Read The Stepsister Scheme Online
Authors: Jim C. Hines
The Stepsister Scheme (17 page)
“It’s safer this way,” said Talia. “Doors can be broken. Fortunately, Trittibar gave us the password.” She strode toward the wall, her spine straight as a spear. When she was close enough to touch the nearest thorns, she raised her voice and said, “Diglet. Diglet. Diglet.”
“What do you want?”
Danielle jumped. Standing on the road beside Talia was a little blue man with oversized pointed ears and a tangled nest of black hair: a goblin. His skin was a much darker shade than Brahkop’s had been. Yellow fangs curved up from his lower lip, giving him a permanent grin. He wore a vest of soft purple leather with crystal buttons. Matching purple ribbons decorated his black trousers. A single short knife hung at his hip.
“Who are you?” Danielle asked.
“I’m Diglet, of course.” Oversized yellow eyes studied Danielle. “And who might you be?”
“We need to enter Fairytown,” Talia said, before Danielle could answer. “That’s all you need to know.”
Diglet sniffed. “No need to be rude, Your Highness. I’m just doing my job.”
“If you know she’s a princess, why did you want to know who we were?” Danielle asked.
Diglet stepped closer, sniffing again as he neared Danielle. “Commoner by blood, but. . . .” His bulbous nose wrinkled. “You married a noble, I take it? Got yourself knocked up with a little princeling, from the smell of it.”
Danielle folded her arms, trying to quell a rush of embarrassment. Would everyone in Fairytown be able to smell her condition?
Diglet was already moving on to Snow. “Nobles all. But that doesn’t tell me who you are or why you need entry into Fairytown.”
“I’m sorry,” Snow said, feigning confusion. “I don’t remember where in Malindar’s Treaty it specifies that a member of the servant caste is entitled to question human nobles before allowing them entry into Fairytown. But I do remember on page nine, section four, where those fairies attempting to deny nobles rightful entry shall be subject to punishment up to and including being bound in chains and flung into the chasm by the Dark Man himself.”
“Easy now,” said Diglet, raising his hands. “Ain’t nobody denying nothing to no one. I was curious, that’s all. It’s not every day we get three princesses showing up at our wall. I’ll be happy to escort you through the thorns. You, too, Highness,” he said to Danielle.
“Good.” Talia folded her arms. “Shall we get on with it?”
Diglet took a small step back. “About that.” He glanced around, looking like a cornered animal. “Your friends can enter. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait here.”
Talia reached behind her back, whipping her short sword free so fast the goblin yelped. “I am Princess Talia Malak-el-Dahshat. My blood is every bit as noble as my companions’. You have no reason to detain me, goblin.”
“Nobody’s questioning your blood,” Diglet said. His voice had jumped in pitch, and he kept backing away until one of the thorns jabbed his neck. “Trouble is, you’ve been fairy-cursed.” He tapped the side of his nose. “Whatever was done to you, the stench of it still lingers in your blood. You offended someone with a fair lot of power, Talia Malak-el-Dahshat, and I’m not about to let you—”
“
I
offended?” Talia repeated, her voice barely a whisper. Her sword shone in the fading sunlight.
I
offended?” Talia repeated, her voice barely a whisper. Her sword shone in the fading sunlight.
“I’m sure that’s not what he meant,” said Danielle.
“Not at all,” said Diglet. He reached up and gave his ear a nervous twist. “I’m sure it was nothing but a misunderstanding. This sort of thing happens all the time. Human maidens seducing fairy princes or—”
Snow caught Talia’s arm and pulled her away from the goblin. “Diglet has a point. There’s a subsection of the treaty which gives them discretion in barring those who have been found guilty of crimes against fairy citizens.”
“I’ve committed no crime,” snapped Talia. She glared at Diglet. “Yet.”
The goblin folded his arms. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. You’ve been cursed by a fairy far stronger than myself. I’ll not be the one flung into the hedge for allowing a fairy foe to wander freely throughout our home.”
“I’ll vouch for her,” said Danielle. She pointed at Snow. “We both will.”
