Close Kin
“Your Majesty, if you’ll just let me out,” he whispered, “you’ll never see me again.”
“I’ve no doubt of that,” remarked the voice. “Why would I want to let you out?”
“You don’t want me here,” insisted Richard desperately. “You’ve been angry about me from the start. I know what you think. You think I’m not good enough to be one of your goblins. You think I’m trash,” he concluded miserably. “And you’d be right about that.”
“I think you’re very smart, and I’m impressed at your character. Now, why don’t you turn around and look at me?”
The street urchin shook his head and kept his eyes shut.
“No, you’re talking like a real gentleman,” he said dolefully, “but it’s best if I just go. I’ll go back to the life I’m used to. I’d rather.”
“You’d rather?” The voice was closer. “You’d rather not have a home or a King?”
“No.” The boy gave a sigh. “I’d rather not even think about them.”
“That’s unfortunate because you have them anyway.” A firm hand pulled him around, and he looked into two piercing eyes.
Richard burst into tears.
“I’m sorry!” he wailed. “For everything! Don’t send me away! I couldn’t bear it, I tell you. You’d kill me! Please don’t send me away!” He wrapped his skinny arms around his King and wept noisily on his shirtfront.
“That’s better,” commented Marak, patting the sobbing boy on the head. “So you were running away before I could send you away.”
“It’s the worst thing I know,” explained the boy tearfully. “I couldn’t bear it happening again.”
“No, you couldn’t,” agreed his monarch. “I’m surprised you survived it before. Being alone is the worst thing that can happen to a goblin, and it shouldn’t ever have a chance to happen. That’s why I was so angry when I heard about you all alone out there. I certainly wasn’t angry at you.”
Richard considered this through his tears.
“I don’t know what you’re going to do with me, Your Majesty,” he said sadly. “All I know is picking pockets and scaring people in a show. I can’t do anything but steal and lift handkerchiefs and wallets. Except—I do know how to make beans jump into a pot.”
Marak laughed. “You have one honest pursuit, anyway! With a talent like that, you’ll never go hungry. Come along. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to the pages’ floor, and you can meet the other children, but tonight you can stay with my family.”
The urchin wiped his streaming eyes with the back of his hand.
“Bless me!” he exclaimed in wonder. “Me stay with a king and queen and all, just like I was somebody!”
“And a prince, too,” pointed out Marak. “I don’t mind if you teach my son how to pick pockets, but keep that bean trick to yourself. He would love it, and Kate’s very particular about his manners. Let’s go wake her up now, Richard. She’s been anxious to meet you.” And the King of the ugly people led his new subject away in search of a place to belong.
Chapter Fifteen
Sable and Tinsel went through the endless halls and stairwells of the palace, and one long, thin, bright cave replaced another before the apprehensive woman’s field of view. Somehow, she was supposed to find a way to live in this strange series of boxes upon boxes.
But when they opened the door of their new living quarters, Sable didn’t see a sterile box. The large, open room had been designed to look as much like a stretch of forest as possible. A number of artificial trees stood here and there, and green mats and hangings simulated the ferns and vines of a woodland scene. Over it all stretched a dull black ceiling so high that it failed to attract notice. An ornamental pool sparkled by the door under the shadow of some green-hung saplings. A little fountain bubbled at one end of it, and small silver fish flashed through the water beneath polished stone water-lilies.
The elf woman found that she was able to breathe freely for the first time since coming underground. It wasn’t that the pretend trees fooled her. They just made the place look right to her. In the same way that Tinsel would have recognized a chair whether it was wood, stone, or metal, Sable recognized the organic clutter and jumble that belonged to a proper forest camp. And when they climbed the steps notched into the short cliff face that led up to their sleeping area, there stood a tent. The goblin studied it with a puzzled smile, wondering at a tent indoors, but Sable crawled into it to test the thickness of the pallet and crawled back out again, her face shining. She had never slept anywhere except inside a tent. Sleeping in a bed would have made her feel very unsafe.
