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"I wouldn't—" he started, but the rest was a muffled mumble of complaint. Werewolf or not, by then he looked mad enough to kill all of us.

The troll boots, Robin explained, were back on the troll. Marian had brought the crystal though, and they gave Thea the sword, Orc Slayer.

The rest of us retrieved the weapons the goblins had taken from us.

"Back where we started," Robin announced chipperly.

"Except my mother's sick," I said.

"Except I don't have my mace," Feordin said.

"Except we're weak from wounds and from not eating in I-can't-remember-how-many days," Thea said.

"Except we don't have Brynhild and Abbot Simon," Marian said.

"Except we don't have Nocona," Cornelius said, for which Nocona scowled.

"Yeah," Robin said, "except for that."

Even Marian gave him a dirty look.

Cautiously we went up the dungeon stairs. Nobody there, in any of the brightly colored hallways, nor in what we could see of the courtyard outside.

"It's midday," I groaned, noting the shadows.

"It's always midday here," Robin said. "That's why the goblins go through the tapestry when it's night in Sannatia. It's the only chance for darkness they get. When we came through, it looked like about six, seven
A.M.
outside."

"How
did
you get in, by the way?" I asked. "I never thought Marian would get you back here in time."

"Ah, well. I bought a horse from the old man, Fred, with the money I won playing cards with you." He flashed a smile and wiggled his eyebrows at me. "I was halfway through the caves when Marian and I ran into each other."

"We got to Sannatia just about dusk," she interrupted, "and hid in the old granary. We watched the goblins until finally a couple came close to where we were, and we jumped them and took their stuff. We mingled until the captain ordered everyone back in."

Cornelius said, "You mean that all the goblins are doing in Sannatia is just exercising and getting R-and-R and that sort of thing? They aren't really doing anything?"

"You got it," Robin said.

"What a bust." Cornelius wasn't the only one disappointed.

"Yeah, but," Thea said, "that can't be the only reason they did away with all the inhabitants. Besides, if it had been only goblins, they would have just slaughtered the people. And there weren't any bodies. And what about the treasure in the dungeon? Goblins don't collect treasure like that."

Marian shrugged. "We didn't find out anything about that. We heard the captain order one of his men to get food for the prisoners, and we figured that had to be either you or the princess and her Grand Guardsmen. So we followed the goblin to the kitchen, then ambushed him on the way here. The rest," she gestured expansively, "is history."

Feordin said, "This is all
very
fascinating, but what next?"

"Ah-ha!" Robin said. "We have the answer to that, too. When we were peeking into the kitchen, we saw another goblin in there besides the guard we'd followed. This other guy had a silver tray—with crystal dishes, no less—a flower on the tray, linen napkins with gold embroidery, and
much
fancier food than what you guys got."

"So?" Feordin asked. "The chief goblin?"

"At the least, I'd say," Thea said.

"Maybe the mastermind behind what happened at Sannatia?" I suggested.

"We won't find out here," Robin said. "The kitchen's this way." He started down the aquamarine hall and we followed.

All along the hallway, twin rows of portraits watched our progress. Elves, dwarfs, members of the various races of humans: the pictures were very realistically done in needlework, much more realistic than the castle tapestry that had led us here from the nursery in the governor's palace. I thought of those spooky old haunted-house movies where the eyes in pictures follow the people around.

Luckily the eyes in these pictures stayed where they belonged.

The first two doors we passed were closed. The third was open. Robin peeked in, then looked back at us with his finger to his lips. Quickly but quietly he tiptoed past. One by one we followed. Last in line, hustling Nocona, I peeked in. A library. With a goblin dusting the books. Fortunately he—or she—had his back to us. Nocona gave no indication that he wanted to get the goblin's attention.

Several closed doors later, Robin motioned for us to halt at a point where the hallway went around another corner. He gathered us in real close, then whispered, "There's about six more yards—"

"Three," Marian interrupted.

"Whatever. Not very far. Then there's the open door to the kitchen. We've got to pass through there, because the goblin with the silver tray went out into a hall that way."