“That’s nice and decent of you, but who are you to vouch for her?” Diglet smirked as he waved at Danielle’s clothes. “Your blood says you’re royal . . . barely. But your outfit says you spend more time playing in the dirt than sitting on any throne.”
His words carried little sting. All her life, Danielle had been subject to far worse. “I am Princess Danielle Whiteshore.” The name still sounded strange on her tongue.
Diglet stared. “Who?”
With a sigh, Danielle said, “Cinderella.”
“Oh, right. The one with the glass shoes.” He cocked his head. “How did you manage to dance in shoes like that? Sounds horribly uncomfortable.” With a leer, he added, “Or maybe there wasn’t much dancing, eh? At least not the kind that needs shoes.”
Danielle turned to Talia. Over the past month at the palace, she had listened to enough pompous, overblown politicians to learn the pattern of their speech. “Princess Talia, do my ears deceive me, or did this goblin just cast a most denigrating insult upon the name of Whiteshore? To imply I am little more than a tavern whore, or that the prince’s taste would run to such?”
“Now wait, that’s not what I—”
“I believe he did, Princess Danielle.” Talia’s grin was feral.
“I heard it, too!” Snow piped up.
“A most grievous slight against my honor,” Danielle said. “Just as you insulted the honor of my friend, Princess Talia.” She shook her head. “Queen Beatrice will be most displeased. As will your own rulers, I suspect.”
“You can’t tell my queen anything if you can’t reach her.” Diglet twisted and hopped backward, past the outer vines. He almost seemed to dance as he slipped deeper into the hedge. “I’d warn you not to follow. The thorns don’t like strangers. Sorry, Princesses. That one’s fairy-cursed, no mistake about it, and the queen’s had too much trouble with mortals in the past. We’re under strict orders. You can circle around to the king’s side, but I doubt his dwarves will give you a better welcome.”
Danielle waved a hand at Talia, who lowered her sword. Diglet was right. He was only doing his job. A thankless job at that. A single goblin, sent to deny those who sought to enter Fairytown. Few would bother to thank such a creature, but how many, upon being denied, would take their frustrations out on him? “How did you become the guard of this hedge, Diglet?”
Diglet shrugged. “A group of bandits killed Pirrok when he wouldn’t let them through. The rest of us drew sticks.”
“You drew the short stick?” Danielle guessed.
“Nah. Grint did. Then he pummeled me and broke my stick so it was shortest.”
Danielle smiled. “Grint sounds like he would have gotten along with my stepsisters.” Well, no. Her stepsisters would sooner die than be seen with the likes of a goblin. Still, the bullying was the same. She wondered what other jobs Diglet had been forced to do. Cleaning up after the others? Preparing their meals? And he wouldn’t have had a loving spirit to help him escape his fate. What noble would fall in love with a goblin, taking him away from this life? Most likely he would keep guarding the hedge until someone like Talia grew irritated enough to run him through.
“The treaty says you can refuse to let Talia enter,” Danielle said. “It doesn’t say you must. What could we do to change your mind?”
“You could tell your friend to put that sword away, for one thing,” Diglet snapped.
Danielle waved a hand at Talia, who scowled, but obeyed. “What if we paid you?”
Diglet snorted, then wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Goblin guards don’t take bribes,” he said haughtily.
Danielle studied the goblin, the way his gaze kept shifting to the ground, the way his shoulders tended to slump. “No, of course you don’t. Because Grint and the other goblins would take it away from you.”
“Something like that.” He fingered the buttons of his vest. “Grint would steal the clothes off my back if he thought they’d fit.”
In a way, it was brilliant. Diglet couldn’t be bribed. If they killed him, it wouldn’t change anything. They would still be stuck outside the wall, and the other goblins would simply choose the next unfortunate soul to take Diglet’s place.
“What if we were to give you something truly valuable?” Danielle asked. “Something the other goblins couldn’t take away?”
Diglet stood at the edge of the hedge and reached toward Danielle. “Everyone lock hands, and don’t let go, not unless you want to spend your final days spit-ted like a pig.”
