“What are you doing?” Rowan grinned. “Playing with your food?”
“I’m not eating this horse,” replied Seylin with dignity.
“Oh, that’s right,” said Rowan, sobering up. “You’re leaving. Good luck finding an elf woman.”
Thorn came outside and began to issue orders. The women built a fire in the yard and began rearranging the meat in the shed. The shed was filling up, and Sable was considering where to put tonight’s butchering. Seylin glanced into the shed and was sorry he did. He wouldn’t have shared their meals if he’d seen it.
He went back to the men and discovered that they had a problem. It seemed that butchering the horse wasn’t nearly as big a chore as killing it. Untrained in magic, they lacked the power to fell a big animal.
“Rowan, you do it,” said Thorn. “Your Hunting Spell works better than mine or Willow’s.” But Rowan didn’t look pleased at the compliment.
“Oh, no,” he said firmly. “Not after what happened last time.”
Willow made a face. “Was that disgusting!” he said. “And then we still had to whack it to death with a stick.”
“Then we’ll start there this time,” decided Thorn. “Willow, go get a log from the woodpile.” The elf boy obediently went off and returned with a decent-looking club. “Now whack him with it,” directed their leader.
“What, me?” asked the boy, his face a picture of distress. “Why do I have to do it?”
“Because I’ll whack you if you don’t,” threatened Thorn.
But Willow didn’t make any move toward the horse. To him, it wasn’t a friendly servant. It was a huge, frightening beast with four sharp hooves and big teeth. Thorn watched him with a thoughtful frown.
“Rowan, maybe you and I could work killing spells at the same time while Willow hits it with the log,” he said.
“And maybe we could manage to kill Willow that way,” replied Rowan. He turned, his eyes bright, and patted Seylin on the shoulder. “I know who can kill our dinner for us,” he suggested. “He knows all about horses.” Seylin just frowned at him. He’d been expecting this.
“Seylin, you kill it, then,” directed Thorn, “if you really think you can do it.”
Seylin crossed his arms and studied the animal. He liked the horse, and it wasn’t going to be his food, but he knew how to kill it humanely, and he couldn’t leave until it was butchered. He sighed and stretched out his hand.
“Don’t you dare! You kill that horse and I’ll never speak to you again as long as I live!” Seylin froze in complete astonishment. It wasn’t—no, it couldn’t be—
“A human!” shouted Willow, and they all turned to look. Emily stood up from behind a large rock. She was pale and grubby, and she had circles under her eyes. Seylin had never seen a sight more beautiful.
“Em!” he cried. “What are you doing here?”
Emily walked toward the group, her face uncertain.
“Seylin, I know that you had wanted—and I didn’t—Well, I just came to say that if you’d rather marry one of these elves, I understand.”
“He certainly wouldn’t want to marry you,” scoffed Irina. “You’re so ugly.”
Emily’s uncertain manner fell from her. “Looks aren’t everything,” she snapped.
“Yes, they are!” insisted Irina hotly. “Aren’t they?” she added in a puzzled tone, looking to her companions for support.
“Em,” said Seylin, “what about Thaydar?” Of all the questions running around in his brain, this seemed the only one worth asking.
“Don’t be absurd!” exclaimed his sweetheart. “After all the times we’ve quarreled, I can’t believe you really thought I meant that!”
Seylin’s world became a bright, shining, happy place. He walked over to her in a kind of dream.
“You’re not married to Thaydar?” he asked. Emily just smiled at him, and Seylin’s world reached perfection.
“You’re going to marry a human?” exclaimed Willow in disgust. Seylin tore his eyes away from that smile to look at the boy.
“She has elf blood,” he said loftily.
“Ugh! A half-breed,” sneered Willow. Now Emily looked at him.
“I may be a half-breed,” she said tartly, “but I’m not wearing my last eighteen meals on the front of my shirt.” Irina gave a happy giggle.
“You ought to change her into a rabbit, Thorn,” pointed out Willow, scowling fiercely. “You always do when they find our camp.”
Thorn shrugged. “She’s Seylin’s business,” he muttered. But Seylin had seen Sable’s astounded face. He didn’t want to wait around for questions.
