The Goblin War (15 page)
The Hierarch’s uncertainty deepened, and Jeriah’s heart sank.
“But as I said, I have more than mere information,” he went on swiftly. “I was summoned north to identify one of Master Lazur’s enemies who was recently captured. Since I feared she wouldn’t receive true justice there, I brought her back to the City of Steps for your judgment, lord.”
And your judgment is just fine, whatever Brallorscourt implies!
Several councillors glared at him, and Master Zachiros stepped forward. “I think young Rovanscourt . . . ah, Rovan is right. She might not have received justice anywhere in the north. Our prisoner is the sorceress who led the goblins behind the great wall, driving out so many settlers that Master Lazur himself was forced to go and deal with her. And then she escaped from him as well.”
Only someone who was watching the man closely would have seen Lord Brallorscourt stiffen.
“A sorceress?” The Hierarch clearly knew nothing about it; he’d been drugged while the girl was fighting her war. “If she practices dark magics—”
“She doesn’t,” said Jeriah. “Sorceress is what her enemies called her, but she’s only a simple hedgewitch.”
Or so she claimed.
“In truth, it’s a tragic story,” said Master Zachiros. “And a tricky case. I found many notes regarding her in Master Lazur’s papers, so I know something about it. Her mother was a hedgewitch too, drowned by their village priest in the first year after the Decree of Bright Magic passed, when this girl was just ten years old.”
Jeriah, who hadn’t known that, blinked.
The Hierarch’s brows rose. “Then she’s only . . . fifteen years old? How much trouble could a girl that age have caused?”
“Plenty.” Master Zachiros said drily. “She organized the goblins who were fleeing the decree and fought off the settlers, and even the army, so effectively that she brought the relocation to a standstill.”
“But the Decree of Bright Magic was rescinded,” said the Hierarch. “Those who practice the small magics, and those magical creatures that do no harm, are no longer under sentence of death. Why should we prosecute this girl? Especially if her mother was slain, I think she can be forgiven for resisting an unjust law. A new unjust law,” he added, with a pointed look at his chief councillor.
Brallorscourt nodded reluctantly.
“Unfortunately,” said Master Zachiros, “her resistance wasn’t passive. She, or the goblins under her command, killed several men.”
“Then try her for murder,” said Nevin. “And be done with it. There’s no need for you to be bothered with this, Sunlord.”
“But was it murder?” Master Zachiros asked. “If you claim that the conflict between those of lesser magic and the church was war—and the law’s original phrasing called for ‘war against all who serve the power of darkness’—then in fighting back, she did no more than any soldier. And now that peace has been made, she can’t be prosecuted for it. On the other hand, if you rule that the Decree was simply a law, not a declaration of war, killing those who tried to enforce that law is murder. Though even then, I think extenuating circumstances might be considered.”
The Hierarch looked at Brallorscourt for guidance, and Jeriah’s blood ran cold. He’d been wondering whether he should mention the charmed iron chains, still in his saddlebags in the stable. He decided not to.
Lord Brallorscourt shrugged. “A tricky case indeed. Just the kind of case the judges of the lower courts are most fitted to—”
“Speak with her yourself, Sunlord,” Jeriah said urgently. “Hear her side of the story before you make any decisions.”
“I shall,” said the Hierarch. “But not today. This is a complex matter, which will require both more information and careful consideration on my part. But if she managed to delay that accursed relocation, she certainly can’t be all bad. Right, my friends?”
The answer was a cheer that rocked the rafters.
Jeriah always knew where to find Koryn. The library table where she sat was crowded with books, notebooks, and scrolls, as always—but today the books were closed and the stopper was still in the ink pot beside her. Curly, dark Southlander hair formed a shadowy halo around her face, and her wide, pale eyes were fixed on the middle distance.
He didn’t think he’d ever seen her doing nothing before. She had a restless energy that was always driving her, mind and body. It might have been her obsession with destroying the barbarians, but Jeriah suspected it was just the way she was.
