Cyrion Page 9

  “Okay, that settles the question,” Saul said, a wistful expression on his face. “There’s definitely something wrong with them.”

  “Pigeon berries can make you sick.” Anya nodded at the row of outhouses standing next to the guardhouse.

  “Does Jaelyn know?” Jon battled his conscience. His conscience won a partial victory. “Should we warn him? How sick would those cookies make him, exactly? On a scale of one to ten?”

  “Eleven,” Anya said, her face thunderous. “Jaelyn’s not a nice person. I vote not to tell him.”

  “Here we are,” Naeem said in a cheerful, singsong voice as he pulled open the door. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t take too long.”

  They entered the small, shabby guardhouse adjoining the lock-up and ran into Jaelyn. His face still bore traces of his most recent encounter with Greta, as well as a lingering scent of fish. Naeem motioned the trio to go on ahead while he began to engage Jaelyn. Jon heard his Grandpa’s soothing voice greet him and then make gentle apologies, while he and his best friends made their way to the annex where the cells were located.

  “Amsry! Amsry!” the goblin said in a high, squeaky voice.

  “That’s him.” Jon cocked his head as he frowned and peered at the small, shabby creature clutching the bars of his cell with small, grubby hands. “I think?”

  The little mouse jumped up from under Anya’s collar to her shoulder, to get a better view.

  This goblin was shorter and much thinner than the goblins they previously encountered. One of his front tusks was broken. Underneath the dirt and grime, Jon could make out a multitude of scratches and bruises. The goblin did not seem capable of savaging a guinea pig.

  “I know he’s just a goblin,” Anya’s voice softened with pity. “But those Knights weren’t very kind to him, were they?”

  The goblin saw Anya and gasped. He then fell to his knees and stretched his arms out through the bars, pleading.

  “The MataPerak. Amsry. Amsry, MataPerak,” he said.

  “Amsry? Amnesty?” Jon said, turning to Saul.

  “Emissary?” Saul said, turning to Jon.

  “Yes.” The goblin nodded, his desperation, obvious. “MataPerak, Amsry.”

  “MataPerak.” Saul turned to Anya. “The goblin officer called you the same thing. He didn’t talk like this one though.”

  Ptuh! The goblin spat. “Him D’hibuk. Him officer. Him ptuh,” the goblin spat again.

  Jon raised his eyebrows. “I guess they don’t get along.”

  “Him, officer. Him D’hibuk. Me, G’hanjl. Me no officer,” G’hanjl said, a pleading expression in yellowed eyes. “You is big fat Watchers, yes? You is to be with the MataPerak. You is to be goodings, yes? Fat, strong Watchers you is, yes?” G’hanjl said.

  “We’re not Watchers, G’hanjl. And we’re not fat,” Saul said.

  “Not Watchers?” G’hanjl sounded disappointed. “But you is so fat with strongness. And you is with MataPerak. Maybe you still to be helpings G’hanjl,” G’hanjl said, a look of grim determination on his face. “G’hanjl friends and family to be very much not happy, to be very much hunger. They is to be dying. Please, MataPerak. Please to be helpings G’hanjl friends and family. Please, to be saving them.”

  “Who’s hurting them, G’hanjl?” Anya said.

  “D’hibuk friends and family ptuh to be making us not happy. G’hanjl is wanting G’hanjl friends and family to be comings here. This place is to be much fatness, much eatings, much happy, yes?”

  “Still not getting the fat reference,” Saul said.

  Anya pursed her lips. “I think ‘fatness’ means ‘plenty of’?”

  “Yes. But is not to be imp…improt…” G’hanjl lost patience with himself. “G’hanjl is to be dumb. G’hanjl is to be bad Amsry. Bad, bad, bad,” he said, hitting himself on the head.

  “No, stop it,” Saul said. “You’re doing fine.” He grabbed both G’hanjl’s scrawny arms through the bars. “How can we help?”

  “Help get G’hanjl friends and family here.” Tears leaked from his yellow eyes. “To be getting them to where they is no longer to be hurtings by officers. Please?”

  Jon noticed the goblin did not spit that time.

  “But aren’t your officers goblins too?” Jon asked.

