Goblins on the Prowl (3 page)

“Igor don't remember.”

Karl turned to the Baron. “I don't think we should leave this with William. A book like this might be ­dangerous.”

“Any good book can be dangerous,” the Baron said. “That should be the definition of a good book.”

“Even so, I don't think we should leave it with ­William.”

“It William's book!” roared Igor. “It present from . . . from . . . from Igor!”

“You didn't give it to him,” Karl said.

“Bringed it!” Igor growled. “Same thing, almost.”

William stepped between them. “Let's say it's my book, but we can keep it in the library. Will that make you feel better, Karl?”

The librarian thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

William turned to Igor. “Is that all right with you?”

Igor wrinkled his face, then grumbled, “Guess so.”

I could tell by the way he clutched his bear that it wasn't.

“Let's eat!” Hulda shouted. “I spent all day cooking. The food will get cold if we wait any longer.”

“Where's Herky?” I asked.

Herky is a little goblin William and I met on our trip to Nilbog. He grew so attached to William that he decided to come “topside” with us and live in the castle instead of staying in Nilbog.

William thinks Herky is cute.

I think he's a pain.

In answer to my question, William shrugged. “Probably off making mischief. He'll show up. He always does.”

The goose was as greasy and savory as it looked. Along with it we had potatoes, stuffing, gravy, cabbage, and enough butter to float a small boat.

To top it all off, Hulda brought in a huge cake, five layers high and decorated with fruit and green sugar-­goblins. She was about to cut the cake when the Baron coughed. I wondered if he was catching a cold, but when I saw everyone turn toward him, I understood that it was his way of getting our attention.

He raised his glass and said, “I would like to propose a toast.”

I scowled. After such a good meal, why would I want toast?

I realized he meant something else when he said, “Here's to William, who set right an old wrong. I had
no idea, my boy, that night I found you on the drawbridge as a baby, how much good you would do in this castle. Bringing you inside was one of the smartest things I've ever done.”

He lifted his glass higher. The others raised their glasses too.

So did I, once I realized that this was what people do when they're making “a toast.”

“William good!” Igor roared.

Everyone took a drink.

William's face was red. I was starting to think maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that I had never been to a party.
I
wouldn't want that much attention!

But the toasting wasn't over. Raising his glass again, the Baron said, “And here's to Igor and Fauna, also part of the great adventure!”

“To Igor and Fauna!” the others cried.

I wanted to run and hide.

To my relief Hulda bellowed, “Now for the cake!”

She lifted a big knife and sliced into it.

The cake shrieked in pain.

One should always be careful what one puts around one's neck. You would think that people would know this.

—Stanklo the Scribbler

CHAPTER FOUR

TRUTH OR CONSEQUENCES

Hulda screamed, dropped the knife, and staggered back.

At the same moment a little goblin leaped out of the cake, flung himself into William's arms, and cried, “Happy Goblin Freedom Day, butterhead boy!”

It was Herky, of course.

He stands only a bit above my knee but makes enough trouble for someone four times that size. He has big yellow eyes, a nose almost the size of my fist, and pointy ears that flap when he runs. He wore nothing but ragged little britches with a hole in the rear for his tail to stick through. Hulda made better clothing for him, but he refused to wear it.

“What were you doing in that cake?” bellowed Hulda.

Her eyes were blazing. It was a good thing she had dropped the knife when Herky popped out of the cake. If she hadn't, I think she might have decided to use it on him now.

Herky glared at her and cried, “Hulda gave Herky an owieee right on his tail!”

“Herky!” said William sternly. “Answer Hulda. What were you doing in the cake?”

“Being a surprise!” The little goblin's face fell. “Herky bad?”

“Look at the mess you made!” William scolded.

“But look what a good surprise!” Herky replied joyfully.

Life with Herky was like this. In some ways it was excellent to have him around. Goblins like to keep things neat, and William had told me that with Herky living there, Toad-in-a-Cage Castle had been kept spotlessly clean for the first time he could remember.

The thing is, goblins love mischief even more than they love cleaning. Herky never actually
tried
to be naughty. It just came naturally to him. Now he buried his face against William's shoulder and wailed, “Herky been bad! Bad, bad little Herky waited until cake got
cool. Bad, bad little Herky made hiding place inside. Herky was soooo careful to be secret. But Herky did bad.”

He began to sob. This affected William more than it did me.

Igor watched all this with dismay. I could see he wanted to bop something but couldn't figure out what. The Baron went to the far end of the table and poured another glass of whatever he was drinking. Karl was trying to comfort Hulda, who was moaning about her cake.

I walked to the table. The cake had been way too big for six people and a little goblin. I took out my knife and in a few minutes had seven good-size pieces that hadn't been anywhere near goblin butt.

