Moghart nodded, finally managing to snatch Damien’s hand and tugging hard enough to make him stumble behind her.
“I recognize the symbolism here,” he said, eyes boring into her, “but you’re better than this, Ammalie. You are benevolent and merciful, andyoudon’t require retribution—”
“I wouldnever!” She gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “But you said you wanted to see where this goes. And itiswhat the oracle told us would happen, so I fully agree that we need to follow through.”
Damien’s features went icy as he allowed Moghart to pull him down the ramp. “You will be punished for this,” he muttered in a voice reminiscent of the blood mage she had met in Aszath Koth.
Amma only grinned, wiggling her fingers in farewell. “I look forward to it.”
Skoob jumped back into her vision and took her in the opposite direction down one of the ramps, little voice hurriedly explaining in broken Key how the Gribtoss clan owned the entire mountain. Well, most of the mountain. Half of the inside parts atleast, but the best half. Except for that one part, the scariest part, because something calledBig Spicyhad stolen it, a problem for later.
With Katz dragging himself behind the two and Skoob’s enthusiasm, Amma found herself less concerned even as they descended into the goblin den without Damien. Skoob brought her first to their barracks. Closest to the cave’s entrance, they wound down a corridor bore out of the rock, hammocks strung three high along the wall surrounded by claw marks for climbing up. This led out to a more open space, though part of it had caved in, where a group cheered on a set of goblins who ran violently at one another.
Amma may have been appalled at the barbaric display if it weren’t so reminiscent of the drunken brawl she’d seen in Krepmar Keep. This was just the same, only a little smaller. A broken dagger was wielded by one, an iron pan in the hands of the other, and, shieldless, the two crashed together. Their battle cries were abruptly cut off and replaced with groans as they bounced, the lumpy padding tied about their torsos getting in the way and sending them to the ground where they remained, stuck flailing on their backs like desperate turtles.
When Amma stepped forward, the cheering ring immediately broke for her, falling into supplication. Apparently, news of the shift in sovereignty traveled fast. The duelists tried valiantly to get up, but beyond being physically difficult, it appeared the one with the dagger had been bonked so generously on his head he didn’t seem to know which way was up.
“Dis new gobbies.” Skoob dragged one of them up to his giant, bare feet. “No understand good fight yet.”
“Maybe helmets.” Amma propped up the knocked-senseless one. “And blunted weapons for beginners?”
Skoob gasped. “Enormous king have enormous brain. Heardecree,” he shouted at the others. “Do that!”
There was a lot of noise then as the rest bumped into one another, scrambling, she supposed, to enact her suggestion.
Amma finally got the injured goblin to stand.
“King?” he asked in a grating but horrified cry as he blinked one eye and then the other.
“I guess?”
The goblin plunged to his knees. “Must fall on weapon. Has dishonored King!” He was reaching out for the dagger, but his aim was off and couldn’t seem to grab it.
“No!” She grabbed the broken dagger herself, noting that it was more of a sharpened butter knife. “You’re not doing that—none of you are doing that!” She pointed at the rest of them with the broken bit of metal. “Understood?”
“King Amma make nother decree!” Skoob pulled himself to his full, nearly three-foot height. “No more died for bad fight! Only died if be made died!”
“Oh, thank the gods, but also don’ttryto make each other died—er, dead, okay?”
“Gobbies hear Majesty! Only died if be made died by Big Spicy!”
The goblins cheered in agreement, but Amma held up a finger. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned—”
“Quick, Majesty, lots need see!” Skoob’s ears flopped as he scurried back into the main cavern, gesturing madly for her to follow.
Down the spiraling ramp to the massive, cluttered space below, Amma’s presence brought everything to a halt which was slightly amusing if also mortifying. Even in Faebarrow, no one really treated her like this, and she much preferred pleasant greetings to fawning and bent heads.
The goblins had a sort of market scattered about, crates and stalls full of mismatched objects and foodstuffs. Part of it wasinterrupted by another cave-in, bits of destroyed cart sticking out from some older disaster. There was no gold, only other items for trade, the conversion rate impossible to understand. One goblin appeared to be handing over a dried-out wasp nest for a salamander in a twig and twine cage, and another had just given over a handful of berries for a set of stained tunic sleeves.
There were female goblins here, most toting around two or more little ones strapped to their backs or tethered on leashes, able to bolt off for a moment before sling-shotting back to their mother. They were much less likely to fall into a bow as Amma and Skoob passed, but they did wave. Skoob knocked one out of the way as they went.
When Amma told him that really wasn’t necessary, Skoob nodded in agreement, but said, “He be fighter soon, must learn now.”
“How old are goblins when they join the military?”
“Four,” Skoob told her proudly.
“Uh huh…” She took a last look at the others before being led through an archway and away from the big, open market. Amma wanted to assume goblins matured at the age of four as well, but she wasn’t sure there was an appropriate way to ask about the average life expectancy. None of the goblins appeared to be terribly old.
