Cyrion (11 page)

Jon eyed her clenched fists, and gingerly hugged Saul.

“Pro-per-ly,” Anya said through clenched teeth.

The boys hugged quickly, and then drew apart, twice as fast.

“Now you,” Anya said to Saul “Come with me, get the dictionary, and we’ll get that manual sorted. And you,” she whirled to face Jon.

Jon reared back.

“Stay here until you’ve figured out,
on your own
, why I need to do this.”

With that, she turned her back on them and stomped toward the house.

He and Saul stood rooted to the ground, mouths agape.

About halfway back to the house, Anya stopped. “Are you coming, or am I doing this on my own?” Saul scurried to her side. Jon stood alone at the raven’s graveside, his mouth still hanging open.

* * * *

 “I think they’ve got it sorted out,” Naeem said.

Greta grunted. “They’re all good ‘uns, so I don’t see how they can’t. Precocious they are, like we was.” She nudged Naeem with her elbow. They had been watching the exchange from the kitchen window.

“You’ve got their packs ready, then?”

“ ‘Course I did. Called me ‘Grammy’ didn’t they,” Greta said, a smile on her puckered face. “Best make ourselves scarce. They’re coming this way.”

THE LOOPHOLE

Jon walked into the pink bedroom, now Anya’s, and found his friends bent over both the slender Watcher manual and a heavy, leather-bound tome.

“I’m sorry,” Jon said to Anya. “You’re not a chicken.”

“I’m sorry too,” Saul said to Jon. “I shouldn’t have called you those names.

Jon turned to Saul. “And I shouldn’t have acted like a drooling, blithering idiot.” He grinned. “So I guess we’re even?”

The mouse sitting on Anya’s shoulder scampered and stuck its nose in his ear, tickling him. Jon giggled. Duty discharged, the mouse jumped off and returned to its post.

“I’m so glad you’re back, Jon,” Saul said. “This thing is complicated.”

“What have we got so far?” Jon said.

He settled down on the floor, nestled between his two friends.

“Listen to this beast.” Saul read aloud.

“
The applicant/s must undertake and complete a mission deemed impossible by senior Watchers, with no interference from any Watcher whatsoever. Senior Watchers are limited to a strictly supervisory role. Any assistance rendered by senior Watchers will, in turn, render said application null and void
.”

“This is only the first bit,” Saul said.

Anya canted her head to the side. “We think it means we need to do something really hard, with no help from the grumps.”

“And this next bit,” Saul said. He cleared his throat.

“The completion of the mission must prove beyond any doubt the applicant/s posses/es the high moral caliber befitting the Watchers.”

“Finally the last bit,” Saul said, rolling his eyes.

“Upon the satisfactory completion of said mission, the applicant/s are eligible to hold the position/s of Apprentice Watchers. Apprentice Watchers possess all the rights, privileges, and obligations of Full Watchers.”

“What does all this even mean?” Jon asked.

Anya tapped the dictionary with her knuckle, a meaningful look on her face. The trio spent the next few minutes flipping through the tome and debating what they thought the words meant, before coming to an agreement.

“Okay, so this means,” Jon said, ticking the points off with his fingers. “We need to do something good, which is also really hard, without any help, right?”

Saul flipped through the manual. “I think the word they used is ‘impossible’.”

“But does the last bit mean I
have
to become a Watcher to be free? I don’t want to be forced to hurt other people just because they’re different.”

“So argue about it,” Jon said. “Like the grumps did.”

“Yeah,” Saul said. “We’ll join too. Jon and me. They can’t do anything if we do that. By their own rules.”

“Until they change it.” Anya bit her lower lip, her face, bitter.

“We’ll think of something else by then,” Jon said.

“I think the goblin must be our next step,” Anya said.

“What do we do? We break him out? We…‘take care’ of him?” Saul said, throwing out random ideas.

“No, too easy,” Jon said, shaking his head. “I think we need to talk to him to figure out exactly what we need to do.”

“Right then,” Saul said as he got up from the floor. “Let’s go see Grampa Naeem.”

G’HANJL

Jon trailed behind Anya and Naeem as they made their way through Linwood.

“What’s that, Grampa Naeem?” Anya gestured to Naeem’s liver-spotted hand.

Naeem held a fine porcelain platter, covered with equally fine white linen. They were making their way to the city lock-up. The tiny dun-furred mouse peeked out from under her collar, twitching its nose in curiosity.

