Monster piled on monster in her field of view: the eight-foot-tall, unbelievably thin man with a long, long gray face; the woman with the dog’s paws and large, floppy spaniel ears who looked quite elegant in a rose-colored dress of shirred silk; the figure with high stiltlike legs who wore the most remarkable deep blue trousers. Goblins obviously favored wigs, lace, ribbons, bright colors, and extravagance. Even those creatures who had fur or feathers wore something rich and vibrant, if only a jeweled turban or a hat with a long plume.
Everywhere, turning toward Kate from the crowd, were pale goggle eyes, huge cat eyes, glowing red eyes, bright bird eyes, as the creatures caught sight of the one thing that did not usually appear in goblin court: a pale-faced human girl. A whispering, growling, hissing sprang up as she walked by. Kate became painfully aware of her smudged, tearstained cheeks, her tumbled hair, her cracked shoes, and her crumpled blue dress with the ripped sash. She and the goblins stared at each other in mutual horror. Kate had never in her life seen such frightful deformities, and the goblins had never seen such a hideous dress.
Seylin stubbornly towed the near-fainting girl across the huge expanse of floor to the throne, an elaborate affair that resided under an embroidered canopy on a broad circular platform of stone. And on that raised circle, his back to her, stood the King, talking to two other goblins as they looked together at some manuscript spread out on a golden stand. He was elegant in a suit of dark green cloth, his striped shock of hair neatly tied back with a black velvet ribbon. Over the suit’s tailored coat, he wore a short black cape painted with strange golden symbols. He wore no boots; his dark green breeches buckled at the knees, ending in fine black stockings and low shoes. Her own father, greeting important visitors, had never been more formally or fashionably dressed.
As they approached and the King turned, Kate realized in a flash what it meant to be elf-pretty in a goblin world. Once she had burst into tears at his inhuman appearance. Now she almost did so again at the strangely welcome sight of his familiar, somewhat human face amid the monstrosities and deformities of his goblin subjects.
Seylin stopped before him and swept into a deep bow. Kate looked at the big cat and didn’t know what to do. Should she curtsy? If she tried, would her knees collapse and simply dump her onto the floor? Before she could decide, Marak stepped forward and captured her hands in his.
“Kate!” he shouted. “What in the name of all you call holy are you doing here? You are the last person—the very last person—that I expected to see!”
All day Kate had imagined her defiant glare as she spat out her little speech, but now that the moment came, she could barely pronounce the memorized line. It was a good thing Marak had excellent hearing because most of it came out in a whisper.
“I have come here of my own free will to say that I agree to marry you if you will release my sister unharmed.”
There! She’d said it. Kate braced herself for his triumphant laughter. Instead, she saw the King stare and then glance sharply at Seylin. Her heart stopped. Had she come too late?
Marak noticed her shattered expression. “Of course, Kate, of course,” he hastened to assure her. “I’ll do it gladly.”
Kate let out the breath she had been holding. A wave of relief swept over her and left her shaky. Em would be all right. That was the important thing. It didn’t matter what happened to her.
“Now,” said Marak briskly, “tell me all about it. How did it happen? Do you know where she is? Who’s holding her?”
Chapter 8
Kate found her voice. “What do you mean, who’s holding her?” she demanded. “You are, of course!”
“Me? Certainly not.” The King frowned. “Seylin?” he inquired.
“I don’t have any idea,” squeaked the cat in surprise. “She never told me why she wanted to see you.”
“But … but,” babbled Kate, “you know you took her.” Marak gave her hands an impatient shake.
“Kate,” he said reasonably, “why would I want to steal your sister? I’m having enough trouble with you. Not that she hasn’t offered,” he added with a chuckle.
“But you took her to get back at me,” insisted Kate mulishly. He looked at her sullen face and chuckled again.
“Revenge is an honored goblin pursuit,” he said cheerfully, “but we do tend to save it for our enemies. So! We’ve established that I’m to release your sister and that you have no idea where she is. Locating her is the first thing. We can save your theories of goblin strategy for another time.”
Marak released her hands and unfastened his short cape. An improbable-looking black hairy creature with short legs shuffled up behind him, its head barely higher than the King’s knees. It reached up incredibly long, skinny, apelike arms and plucked the cape from his shoulders. At the same moment, a goblin in livery boomed out something in a loud voice. Kate heard a rustling and turned to see the entire crowd sink into a low bow. Marak didn’t appear to notice. He was already talking rapidly in his own language to Seylin and the two goblins who stood with him. The cat darted off, racing on all fours through the crowd. Marak caught Kate’s hand again and walked through a small door behind the throne. She found herself back in the great entrance hall.
