“Torture,” Gath said. “They’re raping the women and they have the men tied—”
She had never seen anyone look so pale. “Never mind, dear. How are you feeling now?” She knew the question was absurd under the circumstances.
“Head aches,” he muttered, leaning against her. Nevertheless, he was making a very fast recovery.
“Who did it to you?” Kadie demanded.
“Yes, tell us.” Inos knew the question was utterly irrelevant now, with the culprit five hundred leagues away in Krasnegar, but she welcomed the distraction, and she must try to keep him conscious.
Gath sighed. “Brak again.”
Not surprising—Brak was a head taller and twice the weight, but Gath had knocked him out last time. No adolescent jotunn could live with such a memory.
Kadie snorted scornfully. “He’s been after you for months. How come you let him catch you this time?”
“Because it was worth it. I knew. I knew I had to let him have the last punch, too.” Gath sniggered faintly against Inos’ neck. “But you gotta see his face! Oh, you gotta see it! It’s a guts bucket!”
He smiled, showing the tooth Brak had broken the last time.
Kadie made enthusiastic noises.
Inos reflected that none of them might ever see Brak’s face again. While Gath described the massacre in detail for Kadie, she glanced around. The captives were mostly sitting with their faces on their knees, not looking at anyone or anything, but she managed to catch the eye of a nearby woman, one who was older than most and might have some wits left. “How long has this been going on?” she demanded.
“All day, ma’am . . .”
A guard shouted a warning and waved his sword. They were talking too much, apparently.
More roof collapsed. One good thing—the heat from the fire was perceptible now, and welcome in the chilly afternoon. The guards were closer to it, but they did not seem uncomfortable. Goblins were notoriously indifferent to temperature.
Oh, that beautiful house! Inos wanted to weep for Kinvale. Paintings, sculptures, gold plate, fine china, carpets—a huge fortune was vanishing before her eyes, climbing skyward in a pillar of smoke. That same pillar of smoke must be visible for leagues, perhaps even as far as Shaldokan. The IXth Legion was quartered at Shaldokan now. The goblins might have fought their way over Pondague Pass—they had been trying to do so for twenty years—but they were not going to remain very long in possession of Kinvale. She felt a little better when she realized that. Unfortunately, murder and rape could be completed long before a legion could march in to the rescue.
Gath had laid his head on his knees and seemed almost asleep. On her other side, Kadie was cuddling close. Oh, poor children! And Inos could not bear to think about her kingdom. The palace must be a madhouse now, with everyone hunting for the royal family. Nor did she want to think about Rap, returning to Kinvale to find his magic portal destroyed. It would be months before any of them could go home by sea.
Three weeping, naked girls came hobbling along the terrace, clutching their clothing bundled in front of them. Two of them had blood on their legs. They burrowed in among the rest of the captives and were given help in dressing. A squad of six goblins trotted up eagerly and began to argue with the chief guard. Grumbling, the newcomers selected two of the younger women and took them away. Obviously they had wanted more than two. Obviously they were going to rape them. Now Inos understood why the prisoners were all keeping their faces hidden, not looking up. Kinvale had supported a staff of hundreds—where were all the rest?
The screaming and cheering in the rose garden answered that question.
Then another band of goblins came marching along the terrace. Gath shivered and lifted his head. “Mom? You have to do some shouting.”
“What?” Inos said.
The leader strutted, looking important. Beside him walked a goblin youth, perhaps no older than Gath, although much shorter and thicker. He was smooth-faced and bore no tattoos. There was a discussion with the chief guard. Then leader and youngster came forward together—father and son, most likely. They looked over the captives. The boy grinned and pointed at Gath’s conspicuous blond head. The leader waved for two of the others to come and take him.
Gath croaked, “Mom!”
Inos reeled to her feet. “No!” she shouted. “Not this one! Choose someone else! You will not take this one!” She glared and stamped her feet and kept on bellowing.
And it worked! They could not understand the words, but her tone was enough. The young goblin paled to a sickly green and backed away. The older man scowled, but he also seemed cowed by Inos’ fury. He said something to the boy, who nodded and pointed quickly to another captive, a youth in footman’s livery.
Inos sat down again before her wobbling knees gave way under her. The footman was pulled out from the crowd and dragged away, howling in terror.
Everyone knew how goblin boys earned their tattoos. Once they had used other goblins. Now they used prisoners.
Gath mumbled, “Thanks, Mom!” Then he rolled over on his side and threw up.
4
The sun sank down behind the smoke. The main house was a glowing shell now, the welcome heat fading before the cold of a winter evening. Very few of the captives remained. Three times Inos had prevented one or other of her children being removed, and now she knew why her shouting had such a truly sorcerous effect. Years ago, Rap had laid a royal glamour on her. When she gave orders, people were compelled to obey. So far it had worked, but she suspected that it was far from foolproof where goblins were concerned. It obviously provoked fury in them, and one of these times it might well get her killed out of hand.
Then Gath stirred and lifted his head from her shoulder. “Mom?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Remember about Blood Beak?”
Inos stared at him, wondering if he was hallucinating again. Then she realized that his earlier talk of goblins had not been the hallucination she had thought at the time. He looked somewhat better now, anyway. “No.”
“Death Bird’s son. Dad told us. You must remember!”
“I’m afraid I don’t, dear.”
“You do!” Gath said urgently, twisting his mouth as if it tasted bad. “Dad met Death Bird at Timber Moot. Blood Beak killed a bear single-handed! Dad teased me about it.”
“Oh, yes, I do remember,” Inos said, lying. “What about it?”
“He’s here. He’s coming. The old man speaks impish.”
“Right!” Inos gave her son a hug. “Well done!” At last she could see some action in store.
A few minutes later, yet another small procession of goblins came striding along the darkening terrace to inspect the scanty supply of captives. All the men had been removed, and all the younger women. The women were not coming back anymore. The men never would.
The leader was a powerful-looking goblin, but the greasy rope of hair hanging down his bare chest was streaked with gray. That would qualify him as old to Gath. At his side walked an adolescent, beefy even by goblin standards.
They came to a halt and Inos jumped up before they even spoke to the guards.
“Hail to Blood Beak, son of Death Bird!”
The goblins recoiled a pace in unison, but perhaps they were more surprised by her blond hair than her words.
“I am Queen Inosolan of Krasnegar! I demand to speak to Death Bird! ”
The gray-haired goblin frowned, moving his lips. If he understood impish, then obviously it was not well.
She tried again, speaking more slowly, keeping it simple. Gesture. “Am Inosolan! Woman of Chief Rap. Rap, chief of Krasnegar, friend of Death Bird. Am his woman.” Gesture. “These his son, his daughter. His children.”
Young Blood Beak asked a question. The old man repeated what she had said, and some of the words sounded right. Everyone turned to stare hard at Inos.
“Friend of Death Bird!” she insisted. She stalked forward on legs like jelly. “Blood Beak? Great hunter! Hear how you kill bear with sword.”
“How know this?” the leader barked.
“Death Bird tell Rap, his friend. Very proud of Blood Beak.” Translation . . . The older man was deferring to the king’s son, but the king’s son brightened at hearing how his reputation had preceded him. He gabbled something, waving hands.
The leader nodded, then spoke more respectfully to Inos. He tapped his chest. ”Am Giant Feller of Beavers. Here Blood Beak of Ravens, Death Bird son, as say. How come this place?”
Relief poured through Inos like a spring freshet. “Am guest. Friend of goblins. Not enemy of goblins. Friend of Death Bird many years ago. Long ago knew Death Bird. Was Little Chicken. Very little!” She gestured to indicate a big man.