Forging the Half-Goblin Sorcerer Page 20

  ***

  How is fresh food supplied to the prison? Myrel wonders. She went to the kitchen and sought out the inmate who ran the operation. “I want to work in the kitchen,” she announces.

  “I normally don’t allow females in here. It causes too many problems, if you know what I mean. But since you are a cross-breed, I suppose we can give it a try,” replies the chief cook. Myrel let slide the cook’s implication that a cross-breed is too hideous appearing to cause a problem. If the cook has a name, no one ever uses it. For two decades, he has just been Cook.

  The kitchen crew is surprisingly jolly, and Myrel grows to enjoy their company. None has any hope of ever being released. A sentence to a goblin prison is a one-way trip. The kitchen contains an enormous hearth where an entire pig could be roasted, if by some miracle the prisoners had a pig to roast. Instead, three or four large pots of boiling neeps and other vegetables sit on the fire from dawn to dusk. Myrel likes the hearth. It is the warmest place in the prison. Next to the hearth is a row of small ovens for baking bread. In the center of the room are large tables for chopping vegetables. Surprisingly, the kitchen has two knives to do the cutting. It is the chief cook’s task to regulate access to the knives.

  Every morning delivery carts appear at the rear door of the kitchen loaded with food for the prison. Myrel would hang around the door and help unload the deliveries. She would step out into a courtyard and pick up a sack and carry it into the kitchen. When the carts left, they hauled away the previous day’s refuse. The routine almost never varied, but once a large crate containing cooking pots was delivered to the door. The crate was unloaded and stacked in a corner to be filled with garbage and picked up the next day. Myrel looked at the crate and knew how she could get out of the prison unnoticed, but she needed an accomplice.

  Myrel complains to the chief cook about a prisoner who spent his days in the sick cell. Myrel says he was faking illness just to get out of work. This is an outrage that Cook couldn’t tolerate. He has Grenab hauled into the kitchen and put to work cleaning pots. When no one is looking, Grenab lifts Myrel into the empty crate. In the morning, it would be his job to put the crate on the wagon. Anyone else would feel the weight and realize it wasn’t empty.

  The next day there is a dramatic moment when Grenab has to push aside another prisoner to get control of the crate containing Myrel, but from there the plan goes without a hitch. After a short, bumpy journey, the crate is dumped on its side. Her plan was to wait until dark, but she decides to emerge early. Picking a small crate was a bad idea. There is no way for Myrel to stretch her legs. I’ve got to get out of here before I lose my legs, thought Myrel. She knocks off the lid that is not tightly attached and finds she is in a warehouse. She is alone, but she can’t immediately stand. She drags herself out of the box and lies on the floor until a painful tingling sensation enters her legs. At last she is able to stand. She stumbles from the back of the warehouse. A group of goblins working in front give her surprised looks. She keeps walking without returning their stares.

  Arriving at the temple, she demands the Thaumaturgist be notified of her presence. Thirty minutes later Alrik appears, hardly recognizing her in the dirty burlap robe, despite the fact that she is the only cross-breed he has ever seen. He leads her to where they can talk privately.

  “Your father is not in the temple,” says Alrik. “He accompanied the king and his army to a battle against King Red in the south. I will inform him of the situation immediately upon his return, but you need to return to the prison until your Initiate’s Trial is officially over.” She agrees, but asks Alrik for money. It is for food for the sick, she claims

  She returns to the warehouse where she crawled out of her crate a few hours before. She asks the manager to deliver a cart of fruit to the prison. He sees no problem with adding a charitable gift to the regular deliveries and tells her to have it at the warehouse early. Citrus fruit is in season in the south. Myrel buys all the imported oranges she can find and has it brought to the warehouse. The workers who deliver food to the prison recognize her as the cross-breed who works in the prison’s kitchen. No one objects as she walks beside her cart of fruit as it is pushed into the prison courtyard. She offloads a sack of oranges and carries them personally to Cook. “Look, we have oranges,” she says. Everyone is so interested by the fresh fruit that no one seems to notice Myrel has entered the prison from the outside. Her absence for the last day has apparently gone undetected. Cook who is fair by nature sees to it the oranges are distributed to the prisoners.