“What I want to know,” he said seriously, “is why you even think M is missing. You’ve been locked in for two days except for that one badly timed interview last night. Where are you getting your news?”
“Mr. Roberts came this morning and told me Em had vanished,” she said. “He wanted me to tell him all about you so he could start a search for her. But I wouldn’t talk to him,” she added gloomily. “I knew it wasn’t any use.” Marak shot her a penetrating look, but she was staring at her feet and missed it.
“Kate,” he said, “tell me everything that happened from the time I left last night until the time you came away with Seylin. I’ve not been paying enough attention to your human friends.” He paused. “No, on second thought, tell me everything that happened from the time you woke up. That’ll give you a chance to talk about chewing on my thumb.” He laughed. “I expect you’ll enjoy that.”
As Kate talked, they walked along hallway after hallway and up staircase after staircase, always climbing. The lovely polished stone gave way to rougher surfaces and plain doors. Marak listened attentively and asked a number of questions. When she finished, he remained deep in thought. He absently tugged the ribbon from his hair, combed his fingers through it, and shook it out, still pondering. Then he turned toward her, his strange eyes gleaming with excitement.
“So you just walked in the front door unannounced to trade your life for your sister’s,” he said. “By the Sword, Kate, I’m impressed! It’s almost unbelievable. What a King you’ll bear!” he said admiringly. “A better one than I, there’s no doubt.” Kate could think of no possible reply to this statement, but Marak expected none. He stopped in a dark passage at a large, wide double set of doors. “Your first dank cavern, Kate,” he chuckled, pulling one door open.
Kate stepped into a big, empty cave of native rock lit by the familiar globe lamps. A large, flat wall at the far end appeared to be a dark mirror, a gentle rustling sound coming from its glinting depths. As they approached it, she jerked Marak’s hand in an attack of vertigo. The wall was a sheet of calm black water, gently lapping the roof and floor. It looked just like the surface of any pond or lake except that it was vertical. Amid the gentle ripples, she could see her startled reflection and the goblin’s amused one. She reached out and dipped her hand into the wall, stirring the cool water, and then pulled it out wet and watched it drip onto the cavern floor.
“That’s enough,” Marak laughed. “You’re making waves. Back up a few steps so we can see what we’re doing. And you don’t need to hang on to my hand like that. If you don’t jump in, you’re not likely to drown. Now, let’s see where your sister is,” he continued meditatively. “It’ll be a lot harder if she’s already far away.”
Their reflections faded from the water’s surface. In their place appeared a low, cluttered room full of boxes, old furniture, and sacks of various descriptions. A candle burned on a three-legged table, and on a musty couch lay the small, thin figure of Emily. She was bundled into some kind of restraining jacket, and her eyes were tightly blindfolded. Her mouth was muffled by a voluminous gag. Not only were her ankles bound with a wide scarf, but several turns of rope over the couch kept her from rolling to the floor. Kate was absolutely speechless with horror.
“I’ll admit it,” said Marak brightly. “Your sister certainly does need releasing. Do you recognize this place?” Kate shook her head. “Let’s back up, then.”
The image changed, and Kate saw the familiar shape of the Hall under a lovely full moon. Marak pointed at a faint golden light coming from one of the basement windows.
“That’s where M is,” he said calmly.
“I don’t understand!” cried Kate.
“Oh, but I do,” the goblin assured her. “Now, let’s see. Who else is in the house?”
Kate jumped as several goblins walked quietly up to join them. Two were the goblin men from the dais. One had long white fangs and eyes like a cat’s, and the other was so hideous that Kate couldn’t bear to look at his face. Marak didn’t turn around to acknowledge the newcomers. He was looking into the study at Dr. Thatcher and Hugh Roberts. They appeared to be arguing. The scene dissolved, only to be replaced by the Hall kitchen. Mrs. Bigelow sat alone at the big wooden table, her wrinkled face wet with tears.
“Is that all?” mused the King. “Where are the others? Let’s see—where’s John, the stable boy?” Again the scene dissolved and was replaced, this time by a view of a path through the moonlit woods. A whole party of servant men was walking along with several hounds on leashes. “There are the men. But the women? Where’s the cook? Oh, he’s used them to send a message to the Lodge,” he remarked, studying the shifting images. “My guess is that each and every one of them refused to make the trip alone.” Kate stared unhappily into the parlor at Hallow Hill Lodge. Her aunts sat weeping on the couch, surrounded by the maids, the Lodge cook, and the Hall cook.
