The Goblin Gate (23 page)

But how many people would Jeriah have to kill to prevent it? And wasn’t condemning the Hierarch to his drugged half life as bad as killing him?

The branches snatched at Jeriah’s face and hands as his pace quickened again. Could he destroy Chardane and the Hierarch? Surely he owed Tobin and his family more. The lesser of two evils. How many times had Master Lazur been seduced by the lesser evil, committing one crime after another, sliding step after step into darkness? How many lesser evils had Jeriah already accepted? Maybe the priest was right. Maybe they weren’t so different after all.

No. It had to stop. He refused to take even one more step down that terrible path. Not one more death.

Even if his family died for it?

Jeriah was almost running when something wrapped around his ankle and brought him crashing to the ground. He sat up, rubbed his throbbing elbow, and looked at the long root that stretched like a trip rope across his path.

“It was the only way to stop you.” Daroo’s voice came from a bush several feet away.

“You could have called my name.”

“I tried that three times.” The goblin scrambled out to crouch beside him. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything. But there’s nothing you can do.”

“I suppose a hero like you has to solve it all alone?” Daroo snorted. “You’re a fool, but Fa says a body has a right to make a fool of himself. He sent me to say we’ve finished the
third level, and is there anyplace on the fourth level you’d have us search first?”

“Nowhere. It doesn’t matter anymore. I know where they are, but even if you could get them I can’t let you, and you can’t get them anyway, and in four days it’ll be too late!” Jeriah buried his face in his hands.

“What?” The boy’s eyes were wide with confusion. If Jeriah was going to call off the search, he owed the goblins an explanation. And sometimes Daroo had ideas.

He told the young goblin what he’d learned about the Hierarch, what his mother and Senna had done, and what Chardane and Master Lazur had said. “And Tobin’s running out of time,” he finished. “Any suggestions?”

“No. It’s a fair poser,” Daroo admitted. “Even if you do nothing, bad things happen. Though you’ve got a fine chance to be a hero when that poor old man gets saved.”

“At the cost of my family’s destruction? Dark One
take
being a hero! I don’t want to be a hero! I just want my family to live.”

“But to get that, you’d have to do worse than not-being-a-hero. You’d…”

He went on talking but Jeriah didn’t hear. The idea filled his mind, blinding, deafening. “Not a hero.”

“What? Jeriah, are you all right?”

“
I
don’t have to be a hero. I don’t! It might work!”

Daroo rose on tiptoe to feel Jeriah’s forehead. “No fever. Maybe I shouldn’t have knocked you down.”

“No!” Jeriah grabbed the child and shot to his feet. “I’m all right, really. If
I’m
not a hero it might work! I have an idea!” He spun Daroo in a jubilant circle.

“Put me down! I suppose you’ll try to work it all by yourself? Again?”

“No,” said Jeriah, sobering. “To bring this off I’ll need all the help I can get.”

O
NLY A WEEK
. O
NLY A
week they’d been camped beside the new stream before it too had died.

At least this time they were prepared. This time the watch called the alarm the moment the roiling stream began to flatten, and they had rushed into the water and filled every container they possessed before the stream’s flow had stopped.

Makenna hadn’t bothered to go upstream to search out the cause, but this time she’d told the scouts to find a lake, which wouldn’t disappear the instant something cut off its source.

Something. Now that they knew what to look for, several goblins had seen the creatures—though they didn’t all look like trees. One, they said, seemed to be made of grass, and another resembled a tumble of stone come to life.

All the creatures had departed before the goblins could speak to them, and however different their appearance, Makenna was certain they were one tribe, one clan…one enemy.

She could do nothing about that now.

Looking over the meadow they were about to abandon, Makenna saw that all the small tents were down and packed. In fact, most of the goblins seemed to be waiting for her, so Makenna swung the heavy pack onto her shoulders. She didn’t dare leave Master Lazur’s books behind, because the bridge out of this world had to be built with magic. Somehow. She had tried. She’d gathered the goblins into a spell group, and they had pooled all the magic they possessed and poured that power into the gate spell’s runes—and watched it sink into the surface the runes were cast on as if this whole world were a magic-sucking sponge.

In truth, Makenna was beginning to believe that was exactly what was going on—or at least a pretty good analogy. Every goblin reported that their innate magic had been reduced to the merest trace. Makenna felt as if her own magic was evaporating the moment it was generated, like a trickle of water poured into a hot pan.

Of course, evaporating water was on her mind now. Once they reached the lake, she’d have time to experiment further—though if their enemies could move whole hills at whim, maybe she shouldn’t be so certain of that.