  “Them is to be officers. We is not to be. Them is not to be us. Soon, them is to be eatings us, maybe. The goblin homeland is not to be full of fatness, like here. Homeland is not to be much eatings.”

  “Is that why you took the villagers? To eat them?” Saul asked, stepping back from G’hanjl’s cell in horror.

  “G’hanjl is not to be knowings. G’hanjl is to be stupid. To be scaredings all the time. And G’hanjl is to be much, much tired-ed of things. Them officers is to be sayings to be takings G’hanjl’s sister.” G’hanjl clawed at his face.

  “G’hanjl, you’re not stupid,” Anya said. “You’re very brave to come here.”

  “We’ll help you.” Saul turned to his friends. “Well, we have to. They’re planning to eat his sister!”

  “No one’s arguing,” Anya said. “But we have to get him past Jaelyn.” She paused for a moment, and then a delighted smile dawned on her face. “The pigeon berries…”

  “And the Slayer can get the lock on the cell door,” Jon said.

  “But,” Saul said, “how do we get from here all the way to the Northern wastes? Undetected?”

  “G’hanjl knows. G’hanjl knows way. Secret way. But is to be needings key.”

  “Can this open it?” Jon showed G’hanjl the Slayer.

  G’hanjl took the dagger and peered closely at it, twisting the weapon this way and that in the dim cell. He even spat on it, and watched his spittle trail its slimy way down to the tip of the blade. G’hanjl then shook his head in sadness, and returned the blade to Jon.

  “This is to be magic dagger, yes. But, to be saddings, blade is to be openings only simple locks. Secret way is to be needings magic key.”

  “Well,” Jon said. “What’s the key? Perhaps we can ask Grampa. Or research it in the study.”

  “Magic key is to be stone. Is to be special stone.”

  “Special how?” Saul asked. “I mean, can you describe it?” He tightened his grip on G’hanjl’s arms, in case the goblin decided to punish himself further.

  “Is to be smallings. Is to be darking green, and is to have…to have…” G’hanjl’s breathing grew harsh with frustration at his own inability to find the words.

  “G’hanjl,” Anya said. “Breathe. It’s okay. Take your time.”

  She modeled deep, slow breathing for the agitated goblin. G’hanjl tried to imitate Anya. Little by little, he gradually grew calmer.

  “Now, try again. It’s a small, green stone, and…?” Anya prompted.

  “Is to be having little blood in it.”

  “Real blood?” Saul asked, horrified.

  Anya smacked Saul’s arm as G’hanjl started to become agitated again.

  “Shh….” She glared at a shame-faced Saul. “Breathe…Okay.” She nodded at the battered goblin. “Try again.”

  “Is to be lookings like to be having little blood inside.”

  “So it looks like it has a little blood in it,” Jon said.

  “Yes. Please, you is to be helping?”

  “Yes, G’hanjl. We’ll help you,” Anya said.

  She looked to them for confirmation. He and Saul affirmed her statement without hesitation.

  “Children! Ready to go?” Naeem called from the guardhouse.

  “Coming, Grampa,” Jon said. “G’hanjl, we have to go now. But we will be back. Tonight.”

  He turned to his two friends. They nodded their agreement.

  “The sooner the better,” Anya said. “There’s no telling how long the grumps’ deadlock will last.”

  Jon turned back to the goblin “No more hurting yourself, understand? We will be back. We’ll get you out tonight.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE KIDNAPPINGr />
  Dinner was a sumptuous, but subdued, affair. The diners mostly picked at their meal in silence. The grumps seemed guilt-ridden, reluctant to meet the children’s eyes. The children were, at least initially, too afraid of giving themselves away to fully relax and enjoy the meal.

  Greta took their reaction to her culinary efforts rather poorly. First, she asked pointed questions about how they found the food. She escalated to grumbling about how thin they all were and how they really should eat more. The grumps exchanged discreet, horrified glances at each other when Greta finally threatened to get her rope, tie them down, and then spoon-feed everyone at the table by force. She settled back into her chair, apparently satisfied, when the grumps began to eat faster.

  After a dessert of pound cake served with fresh cream and a medley of macerated summer berries, the children helped Greta clean up. The grumps retreated to their bedrooms upstairs complaining, when safely out of Greta’s earshot, of having eaten too much. After Greta declared her satisfaction at their efforts, the trio made their way out of the spacious kitchen towards Naeem’s study.