“Greta made cookies for the guard,” Naeem said. “I think you’ve met him. His name is Jaelyn.”

“Huh,” Anya said, jerking her head back. “I thought she didn’t like him. Is that why they stink like pigeon berries?” She wrinkled her button nose. “I noticed the bush in the backyard.”

Naeem blithely continued walking.

“I don’t smell anything bad.” Saul darted forward and sniffed at the platter. “The cookies smell good. They look good too. Can I have some?”

“No,” Jon and Anya said in unison.

“Grammy Greta is being nice. To someone Anya said she does not like,” Jon said, giving Saul a meaningful look.

“She said something about sending them by way of apology,” Naeem said under his breath.

“Okay, that settles the question,” Saul said, a wistful expression on his face. “There’s definitely something wrong with them.”

“Pigeon berries can make you sick.” Anya nodded at the row of outhouses standing next to the guardhouse.

“Does Jaelyn know?” Jon battled his conscience. His conscience won a partial victory. “Should we warn him? How sick would those cookies make him, exactly? On a scale of one to ten?”

“Eleven,” Anya said, her face thunderous. “Jaelyn’s
not
a nice person. I vote not to tell him.”

“Here we are,” Naeem said in a cheerful, singsong voice as he pulled open the door. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t take too long.”

They entered the small, shabby guardhouse adjoining the lock-up and ran into Jaelyn. His face still bore traces of his most recent encounter with Greta, as well as a lingering scent of fish. Naeem motioned the trio to go on ahead while he began to engage Jaelyn. Jon heard his Grandpa’s soothing voice greet him and then make gentle apologies, while he and his best friends made their way to the annex where the cells were located.

“Amsry! Amsry!” the goblin said in a high, squeaky voice.

“That’s him.” Jon cocked his head as he frowned and peered at the small, shabby creature clutching the bars of his cell with small, grubby hands. “I think?”

The little mouse jumped up from under Anya’s collar to her shoulder, to get a better view.

This goblin was shorter and much thinner than the goblins they previously encountered. One of his front tusks was broken. Underneath the dirt and grime, Jon could make out a multitude of scratches and bruises. The goblin did not seem capable of savaging a guinea pig.

“I know he’s just a goblin,” Anya’s voice softened with pity. “But those Knights weren’t very kind to him, were they?”

The goblin saw Anya and gasped. He then fell to his knees and stretched his arms out through the bars, pleading.

“The
MataPerak
. Amsry. Amsry,
MataPerak
,” he said.

“Amsry? Amnesty?” Jon said, turning to Saul.

“Emissary?” Saul said, turning to Jon.

“Yes.” The goblin nodded, his desperation, obvious. “
MataPerak
, Amsry.”

“
MataPerak
.” Saul turned to Anya. “The goblin officer called you the same thing. He didn’t talk like this one though.”

Ptuh!
The goblin spat. “Him D’hibuk. Him officer. Him
ptuh
,” the goblin spat again.

Jon raised his eyebrows. “I guess they don’t get along.”

“Him, officer. Him D’hibuk. Me, G’hanjl. Me no officer,” G’hanjl said, a pleading expression in yellowed eyes. “You is big fat Watchers, yes? You is to be with the
MataPerak
. You is to be goodings, yes? Fat, strong Watchers you is, yes?” G’hanjl said.

“We’re not Watchers, G’hanjl. And we’re not fat,” Saul said.

“Not Watchers?” G’hanjl sounded disappointed. “But you is so fat with strongness. And you is with
MataPerak
. Maybe you still to be helpings G’hanjl,” G’hanjl said, a look of grim determination on his face. “G’hanjl friends and family to be very much not happy, to be very much hunger. They is to be dying. Please,
MataPerak
. Please to be helpings G’hanjl friends and family. Please, to be saving them.”

“Who’s hurting them, G’hanjl?” Anya said.

“D’hibuk friends and family
ptuh
to be making us not happy. G’hanjl is wanting G’hanjl friends and family to be comings here. This place is to be much fatness, much eatings, much happy, yes?”

“Still not getting the fat reference,” Saul said.

Anya pursed her lips. “I think ‘fatness’ means ‘plenty of’?”

“Yes. But is not to be imp…improt…” G’hanjl lost patience with himself. “G’hanjl is to be dumb. G’hanjl is to be bad Amsry. Bad, bad, bad,” he said, hitting himself on the head.