But they needed time so badly. Time for the Greeners to build up their food supply, since they didn’t dare plant. Time for Tobin to heal.

He’d wanted to walk to the lake, but Charba forbade it. Dozens of goblins had volunteered to carry him, not even
demanding a token payment for the service. Charba was frankly baffled as to why he was so sick, but she said that given rest and nursing, most folks recovered from most illnesses, most of the time.

The lake would give him time to rest, to heal, Makenna resolved grimly. Time for her to scour Master Lazur’s books and find some way to get them out of this world. For the Otherworld wasn’t a refuge—it was a death trap. A trap into which
she
had led them. And she’d get them out, too. Every one of them. Somehow.

J
ERIAH HAD THOUGHT HE WAS
nervous the first time he broke into Master Lazur’s office; his past anxiety was nothing compared to his bone-deep knowledge of the stakes he played for now.

The beginning of Sunset Prayer rolled over him, and he turned to the flowers where Daroo hid. “You’re sure he’s gone?”

“Five minutes ago, with the rest of them. Here are the jars. Hurry!”

Jeriah hesitated at the door, and then knocked softly before pushing it open. “Master Lazur? Anyone here?” This time he had an excuse ready, but the office and bedroom were both empty. They must have accepted his claim that his headache was too severe for him to attend the Hierarch at prayer—he’d been pale and tense enough to make it plausible.

First the jars. He opened the cabinet Nevin had caught him searching and felt around the top shelf. There was enough room to plant the medicine jars behind the stacked
papers, but he had to slide the stacks forward several inches. Would Master Lazur notice the papers had been moved? No help for it.

The dark crockery blended with the shadows, making the jars almost invisible. Chardane had supplied them, along with the herbal mixture in them—guaranteed identical to the Hierarch’s “medicine.”

A plan that would destroy Master Lazur without putting her people at risk had delighted Chardane, and she’d willingly promised that once her cadre gained power, the Decree of Bright Magic would be revoked. With that promise Jeriah had bought the goblins’ cooperation. His whole scheme was built on a tottering stack of promises, like the piles of paper on Master Lazur’s desk.

It took a long time to find the documents that had been assembled for tomorrow’s council meeting. Jeriah knew they were discussing the relocation, but there were so many sessions…. His lips tightened. They’d be having some meetings they didn’t expect, if this plan worked.

By the time Jeriah was sure he’d found the right documents, the evening prayer was drawing to a close. He pulled one of the new maps of the Goblin Wood out of the stack—they’d certainly need that—and tucked it quickly into the papers on the cabinet’s top shelf.

Jeriah was closing the cupboard door when a thought struck him. The muted rumble of praise and response signaled the end of prayer as he dug rapidly through the
documents till he found another map of about the same size. Outside the office Daroo hissed a warning. Jeriah shuffled the map into the same place as the one he’d removed and fled, reaching his own room just before the crowd flowed down the steps from the temple. His heart was thundering and his stomach rolled. All his other plans had failed, and they’d been
simple
compared to this one. But he refused to follow in Master Lazur’s footsteps, and it was too late to back out now.

Jeriah had to overthrow not only the priest, but the whole shadow government that would fall with him. Because if he didn’t, sometime in the next two weeks, Tobin was going to die.

He tried to visit Senna in her cell, but the guards stopped him. No visitors allowed, by Master Lazur’s order. Jeriah almost went back to argue with the priest, but he knew he wouldn’t win. He did succeed in bribing the guard to deliver a pillow and a warm blanket to her cell…but only after the man had searched them and removed the brief note Jeriah had tucked under the pillowcase.

Finally Jeriah sent Daroo, who swore he could sneak the note into Senna’s cell without being caught. He was sitting up in his bed, with the lamp burning low, when the small goblin returned.

“Is she all right? She’s not too scared, is she? Did she recognize my writing? I didn’t dare sign it.”

“I should let you keep stacking up questions,” Daroo said. “Just to see how high the pile gets. But it won’t do you any good. She was asleep.”

“You didn’t wake her?”

“Don’t be silly. What if she’d screamed? She’s not accustomed to being visited by our folk.”

“Then how can you tell if she’s all right?” Jeriah demanded. “How can you tell if she recognized my—”

“Who else would send her notes saying, ‘Don’t worry, I’m working on a scheme, and if we don’t all get killed everything will be fine.’ You’ve written her letters before, haven’t you? She’ll recognize the writing.”

“I just said I had an idea, and that everything would be all right. To keep her from worrying.”