The King turned away from the water and began talking to the two goblins from the throne room. The hairy black creature who had taken his cape trotted up with a bulky bundle of clothing balanced on a stool, forming a mound so high compared to its diminutive stature that only its eyes were visible above it. As it turned toward Kate, she noted in alarm that its eyes were large and brilliant orange in color. Beside it trotted another, smaller creature of similar shape, carrying boots. This creature had orange hair and black eyes instead and so was the reverse of its larger twin.
The black-haired one plopped the stool down before the King and gathered up the clothing. Marak sat down, deep in conversation with the goblin men, who were apparently his lieutenants. The small orange goblin wedged the King’s shoes off deferentially and handed him thick socks, which he absently pulled on. It handed the King first one black boot and then the other.
Seylin trotted through the door. Behind him, a huge yellow-eyed ape swung in on his knuckles. Kate was surprised to find that he was covered with dark gray feathers. Another one swung in after the first, identical except that his feathers were dirty white. If Kate had seen the next two goblins a week ago, she would have gone into fits. As it was, she gave a small squeak of alarm and moved a little closer to Marak, who looked up at them as he pulled on his boots and exclaimed in satisfaction. The new arrivals had skinny, stiltlike legs longer than their King was tall and similar long, polelike arms. Their bodies and heads were quite tiny by comparison, resembling round, fat barrels with knobs on the top. Each held a large paintbrush in one hand and a paint bucket in the other. As the King rattled off orders, they glided about restlessly on their long folding legs and put their arms out sideways, bending and straightening them. They reminded Kate sickeningly of spiders.
Marak rose and went back to the water mirror. The two tall, spidery goblins followed him. Hand out, the King called up the image of the search party. They were at the shadowy cliffs of the Hill now, lanterns swaying, standing and arguing. The search party became smaller as he backed the mirror away from the scene. In a few seconds, Kate saw tall black trees crowd the foreground.
Now Marak cupped his hands, frowning into them in concentration. A white smoke lapped over his fingers and began drifting to the cavern floor. He held his hands out toward the mirror and blew gently. Tatters of smoke floated into the surface of the water. Kate saw mist begin to rise among the trees and shimmer in the moonlight. The goblin King watched the mist gathering force for a moment, lapping into hollows and wafting up toward the moon. Then he beckoned the spidery goblins. They moved forward on their long limbs and walked straight into the wall of water. In another second they were gliding down the foggy forest path.
Kate stared at the bizarre creatures moving beneath the moonlight. One applied his paintbrush to the dead tree at the head of the path. A moment later, the tree had vanished completely. The other dipped his paintbrush into his bucket and began swiping it in the air. A thick bush began to appear in the middle of the path. They next erased a large rock, only to paint it in again a dozen feet away. Within a couple of minutes, the path was unrecognizable. Paintbrushes at the ready, the creatures glided rapidly off in the direction of the arguing search party.
Marak turned away, and the mirror went dark. The rest of the waiting goblins resumed preparations, but Kate remained where she was, staring at the lapping water. She was remembering the night when she and Emily had met the goblins at their bonfire. Gates had moved, and roads had shifted. Now she realized with a shudder that she and Emily hadn’t been alone. These lofty monsters must have glided right beside them, changing the landmarks as they approached. She jumped when Marak stopped beside her. He noticed her horrified expression and nodded in understanding.
“You’re right,” he said calmly, just as if she had spoken out loud. “They led you straight to where we were waiting.” And then, with a sharp-toothed grin, “You only thought you were lost.”
The hairy black monster reached up its ridiculously long arms and laid Marak’s riding cloak around his twisted shoulders. As the King pulled it about him, the furry black fingers worked carefully, freeing his pale, coarse hair from the cloak’s confining weight. Kate watched, still shuddering. Marak studied her thoughtfully as he fastened the catch.
“Come with me, Kate,” he said. “I’m going to check on a few things I might need.”
A few minutes later, she was sitting on a tall stool, feeling a little better. She looked around her at the stone room they were in, a cross between a library and a laboratory. Books and manuscripts filled an entire wall of bookshelves, another wall was covered with cabinets full of shelves and drawers, a writing desk occupied a space by the door, and she sat beside a high, broad worktable with star charts and diagrams fastened to the wall above it. Glass bottles, pottery jars, and metal boxes ranged across the cabinet shelves, and bunches of herbs hung from a rack. Utensils and bowls of various sizes were stacked neatly at the back of the worktable, and a mortar and pestle stood by her hand. She watched the pallid goblin as he prowled the room, lost in thought. He pulled out a deep drawer and rummaged through it, one finger holding a place in a small leather-bound book that he had plucked from the shelves.