They went back downstairs to the ornamental pool and discovered that supper had been left there in a basket. Tinsel opened a bottle of beer while Sable contemplated the enormous bun that he had handed her. Mindful of his gaze, she tried to eat it slowly, but the food only worried and upset her. For years, she had existed from one meal to the next. Life was a fragile, precarious thing.
“Maybe I’ll be happy here,” she said, not looking at her new husband. She rose and began to walk about, pausing to run her hand over the cloth greenery.
“Of course you will,” agreed Tinsel in an encouraging tone. “You know the goblin King wants you to.”
“But should I be happy?” demanded Sable. “My father taught me to hate goblins. Now I’m doing what they want.” She thought about the goblin King, with his brilliance and learning. Her enemy seemed to know everything. Maybe he even knew at this moment that she was considering defying him. “What do you think he would do to me, Tinsel, if I’m not happy here?”
“Marak? I don’t know. He has books to help him with that kind of thing, but I’m sure he wouldn’t hurt you.”
Sable imagined the goblin King poring over his books, looking up the perfect remedy for a rebellious elf. She shuddered. It wouldn’t matter whether he hurt her or not; she knew she didn’t have the courage to stand against him. She thought about her father, strong and brave, and felt again the pain of breaking faith with him. She knelt by the little pool to watch the silver fish.
“My father said that the goblins took the cowards. That’s why I’m here,” she whispered.
“That’s not true.” Her goblin came to put an arm around her. “You were right not to marry. Your father was wrong about a woman’s life. No woman should feel it’s her duty to die having a child.”
“I was right about that, wasn’t I?” Sable studied her reflection. “The men lied to us for years and years. My father told me elf women were supposed to die. He probably lied to me about goblins, too.”
“I’m sure he did,” said Tinsel. “You don’t have to hate us.” But Sable didn’t respond. She knew her father hadn’t really lied about goblins. He just hadn’t known how clever they were. He would never have given in like this and done what the goblin King wanted. She felt discouraged and overwhelmed.
“I don’t care if he lied or not!” she cried bitterly. “I don’t care what he taught me to do. I want to be happy. I want to learn magic, and I want to learn about numbers. Tinsel, would you teach me?”
The silver goblin hugged her reassuringly. “If that’s what makes you happy,” he promised.
Sable looked at him with new understanding. “I heard the goblin King tell you that I’m more important than your other work. You’re just like me. If we’re not happy, he’ll look up remedies for you, too.”
“I suppose so.” Tinsel gave a rueful smile. “They might not be pleasant, either. He wouldn’t worry so much about hurting me.”
Sable smiled back, feeling a surge of sympathy and gratitude. It felt good to share her captivity with a fellow pawn.
“Then we’ll have to look after each other,” she concluded, “and make sure he doesn’t need his books. I’m thirsty, Tinsel. Is cave water safe to drink?”
Next morning, Seylin went to see the goblin King to discuss his new employment, but he had a question to ask first.
“Why did it fulfill your fondest hopes when Em and I married?” he wanted to kn
ow. Marak gave him a sidelong glance.
“It isn’t enough that you two have always loved each other and that I myself am very fond of you both?”
The young man considered this for a minute. Then he shook his head. “Not to make it a fondest hope,” he declared.
“Then perhaps I should add,” remarked the goblin King cheerfully, “that, with your overpowering elf blood and M’s overpowering human blood, you’ll have far more children than in a normal goblin marriage. My hope is that your children will have practically no goblin blood in them, and I’d say there will be seven or eight at least.”
“You want me to have eight children?” demanded Seylin, considerably startled. His King fixed him with a stern glance.
“Don’t be a coward, boy! Your kingdom needs you,” he admonished. “You’ll strengthen the high families for generations.”
“When you told me to see you about new employment,” said Seylin bitterly, “I had no idea it would be fatherhood.”
“Don’t be silly,” Marak laughed. “Fatherhood is just a hobby. No, I want you to become Catspaw’s tutor. You and M will move to the tutor’s quarters, on the floor below the royal rooms.”
Seylin stared at him in complete amazement.