Danielle twined her fingers with the goblin’s. His hand was cool to the touch, rough with calluses and warts. His black nails were bitten ragged and scratched her wrist. Snow took Danielle’s other hand, and Talia came last, having thrown their bags over one shoulder.
“Come on,” Diglet said. He ducked beneath the first vine and began walking through the hedge. “Mind your step. The thorns know me, so they won’t go out of their way to skewer you. But if you step on one, it’ll go right through your foot, and once those babies go in, they don’t come out.”
Danielle hunched and twisted, trying to watch every direction at once. Sharp thorns caught her sleeve, but they didn’t break the skin. A thorn like a curved sword tangled her hair, then flexed back on itself, allowing her to slide free.
“Don’t worry, that’s just the hedge’s way of reminding you who’s boss,” Diglet said. “So long as you’re with me, you’re safe. Probably.”
Danielle clutched the goblin’s hand more tightly, both for protection and for balance. The vines were thickest on the ground, and it would be easy to fall as she turned and twisted after Diglet.
The air was darker here, and it carried a foul smell, like spoiled meat. She saw a line of black ants crawling up a vine as thick as her wrist. A thorn had broken away, and the ants swarmed over a crust of dried sap that looked like an old scab. Occasionally she saw bones or scraps of metal, though there were fewer and fewer the farther they penetrated.
“That’s Yamma the ogre,” Diglet said, pointing to a huge skull hanging on an equally huge thorn. “He plotted against the fairy queen. When she found out, he tried to flee. She let him get halfway through the hedge, then turned it against him. Not an easy death, but old Yamma makes a good landmark. It’s easy to get turned about in here, you know.”
Behind her, Danielle could hear Snow whispering. She glanced back. Snow was talking to Talia, who had her eyes squeezed shut. Both of Talia’s hands clamped around Snow’s wrist.
“We’re almost there,” Snow murmured. “You’re doing great.” She pressed close to Talia. Danielle moved her hand to Snow’s shoulder as Snow reached for the bags. “Stop for a moment, there’s a thorn caught on one of the straps . . . there you go.”
“Thank you.” Talia’s voice was so strained Danielle barely recognized it.
Snow squeezed her arm. “I’ll burn this hedge to the ground before I let it have you.”
Diglet was still pointing out various sights and landmarks: an oversized beehive suspended between two thorns, a vine that had broken under its own weight, with smaller vines coiling up from the exposed ends. . . . “Hey, look at that. A hedge cat!”
Danielle looked up to see a slender gray cat slinking along the upper vines. The cat’s long tail twitched furiously with each step.
“They hunt the birds and squirrels who nest in the hedge,” Diglet said. “Most cats stay near the edges, but the hunting is better the farther in you go.”
“Has anyone else passed through here recently?” Danielle asked. “Two human women, probably accompanied by a man.”
“Not through here,” Diglet said. “Not since I took over for Pirrok, at any rate. They might have gone around to the king’s side, but you’d have to ask the dwarves about that.”
“And there’s no other way in to Fairytown?”
“Not unless they want to climb up from the chasm.” Diglet gave a mock shiver. “That way carries dangers to make the hedge look as cozy as your very own bed. Come up on the queen’s side of the cliff, and likely as not you’ll find yourself in the labyrinth. The king’s side is even worse. The dragon’s nest is on that side. More sun over there, you see.”
The vines had begun to thin, and Danielle could see patches of orange sky overhead. How long had they walked through the hedge? The thorns grew shorter as Diglet pulled them along. Purple-and-red buds sprinkled the vines. A few more steps, and the buds were fully bloomed flowers, each one the size and shape of a teacup. They smelled like fresh honey.
“Mind your step,” said Diglet. “It wouldn’t do to get yourself impaled this close to the edge.” He hopped over a fat vine as thick as his body, drawing Danielle and the others after him.
The tangle of vines beneath her feet gave way to hard stone. Danielle found herself on a road paved with cobblestones that shone blue-green like the sea. Flower petals littered the ground. Crude tents stood to either side of the road, many painted with scenes of battle and carnage. A group of goblins sat in the middle of the road, playing cards and eating the roast remains of some kind of bird.
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