  The next week Myrel is chopping neeps; the cook approaches and asks in a confidential tone, “Why did you come back?” Myrel explains that Grenab has been unjustly imprisoned, and she was trying to get word to a friend in the temple who could correct the injustice. She came back to the prison because she wanted to complete her Initiate’s Trial. She thanks Cook for not telling the guards she was gone. “As I see it, you are not a prisoner and can leave anytime you like.” Of course, he knows she will fail her Initiate’s Examination if she leaves the prison without the Temple’s permission, but he is the sort to favor the interests of inmates over those in authority. Myrel likes Cook.

  Myrel becomes concerned as days pass and Grenab is not released. Cook says either her friend in the temple has failed or the temple wants Grenab to remain locked up. That is when Myrel again suspected that Alrik is not really looking out for her interests. She, also, considers the possibility than Grenab hasn’t told her the whole truth, and Krage does want him in prison.

  When word enters the prison that King Giforing is back from the war, Myrel is again optimistic that Grenab will soon be released. But days pass and Grenab is still locked up. Myrel worries and Grenab becomes restless. “I’m thinking ‘bout escaping,” he declars. “Maybe I could get out the same way you did.” Myrel agrees to help, but they have to wait for more crates and trash to accumulate. While Grenab waits, a rumor circulates through the prison that there was a coup and Lord Lizardthroat has seized the throne.

  Cook suggests Myrel obtain information about political activities in the city from the deliverymen. Of course, they don’t know anything about activities inside the temple, but for a price they agree to find someone with answers. The next morning, Ghent, one of the temple guards, arrives with the morning delivery. He recognizes Myrel and shares what he knows. “A few days ago, Lord Lizardthroat attacked the palace. A few of the royal guard were killed. The coup was largely unopposed. The king and his family are under house arrest. The nobles and the army were quick to support Melkerei. Apparently, the coup triggered an internal dispute among the clerics. In the end they supported Melkerei. The Thaumaturgist is now under house arrest for supporting the king. Alrik is running the temple.”

  “What was the reason for the coup?” asks Cook.

  “I think Melkerei just wants to be king,” replies the guard, but the reason given is that the King Giforing has placed the kingdom in danger by allowing the Thaumaturgist to hide King Red’s queen in the temple.”

  Myrel pays the guard for his information and. asks his help in entering the temple without attracting attention. Ghent agrees when the time comes he would look the other way for the right compensation.

  During the night, Myrel is awakened by the sound of her cell door opening. A silhouette stands in the door. It is too dark to identify the intruder, but she recognizes his voice. “I thought ye might be wantin’ some company,” slurs the warden, Taat Coinchewer.

  Myrel knows what he wants and resolves not to give it to him. “I bring ye something nice.” He steps into the chamber and hands her a wool robe. It will be a lot warmer than what ye got.”

  Myrel thanks him. Coinchewer slurs, “Try it. ‘and me your old robe an’ I’ll ‘ave it cleaned.

  Myrel doen’t want to disrobe in front of him, not even in the dark. “I think I will wash before I put on the new robe. There is a room in the kitchen where I can bathe.”

  “Since I did somethin’ nice for ye, it be right
ye repay me,” replies the warden. Myrel feel his rough hand caress her shoulder.

  Myrel thrusts the robe back at him saying, “You are right, of course. I must return your gift. It is a violation of temple rules to accept gifts in exchange for favors.”

  “No need to be hasty, my sweet. There be no need anyone should ever know about our friendship.”

  “It is enough that I would know,” Myrel responds with a tinge of panic in her voice. She shoves the warden’s hand off her shoulder.

  Suddenly, Myrel feels a strong hand wrap around her waist and a second tear at her robe. Myrel tries to pull free of the shorter goblin, but he kicks her legs out from under her, and she falls heavily to the ground with her assailant on top of her. She screams. The warden struggles to push her legs apart, but the large cross-breed is surprisingly strong. He begins hitting her on the side of her head to quiet her a bit.