“Let's have cake!” I said when I was done.

Everyone looked at me in surprise.

“Fauna good!” cried Herky, leaping from William's arms. He knew better than to jump to me, so he landed on the table, where he turned three somersaults, just missing the cake with his feet.

The Baron came back from the far end of the table. “Well done, young lady,” he said.

When we finished eating, the Baron gave ­William and me pocket watches. Personally, I didn't have much
use for a watch. It seemed to make William happy, though. The watches were made of gold, with our names and fancy designs engraved on their lids. ­William's had a sword with vines wrapped around it. Mine had ­flowers.

I would have rather had the sword.

Even so, I thanked the Baron politely.

I knew the time had come to give William his present from Granny Pinchbottom. Feeling sick, I put my hand to the back of my neck, hoping Solomon's Collar would come off now that I was in front of the person who was supposed to get it.

It didn't.

Fortunately, I had a backup plan. Taking a deep breath, I said, “When I told Granny Pinchbottom about the party, she said she also wanted to send you a gift.”

Karl snorted but managed not to say anything.

I held out the bottle of Sleep Walk. “Here it is.”

As I spoke the lie, Solomon's Collar tingled.

Then it began to tighten around my neck!

I gasped in panic. Would the collar keep getting smaller until it cut my head off? The fact that when we were in Nilbog I had seen the goblin king's headless body made this all too easy to imagine.

“Fauna, are you all right?” William asked. “You look kind of funny.”

“I'm fine!” I choked out. This was another lie, and the moment I spoke it, the collar grew even tighter.

“Actually, I'm not. I think I need to sit down!”

Instantly the collar loosened its grip.

Karl rushed over with a chair, and I dropped into it. Sitting there, trying to catch my breath, I realized I had put something around my neck—something I couldn't remove—that would start to strangle me anytime I told a lie.

This did not make me happy.

I know there are worse things that can happen to a person than not being able to lie, but at the moment I couldn't think of any. Lying had been a useful survival tool for me . . . and if you've never been trapped in a room with several angry men, each three times as big as you are, then don't even think of trying to judge me on this.

“It's a good thing you're staying the night,” Hulda shouted. “I wouldn't want to send you home not feeling well.”

“Staying the night?” I asked in surprise.

Hulda looked equally surprised. “Did you think we'd make you walk home in the dark?”

To be honest—which was the safest thing at the moment—I hadn't thought about it at all. Darkness doesn't bother me that much. That's what torches are for.

Hulda turned to Igor. “Did you forget to tell this poor girl she was supposed to spend the night?”

Igor looked down. “Can't remember,” he mumbled.

It was the softest voice I had ever heard him use, so of course Hulda couldn't hear him. “What did you say?” she bellowed.

“Can't remember!” Igor roared back.

Herky scurried under the table. As for me, I was happy to have everyone's attention elsewhere. That didn't last long. Turning back to me, Hulda said, “I meant for you to bring a nightdress. But don't worry. I'll find something you can use.”

After that, things settled down. We gathered around the fireplace, and Karl told a wonderfully scary ghost story. When he was done, the Baron got to talking about the old days. This was more interesting than I would have expected, since it turned out he had had a big sister who had vanished when he was a baby.

“Never did find out what happened to her,” he said, shaking his head. “Didn't really know her myself. I was too young at the time. My parents never got over
it, though.” He sighed. “Poor Gertrude. That was her name, Gertrude. I've always wondered what happened to her. Made things hard on me, growing up. My parents were so worried about losing another child, they never let me out of their sight.”

He shook his head again. “Listen to me going on! Must be the brandy. Well, that's enough for one night. We should do this again next year, William. And Fauna, of course. Always welcome here, you know, my dear.”

That pinched my heart, as I knew that after a year, two at the most, it would no longer be true.

“Come along, Fauna,” bellowed Hulda. “I'll show you to your room.” She picked up a candlestick that held a thick candle. By its flickering light she led me to the next level of the castle. About halfway down the long hall, she opened a door and shouted, “Here you go!”

The room was bigger than my entire cottage. A lovely fire blazed in the fireplace. The bed, high as my waist, was wide enough for four people. Against the opposite wall stood a tall wooden box with two doors. Carved into the doors were beautiful images of ­dragons and unicorns.

Hulda used her candle to light the one on the
nightstand next to the bed. “Wait here,” she said, then scurried out of the room. While she was gone, I pulled open the doors of the tall wooden box.

It was empty.

As I closed the doors, Hulda returned with a white shirt. “This used to belong to the Baron,” she said. “You can use it to sleep in.”

After she left, I took the rose from behind my ear and placed it on the table beside the bed. Then I slid out of my clothes and put on the shirt. It was amazingly soft.

