By Blood Betrayed (The Kingsblood Chronicles) (20 page)

“In their immature state, they’re about the size of a real big leech, and about as ugly. They aren’t dangerous to goblins, or to humans for that matter, because blood’s no good for ‘em. Makes them swell up and pop, actually, and they know it. I once saw one latch on to a rock lizard, and even though it let go as fast as it could, it was too late,” he said, making a splattering noise and gesturing expansively.

“My clan kept some of ‘em on hand because we used them to locate freshwater sources. They’ll bore through rock to get to a good breeding ground, but we don’t let ‘em get away from us. Uncontrolled, the bloody things are a nuisance to get rid of.”

Lian didn’t bother to hide his disgust. “Forgive me, but those things sound positively revolting.”

Snog nodded with another grin. “Yep. We don’t like ‘em much, either, but they can serve as emergency water supplies if you’re caught without water. Taste pretty bad, but even a human can drink their fluids without harm. And they sure can find the water, if there is any.

“You surface dwellers take water for granted. Underground, you can’t always find it easily, and it’s a valuable commodity. There’s more deserts underground than you’ll ever see up here on the surface, I’d wager.”

I am often reminded why my existence as a piece of steel is preferable to the needs of a body
, Gem observed dryly.
These water leeches must be something from the elemental plane of water that crossed over into the physical world somehow. He refers to them as parasites, so I’d guess they will attach themselves to water elemental creatures.

“So to get rid of them, what will the druid have to do?” asked Lian.

“Oh, that’s easy enough,” replied the goblin, picking at his teeth with a long, sharp nail. “I would think that any druid worth his keep could summon an earth elemental creature to poison the springs with a little salt. It wouldn’t require enough to harm the surface plants, and at this stage of their life cycle the parasites are particularly vulnerable to it.

“Alternatively, he could call up something from the water planes to lure the things out where they could be crushed. There’s an even dozen of them, so they are easily accounted for. They won’t reach breeding size for months yet.”

“They’ll follow a water elemental?” Lian asked, with an aside to Gem.
Looks like you were right.
He could feel her satisfaction at having guessed correctly.

Snog nodded. “Oh, yeah. They’ll try to suckle on it, and they’ll ignore mundane water sources as long as there’s such a being around. Unless these springs are a water elemental gateway, they’ll come right up on its heels.”

Gem said,
The water here doesn’t have the traces of power that such a gate would leave. It’s a natural spring
.

Lian said, “No, I don’t think that’s the case. I haven’t heard any local legend that say this water is special, other than the fact that it comes out cold and clear.”

“Then there’ll be no problem unless there aren’t any spellcasters available. Then, it could get dicey, but that’s not my problem.”

Lian shook his head, ducking under a low-hanging oak tree branch. “It could become your problem, if the druid takes offense at your actions. They know some pretty hefty curses, the druidkind.”

Snog looked at him sidelong. “I was sort of hoping you’d put in a good word for me, milord. It
was
Lesh that actually released the damned things, anyhow. I just carried them.”

Lian made a decision. “I won’t call attention to your complicity, if that will help. But Teg is a native of this area, and is acquainted with the local druid. He may not realize what you were doing, but his description of what he saw is pretty damning evidence.”

Snog made a face. “Maybe it would be better if I left the area, then.”

“That’s probably not necessary. I’m likely to be in almost as much danger from the druid as you, simply because I let you live. The druidkind are quite elder in their view of right and wrong. If I am not your enemy, then I am obviously your friend.”

“You don’t have to explain the elder viewpoint to a goblin, milord,” he said. “We’re one of the elder races, too.”

Goblins were the youngest of the elder races that included elves, dwarves, kossir and kossir-teh, ogres, trolls, and the Faerie. They were also the least of them, in both individual ability and intellect. A majority of the mortalkind considered goblins to be the most inferior of the humanoid races, though Lian personally ranked trolls at the bottom. Trolls were bigger and stronger, it was true, but they were, in his experience, uniformly cruel, stupid, and evil.

Before meeting Teg, he’d have placed ogres right behind trolls in the scum scale among the elder folk. Now, he wondered if trolls might possess the capacity to behave in a civilized manner, too, beneath their cruel demeanor.

