The captain, Kof, had placed himself at the top position, at my empty sword hand—my dominant hand.A true shaman would have no use for a sword.His honor guard would strike down any threat.As for me—I’d rather do the striking myself.The spot on either hip where my blades normally hung felt far too light, and the staff I carried would shatter if I ever used it against steel.
“Assign the marching order,” I told him—but it was Gorgul, his lieutenant, who responded.
“Slaves bring up the rear,” he said…and I was surprised to realize I also felt exposed without the goblin beside me.Even though Crespash had no claws or fangs, he’d gladly shove an attacker’s eye in with the stump of his thumb, given half the chance.
Not that there was anything to fear inside the walls of this village…which was supposedlymyvillage, now.
As we trooped back toward the shamanic cave, Crespash immediately broke rank and scampered up to grab my attention.“Has it not been a great while since you’ve eaten, oh Droko the Sage?”He jerked his head at the communal dining hall.It was laid out differently than the one I’d grown up with, but a mess hall is a mess hall.When I was still a child, I sat at my father’s table.But I still recalled the pride I felt squatting among the men and slurping down my first bowl of gristly stew from the common pot.
Before I could reply, Gorgul answered Crespash with a whack to the thigh with the butt of his spear.Any lower and the goblin would have lost a kneecap.I wasn’t the only one who’d need to play a role here.Goblins don’t understand respect until it’s beaten into them—and even then, they tend to forget.He’d become too familiar with me over the years.This was a good reminder of the order of things.
“The slave will prepare my food,” I said, though Crespash was such a foul cook he’d probably manage to fumigate the caves by the time my dinner was done.“The human slave,” I amended.
Kof, the one-eyed orc, said, “As the head of the honor guard, I am responsible for your life.That duty should fall to me.”I leveled him a look, and he retracted the complaint.“As you wish.”
A captain should not capitulate so quickly—even to his superior.There was something going on within the guard.Had Taruut known, or was it only obvious to a soldier like me?
“In the meantime,” I said, “you will give the human proper clothing—and I will go and, er…prepare to locate the tomb.”
I could hardly get back to my new private chambers—and away from the guardsmen—soon enough.I squatted gingerly, rubbing my aching head, while Crespash flung himself down in the old shaman’s sedan chair.“Well,” he said sarcastically, “that was quite the convincing lie.No one would ever question you were a shaman.”
“What would you have me tell them?”
“Any mumbo jumbo would do.No doubt a real shaman would find the crypt by working his magic.Though, I confess, I’m not exactly clear on how he’d go about the task.Consult the stars?Pray to the ancestors?Sacrifice a chicken?”
“How would I know?”I grumbled.“Our shaman would never speak to anyone but his acolytes, let alone do any rituals where the rest of us could watch.”
“Then definitely see about that chicken.”
“Would you stop thinking about food for once and do something useful?If they find me out, you’re as good as dead yourself.”
“Calm down, Droko the Sage.If your supposed mentor was secretive, it stands to reason that you’d be just as opaque.So stay in your chambers performing your ‘rituals’ while I go figure out where this crypt might be.”
The suggestion sounded suspiciously helpful.But goblins love nothing better than skulking through winding cave passages in the dark—especially if they could find an escape route that let out somewhere beyond the village walls.“If you think I’m stupid enough to just allow you to—”
“What’s the alternative, hm?Going to the chieftain three days from now and telling him you haven’t even found the crypt, let alone made it ready?Look, Third Son, I’ll make you a deal.If I find a way out of this place, then obviously, I’m taking it.But if I find the crypt first, I’ll tell you where it is.One good ‘prophecy’ should set you up for a long time to come.”
Only a fool would trust a goblin’s promise.Though what other choice did I have?
I said, “If anyone asks what you’re doing, be vague.Just say you’re on a mission from the shaman.”
“Why would anyone ask?”He flashed a gummy grin.“They won’t even know I was there.”
Once he did find that crypt, then what?If only I could glean some clue among the old shaman’s belongings—anything to make it seem like I knew what I was doing.I took stock of the chamber.Shelves crowded the room, stuffed full of crystals, strange stones, and bundles of various herbs.Not a single scroll.I picked up a clump of greenery and gave it a sniff.My eyes watered.I had no idea what it was.In fact, the same could be said for everything else.Object after object, I turned things over, racking my brain for some notion of the purpose these things might serve.
I recognized nothing.
I’d worked my way around to a huge collection of stoppered vials.None of them were labeled.I sniffed one, then another.From what I could tell, the tinctures smelled mostly of the alcohol used to distill them.I was just about to admit to myself that I couldn’t name a single thing in that room…when I unstoppered a bottle and finally recognized the scent of pepper.
And then the curtain rustled in my doorway, and a human face poked through the gap.“Dinner’s served.”
The scent had come from the food—not the tincture.I stoppered the vial and motioned him in.
The guards had dressed the human male in a simple linen outfit, the sort that a young recruit, too small for armor, would be given his first night at the longhouse.Though the human was an adult, it was far too big.He held a platter of steaming goat, surrounded by roasted tubers and studded with peppercorns.The platter itself was plain, but the meal looked fit for a chieftain’s table.“You prepared this with your own hands?”I demanded.
“Why is that so hard to believe?”A smile tugged at the corner of the human’s mouth.“I’m told my hands are very talented, indeed.”
He spoke like Crespash.Not with a toothless goblin lisp, obviously—but in a maddening, indirect tone hinting that something crucial was being left unsaid.It was not the orc way.