“I’ll get my pack,” he told Emily. “We’re leaving.”
“Hey!” said Thorn indignantly. “What about the horse?”
“You want to eat him. Kill him yourself,” replied Seylin, disappearing through the door.
Emily came up to the horse, glaring at the silent elves.
“And is it a nice horse?” she crooned, scratching him under the halter straps. “We don’t want to be dinner for nasty elves, do we? Imagine eating a horse!” she exclaimed. “How disgusting!”
“Imagine marrying a half-breed,” sneered Thorn. “How disgusting.”
“I wouldn’t marry you, either, you horse-eating bully!” cried Emily. “I’d slit my throat first.”
“I’d help you,” promised Thorn. He crossed his arms, very annoyed. He wanted to kill the horse now just to upset her, but Rowan had disappeared, and he didn’t think Willow and he could do it alone. “You’d make a nice rabbit,” he mused darkly, watching her stroke the horse.
“Look what I’ve found,” called Rowan. He returned from the forest, dragging something with him, and Emily turned with a gasp.
“Richard!” she cried. Rowan had him by his white hair. The boy gave her an encouraging grin, and the elves blanched at the sight of his one fang.
“Good evening, sirs, ladies,” said the boy, bowing as far as he could without losing hair and tugging at his forelock politely. Irina let out a shriek of revulsion, and Richard sighed resignedly. That always happened. But Sable came forward to look at him and let out a bloodcurdling scream.
“Thorn! He’s a goblin! He’s a goblin!” she screamed.
“Don’t you touch him,” shouted Emily, darting forward to try to loosen Rowan’s hands, but he caught the neck of her cloak and held her off from the captured boy.
“You stay out of this,” he advised.
Thorn held out his hand to begin his Rabbit Spell, but Sable clutched his arm in a frenzy of terror.
“Don’t, Thorn, don’t!” she begged. “There’ll be more! They’re always together, and you’ll bring revenge if you hurt him. We can’t fight, we have to leave now, we have to get away before the others come!” She caught his hand, risking life as a rabbit herself.
Thorn shoved her away, trying to concentrate on his rhyme, but Seylin ran up and reached out his own hand in a protection spell. A bubble formed in the air around the goblin child, wobbling in a shiny globe and prying Rowan’s fingers free from his hair.
“Let them go, Rowan,” he warned. “We’ll just leave. We don’t want a fight.” He walked through the group, concentrating on the spell. Rowan released the two outsiders as Thorn struggled with the hysterical Sable.
They might have gotten safely away, but Willow looked down at that moment and realized he was still holding the club. As Seylin walked by him, he swung it up and hit Seylin over the head.
The bubble around Richard’s body popped with a sigh, and Seylin fell unconscious to the ground. So did Rowan. So did Thorn. So did Willow. Grotesque shapes jumped from hiding and raced toward the group. Seylin’s agreement with the goblin King was over.
Chapter Twelve
Sable crouched on the ground by Thorn’s side. She heard shouts, exclamations, Irina screaming frantically, and then her screams suddenly cut off. She saw the shadows of the newcomers pass to and fro on the snow around her, but she forced herself not to look up. It was the end of everythi
ng, the end of her life. She didn’t want to see it.
Father was right, she thought. They all were right. I should have been safely dead long ago, and I wouldn’t have had to live through this. Now I’ll be tortured and used in horrible magic because I was cowardly and weak. A shadow fell across Thorn’s quiet face and across the snow around them.
“Don’t worry,” said a good-natured voice, low and rich. “We didn’t hurt him. He’s just sleeping.”
Sable went rigid. The voice was talking to her. She stared at the snowy ground, clinging to her life, her world. No one had grabbed her and dragged her away yet. She was still free.
“You gave him good advice,” continued the voice thoughtfully. “He really should have listened to you.” The voice was almost in her ear. A goblin, right behind her. Sable’s nerve broke, and she abandoned her old life. She made a scramble for freedom, but an arm wrapped around her waist before she could even stand up.