Next thing you know, I’ll be allowing trolls onto the Advisory Council of Dunshor
, he thought sardonically.

“You’ve heard my tale, milord,” said Snog, taking out more tobacco and packing his pipe. “Mightn’t it be time for me to hear yours?”

Lian didn’t answer, and they walked in silence.

I don’t know what to tell you, son
, Gem said.
You didn’t agree to tell him, yet he’s sworn to keep your secrets indefinitely. He’s got skills that could be useful, and his presence could serve as camouflage, making you a less likely candidate for heir to the throne.

Dunshor had a long history of hostility toward the goblins, literally dating back to the founding. That hostility hadn’t ended with the rebellion against the Theocracy. Indeed, the clans who dwelled beneath Dunshor had seen the rebellion as an opportunity to finish the job that their ancestors had begun. The rebel army, exhausted from the overthrow of the Theocracy, had been forced into several heavy engagements with goblin forces before the subterranean kings had decided that the humans could defend themselves.

Most of the unbiased reports of the time had opined that the goblins could have wiped the newly liberated Dunshorans out if their strategy had relied on small-unit engagements and they had kept their armies inside their warrens. Instead, the goblin kings had assembled their armies aboveground to “crush” the surface dwellers. Unaccustomed to open ground warfare and an enemy used to fighting off demons and other horrors, they had been driven back below the earth by several crushing defeats.

The goblin assault that followed the rebellion was also the key reason that Rishak was allowed to maintain a large standing army, since his forces, led by his famed Ironheart calvary company, had been instrumental in fighting off the goblin kings’ armies. Evan felt that Rishak’s southern army was necessary to the stability of the kingdom.

This long-standing hostility made it all the more unlikely that “Prince Lian” would be traveling with a goblin scout. While it wouldn’t disguise him from a professional such as Elowyn, who wouldn’t overlook any suspicious boy of the right age and approximate description, it would serve as some cover.

If Snog was foolish enough to remain with them after he learned just who his “lord” was.

Lian took a deep breath and started speaking. Long before he was done, Snog was glancing reflexively over his shoulder quite often. When he described the Undead knight, Snog’s grey skin turned pale. Lian omitted any mention of the Key of Firavon, which still graced his belt pouch, instead explaining that Gem accorded him some protection against scrying.

“Sir Temvri?” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “Shit. He won’t give up until you’re fertilizer, milord. You’ll forgive me if I don’t address you by the proper honorific?”

Lian said, “I’d prefer that you not, actually.”

Snog nodded, a measure of composure returning. “But if your blade there can shield you from magical tracking, how is Temvri still following you?”

That question had been bothering Lian, too. According to Lord Grey’s words, the Key of Firavon should have prevented the Undead’s magical sense from locating him.

Gem had been considering this for a while, and had settled on an answer.
The tracking power of a creature like Sir Temvri, if that’s his name, is like the sense of a bloodhound. The Key wouldn’t protect you from that, either. I’m afraid it means that you might have to worry about other Undead, ones sent from Dunshor, that pick up your trail. For now you should be safe from that, because they need to know where you are to start tracking you.

And won’t they know where I have been? They’ll know, at least, that I was in my chambers with the assassin,
Lian asked, concerned at this possibility.

No, I think perhaps that the Undead has to have been in direct contact with you in order to track you in this way. The knight saw you, and approached within twenty yards of you, so he was able to “scent” you directly. An Undead dispatched by Rishak’s mages hasn’t had the same opportunity.

Or so I believe, at any rate
, she said.
But if they can track you, they can teleport an assassin to your location, and you simply won’t wake up one morning. My recommendation is not to worry about things that you can’t control.

They walked on for nearly an hour before the goblin reached into his pouch for more tobacco. He packed the pipe without looking at it, keeping a wary eye on the surroundings. He paused only to light it, while Lian kept watch on the forest.

“How well can you keep up the pidgin accent, Snog?” asked Lian as they resumed their trek.

“Pardon, milord?” Snog asked, surprised at the change of subject.

