The Land of the Silver Apples - Farmer Nancy. Страница 73

“Oh, yes! At the bottom of the stairs.”

“Why, I thank you, Princess. Your friends are most welcome,” said the king in a soft voice. “I haven’t had hobgoblin since—I must prepare a feast! Yes! Yes! It’s an opportunity that cannot be missed! Hurry, lads, and fetch me those guests before they leave. We must have wine and ale, cheeses and tarts. Send me the cook and the boy Ratface, if he’s still alive. Let me see, hobgoblin stuffed with hazelnuts. Hobgoblin on a bed of mushrooms. So many choices…”

Chapter Forty-five

GLAMOUR

The hobgoblins, securely bound with rope, were dragged into the throne room. There had been a fierce fight in the dungeons. The soldiers were covered with cuts and bruises. One man had lost his front teeth, but the Bugaboo and the Nemesis hadn’t a scratch on them. Hobgoblin skin, as the Nemesis had boasted, was as tough as old tree roots.

The effect on Yffi was extraordinary. He leaped from his throne and bounced around the pair, uttering hisses of delight that were not remotely human. Suddenly, he threw off his helmet and inhaled deeply. “Ah! The smell of hobgoblins! You never forget it! Oh, the wonder, the ecstasy, the deliciousness of it!”

Pega fell to her knees and the Nemesis fainted dead away, for Yffi’s parentage was clear without his helmet. His mouth was a V-shaped slit in bleached frog skin, and his hair clung to his scalp like fur on a seal. The Bugaboo tried to come between the kelpie and his friend, but Yffi danced around so wildly, it was impossible.

“Pega, my dearest, are you all right?” the hobgoblin king asked.

Pega moaned, clasping her hands.

“We’re fine, but you, I fear, are not,” said Father Severus. “It seems this fortress is ruled by a kelpie tricked out as a man. Did you know that, Jack?”

Jack forced himself to speak. “Yes, sir.”

“And yet you failed to mention it. Strange. I suppose you had your reasons.”

Jack did and was swept with both shame and horror at what he’d caused. He’d wanted to get home as quickly as possible. He’d lied to the Nemesis—or concealed the truth, which was the same thing—and he’d argued Pega into concealing the truth, too. The Bard will figure something out,Jack had told himself. But deep down he had known he was lying.

“We have a saying in my country,” the Bugaboo said. “‘No use pining for yesterday’s mushrooms.’ What’s done is done, and I hold no grudges.” As the Nemesis began to stir, he added, “Courage, old friend.” Pega tried to run forward to help the Bugaboo, but she was forced back by a soldier.

“We’ll save you,” she cried tearfully. “I don’t know how, but we’ll think of something.”

“It makes me happy to know you’re safe. As to our fate—why, we’ll be able to meet St. Columba. I’m quite looking forward to dying.”

“Speak for yourself,” muttered the Nemesis.

Meanwhile, Yffi had worked himself into such a state that he burst into song:

There were several verses of this sort, and each one ended with the chorus:

The Nemesis, try as he would to be brave, fainted again.

“What a miserable creature I am, lowest of the low!” sobbed Ethne. “I’ll starve myself! I’ll endure public floggings! No penitent will ever be so abject or suffer more gloriously!”

“You meant no harm,” Father Severus said wearily. Ethne had been going on like this for an hour, and they were all thoroughly sick of it. They were huddled in a corner of the courtyard. Soldiers bustled about. Cooks bawled orders to slaves. Ratface slunk by with a bundle of wood. He cast a surly look at the people who had deprived him of his shirt.

Jack concentrated on how to rescue the hobgoblins. He knew he was more at fault than Ethne, but wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to save anyone. He went over the small amount of magic at his disposal. He could call up rain and fog, kindle fires, and make apples fall from trees. Once, he had called up an earthquake. Jack looked speculatively at the fortress walls. He grasped the staff and sent his mind down to the life force, but it was too feeble and distant. He wasn’t even sure how he’d done it before.

The soldiers had dug a great fire pit and were constructing a spit for roasting. A mountain of logs was burning down to coals. The Bugaboo and the Nemesis, appropriately, were locked up in the pantry.

Jack tried to estimate how much time they had. Clouds hid the sun and the light was so murky, it was impossible to guess what time it was. On the good side, a constant drizzle threatened to put out the fire.

Pega slumped against a wall with tears rolling down her face. Father Severus was praying, and Ethne was lamenting loudly and creatively. Only Thorgil was alert. She observed the preparations for the feast, the position of the soldiers, the crows sitting ominously on the battlements. Watching her, Jack felt a glimmer of hope. Surrender wasn’t a concept she understood. She had continued to fight when she was being carried off in the claws of a dragon.

Jack remembered Olaf One-Brow’s advice: Never give up, even if you’re falling off a cliff. You never know what might happen on the way down.He smiled at the memory of the giant Northman.

“You look cheerful. Have you thought of a plan?” said Thorgil.

“I was remembering Olaf.”

The shield maiden frowned as she tried to flex her paralyzed hand. “Once, when Olaf’s right arm was broken in battle, he had to fight with his left hand. When the enemy knocked his sword away, Olaf kicked him in the stomach. Then he headbutted the troll over a cliff. Olaf had much battle lore.”

“For one thing, he taught us that it’s good to have a very hard head.”

“He was proud of his,” Thorgil agreed. “He was also a master of strategy.”

What strategy?Jack thought. As far as he knew, the Northman’s only tactic was to run down a hill screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Olaf used to say, ‘Even the smallest thing can be used as a weapon. You can bury a castle in an avalanche if you know which pebble to remove.’”

Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Meaning?”

“Yarthkins. They offered you a boon for blessing their land. You should ask them for it.”

“What can they do? They’re forbidden to enter the fortress.”

“You never know what might happen,” said Thorgil. “I’ve seen their like before, in heavy fog and at a distance, but I know they’re powerful. Olaf was always highly respectful of them. We call them landv?ttir.”

Then, because the shield maiden moved with lightning speed from any plan to action, she immediately turned to Father Severus. “You must remain here with Ethne,” she said. “The rest of us will rescue the hobgoblins.” Next, she tapped Pega on the shoulder and said, “Be ready.” Lastly, she grabbed Ethne and shook her hard. “Stop whining. You know how to create glamour, don’t you?”

Ethne hiccupped, and she stared at Thorgil in shock. “Well, do you?” demanded the shield maiden, giving her another shake. The elf lady nodded. “Good. Get over there and perform. I want those guards’ wits so clouded, they won’t be able to find their backsides with both hands.”