they already get everything their own way. Elves and goblins got their magic from the First Fathers, and dwarves say they’re related to rocks, so they just know how to ask rocks to behave. Agatha says there’s some humans who talk with the devils and get them to do things, but she says that’s not magic, that’s stupid, because devils always make sure they get paid better than they work.”
The trees began to thin as they came within sight of the Lodge. All its windows were dark. Seylin immediately put out the little moon.
“I’ll be right here if you need me,” he told them. “I’m glad it’s not raining anymore. I have to look just like a regular cat all the time when I’m outside. We’re not allowed to attract attention. Humans would think it was funny if they saw a dry cat sitting in the rain.”
As she thanked the cat politely, Kate felt her head beginning to hurt. She was a little overwhelmed by all the help she had received that night from goblins. There was something deeply wrong in these unnatural monsters rallying around her, if only because the most urgent help she needed was some means to escape them. It made it very hard for her to decide how to battle them when they kept rushing solicitously to her aid. It was beginning to make her feel rather ridiculous.
Emily was feeling no such qualms. Tonight was without question the most thrilling evening she had ever had. Of course, she could understand Kate’s outraged feelings about being a potentially captured bride—after all, who wanted to be a bride?—but goblin life obviously had its advantages. Pets, for instance. Even Seylin was allowed to have a cat, and for heaven’s sake, he was one himself! And he could work magic, too. Emily felt a pang of envy. All she could do was embroidery. A lot of good that would do her if she ever had to open a locked door. Nor could she imagine people standing around marveling at a display of needlework.
Considering her lack of magical abilities, Emily decided it was a good thing that the Lodge doors were never locked. Kate and Emily slipped inside and tiptoed up the stairs. Kate felt like lying down on her bed without even changing clothes, she was so tired, but instead she involved Emily in a whispered council of war. Emily told her what had happened while Kate was unconscious, and Kate told her about the goblin King’s decision to bring things to a swift conclusion.
“This is it, Em, I know it,” she said urgently. “This is my last chance, and we have to make it work. We haven’t tried to escape on foot. We might make it.”
Emily thought about this for a second. Then she sighed, thinking of her soft bed.
“All right. Where are we going to go?” she asked gloomily.
Kate shot her a swift look of gratitude. “I don’t know yet. We’ll just go as far away as we can. Maybe we can get off goblin land in one day if we start early.”
Emily looked extremely skeptical. “We can’t even walk as far as Hollow Lake in one day,” she pointed out, “and the goblin King said he stole his wife by the lakeshore.”
Kate shivered at the thought of the poor mad bride. “We’ll go the other direction, away from the Hill, and we won’t bring anything but a picnic basket so we can avoid attracting attention. Go tidy up, Em, and put on a clean dress. We can’t walk down a country road with blood and dirt all down our fronts. But don’t light a candle, or Seylin will call the others. And don’t wake up Aunt Prim!”
Emily slipped out, and Kate changed quickly, wadding up the old dress and stuffing it under her bed. Then she put on clean stockings and picked out another pair of shoes. She remembered losing one of her favorite pair in the woods. This was the second dress in a week, too, that she had destroyed in midnight scrambles. She surveyed the meager choices left in her wardrobe and sent bitter thoughts in Marak’s direction. Then she splashed water into her washbowl and combed the blood out of her hair. By the light of the setting moon, she surveyed her uninjured forehead in the mirror. Try as she might, she could find no sign of the large wound Emily had described.
Emily tiptoed back in, carrying her shoes. She made a face when she saw Kate.
“Why are you wearing that nasty blue thing?” she wanted to know. “It’s all faded, and the sash makes you look five years old.”
Kate felt that this was just the sort of comment calculated to undo her resolve. “I have far more serious things to consider than the condition of my dress,” she declared a little tragically. “I’m really beyond those sorts of petty concerns right now.”
“That’s good,” said Emily. Then she brightened. “I know. If the goblin King sees you looking like that, maybe he’ll change his mind.” Kate didn’t see any reason to honor this with a reply. She grabbed her shoes and headed down to the kitchen. She pulled out a small wicker basket and piled some provisions into it.
“Let’s go,” she whispered. “It’s already dawn. We’ll leave by the front door. If Seylin’s still where he said he would be, we can keep the house between us.”
In a few minutes, they were hurrying down the gravel track through a rustling, dewy meadow, the forested hills to their backs now and the fields before them. Somewhere on these fields, Kate remembered with a sinking heart, the goblins had kept watch around their bonfire. She wondered just how far their magical kingdom extended.