“At first, your Dunshoran was broken and heavily accented. Now, your speech is as good as some native speakers,” Lian explained. “You obviously have a complete command of my language, and my question is an important issue.”

“If I don’t have to speak at length, I’ll be able to stay in character, sir,” Snog said with a touch of chagrin. “I suppose that it would be best if I wasn’t too talkative, in any event.”

Puffing deeply on the mushroom-scented smoke, he changed the subject. “I take it your plan to vacate the area, and as quickly as possible, milord?”

Lian answered, “Yes. Even protected from magical sight, there will be enough hired killers coming after me to make your hair straight.”

The goblin smiled. “Not mine, milord. It’s against my better judgment to remain with you, but them what’s after you probably’d let a poor wee boggle like me go. And I be thinkin’ that helpin’ a king, even one in hidin’, might turn me a pretty profit.” The goblin slipped back into his pidgin without apparent effort.

Lian looked at him and said, “You’re not likely to profit by me for quite some time, Snog. Rishak’s not going to apologize and turn the crown over to me without a fight.”

The goblin laughed and took a deep pull of the smoke. As he spoke, it curled out of his mouth. “Oh, I be knowin’ that, milord. But one day, ye’ll be returnin’ home, and if ye win back yer throne, ye might remember poor Snog and how ‘e helped you when the world were out to get you.

“And if ye don’t, I’ll be there to ‘mind you.”

Lian gazed at the chuckling goblin calmly. “I always remember my obligations, scout. All right, let’s see how we shake out for the first month. If after that time, you still want in with me, and I still want you in with me, we’ll arrange something more permanent.”

The goblin proffered his hand to the prince, saying in unbroken Dunshor, “Fair enough, milord. You’ve been a dragonslength more fair with me than most would’ve been.”

Lian took his hand without hesitation.

They talked in restrained tones as they walked, keeping a watchful eye. It was determined that Snog was to be “Alan’s” henchman and bodyguard. They agreed that no mention of the matter which had brought them together should be made, since their stories wouldn’t mesh.

“I’ll tell ‘em that it be a matter ‘tween us an’ us alone,” Snog said, reverting to his baser speech pattern. Quite a few mercenaries used goblins as their minions, and most of those soldiers had very unsavory reputations. This was primarily due to the belief that if one was willing to deal with goblins, there was little he wasn’t willing to do.

A relatively loyal goblin scout could also recruit additional goblins as troops for a mercenary unit. Of course, these troops were often unreliable, but they worked cheap and were easily kept in line by the larger and more intimidating human sergeants and officers.

“Alan,” then, was a nobleman’s youngest son, down on his luck, searching for work as a mercenary. Lian actually did hope to sign onto a ship bound for a distant port, because he wanted to put some significant distance between himself and Rishak’s assassins. Distance was quite possibly his only hope.

They reached a small clearing where blackberry bushes grew, laden with dark fruit. Snog grunted in pleasure, and at a nod from Lian started to gather the fruit, collecting it in the empty jars. Lian took advantage of the break to sit down and collect his thoughts. He was surprised at his lack of fatigue.

You must be exhausted.
Gem said, mirroring his thoughts with her comment.

Not at all. I guess it’s Lord Grey’s restorative. I’m waiting for it to wear off; I’ll probably drop, then
, he replied, checking over the remainder of his equipment.

I almost forgot, I need to pay the goblin his silver
, he said after he checked his belt pouch. With a heavy sigh, he unbound the knot on his belt pouch. It was enspelled to be an impossible knot for anyone other than Lian to untie, a minor and common enchantment. It didn’t provide any protection from a cutpurse, but it was something.

The handful of coins in his pouch were all that remained of his operating funds, since the gems he’d received from Elowyn were lost with his pack. The jingling coins attracted the goblin scout’s attention, and he approached eagerly with his three jars full of blackberries to collect his promised money.

Lian shook the coins from the bag, ready to count out the silver ones to pay Snog. The first two coins to fall out, however, were copper and far larger than those minted in Dunshor and its surrounding kingdoms. The young prince yelped as if he’d been bitten by a viper and dropped the coins, pouch and all.