  Myrel feels her strength ebbing. He presses his mouth against her lips. She smells his foul breath, a result of rotten teeth, ale and garlic. She renews her struggle. With a free hand she reaches for his face. She feels the patch he wore over his right eye and then, finding his left eye, shoves her thumb into the socket in an attempt to pop the globe. The warden howls in pain and slams his fist into her face several times. Myrel loses consciousness.

  ***

  Myrel awakes to find the warden lying beside her on his back. Blood trickles from his head onto the stone floor. Alexia is standing over him with a lamp in one hand and a club in the other. In the flickering light, Myrel catches a look of satisfaction on Alexia’s face. “I have waited for this pig to assault you. He attacked me on the night I arrived in the prison. I wasn’t as lucky as you. No one came to my aid. I have waited vigilantly every night since. I knew that eventually this beast would be back, and I would have my revenge.”

  Myrel stands. The effort is painful. She is sore all over and her nose and lip are bleeding. “I’m sorry, Alexia, for the crime he committed against you, but now we have a pressing problem. The warden is dead; his skull is caved. We must decide what we are going to do. It is fool hearty to tell the guards that he attacked us and we killed him in self-defense. The authorities will not tolerate, for any reason, violence directed against a prison warden.”

  Alexia answers, “Our best chance is to return to the temple tonight.” The temple clerics will protect us.”

  “It was the temple clerics that put us here in the first place. We can expect no help from them. If we leave tonight, the authorities will know we killed the warden. We will eventually be caught and put to death. We must think of a way to hide our crime and go about our daily routines as if nothing has happened,” Myrel schemes. She and Alexia carry the dead warden to a storage room. It is possible to reach the room without passing through the inner gates that lead to the cells of the prisoners. They bury the corpse under bags of potatoes. In the morning before rigor mortis fully develops, they stuff the warden into a small wooden crate and seal it tightly. They hope to smuggle the crate out of the prison before the body putrefies and draws attention to the crate’s contents.

  The days go by and no one mentions that the warden is missing. Grenab is still a prisoner and is growing more desperate. Word reaches the prison that the Duke of Uisgebeatha has retaken his island. Myrel hasn’t even heard that the island fell.

  Myrel can detect the unmistakable smell of decaying flesh when she passes near the crate where the body is encased. The crate now stands stacked amongst the trash to be delivered to the city’s dump; she hears Cook complain that the trash smells and must be delivered to the dump the next morning. When the body is at last removed from the prison, the conspirators set the time for their escape. Grenab will leave via a second crate. Myrel and Alexia load him on to a cart while Cook pretends not to notice what they are up to. Myrel and Alexia walk out the front door that afternoon. They aren’t prisoners and can leave whenever they choose. They don’t care if their instructors find out. They are leaving no matter what the consequences.

  Chapter 15

  Neu Ardonbrae, Holy Mountain:

  Myrel and Alexia recover Grenab from the city’s dump and pull him from the crate. He follows Myrel and Alexia to the temple’s delivery entrance. Myrel pays Ghent, the guard, the amount asked for and the trio enter.Their mission is to find Krage. They don’t know whom they can trust.

  Myrel heads for a small storeroom that opens onto a corridor. “According to the map I found in the catacombs there is a secret passage in this room.” Examining the walls, she finds nothing.

  Grenab strikes the wall with a heavy board he collects off the floor. “There is definitely a hollow place behind this wall, but how can we access it?” Planks cover the wall from floor to ceiling. One plank seems loose, but it is anchored both at the top and the bottom. Grenab gives up trying to pry the plank from the wall and instead slides it toward the ceiling. The plank moves up a couple of inches, enough to allow Grenab to insert his hand under the board and swing it into the room to reveal a corridor behind the wall. Myrel crawls in first. The passage is narrow but high enough to stand. So far so good, she thinks.