“No, stop it,” Saul said. “You’re doing fine.” He grabbed both G’hanjl’s scrawny arms through the bars. “How can we help?”

“Help get G’hanjl friends and family here.” Tears leaked from his yellow eyes. “To be getting them to where they is no longer to be hurtings by officers. Please?”

Jon noticed the goblin did not spit that time.

“But aren’t your officers goblins too?” Jon asked.

“Them is to be officers. We is not to be. Them is not to be us. Soon, them is to be eatings us, maybe. The goblin homeland is not to be full of fatness, like here. Homeland is not to be much eatings.”

“Is that why you took the villagers? To eat them?” Saul asked, stepping back from G’hanjl’s cell in horror.

“G’hanjl is not to be knowings. G’hanjl is to be stupid. To be scaredings all the time. And G’hanjl is to be much, much tired-ed of things. Them officers is to be sayings to be takings G’hanjl’s sister.” G’hanjl clawed at his face.

“G’hanjl, you’re not stupid,” Anya said. “You’re very brave to come here.”

“We’ll help you.” Saul turned to his friends. “Well, we have to. They’re planning to
eat
his sister!”

“No one’s arguing,” Anya said. “But we have to get him past Jaelyn.” She paused for a moment, and then a delighted smile dawned on her face. “The pigeon berries…”

“And the Slayer can get the lock on the cell door,” Jon said.

“But,” Saul said, “how do we get from here all the way to the Northern wastes? Undetected?”

“G’hanjl knows. G’hanjl knows way. Secret way. But is to be needings key.”

“Can this open it?” Jon showed G’hanjl the Slayer.

G’hanjl took the dagger and peered closely at it, twisting the weapon this way and that in the dim cell. He even spat on it, and watched his spittle trail its slimy way down to the tip of the blade. G’hanjl then shook his head in sadness, and returned the blade to Jon.

“This is to be magic dagger, yes. But, to be saddings, blade is to be openings only simple locks. Secret way is to be needings magic key.”

“Well,” Jon said. “What’s the key? Perhaps we can ask Grampa. Or research it in the study.”

“Magic key is to be stone. Is to be special stone.”

“Special how?” Saul asked. “I mean, can you describe it?” He tightened his grip on G’hanjl’s arms, in case the goblin decided to punish himself further.

“Is to be smallings. Is to be darking green, and is to have…to have…” G’hanjl’s breathing grew harsh with frustration at his own inability to find the words.

“G’hanjl,” Anya said. “Breathe. It’s okay. Take your time.”

She modeled deep, slow breathing for the agitated goblin. G’hanjl tried to imitate Anya. Little by little, he gradually grew calmer.

“Now, try again. It’s a small, green stone, and…?” Anya prompted.

“Is to be having little blood in it.”

“Real blood?” Saul asked, horrified.

Anya smacked Saul’s arm as G’hanjl started to become agitated again.

“Shh….” She glared at a shame-faced Saul. “Breathe…Okay.” She nodded at the battered goblin. “Try again.”

“Is to be lookings like to be having little blood inside.”

“So it looks like it has a little blood in it,” Jon said.

“Yes. Please, you is to be helping?”

“Yes, G’hanjl. We’ll help you,” Anya said.

She looked to them for confirmation. He and Saul affirmed her statement without hesitation.

“Children! Ready to go?” Naeem called from the guardhouse.

“Coming, Grampa,” Jon said. “G’hanjl, we have to go now. But we will be back. Tonight.”

He turned to his two friends. They nodded their agreement.

“The sooner the better,” Anya said. “There’s no telling how long the grumps’ deadlock will last.”

Jon turned back to the goblin “No more hurting yourself, understand? We will be back. We’ll get you out tonight.”

THE KIDNAPPING

Dinner was a sumptuous, but subdued, affair. The diners mostly picked at their meal in silence. The grumps seemed guilt-ridden, reluctant to meet the children’s eyes. The children were, at least initially, too afraid of giving themselves away to fully relax and enjoy the meal.

Greta took their reaction to her culinary efforts rather poorly. First, she asked pointed questions about how they found the food. She escalated to grumbling about how thin they all were and how they really should eat more. The grumps exchanged discreet, horrified glances at each other when Greta finally threatened to get her rope, tie them down, and then spoon-feed everyone at the table by force. She settled back into her chair, apparently satisfied, when the grumps began to eat faster.