“You want me to tutor the new King?” he breathed. “But—I’m not too young for that?”
“Tutoring a King takes the better part of thirty years,” observed Marak. “You won’t be that young when you finish.”
“King’s magic!” exulted Seylin, his dark eyes shining. “Of course, I’ll have to practice it before I teach it.”
“Yes, the tutor has a workroom, too,” said the King. “But you can’t neglect the other subjects: elvish, dwarvish, English, history, strategy, economy, mathematics. I’ll help, of course, but I can’t do more than oversee and guide you.”
“A King! What a pupil!” gloated Seylin. “He’ll be able to learn anything!”
“He’ll be able to learn anything and do it even better than you do,” said Marak with a smile. “Catspaw’s not quite six, but his magic is already much stronger than yours.”
That afternoon, Tinsel slept soundly inside his indoor tent, but Sable roamed the large apartment in a state of near-panic. Her quarters had no balcony or terrace, a precaution against an important elf bride’s attempting to throw herself to her death, and Tinsel had locked the door with magic so that she couldn’t wander off while he slept. Sable had never been locked inside anything before. She found it completely unnerving. Even though her elf senses told her it was day outside, she paced her luxurious quarters like a caged animal, unable to sleep.
She wanted to get a drink and wash her face and hands, and she stood for several minutes in front of the shallow basin in her dressing room, unsure about what to do. Tinsel had shown her how the shiny metal knob made water gush out, but Sable was afraid of that fast-flowing water. Even if she had enough power to deal with it, she hadn’t had a single magic lesson yet. What if she was able to start the water but not stop it? Perhaps the cave would flood. So she went back up the pathway and washed her face in the ornamental pool instead, while all the silver fish huddled in the shadows of their stone lily-pads.
A thumping noise startled her, and she scrambled to her feet. Someone was banging nearby. Sable crept noiselessly to the locked door of the apartment and found that the thumping came from it. She wished with all her heart that Tinsel were there with her, but he was still sleeping, and she was afraid to wake him up.
“Hello?” said a woman’s voice through the door. It wasn’t Irina’s voice or Emily’s. Sable breathed very quietly.
“Sable, are you there?” the voice continued. “I’m the goblin King’s Wife. May I come in?”
The goblin King’s Wife. She was the other elf. “I—yes—I don’t know,” stammered Sable. “I can’t open the door.”
“I can open it,” answered the voice. “Is that all right? Are you dressed?”
“I think so,” said Sable. She was wearing a long robe. Tinsel had thrown her rags away that morning.
The door opened, and a blond woman stood in the doorway, an elf Sable had never seen. She gave Sable a bright smile, and Sable managed a little smile back. Then a boy stepped past her, a goblin boy. She stared at him with wide eyes.
“May we come in?” asked the elf, and Sable backed up. She looked past the boy and gave a gasp. A large, hairy gray dog stood in the doorway.
“It’s all right,” the elf woman reassured her, and she turned to the big animal. “Helen, you’d better stay out in the hall.” The dog put back her ears and wagged ingratiatingly.
“No, she can come, too,” said Sable bravely, backing up farther and looking at the crowd that assembled in her apartment. The dog sat down, panting. The strange boy walked right up to Sable. He had short hair of two colors, dark blond and pale beige, the colors mixing in patches and streaks all over his head. He was watching her keenly with one blue eye and one green eye. She found it hard to look at him, but then she found it hard to look away.
“This is my son, Catspaw,” said the elf woman, and Sable realized quite suddenly that the goblin boy did have a paw.
“I’m going to be the goblin King,” announced the boy, planting himself before her and rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes. He waited for Sable to say something appreciative, but she didn’t. “You’re scared of me,” he went on, watching her critically. “Why are you scared of me?”
“Catspaw,” explained the woman, “Sable’s only just come here, and she’s been taught to be afraid of goblins. You’ll have to show her that the goblin King’s son can be a gentleman.” The monster boy pondered this instruction for a few seconds, wearing a thoughtful frown. “And my name is Kate,” continued the elf, smiling at Sable again. Sable glanced down, startled, as her hand was clasped. She hadn’t been taught to shake hands.