  “Are you sure she didn’t put pigeon berries in the cake?” Saul asked.

  The dun mouse on Anya’s shoulder gave a soft squeak as she scratched its ears. “Yes, I’m sure,” Anya said, rolling her eyes.

  Jon rubbed his belly. “Because, you know, my tummy feels kind of funny too.”

  “Possibly because you ate six helpings of everything between the two of you,” Anya said, a note of disgust in her voice.

  “I’m also feeling kind of sleepy.”

  “Me too,” Jon said.

  Anya opened the study door. “Well, I doubt we have time for a nap.”

  Naeem rose from his soft leather armchair, his customary smile lurking on his bearded face. “Ah, children.”

  “Grampa, we—”

  Naeem broke eye contact and glanced at the ceiling.

  Jon nodded. The grumps are upstairs.

  Naeem’s smile widened as he rubbed his left earlobe.

  And they might be listening.

  Naeem pushed his reading glasses up his nose. “Did you all get enough to eat?”

  “Yes, Grampa Naeem, we did,” Anya said. “Thank you for asking.”

  Saul yawned. “Yeah, I think I ate too much. Now I want to sleep.”

  “Before you turn in,” Naeem said, “I’d like you think about the terms of the agreement you made yesterday. Breaking a promise to the Watchers is serious business.” He looked at the three of them, in turn, over the reading glasses perched on his nose. “I need to impress upon you three that the consequences of you, Anya, willingly leaving the city limits are dire.”

  He walked towards an ornate wooden bureau standing next to the open study window.

  “Now Jon, I have an early Nameday present for you.” Naeem pulled open a drawer and took out a small box. “Something which used to be mine in fact.” He took out a stone pendant hanging on a slender platinum snake chain and placed it around Jon’s neck.

  “What is this, Grampa?” Jon cocked his head and examined the pendant. No bigger than his thumbnail, the pendant was heavy for its size. Jon peered closer at the gem. It was an opaque, moss green stone, shaped like a teardrop and stippled with streaks of crimson.

  “It’s a bloodstone pendant. Your grandmother had the matching stone, set in a ring. When the time comes, you can give your grandmother’s ring, if you want, to your wife.”

  “Grampa…” Jon’s face flushed as he squirmed in embarrassment.

  Saul and Anya snickered.

  “I want you to promise to keep this on you. Especially if you think you’ll find yourself…out of our reach. This is important, Jon. Promise me.”

  “I promise, Grampa.”

  “If or when you want my help, I need you to hold the stone like so,” Naeem held the bloodstone with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. “Then you say: ‘Blood to blood, I need you. Blood from blood, I call you.’ Can you remember that?”

  “And you’ll come, Grampa?”

  “Only if you say the phrase right.” Jon heard an odd note in his voice. Jon jerked his head up, to study Grampa Naeem’s face. He saw a strange expression he could not quite place in Grampa Naeem’s eyes. He was about to ask his grandfather about it when Naeem turned away.

  “As for the two of you.” Naeem said to Saul and Anya, “The spell only works if Jon knows the words. So make sure he remembers.”

  “We will,” Anya said.

  “Well, good night, children.” Naeem gave all three of them a tight hug, which lasted a little bit longer than usual.

  The trio made their way to Anya’s bedroom upstairs. Jon heard the grumps snoring through their closed bedroom doors, and wondered if the snores were genuine. Perhaps the grumps hadn’t been eavesdropping after all. Jon closed the door behind him with a gentle snick. He then sat on the floor, facing his friends.

  “So we wait?” Saul stretched and yawned.

  “Yes,” Jon said.

  Saul reached back to Anya’s bed and snagged a feather pillow. “So we do have time for a nap?”

  Jon thought for a moment. “No.”

  He watched Saul cuddle Anya’s pillow, a pout on his friend’s face. “There is something we should do in the meantime.”

  Jon turned to Anya who was playing with the tiny dun mouse on her lap. “We’re going to need some paper, ink and a quill. Can you get them from the study without waking the grumps?”

  She nodded, put the mouse on her shoulder, and left.

  “What do you have in mind?” Saul sat up, setting Anya’s pillow to the side.