"Any kitchen staff?" Cornelius asked.

"Yeah," Robin said. "Maybe six or seven."

"Closer to ten," Marian said.

Robin sighed.

"What we've got to do," Feordin told us, "is take them totally by surprise. Wipe them out fast before they have a chance to make an outcry."

From the kitchen came the clatter of pots and pans, the sizzle of fat dripping into a cookfire, the voices of goblins carrying on the day-to-day chores of a scullery. The smell of fresh-baked bread and savory meat pies was almost enough to make me cry.

Robin got out his slingshot and a stone about the size of a cherry. The rest of us held our swords ready. Stealthily we approached the corner, rounded it together, and spread out across the width of the hall so that each of us could see what the others saw. What we saw was a busy morning's kitchen. Eight of them to six of us. Not counting Nocona.

We were halfway to them when one of the goblins looked up from scrubbing a pot and saw us.

Before he could utter a sound, Robin's slingshot twanged. The goblin pitched forward onto the counter. For another two seconds nobody noticed, and by then we were in the room.

"Escaped prisoners!" the cook yelled. He picked up a carving knife as long as my arm, but Cornelius blasted him long-distance with Wizards' Lightning.

It took less than a minute to kill them. They'd all been real old or real young, and for the most part they'd been so disconcerted, they tried to fend off our swords with spatulas and colanders. I felt sick about it, and it didn't help when Feordin referred to the cook as being deep-fried. I fought a wave of nausea and looked up to see Nocona watching me with pure loathing. If he could have talked, he probably would have asked how come I had sympathy for goblins—who weren't even people—and yet could heartlessly tie
him
up and keep him out of the game.

Angrily, I gave him a shove down the hallway where Robin and Marian said the goblin with the silver tray had gone. This hallway was lavender.

Not knowing where he'd delivered that tray, we had to check each room. We passed a pantry, a linen closet, and a study. There was a goblin sitting at a desk in the study, and Cornelius shot him with a blast of Wizards' Lightning from the doorway. The next door opened on a set of stairs leading up in a tight circular twist, obviously one of the turrets we had seen from outside.

On the second floor, the walls were the color of lilacs. As on the first floor, there were life-size pictures lining both sides. We crept up to the nearest door and Thea, first in line now, peeked in.

Frantically she gestured us back to the stairwell.

"What?" we whispered at her.

She made shushing motions and gathered us in even closer. Barely audible, she whispered, "It's her—the princess. But there's half a dozen goblins in there guarding her. We can't just burst in, or they might hurt her."

"Burst in is exactly what we've
got
to do," Feordin said. "Just like in the kitchen: neat and clean."

"Yes," Marian said. "We've got to be super quiet."

Behind me there was a crash. I whipped around and saw that Nocona had knocked one of the pictures off the wall. Perhaps he had simply leaned against it accidentally.

Perhaps not.

Feordin put his knife under Nocona's chin.

The rest of us stood poised, waiting to see if anybody would come to investigate.

My heart beat so hard I had a coppery taste in my throat. I wanted so much for this to be over.

We waited.

And waited.

I glanced back at Nocona, whose eyes dared me to accuse him. Another picture hung crookedly on the wall as though he'd brushed against it too. I noticed because the wall behind was a darker shade of purple, as though the picture had been hanging a long time. I picked up the one that had fallen to rehang it—no reason to let anyone see we'd come this way.

The first thing I noticed was that this was the last picture on the wall, though there was room for maybe three more before the stairs.

The second thing I noticed was that the picture had been hung recently enough that for this one there wasn't an outline on the wall.

The third thing I noticed was that the picture was of a group of men dressed in what I suddenly recognized as the uniform of King Ulric's Grand Guard—Princess Dorinda's bodyguards.

Nocona, also looking at the picture, raised his eyebrows.

Before I could mention any of this, Marian nodded impatiently toward the room and took off without us.

Feordin finally removed his knife from Nocona's throat, with a look warning that next time he wouldn't take any more chances.

