Chapter 5

Samuel was preparing breakfast in the galley the next morning when a villager burst through the door of the tavern. “Good mornin’ to yeh!” he shouted. “Compliments of— oh, er, begging your pardon, miss.”

Isobel, hovering slightly over the floor of the common room in meditation, opened her eyes and looked at the man with some annoyance. “Yes?”

“Uh, Lord Erick, miss, sent me over with a bag of food for your trip,” he stammered.

“Leave it there,” she said, indicating one of the tables and closing her eyes again.

“Right,” he said, dropping the bag on the table and slowly backing towards the exit, staring at Isobel the entire time. He bumped into the open door where he’d left it, quickly spun around and exited, slamming the door behind him.

Samuel pushed through the galley doors with two plates of food in his hands. “What was that all about?”

“Lord Erick has bestowed his bounty upon us,” she said. Samuel was getting better at picking up the subtleties in Isobel’s generally calm and even voice, but the sarcasm was obvious.

“Four pieces of hardtack, two apples, the remains of a tart from last night’s feast, and half a loaf of stale bread,” he said, looking through the bag. “And that horrible crest of his hastily embroidered on the outside. If this is what he gives the Queen’s dignitaries, I’d hate to see what he gives his enemies.”

“After last night, I believe we will be better served by assuming that he does not see us as friends. In any case, the food is unnecessary. The trip is not that long and we can forage better from the forest.”

“Agreed. Come, eat your breakfast. I’m eager to get moving.”

“Never hurry a mage, Samuel. I will come when I am ready.”

“Of course. My apologies,” he said, grinning.

They rode out on one the empty lumber wagons, making conversation with the villager driving the horses. The loggers had cleared a significant plot of land under Erick’s direction, and the villager pointed out the stumps that were left behind, dotting a field that approached the size of one of Harburg’s larger grazing pastures. As they reached the edge of the forest, the two of them hopped off the cart to continue on foot. Isobel guided them away from the logging operation and deeper into the forest.

“How will we find the cave?”

“I am familiar with its location. I’ve been there several times,” Isobel said casually.

“And you’ve negotiated peace deals with them? Several times?”

“Indeed. I have found the hobgoblins to be an eminently reasonable people. Somewhat more so than their smaller goblin cousins, which is why they often hold the positions of tribal leadership.”

“I admit, I have not tried to reason with one before. From what I’ve seen, they respect strength over most anything else.”

“They may well surprise you. Try to keep an open mind.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The forest opened up around them as they walked. Sunlight shone between the trees, making mottled patterns on the forest floor. After an hour or two they paused near a fast-moving brook, finding a bush full of ripe berries to snack on.

“What are our assets?” Samuel said, out of the blue.

“Assets?”

“Yes. What are we prepared to give up?”

“I don’t understand.”

“We are going to negotiate a peace treaty with the goblin tribe, are we not?”

“I suppose so.”

“Where I come from, treaty negotiations are the very peak of ceremony and formality, two subjects that you have made it abundantly clear that you do not enjoy. I don’t know how you managed to negotiate with this tribe in the past, but if you would like my assistance, I need to know where we stand at the very least. Thus: what are we trying to accomplish, and what are we prepared to give up?”

Isobel laughed. “Ah, Samuel. You are correct. I am not used to traveling with the Queen’s Guard, or at least, not one who is so well suited for this kind of work. Very well, let us tally up our position. The core of Lord Erick’s request, if I may call it that, is for the goblins’ raids to cease. Call that a peace treaty if you wish.”

“Is that all? Do we have no other demands?”

“Guaranteeing the safety of the village is the only thing of importance I can see. Erick did not seem to care how we accomplished that goal.”

“If I were to play the goblins’ part, I would venture that the same is true for them. What do they chiefly need?”

“Prey for the hunt. They make their home in a deep cave and do not farm the same way we do, so hunting is their primary source of sustenance. They are in little danger otherwise; the villagers do not generally come into the forest to attack them, so the land is no more dangerous to them than it is to us.”

“But they attack the village, when there is not enough prey to feed their tribe. And a goblin by itself is no match for a human, even a farmer. How many of them are there?”

“Goblins breed quite quickly. I would venture that there are more of them than there are villagers in Harburg, but beyond that, I do not know.”

“Interesting.”

“I am impressed that you seem willing to play this game seriously on Lord Erick’s behalf.”

“You misunderstand me, Sister. I am not playing for him; I am playing for the rest of the village.”

“Well put. Shall we continue?”

“It’s just through here,” Isobel said, leading them into a dense copse of trees. As they pushed through the foliage, a large cave opening appeared in the side of the hill.