“If she knows you, that’ll worry her more than anything else.”

He might be right about that. Jeriah sighed. “But she was all right?”

“How would I know? She was sleeping. And me going back to talk to her in the daytime would put the rest of your plan at risk. You know that.”

Jeriah did know it. And Tobin was in even more trouble than Senna, so he had to let it go. But the thought of his sister, alone and terrified, still haunted him.

The day before Equinox Jeriah hovered outside the door of the council chamber. He could hear muffled voices through
the door but he couldn’t make out the words—he could only wait, and pray to be standing there when Nevin emerged.

St. Cerwyn be praised there were no petitions today; the Sunlord was “meditating” before the holy ceremony. In fact, he was alternately resting and being drilled in the procedures. Jeriah had nothing to do but run errands for the attending priests, and he’d managed to make those errands last a long time. As far as he could tell, the busy priests barely noticed his absence.

Master Kerratis had come by yesterday, and contemptuously declared the Hierarch “as fit for it as he’s likely to get.” Nevin had gone around in tight-lipped fury for the rest of the afternoon. He couldn’t know about the drugs. No one could fake the devotion Nevin showed the Hierarch…unless he had some motive Jeriah knew nothing about. Jeriah winced and pulled his mind back to the present. There was plenty that could go wrong right now.

This next step of his plan might even work without Jeriah’s presence. But it was such a small thing, and so critical, the thought of leaving it to chance made his stomach cramp.

If I bring my family out of this alive,
he offered up as a silent vow,
I will never involve myself in plots again.

A few moments of general chatter came from the council chamber, then a single voice resumed speaking. Jeriah thought it was Master Lazur, who’d been addressing the council for most of the morning. There was still resistance to the relocation in many hearts. Chardane was wrong;
Lazur’s grip on the council wasn’t unshakable. Not yet. And knowing his own weakness only made the priest more dangerous.

There was another break in the flow of the speech, followed by a flurry of conversation. A new speaker? The doors opened and Nevin strode out. He clutched a roll of paper in his hand, and his mouth was tight with irritation.
Thank you, Bright Ones!

Jeriah gave him a few moments’ start, then dashed down the hall after him.

“Hey, Brallorscourt! Wait up. I’ve got some questions about tomorrow.”

Nevin slowed but didn’t stop. “I can’t help you now—they’re waiting for me. Ask me this evening.”

“I’ll walk with you. What’s that?” Jeriah gestured to the map.

“The stupidest thing! I put the new woods map with his papers, I swear I did. But…I must have mixed them up.”

“A new map? Of the Goblin Wood?”
Innocent, casual, easy.
“I think I saw something like that the night when you, ah, interrupted me.”

“Oh, really? You remember every paper you glanced at?”

Calm down, he’s not suspicious. If he was nice, you’d know something was wrong.
Jeriah wished, passionately, that Nevin was a fool.

“I noticed it because I just returned from that area,” Jeriah said coldly. “But if you want to go through every stack in
Master Lazur’s office, that’s fine with me. It should only take you half a day.” He turned and began to walk away.
Don’t let me go. Don’t let—

“Wait. It’s your duty to assist the council as well as the Hierarch. Besides, ah, I thought you had some questions.”

Jeriah’s questions about the Hierarch’s role in the Equinox Ceremony carried them to the door of Lazur’s office, where he went straight to the tall cabinet.

“I’m sure it was here, on the top shelf. Let me get…” Jeriah pulled a small chest over, and stood on it so he could go through the papers—and his body blocked Nevin’s view of the shelf.

“If you cared to think,” said Nevin, “it might occur to you to bring the stack down and sort through it on the desk.”

“No, I’m doing fine, but…Hold these for me.”

He handed the crockery jars to Nevin, who put them on the desk without a second glance. “Demon’s teeth! Bring those cursed papers down so we can go through them!”

“It’s all right, I’ve got it.” Jeriah passed the map down to Nevin. “Hand me those jars, will you?”

“Get them yourself.” Nevin was already on his way out the door. “I’m not your servant.”

Jeriah replaced the jars carefully at the back of the shelf. He’d called as much attention to them as he dared. And at least Nevin hadn’t recognized them too soon, which could have been disastrous. Nevin had handled them himself—surely he’d remember. If he didn’t, Jeriah could remind him,
but to bring himself into the matter, even in a small way, would be horribly dangerous. Thank the Bright Gods Nevin wasn’t a fool.