We crept after Marian to the door. I got the briefest of glances, but it was enough. There were six big goblins wearing all sorts of glittery medals and epaulets. Veterans. War heroes. Tough guys. They were all holding their swords up in the air, standing around the princess, who was sitting on the edge of a large canopied bed. She was small for her age, looking no more than six, though I knew she was ten. Her light blond hair was a tangled mess around her heart-shaped face, which was incredibly pale. No wonder, considering the goblins looked like they were about to chop her to pieces. She was facing us; the goblins had their backs to the door.

For the briefest moment I thought we were in luck. If only the princess didn't react to our presence. I saw her eyes focus on us. I put my finger to my lips.

She screamed.

Probably I would have too, if I'd seen somebody who looked like me, who looked like any of us.

She jumped off the bed, even with those armed goblins standing there, and tried to crawl underneath the overhanging comforter.

The goblins, naturally, whirled around to face us.

Two fell right away, one vaporized under Wizards' Lightning, the other with a stone right between the eyes. As the rest of us moved in—me, Thea, Feordin, and Marian—I heard Robin call out, "Don't be frightened, Princess Dorinda. We're here to rescue you."

The goblin I was matched up against swung his sword distressingly close to my midriff.

I parried, and our swords came together with a clang like someone whacking a flagpole with a metal two-by-four.

He was a lot fresher than I was, and a lot stronger. I found myself hard pressed just to defend myself, parrying instead of thrusting, and backing up. We rounded the corner of the bed, me trying to escape, him trying to pursue, and I stepped on Princess Dorinda's fingers as she tried to crawl out from under the bed to make
her
escape.

She scurried back under the bed, which was where I would have put her if I had the choice, but meanwhile I felt the wall at my back and still that goblin came.

My right arm began to ache from wielding the sword, and I knew I didn't have the strength in my left arm to switch, not since Wolstan. I slid along the wall and backed into a piece of furniture, a low table with the silver serving tray we had been following and some sort of tiny cage.

If he'd only let up for a second, I thought, I could reach behind me with my left hand, fling something from off the table at him, then—while he was distracted—finish him off.

He didn't let up for a second.

I kept backing up, and the wooden table scraped across the flagstone floor with a skitter-screech I could feel in my jaw.

And still from the goblin there was this flurry of sword thrusts and swings and jabs, and I was breathing through my mouth and still not getting enough air, and the table leg snagged on a slightly raised flagstone and tipped, and I went down with it.

There was a flash of light and a smell of sulfur. I listened—once I could hear above the pounding of my heart—and realized the fighting was over. Wonderful. The climax of our adventure, and here I was flat on my back, once again rescued by the superior ability of the others.

From under the bed, Princess Dorinda looked out at me like I was a princess-eating ogre.

"It's all right," I said. I switched my sword to my other hand and reached out to her.

She flinched.

"We're going to take you home," I said, trying to sound as gentle and reassuring as I could, lying there on my back among the ruins of the splintered table, covered with sweat and grime and orc, wolf, and goblin blood.

"Home?" Her voice was a scared little kid's voice.

Thea came round to the near side and stooped down closer. "We've come to take you to your father. We've come to rescue you."

Slowly, still not completely trusting us, Dorinda crawled out from under the bed. "You're not going to hurt me?" she asked, looking pathetically at each of us with her pale blue eyes.

"Of course not," we all assured her.

Except for Nocona, who was gagged.

Suddenly Marian gasped. "Oh, no!" I thought she was extending her hand to help me up. But she was pointing at something on the floor: the cage I had glimpsed on the table. It was made of gold, and it held a little chipmunk. "Look what you did, Harek. The poor thing."

"Everything's all right," I said. "Don't worry, I'm fine." But I picked the cage up anyway. The brown-striped creature looked at me with its tiny black eyes. "And you're all right too, aren't you, little fellow?" I smiled encouragingly, and the miserable beast sank its teeth into my finger. "Yow!" I let the cage drop.

"Harek!" Marian picked the cage up by its wire handle. From talking to me in a growl, she shifted to a friendly salesman purr. "Is this your pet?"