“No, no,” protested the voice, “you have to stay with me,” and Sable was lifted off her feet by big silver-gray arms. The next thing she knew, she was carried up to that traitor elf, the one who had lied and brought the goblins here. He was struggling to sit up, his face very white, and some huge, strange form was doctoring the wound on his head.
“Sorry, Seylin,” it said. “Orders. We had to let him hit you.”
Sable looked away from that evil creature, its hideous striped face and gnarled hands. Look at the trees, she told herself. Look at the sky. Don’t give them the pleasure of making you scream. The monster who held her knelt down on one knee and seated her on his other knee.
“Seylin,” said the rumbling, good-natured voice. “Do you have a prior claim to this elf bride?”
Seylin turned away from Katoo’s ministrations and caught sight of Sable staring out over his head as if he weren’t even there.
“Oh, no!” he cried. “Oh, poor Sable! She’s had a horrible life, Tinsel. Be nice to her.”
“I will,” promised Tinsel. “I’m always nice,” he added with perfect truth. Seylin watched the handsome silver-haired goblin touch the elf woman’s scarred cheek.
“Did that rabbit-lover hurt her?” he asked with an unaccustomed frown. Seylin flinched as Katoo rubbed the healing salve into his wound.
“No,” he answered. “She did that herself so she wouldn’t have to marry him.”
“Makes sense to me,” commented Tinsel. “I didn’t care for him, either. But maybe you’ll like me better. Right, Sable?”
Hearing her name, Sable slowly turned her head and looked up at the monster that had trapped her, at the wide chest draped in black, the broad metal-colored face, the hair glittering in the starlight like the forest after an ice storm. And, looking down at her, dark blue eyes just like her own. Elf eyes, captured and locked up in a goblin’s face.
The big monster smiled down at her, and Sable’s nerve broke again. She made a lunge to escape, but there wasn’t the slightest chance of freedom. She mastered herself once more and froze, staring out at the trees, and Seylin could have cried at the expression on her face.
Thaydar came up, his arms full of unconscious Irina and his green cat-eyes gleaming with excitement.
“Seylin,” he said, kneeling down and lowering his bundle, “do you have a prior claim to this elf bride? Marak said it would be best for the kingdom if his lieutenant married one of the captured elves. The importance of the position, that sort of thing,” he explained modestly.
“But, Thaydar,” protested Seylin angrily, “Marak promised me no raids for brides!”
“Oh, absolutely,” agreed Thaydar. “We weren’t dispatched for that at all, just to protect Em and her goblin escort and bring them safely back home. But Marak did say that if we didn’t catch up to them in time to prevent their contacting you, and if you were to suffer any sort of harm in a fight, we should be prepared for the eventuality of taking brides, so he picked me for Irina and Tinsel for Sable.
“And, lo and behold,” said Thaydar with a grin, “there did turn out to be a scuffle. Even if Richard hadn’t provoked hostilities, Tinsel and I had thought up some nice ways to start a fight. A blast of snow in the face of the right elf as you walked by, or that horse’s halter rope breaking, and him trotting off after you. Now, don’t get upset,” he added as Seylin started to speak. “We knew we weren’t supposed to contact the elves. But a little snow’s not really contact, is it? And some military commander I’d be if I couldn’t bring home a couple of elf brides to my King.”
Seylin surveyed the happy gleam in Thaydar’s eyes. Marak was right: it was best for the kingdom that his lieutenant marry one of the brides. There was absolutely no way the clever Thaydar would go out on an errand of such personal and professional importance and come back to the kingdom empty-handed.
“Just look at her,” gloated the fanged lieutenant, cradling the blond girl. “Isn’t she the cutest thing you ever saw?”
“Thaydar,” said Seylin irritably, “don’t you think you ought to revive her?”
“Oh, I did,” growled Thaydar cheerfully, “but she passed right out again. So now I think, best to let nature take its course, eh?” He beamed at the disheartened Seylin and walked off, carrying the insensible girl with him.
Sable was standing up now, and the monster was only holding her with one hand, but she still couldn’t get away. He was doing something to her hand, some sort of magic, and she kept waiting for it to hurt. He was talking again, probably to her. Maybe she could learn some clue that would help her escape. She studied his moving lips, but she couldn’t seem to hear him. His lips were metal-colored, too, and she wondered if they were cold like metal knives.