He dropped into the chair opposite her, but several moments passed before Koryn’s gaze turned to him. Had she lost weight? She’d always been too thin, but he didn’t remember her bones standing out that starkly.
“I hear you failed,” she said. “Again. Unless your goal was to sink the relocation further than you already have.”
He clearly hadn’t been forgiven yet. On the other hand, the last time they’d spoken, she’d cursed him with white-hot fury, so this grim depression was probably an improvement. Jeriah didn’t ask how she’d learned about the council session so quickly—if it had to do with the relocation, Koryn made it her business to know.
“I’m trying to get the relocation back on track,” he told her. “I’d hoped that freeing one of Master Lazur’s enemies might make the Hierarch a little less frightened of the man. It still might!”
“If you think that’s all it will take, you’re dreaming,” Koryn told him. “If you’d thought for five minutes before making this mess in the first place, we wouldn’t—”
“At least I’m doing something,” Jeriah retorted, stung. “Now the Hierarch, the whole council, knows why the barbarians are such a threat! You and your precious Master Lazur were keeping it secret. Now that he knows—”
“You think he’s going to do anything differently? The Hierarch doesn’t care about anything except escaping the clutches of a man who’s already dead! The barbarians aren’t even real to—”
“It’s more progress than you’ve made,” Jeriah said. “You’ve spent over a year digging through those books, and how much have you accomplished? In less than a month, I’ve given him something that might lessen his fear, and I’ve brought new facts to light. Facts the council might listen to, even if he . . . You’re not listening to me.”
“You’re right,” Koryn murmured. “That’s just what I’ve been thinking.”
“What?”
She got up and limped out of the room without replying, which was just like her, Jeriah reflected irritably. Talking to Koryn only depressed him. He didn’t know why he’d bothered to seek her out.
The next day he learned that Koryn had left a note for her uncle and departed for the Southlands.
M
AKENNA HAD BEEN EXPECTING THE
face that appeared at the grate set into the floor of her cell. That it had popped up behind the sewer grate was . . .
“Isn’t there some other way out?” Makenna asked.
“What, you want us to lead you past two guard stations and up the main stair?” Cogswhallop asked impatiently. “It’s not so bad as you think. And you’re not fool enough to care, even if it was.”
Makenna frowned, and the goblin added persuasively, “The hero did it twice, and he hardly whined at all.” Having silenced any further complaints on her part, Cogswhallop went on, “We’ll have you out of this in a bit, Gen’ral. Just give the Stoners a chance to take the grate out.”
“What if I don’t want to go?” Makenna demanded. “I came here to talk to the Hierarch himself. I can’t see how running will accomplish that. And your escape route’s not exactly appealing—though I like the idea of Jeriah doing it.”
In truth, she didn’t care what she had to crawl through in order to escape. But if she could talk to the Hierarch herself, then maybe she could accomplish something for her goblins. Rescinding the Decree of Bright Magic meant they were no longer under death sentence, but that didn’t give them a safe place to live. If she’d been allowed to speak to the Hierarch—who certainly should be feeling grateful!—she’d intended to ask him to deed the woodland north of the great wall to the goblins. Or some other place where they could build their villages openly, without having to hide from humans.
“You’ll not reach him.” Cogswhallop wiggled through the sewer grate as he spoke. He was muddy—at least, she preferred to think of it as mud—but he didn’t smell as bad as she’d expected.
“Lord Brallorscourt will do whatever he must to stop you, and he’s got a long reach. You wouldn’t be safe here if Zachiros hadn’t put you under his protection. And I can’t swear how long that will last, so you’d best be going—whatever you think of the route!”
“Why would Brallorscourt want to stop me from talking to the Hierarch?” Makenna asked. “Why would he care about me at all? I’ve never had a thing to do with the man!”
“You haven’t,” Cogswhallop admitted. “But the same can’t be said of your minions.”
“My what?”