“T’chok!” Samuel stumbled to a halt as Isobel yelled into the clearing. “Dok sangtach auslichen ich passen. Joot omach kaffentach.” They heard a clattering noise from the cave, but no one emerged.

“What did you say?” said Samuel.

“Oh, of course, you don’t speak Goblin,” said Isobel. She drew a sigil in the air and touched Samuel’s helmet. His ears burned for a moment, but it faded to a soft tingle. “I merely announced our presence and asked to see the leader of their clan. The translation magic isn’t perfect; Goblin is a very idiomatic language, full of colorful phrases. You should know, for instance, that their word for ‘human’ will sound like—”

“[Come with us, blood-stealers.]”

A party of short, green-skinned humanoids emerged at the mouth of the cave, spears drawn and looking both frightened and suspicious. The goblin who spoke stood in the middle of the group, carrying a torch in one hand and something that looked like a metal scepter in the other. Samuel stepped in front of Isobel and reached for his sword, but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“As I said,” she whispered, “colorful phrases.”

“That’s what they call humans?” he hissed back, hand still on his weapon.

“Humans have been slaughtering goblins by the dozens at every opportunity for decades, Samuel. Think of it as a sign of respect.”

“And you’re convinced they won’t immediately return the favor?”

“They are aware that this is a diplomatic mission. And you promised to keep an open mind. Have faith, Samuel; I expect to have more need for your silver tongue than your steel blade.”

“I ... very well,” he said, returning his hands to his sides.

“[As I have demanded, ]” Isobel said to the goblins.

“‘Diplomatic,’ you say.”

“I told you the translation is imperfect. That’s what passes for ‘thank you’. Also, do not introduce yourself; hobgoblins consider it a sign of weakness. Now follow me.”

The goblins backed slowly into the mouth of the cave, parting as Isobel and Samuel came forward. The light of the torch led them into the hillside, twisting back and forth as the passage continued at a slight downward angle. As they walked, Samuel cast a keen eye on the walls of the tunnel. It had been carved out to a comfortable height and width for him, which meant it was enormous by goblin standards. But if there were in fact a handful of hobgoblins who also used this passage, they would need the extra space.

Another set of guards made way for them as the passage opened out into a much larger cavern filled with dozens of goblins. The cacophony of voices set Samuel’s senses on edge, and his hand twitched again. A table of goblins drinking and gaming were the first to notice them, and a wave of quiet immediately spread across the room.

“[Mind your business!]” shouted the goblin with the scepter. A low murmur began to rise, as the shock of seeing human visitors was replaced with hushed whispers and spreading rumors.

“Think of it like the common room at a tavern,” said Isobel, “or last night’s feast. That’s all it is. Just people being people.”

Samuel muttered under his breath. “Ugly, pointy-eared—”

“Save it for the negotiations,” Isobel said with a smirk.

“[You will follow me to the clan-chief’s palace room.]”

“[As we have demanded, ]” said Samuel, eyes wide with mild shock at what he’d just said.

“See, you’re getting used to the language already,” said Isobel.

A short walk from the common room led them to an audience chamber. A throne that was carved from stone, decorated with bone fragments, and far too large for a goblin to sit on rested on a short dais on one side of the room, with a slightly smaller chair on one side of it and a much smaller chair on the other. The goblin crossed the room and pounded on a door with his scepter, then turned to sit in the smallest chair.

Two goblins pushed the heavy door open from the opposite side, making way for their hobgoblin chieftain. He was the size of at least three goblins put together, broad-shouldered and taller than Samuel, with dark brown skin and coarse fur that matched.

“[He is Trokdon the Fifth, ]” said Isobel. “[Clan-chief and war-champion.]”

“[She is Isobel, of the blood-stealer’s wizards, ]” the chieftain said, stepping onto the dais.

Isobel’s eyes widened slightly as a second hobgoblin stepped through the doorway, only slightly smaller than the chieftain. She climbed the dais as well, and sat in the other chair.

“[She is Kalath of Grendor, my life-mate and leader of the hunt.]”

There was an uncomfortable pause. Trokdon looked Samuel up and down, but Isobel was still staring at Kalath.

“[This one I do not know, ]” said Trokdon.

Samuel turned to look at Isobel, removed his helmet, and subtly bumped her with it, drawing her attention away from the chieftain’s mate.

“[Ah, yes. He is Samuel, of our clan-chief’s warriors.]”

“[Tell me, ]” Trokdon said, “[why has our clan-cave been gifted with the presence of two blood-stealers?]”

“[Your green-skins have been raiding our farms for prey-meat, ]” Isobel said. “[This is against our peace-deal.]”