Zyll immediately slipped down from Persimmon’s back and trotted after her.
“Well, fuck, what am I going to do, stay here?” muttered Fern, and followed.
Inside, the impression of a prison was even stronger. A cramped front office contained a battered counter, a small woodstove, three massive filing cabinets, a wallboard pinned with dozens of papers, two benches, and some very unfortunate mounted taxidermy of a pair of spineback heads. Beyond the office, a hall lined with barred rooms extended three cells back on either side, with a tiny slitted window at the end. To Fern, the place smelled of sweat and metal and the ghost of yesterday’s stew.
The woman behind the counter was as tall as Astryx, with the substance of someone who’d once carried a lot of muscle, but didn’t much use it anymore. A younger fellow, his face still spotty, sat behind her, laboriously perusing a stack of printed sheets and sorting them into piles.
Looking up with astonished recognition, the woman exclaimed, “Gods, the Oathmaiden in the flesh! That’s my good fortune used up for the year.” She extended a hand. “Tabba, pleased to meet you.”
Astryx shook it and nodded, but said nothing. Her fingers hesitated at her belt for a moment, then she unsnapped a pouch and withdrew a folded and stained piece of paper.
Before the Oathmaiden could present it, Zyll came to a stop beside her and stole Tabba’s attention. “Hang on, now.”
The goblin beamed back with her dangerous smile.
The woman’s eyes widened. “Hells, it can’t be. Hemp! Hemp, get the record!”
The kid turned in his chair. “The record? Which one?”
“Theone,the crazy one!”
His mouth made an O of comprehension, and he sprang from his chair to fumble through the top drawer of one of the filing cabinets. It didn’t take long for him to triumphantly produce a big sheet of press-printed paper.
“Here it is!” he cried breathlessly, slapping it on the counter.
Astryx finished unfolding her own piece of paper and slid it onto the counter beside the other, much cleaner sheet. It was obvious they were from the same printing.
Tabba ran a finger down hers, then glanced up at Zyll with confusion. “That’s her, all right. Description checks out. Although she seems awful . . . unrestrained.”
She looked to Astryx for an explanation, which was not forthcoming.
Fern couldn’t help herself. “The crazy one?”
The woman seemed to see Fern for the first time. “The most ridiculous reward any of us has ever seen.Beyondridiculous.” She shook her head. “Seemed a joke, if it weren’t for the filings. All done proper, county’s approval, a well-known client, and a hefty deposit to boot.”
Thus far, Astryx hadn’t uttered a single word. She was staring at Zyll with a troubled expression on her face. The goblin appeared oblivious.
Hemp leaned toward Tabba and whispered, “This is very strange.”
“Aye, that it is,” she murmured. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen the bounty stroll in and hang about.”
Then, nothing happened.
Astryx seemed incapable or unwilling to advance the issue. Tabba and Hemp grew increasingly uncomfortable.
Eventually, Tabba cleared her throat. “The, er, client will be paying. We don’t keep sums so large in the office, you understand. Mister Delvyn is a highly regarded local solicitor, though, so he’ll like as not be available right quick.” She nudged Hemp with an elbow. “Get on to his office and fetch him, fast as you can.”
He scampered.
When again Astryx said nothing, Fern prompted, “So . . . we just wait?”
“Well,” hedged Tabba, gesturing at Zyll. “Traditionally, the, er,bountywould be held in one of the cells. That’s the normal way of things.” She still appeared confounded by Zyll’s casual presence. Looking to Astryx hopefully, she asked, “What do you think, Oathmaiden?”
Astryx sighed, sat on a bench, and put her head in her hands. “I have no idea.”
“Right.”
Zyll trotted past her, opened one of the unlocked cells, and stepped inside, closing the gate behind her. She gripped the bars and peered out, the point of her sharp pink tongue poking between her lips.