  The passage follows a flight of stairs up several levels. They climb until they are facing a second wall of planks. Using the same trick, Grenab lifts and rotates a plank into the space beyond. They enter a storage room—the companion to the one below. Myrel leaves the room and enters the corridor. Grenab and Alexia hang back. They are to come to Myrel’s assistance if she is stopped. Myrel walks to the door of her parents’ apartment. There is a guard at the door, indicating that at least one parent is inside.

  Myrel has no plan. “Good, evening,” Myrel greets the guard. “Alrik sent me to inquire if the queen has any female issues I can help her with, if you understand my meaning.” The guard looks confused, but steps aside.

  The queen heard the door open and close. Another treacherous priest, she thinks. She walks toward the entrance hall ready to throw the intruder out when she is startled to see her daughter. “Myrel, you are the last person I expected to see.” Her mother notes her thin frame and facial bruises, but says nothing.

  Myrel embraces her mother “I have been working in the prison. When I heard that the king had been deposed, I had to come. Tell me everything.”

  “Ten days ago there was a knock at the door. When I opened it, six secret police entered and seized your father. They said they were detaining all King Giforing’s henchmen. They took him away and put a guard at my door. They will not let me leave the apartment, and they will not tell me what they have done with Krage.”

  Myrel told her what she has heard. “Lord Lizardthroat deposed the king on the grounds that by allowing you to take refuge in the temple, he has brought on two wars and endangered the kingdom. I also heard that Alrik is now in charge of the temple.”

  “Lord Lizardthroat will send me back to King Red,” surmises the queen.

  “What about father? Will Alrik become the new Thaumaturgist?”

  “Let us hope not,” the queen replies. “That can happen only if Krage dies and leaves no heir.”

  “Mother, I should not stay here. I know a place where I can hide. I will snoop around and endeavor to discover where they are holding father. Do you have any food, water, blankets, and lamps you can give me?”

  Myrel leaves the apartment. “What have you in your bag,” the guard asks suspiciously. Myrel opens it and shows him the robe and blankets on top. “The queen requests her laundry washed. Alrik told me to humor her whims.” The guard is holding a spear in one hand and a shield in the other and doesn’t search deeper. Myrel decides this guard is not the sharpest wit in Melkerei’s army and tries her luck with small talk. “Do you have to stand here all the time holding that shield or do they let you off to eat and sleep?”

  “It’s not so bad; it’s four hours on and four off. I have a bunk and plenty of food,” he explains.

  “When do you think Lord Lizardthroat will move the queen?”

  “Hard to say. It takes
a while to get a message to King Red, but I think a reply will probably come in a few days, and then I expect to escort the queen all the way to the border.”

  “You don’t sound like you are looking forward to the trip.”

  “Escorting the queen is job enough, but if the Thaumaturgist goes too, it will be more dangerous. Not everyone is in favor of turning the Thaumaturgist over to King Red.”

  “Do you think the Thaumaturgist will be in shape to travel? I heard he was hurt in the coup.”

  “No, he didn’t receive a scratch. As far as I know, he is fed regularly, the same as the queen.”

  “Well, good luck with the queen. My name is Myrel. Maybe we can talk some more the next time I come.” Myrel heads down the corridor and turns a corner to where her co-conspirators wait.

  Myrel guides her companions to the scriptorium. She lights a lamp, and they slip into the storage room and climb the staircase. She shows them the latch to the altar lid. “Grenab, disable this lock. We need an escape route.” Except for the dead, the catacombs are empty. Myrel retrieved the map from the sarcophagus. “Let us plot how we might use the secret passages to reconnoiter the temple.” They note all the locations on the map where Krage might be held and decide to concentrate on the domain of the priests.

  Myrel presents her plan as they eat a little bread. “From what the guard told me, food is being prepared for Queen Meriem and Krage. Grenab, I want you to hang around the queen’s apartment and follow whoever brings her breakfast back to the kitchen. Then, in the evening follow whoever leaves the kitchen and heads in a different direction. Hopefully, they will lead you to Krage.”

  Alexia realizes, “The secret passages were built as escape routes designed to take one out of the temple and into the volcano’s deep interior.”