“Is she a goblin, too?” she inquired timidly, pointing. Kate turned and looked. Helen gave a thump of her tail.
“Oh! No, she’s just a dog,” said Kate.
“Could be a goblin, though,” declared the young prince supportively. “See?”
There was a bright shimmer, and a half-grown wolf whelp stood on four feet where the boy had been. Three of the puppy’s feet were gray, but the right front foot was still a golden lion’s paw. A second shimmer, and the boy was back. Kate eyed Sable’s shocked face with unease.
“Catspaw, you’re not to do transformations unless Father’s here,” she reminded him firmly. “Why don’t you have a seat and play with your mirror instead.” The boy obediently sat down on the mat beside the fish pool, and Kate turned back to Sable.
“Did the dresses not fit?” she asked.
“Dresses? I don’t have one,” Sable replied distractedly. “Tinsel did something with mine, and I can’t find it.”
Kate looked at the black-haired woman. She considered all the horrible things Marak had told her, and she noted the lost, frightened look in those dark blue eyes.
“Come with me,” she said kindly, taking Sable’s hand, and she led the elf to the dressing room. Once there, she began pulling on knobs. The astonished Sable saw panels in the wall swing open and slide out to reveal all sorts of hidden cubbyholes.
Kate stepped confidently to the basin and brought warm water gushing into it. Then she taught Sable how to wash her face with soap and a cloth, how to clean her teeth, and how to trim her nails. She sat her down before the mirror and brushed out that long hair with a hairbrush, and she showed her how to pull it back with hair combs. She went to the drawers and closets and dressed the bemused elf woman in one undergarment after another, stockings, and slippers. Over it all went a long blue dress of some thin, shiny cloth, and then Kate stepped back to admire her work.
Sable stared at her reflection in the long mirror. She hardly recognized the beautiful woman who looked gravely back at her. This woman belonged in the elves’ stories of ladies and queens, not in Sable’s own life of deprivation and slavery. Only the wa
ry eyes were the same. She still recognized them from before, and she ran her finger along the thin, faint lines that remained from her ghastly scars. She met Kate’s approving gaze in the mirror and blushed.
“Two days ago, I was ugly,” she said.
They went back to the ornamental pool, and Sable gave a squeak of fright. The goblin boy was watching a huge ant crawl around on the surface of his mirror.
“Catspaw, why don’t you picture something nice,” suggested Kate hurriedly.
“Ants are nice,” protested the boy, but the ant disappeared. He caught sight of Sable in her new clothes and stood up. “You’re pretty,” he said, and he put his arms around her waist and looked up at her. “When I’m the goblin King, I’m going to marry an elf like Father did. I’m going to steal an elf bride just like you.”
Kate, glancing at Sable’s apprehensive expression, decided that this wasn’t what she needed to hear.
“Well, you’ll have to find one first, dear,” she remarked briskly.
“I will,” he promised, towing Sable over to sit by him at the ornamental pool. She watched him play with his magical mirror. Then she looked at Kate.
“And he’s really your son,” she said hesitantly. “I mean, he was your own baby.”
“Oh, yes,” laughed Kate. “He was my own baby.”
Sable looked from one to the other of them. “I’m sorry,” she said a little timidly. “I’ve never seen a mother and her baby before.”
The smile left Kate’s face.
“I know,” she said. “Marak told me. It sounded so horrible.” And her eyes filled with tears. Catspaw glanced up and saw them, and in another second he was in her lap.
“Mother, Mother, look,” he said anxiously, holding up his mirror. “Look, Mother, I’ve made you a rose.”
Irina and Sable began to find their place in the goblin kingdom, and if their comrades looked rather odd, at least their life was much more comfortable. Their new duties were more interesting, too because they had lessons in magic, elvish, and goblin, though the classes did give Irina quite a few difficult moments. Kate and Sable quickly formed a strong friendship, in spite of the fact that the two women came from such different worlds. They also had very different interests, as Kate was astonished to discover.