On the morning of Equinox Jeriah stared out of the Hierarch’s bedroom window at the gardens, though calling it morning was a hideous exaggeration. The gardeners, who’d been ordered to make all perfect before the sun rose on this holy day, were working by torchlight.

“Come away from the window. You’re supposed to be serving him, not sleeping.”

Jeriah was too apprehensive for even Nevin to irritate him.

“Mohri’s serving his breakfast. And I’m trying to straighten this.” Jeriah held out a web of fine gold chain that would be draped over the Hierarch’s robe. He’d spent the last five minutes twisting it into knots.

“Well, leave it for now and…Demons curse it! We’ve run out of caroliss tea!”

They wouldn’t have, if Jeriah hadn’t emptied the jar down the privy last night. “Those priests must have used it up. Can you give him something else?”

“The Sunlord is to be served nothing but the best. Besides, I don’t want to change his routine any more than we must.” Nevin looked nervous too. “Go down to the kitchen and get some.”

Jeriah held up his hands, covered with tangled gold. So
many small things had to go right. The whole plan hinged on his next words. “This is a real mess—if I put it down, I’ll have to start over. Besides, it’s as much as your life’s worth to go into the kitchen this morning. One of the cooks threatened me with a carving knife yesterday, I swear he did. Master Goserian wants the feast to be perfect and he’s riding them hard. Why don’t you go to the herb-healer? I bet she’d have some, and it’s nearer.”

“Would she be awake this early?”

Jeriah shrugged, trying to make it look casual. His shoulders were tighter than a drawn bow.

“Who knows? Lots of people are up; anything that gets done today has to be finished by dawn.”

“I’ll try her.”

Nevin hurried out, and Jeriah tried to relax. It was all going according to plan. But this plan was so complex. Too complex to succeed. There were a thousand things that—

“Sir?”

Jeriah jumped, almost dropping the chains.

“Will you eat breakfast? It’s ready.”

“No! Don’t sneak…” He summoned up a smile. “Sorry, we’re all a little tense.” The servant was staring at him. “I want to finish this. I’m not hungry, anyway.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jeriah tried to sort out the tangled chains of the Hierarch’s ceremonial necklace—he shouldn’t have done such a thorough job of twisting them up.

If even one of his allies got caught, the plan was finished. Jeriah also worried about the number of times Chardane came into it, but she didn’t seem concerned. When she’d approached the council and offered to investigate the possibility of using drugs against the barbarians, no one had seemed suspicious. In fact, she’d told Jeriah, the council was so enthusiastic she’d probably have to come up with something no matter what else happened. If Chardane was so confident, why did Jeriah feel as if he was floundering on the brink of disaster?

Nevin hadn’t returned—he would have, if it hadn’t gone according to plan. It was still going according to plan, it was…it was going to drive Jeriah mad if he didn’t get up and do something.

“Here, someone take care of this mess. I’m going to dress; then we’ll start robing the Hierarch whether Nevin’s here or not.”

They’d almost finished by the time Nevin returned, carrying a tea tray…and wearing different clothes than when he’d left. Jeriah suppressed a gasp of relief.

“Where have you been? It’s almost time.”

“That woman spilled some concoction all over me! She said it was mildly toxic and insisted on hauling off my clothes and washing me—as if I were a two-year-old! But the stuff stank, so I had to change anyway. Have you got the gold on him yet? Where’s my tabard? Where’s…”

Jeriah let the stream of questions run over him.
Remember
that scent, you arrogant toad.
The pieces were now in place. Jeriah was shaking as he joined the procession that led the Sunlord to welcome the turn of the season.

The sun rose, spreading its glowing benediction over the land, and the Sunlord greeted it. As the day wore on, the sun beat down on Jeriah’s head and shoulders. He fretted and sweated, paying as little attention to the ceremony as he could manage. Nevin had to nudge him into his assigned place several times.

The Hierarch had “honored” other priests by asking them to recite the twelve long prayers that lasted from sunrise to sunset, but no one else could recite the hourly invocations. As the day passed, his fatigue grew, but he never complained or tried to avoid the altar—not even when the words deserted him and he was forced to rely on the whispers of his prompters.

Courage. Even drugged, the courage showed through. Jeriah felt a piercing shame that he’d actually considered letting the Hierarch continue this loathsome half life.

Master Lazur watched along with the rest of the crowd. If he felt anything, it didn’t show. How easy it was to sacrifice others to a personal obsession. At least Master Lazur’s goal was noble—Jeriah couldn’t even claim that. If his plan didn’t succeed, he still might have to make that impossible choice. He glanced at Nevin, on whom his whole plan depended, and shivered despite the heat.