“Your minions. The vast goblin army that runs about spying on everyone for you. At least, that’s Brallorscourt’s take on it, and you can’t entirely blame the man. Given the conversations he’s been having with Master Hispontic and all.”
A horrible foreboding seized Makenna. The Bookeries’ leader had been left behind in this world. Ordinarily, the goblin was reasonable and cautious . . . except in pursuit of knowledge, when no Bookerie was ever cautious.
“Why has Master Hispontic been dealing with Lord Brallorscourt? With any human?”
Cogswhallop sighed. “Well, the short version of the story is that the hero granted Hispontic and his lot the run of all the papers in the palace. Brallorscourt, who keeps a close eye on his secrets, found out about it and tried to get the priests to cast ’em out. Hispontic took this as the breaking of a human promise and got back at Brallorscourt by giving his papers particular attention . . . and learned that Brallorscourt knew that Master Lazur was drugging the Hierarch, almost from the start. Which explains how he came by so much of the power he’s throwing around these days. Not that the Hierarch can’t stand up to him, if he sees his way clear. He’s too fearful of being controlled again to allow anyone to run him. But the old man was wandering in his wits for seven years—he has to rely on someone’s advice. And I’m afraid he’s picked the wrong man.”
“Who is Lord Brallorscourt? I mean—”
“Head of the Landholders’ Council,” said the goblin. “Which makes Hispontic crossing him even more idiotic than it sounds. Because Hispontic went and blackmailed Brallorscourt with the secret, demanding he leave the Bookeries alone, and Brallorscourt had to agree. But in the course of that conversation, Brallorscourt asked Hispontic who his human master was—not even thinking that the want-wit might be acting on his own—and the only human Master Hispontic, or any goblin, serves . . .”
“Is me.” She’d seen it coming, but she still winced. “So Brallorscourt’s under the impression that I’ve been spying on him, and blackmailing him, and he probably thinks that I want to talk to the Hierarch to expose his secret. And get him hanged. No wonder he set the guard to watch for me!”
“And he’ll be sending assassins to these cells as soon as he can arrange it.”
With a soft
crack
, the sewer grate came free. Makenna peered into the shaft. “I can’t get through that. It’s too narrow.”
“Leave that to the Stoners,” said Cogswhallop calmly. “It’ll soon be bigger.”
She knew he was right. She had to go. But . . .
“How am I going to get to the Hierarch if I run? I still need to talk to him!” Though given what Jeriah told her about the barbarians, the relocation would have to go forward after all, and there would be no land beyond the wall for goblins to inhabit. So where could her goblins go, with or without the Hierarch’s consent?
Unless, of course, the humans chose to dither around till the barbarians wiped out the lot of them.
No. There was a time Makenna might have wished for that, but she no longer did. Even when she was fighting for the Wood, the only men she’d ordered slain had killed her goblins—and had been about to kill more! Her troops were usually too clever to be cornered, but trapped they were no match for a human sword. Of course, the humans who wielded those swords weren’t immune to goblin arrows, so it all worked out.
The only death she regretted was the babe a pregnant woman had lost, after Makenna had driven her and her husband out. The traps the young couple had set for the goblins had been lethal, so Makenna didn’t even care for the parents’ grief. Only the babe hadn’t deserved to die.
There were humans who didn’t kill, but she’d found precious few of them. Barbarians all.
“Maybe the hero could help,” Cogswhallop suggested. “He’s already been to see Hierarch. Though the meeting didn’t go exactly as he hoped.”
“That’s ’cause he’s a bumbler,” said Makenna. “Or at best a dreaming fool.”
Cogswhallop, who seemed to have developed a soft spot for Tobin’s disastrous brother, scowled. “I think he’s right—the old man would free you if it was up to him. Young Jeriah didn’t know what Brallorscourt and Hispontic have been up to. And he didn’t warn the guards to put those chains on you, though he knows how easily we can work down here. You can hardly blame the lad for losing Tobin, Gen’ral. He never had him in the first place!”