The exhausted girls stumbled along the pebbly track, stepping on their long shadows as the red sun rose over the Hill behind them. Kate’s shoes were cracked at the toes, and her feet began to ache. She tried to turn over the events of the night in her mind, but it all began to run together and change. She was arguing with Marak. She was yelling at him, and he was laughing. Agatha came and looked at her palm, telling Kate to be careful. “I see danger in this hand,” she said, her black eyes huge, “from someone very close to you.”
Someone very close. Kate came out of her doze with a start. She heard the clopping of horses’ hooves coming along fast behind them. Swiftly she grabbed the sagging Emily by the arm and glanced around for cover. There was none to be had. They were in the middle of a mowed field with not so much as a rock wall in reach. Kate’s heart pounded as she whirled to face her enemy. What right, she thought furiously, did he have to be out during the day?
The dogcart bowled into sight over a slight ridge. The old mare stopped a few feet from them and dropped her head, blowing heavily. Hugh Roberts climbed down from the seat, his wig askew and his round face brick red with anger.
“Miss Winslow,” he remarked heatedly, “you are quite beyond our ability to handle.”
He drove the girls to the Hall in silence. Emily fell asleep on the way.
“Come with me, Miss Winslow,” he ordered, leaving the cart at the door. Kate climbed down and looked back at her sleeping sister, a lump in her throat. I’ve lost my last chance to escape, she thought. I won’t see Em again, and now I can’t even say good-bye.
Her guardian led her down the hall to one of the bedrooms. “I’m leaving you in here,” he told her. “Ring if you need anything.” Kate stared aghast at the elegant bedroom. It was on the ground floor, facing the dense forest of the Hill, and it opened out onto the shaded terrace via a pair of pretty double doors. Almost the whole wall by the terrace was window, covered with lacy curtains.
“How long will I be staying here?” she demanded anxiously. Her guardian paused in the doorway.
“I don’t exactly know,” he said ponderously. “I feel you are now a danger to yourself and to your sister. You’ll have to stay in here until we can decide what to do about you. Prim and Celia cannot deal with you at the Lodge.”
Kate could just imagine a whole coterie of monsters assembling in the woods outside those double doors. At twilight they would come bursting in and haul her away, their weird goblin chieftain in the lead.
“Mr. Roberts,” she begged, “please don’t leave me in this room! At least put me on the second floor or in a room that doesn’t face the forest. There must be bedrooms that are safer than this.”
“Safer from goblins?” Hugh Roberts asked sardonically, and Kate knew that the argument was over. She heard him lock the door as he left.
Exhausted and frustrated, Kate flung herself down on the bed to think. Ever since she had asked for her guardian’s help, things had gotten worse and worse. He had practically accused her of insanity in front of her aunts, he had instructed them to throw her out of the house after dark, and now he had locked her up in a room perfect for goblin attack. Short of delivering her tied up to the goblins’ front door, Kate couldn’t think of anything worse he could do. Of course, she concluded miserably, he would say that he just wanted her to face her fears. She was pretty sure that was exactly what she would be doing once twilight came again.
Kate devoted some time to escaping, but the large, opulent room thwarted her attempts. She could find no way to pry open either windows or doors. The windows were nailed shut, and they held many small diamonds of glass cemented together by lead strips. She wasn’t sure she could batter her way out with a chair even if she could risk the noise. The doors onto the terrace fastened together with a heavy bolt that slid between them, and the key was gone from the lock. Yet she knew that her solid prison posed not the least problem for the goblin King. Even his magical cat knew how to open locked doors.
The day passed very slowly. Kate tried hard not to think about what twilight would bring. Restless and lonely, she wandered about and studied the various diversions the room had to offer. Outside was a beautiful day. She stood for a long time at the window, watching the sun dapple the terrace. It’s my last chance to see sunlight, she thought miserably. My very last chance.
When her guardian brought lunch, Kate refused to speak to him. She was finished giving him ideas on how to make her face her fears. If he was too well educated to believe in goblins, she wasn’t going to change his mind. Tired out from worry and all the late nights, she lay down on the bed and fell into a doze. When she awoke, the room was filled with the shadows of twilight. Kate jumped up in a panic. What was it she had said to Agatha? Handed over like a sack of potatoes. She couldn’t bear it. She had to do something, she just had to!
How would the goblins attack her? They wouldn’t hesitate to invade the house if they could do so undetected. They would doubtless make sure that she was unable to raise an alarm, and the easiest way to do that was to make sure that she was asleep. The goblin King controlled sleep with a magical ease. Kate doubted she would even wake up until she was underground.