I climbed into the bed and blew out the candle. The fire, low but still burning, cast a dim light into the room.

I tossed and turned but couldn't get comfortable. The bed was soft. Too soft. I was about to climb out and sleep on the floor when I heard a creak from the tall wooden box.

I sat up and swallowed hard. The door of the box swung open. As I reached for my knife, a cheerful voice called, “Hey, Fauna. You still awake?”

“William? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to ask you about this bottle you gave me.”

He stepped out of the box. He held a candlestick in one hand, and by its flickering light I saw that he
was fully dressed. Also, he had a rat on his shoulder.

The rat's name is Mervyn. William had trained the little beast to eat out of his hand.

He is fonder of rats than I am.

Mervyn lifted his head, stared at me for a moment, then said, “What in the name of the High Holy Rat is that thing around your neck?”

Actually, he made a series of squeaks.

Even so, I understood him perfectly.

William turned his head to glance at Mervyn, clearly startled by the rat's sudden outburst.

“It's called Solomon's Collar,” I said.

William looked at me oddly. “Fauna, are you talking to Mervyn?”

My face got hot, and I nodded.

“Since when do you talk to rats?”

“Good question,” Mervyn chittered.

I was ashamed to tell William I had accidentally stolen his gift. On the other hand, if I didn't want to get choked, whatever I told him had to be true. Thinking carefully, I put my hand to my neck and said, “It's this collar. It lets me talk to animals.”

Not the entire story, but true as far as it went.

William's eyes lit up. “Wow! I wish I had something like that.”

I was glad the light was too low for him to see me blush.

“Anyway, I came to ask about this.” He held up the little green bottle. “Right after you handed it to me, you had that almost-fainting spell. Then things got going and . . . well, you never did tell me what it's for. Should I drink it?”

“No! At least, not yet. Let me explain how to use it.”

When I was done telling him about Sleep Walk, and what he had to be careful of, he lifted the bottle and said, “Sounds useful but scary.”

“It sounds insane!” Mervyn squeaked.

Deciding not to translate
that
, I said, “‘Useful but scary' probably describes most things that come from Granny Pinchbottom.”

I was confident the collar would not squeeze my neck for
that
sentence.

William slipped the bottle into his pocket and said, “Let's go look at my other present.” When I looked puzzled, he added, “You know, that book Igor brought from the dungeon.”

“I thought Karl wanted you to stay away from it.”

“I told Karl I would leave it in the library. I didn't say I wouldn't look at it!”

I smiled, which William understood to mean I was with him.

“Better get dressed,” he said. “The castle is cold at night.”

“Well, I'm not getting dressed in front of you. Go out into the hall!”

Once I had on my regular clothes, I opened the door. I expected to step out and follow William to the library. Instead he walked in and crossed to that big wooden box.

“What is that thing, anyway?” I asked as he opened the door.

“It's called a wardrobe. It's used to hold clothes.”

“Or dead bodies,” Mervyn added.

I was fairly sure the rat was joking. I was not amused. The last thing I needed was a talking rat who thought he had a sense of humor.

“If it's for clothes, why are you opening it now? And how did you get into it to begin with? I checked before I went to bed, and it was empty.”

“I wasn't in it then, silly. This isn't
just
a wardrobe. It's also an entry to the secret passages. Better for getting around the castle at night if we don't want people to know what we're up to.”

“Ah,” I said, moving closer.

William ran his hands over the back wall of the wardrobe. Something clicked, and with a hiss the wall moved to the side. Beyond was nothing but darkness.

“Hand me the candle,” William said. “You should grab one too.”

I fetched my candle from the nightstand, lit it from William's, then followed him into the narrow passageway. After a while we came to a stairway. We followed it down to the next floor.

At the bottom of the stairs William began to count as we walked.

“What are you—”

“Shhh!”

When he reached forty, he stopped and whispered, “This should be the spot. Bring your candle closer. I need more light.”

I did as he asked. A second later he said, “See?”

The only thing I saw was a bat clinging to the wall.

William reached for it.

“Don't!” I cried.

He chuckled, grabbed the bat, and slid it to the side.

A section of wall went with it.

“The bat is carved from wood,” Mervyn explained.

“It's like a doorknob but more interesting,” ­William
added, though he couldn't have known what Mervyn said.

We stepped into the library. William had told me that the Baron had knocked out the walls between seven rooms to make enough room for all his books. Our ­candles lit only a small area in that enormous space.

“Where do you suppose
your
book is?” I whispered.

“Karl's desk, probably. Come on. It's that way.”

“I'm not sure this is a good idea,” muttered Mervyn.

“What did he say?” William asked. When I translated, William said, “Tell him he doesn't need to stay if he doesn't want to.”