  “Grampa said that Anya can’t leave willingly. So I thought we should leave the grumps a note, telling them that we forced her to come with us.”

  Saul snorted, shook his head, and leaned back on his elbow, legs outstretched. “There’s no way they’d believe that.”

  “So not the point. The point is that the only proof they’d have of what happened is she’s been taken.”

  “Taken?” Anya asked as she re-entered the room. She was carrying a sheet of paper and a small pot of ink. The mouse perched on her shoulder held a grey goose feather quill in its front paws.

  “We need to give the grumps a reason to think that we kidnapped you.” Jon smoothed the paper on the wooden bedroom floor.

  “So his plan,” Saul said, his eyebrow arched, “is to write them a note.”

  “Would they believe that?”

  “Maybe not,” Jon said. “But they’ll want to. Can anyone think of anything else we can do?” He studied each of his friends in turn.

  Saul and Anya remained silent.

  “All right. Someone else needs to write this, though. My handwriting’s pretty awful.”

  Saul sat up, took the quill from the mouse, and dipped it in the pot of ink. He began to write, the tip of his tongue peeking out from between his lips.

  Dear Grumps and Gramps,

  “Wait,” Jon said. “You can’t call them those names.”

  “I’m not going to spell out everyone’s names, am I?” Saul said, frowning. The grey goose feather quill, still poised and ready, dripped fat drops of black ink from its sharpened nib onto the parchment. “I’ll run out of space.”

  “Just keep going,” Anya said.

  Like your rulebook says, me, Jon and Anya are going on a qwest to prove we can be Watchers. Grampa Naeem can tell you where it says so in the book.

  “That’s going to get Grampa in trouble.”

  “What can they do to him?” Saul dipped the quill into the pot for more ink. “Anyway, we never actually told him what we’re going to do. S’not like he can read minds.”

  Anya rolled her eyes. “Just go on.”

  We are going to rescue Gun-jeel’s family and friends from per percus

  Saul turned to his friends. “How do you spell ‘persecution’?”

  “I don’t know,” Jon said.

  Anya growled. Saul darted a look at her face, then quickly
returned to the ink-splattered parchment.

  persekewshen. We will be back as soon as possible.

  Gun-jeel is the goblin.

  Love,

  Saul, Jon and Anya.

  “Done,” Saul said, a triumphant smile on his lips.

  Jon sighed. “The most important part?”

  “Oh yeah. I forgot.” Saul bent over the parchment again.

  P/S: We kidnapped Anya. We had to fight her a bit.

  “Oh great. Now we hit girls?” Jon said.

  “I said only a bit.” Saul surveyed around Anya’s neat, pink bedroom. “I think maybe we should mess up the room. To make it look like we really fought.”

  “Quietly though,” Anya said. “Don’t want to wake up the grumps.”

  Anya pulled off the light summer duvet and left it in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed. Saul took a small wooden stool and pulled off one of its legs. He winced at the sound it made when the wood snapped. Jon threw Anya’s pillows to random corners of the room.

  Saul surveyed the scene, arms akimbo. “I think that’s messy enough.”

  “Now, the last part,” Jon said. He picked up the pewter candleholder and blew out the candle. Darkness shrouded the little pink room. Anya placed the still damp letter on the barren bed, denuded of all its covers, where it was sure to be found. She weighed the parchment down with the candleholder.

  “Anya,” Saul said, his hand on her shoulder, “consider yourself kidnapped. Now let’s go before they catch us.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE JAILBREAK

  The trio made their way through the house and down the stairs. They were headed for the storeroom beside the kitchen, where Jon knew the grumps stowed their packs, when he noticed three backpacks lying on the wooden kitchen table. He grabbed Saul’s shoulders and motioned towards them. Jon walked over to the table and examined the packs.

  They were bigger than the packs he and Saul usually carried. Much bigger. Hemp ropes were coiled on each side and some kind of animal fur bundled on the top. He put the new pack on and realized that it was also heavier than his old pack. Much heavier.

  After his friends equipped their packs, he gave them a nod, and then headed for the backdoor. They tiptoed past the chicken coop, holding their breaths, so as not to wake the roosting hens. The trio made it out onto the street undetected. Jon turned the key and re-locked the side gate.