“Leash…ten feet…walk on your own…” he was saying. “…Would you like that better?” He stopped talking, and she stared at him, tense with fear.
“Sable, do you understand?” the monster asked. Yes, she understood. She was captured, trapped, she couldn’t get away. He was still watching her, expecting some sort of answer. She cringed, afraid that he would yell at her, and nodded her head nervously.
“All right,” he said a little doubtfully, and he released her hand and took a step back.
Sable felt giddy. She was free. It must be some sort of trick. She walked cautiously by him, expecting him to reach out and grab her, but he didn’t. Two more steps, one more step, and she was out of reach. She made a dash for the nearby woods. Her hand flew back, and she whirled, off balance, caught by some invisible force. Then the force released her, and she fell facedown into the snow.
Stunned by the fall, Sable lay without moving. In another second, his hands were on her again. She closed her eyes tightly, expecting yelling, beating, a slap across the face. Sable didn’t open her eyes as those hands lifted her out of the snow. She had been hit many times. She knew what was coming.
Dismayed, Tinsel picked up the unresisting elf woman and brushed the snow from her face.
“Are you all right?” he asked worriedly, using the Locating Spell. No injuries, but she sagged in his arms as if she had fainted. Tinsel carefully propped her up against a tree.
“Are you all right?” he asked again, deeply concerned.
Sable opened her eyes and winced at the sight of the monster’s face, but those hands hadn’t hit her yet, and that deep voice still wasn’t yelling at her. “I’m so sorry,” it was saying, quiet and worried. “I should have known you’d do that. If I were in your place, I suppose I’d have done it, too. We’ll just sit here for a few minutes. You can rest until the others are ready to go.”
“Come show us where this one belongs, Seylin,” called Katoo as he and Brindle shuffled by, carrying the sleeping Willow between them. Seylin and Emily went into the cave, and Seylin pointed to Willow’s tent. The two goblins slung the elf boy into it and pulled his cloak over him. Then they went back outside to get another elf.
“What a pigsty!” exclaimed Emily, looking around. She glanced back up to find Seylin looking at her and blushed unexpectedly. Seylin th
ought about how miserable he had been thinking she was someone else’s wife. She had been right about his behaving like an old governess. He had acted self-important and priggish.
“I didn’t like living with elves,” he said. “I was a fool to leave.”
“Hmm,” said Emily noncommittally. “You weren’t the only fool. Did you know I actually made my peace with Ruby?”
“With the old lore-master? You two?” Seylin laughed. “Em, you have to be lying.”
“No.” Emily’s eyes danced. “For once, I’m not lying. And if you hate elves and I like Ruby, it must be the start of a new world.”
“Our world,” said Seylin. “Yours and mine.” And he put his arms around her, drew her close, and kissed her.
Seylin retrieved his pack and brought it back into the cave.
“I want to leave Rowan my knife,” he said, laying it beside the sleeping elf, “and I want to give Willow my spare cloak because his is just a rag,” he added, remembering the poor boy’s delight over a warm coat. Then he put his extra winter clothes in Rowan’s tent and dumped out the summer clothes as well. They had so little, he reflected, and they wouldn’t turn up their noses at his clothes, which were proper elf colors.
“You’re not going to leave this poor horse here to be eaten, are you?” demanded Emily as they came out of the cave. “I don’t see why you should. You paid for him.”
“Of course not,” Seylin assured her. “They have plenty of meat.” He untied the horse from the tree and led him up to the group. “Now we just need to think of a good name for him.”
“Let’s call him Dinner,” suggested Emily.
“We could load him up as a packhorse,” proposed Katoo, but Brindle shook his head.
“Marak said the comfort of the brides comes first,” he reminded them. “Thaydar, since your bride is too upset to walk, I’d recommend that you ride.”
Irina had awoken shortly before and was shrieking and sobbing under Thaydar’s fond gaze, making poor Dinner rather jittery. When they hoisted her up onto the horse, she took one look around and fainted again.