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stew reached him, and his mouth started to water.
"Hello." He smiled tentatively. No use being on bad terms with the gaoler who brought food. "It looks like a
nice evening out there."
"Humph." The soft snort was her only response. She came forward, set the tray within his reach, and stepped
back quickly. Rabbit stew in a wooden bowl, wooden spoon, bread, and a wooden tankard containing fresh water.
Nothing he could use as a tool or a weapon, unless he wanted to hit her with the tray, which he didn't. He was far too
hungry.
She stood with her arms folded, watching him eat. His attempts at conversation met with no response. Even
his thanks, when he set the tray away from him, went unanswered. She took the tray away and returned with a large clay
pot, whose purpose was obvious. Tobin was grateful that she didn't insist on staying to watch him use it.
When she'd gone, he investigated the room. His chain wouldn't let him reach the windows, but he could still
see parts of a clearing with trees not too far off. The walls were made of stacked sod bricks. He could probably dig
through them with his bare hands, but since the chain kept him prisoner he saw no point in trying.
The ceiling was made of wood planks, supported by thick beams. It was easy to see why they'd attached the
other end of his chain to a ceiling beam; aside from the door and window frames, they were the only wood in the hut.
His bed, which consisted of a rough mattress stuffed with straw, several blankets, and his cloak, was the only furniture.
Tobin sighed and turned his attention to the chain. It was linked to a spike driven deep in the beam. Tobin
grabbed the top of the chain and tried to work the spike back and forth, leaning all his weight on it. It didn't budge. He
might be able to loosen it in about a week.
He sat down and studied the shackle around his ankle. There were hinges on one side and a lock on the other,
but he had no tool that would either break the first or pick the second.
His headache was coming back, but he took advantage of the last of the light to study each link in the chain.
They were as thick as the tip of his little finger and welded solidly.
Tobin sighed again and went to bed. He was exhausted now, and his head throbbed. Perhaps morning would
bring some opportunity to escape.
Morning brought the green-fingered woman with his breakfast. She served him in silence, and he ate again,
uncomfortable under her angry gaze. He was almost finished when he heard a slight scrabbling at one of the windows.
Glancing up, he caught a glimpse of half a tiny face and two wide hazel eyes.
"Be off with you!"
Tobin jumped at the sound of the little woman's voice he'd almost decided she was mute. She hurried out the
door. "Didn't I tell you to leave the human alone? Tadpoles eat your toes!"
Tobin set his food down and went as far as he could toward the window. He couldn't see her, but he heard her
voice scolding, and a childish voice replying.
"Your child?" he asked when she came back for the tray. "I don't mind if they're curious."
"She's not mine. And I do mind." She said it coldly, but at least she'd answered.
"Why?" he pressed on. "All children are curious."
"Not about humans. I don't want them having anything to do with humans, ever!" Bitter passion filled her
voice.
"Have you been injured by humans?" he asked cautiously.
"Aye." There was a world of irony in the soft word. "You might say I've been . . . injured." She met his eyes and
he flinched at her pain. "The only reason I let you live, human, is that the mistress insisted." She picked up the tray and
left then, and he was glad to see her go.
When the knock fell on the door, he was delighted. "Come in, Master Erebus."
The door opened on the little goblin's astonished expression. "How did you know it was me?"
"Because you're the only one who'd knock," Tobin told him. "I'm glad to see you. Come in and sit down. We
can talk."
"Oh, no," said Erebus ruefully. He closed the door and sat carefully, several feet beyond Tobin's reach. "I've
gotten into enough trouble talking to you. Not that I blame you, mind. You have your duties and loyalties, just as I
have mine. But I'm telling you nothing of the mistress or anything else."
"You mean I'll have to rely on my talkative gaoler for information? Thanks a lot."
"Not speaking to you, is she? Well, she's bitter. She has reason."
"Why? Oh, all right, don't tell me. I just hope she's not the one who's fixing the food."
"Oh, Natter wouldn't poison you, if that's what you're thinking. She's a gentle sort, for all her sharp tongue."
"I'll believe that when I see it. Speaking of seeing, I'm going mad in here. Is there some way I could go outside?
Just for a bit of exercise? I'll give my word"
Erebus was shaking his head. "I'll not be taken in by you twice, Sir Tobin. May I call you Tobin? And even if I
could be, others wouldn't. You're going to stay right here until the mistress decides what to do with you."
Tobin rubbed his thumb over the stubble of his beard. "In for a long wait, am I?"
"Sorry, I'm telling you nothing this time."
"Will you at least tell me how Fiddle is? If you're having trouble taking care of him, perhaps I could help?" He
didn't really believe they'd let him out, but it was worth a try.
Erebus' eyes shifted guiltily. "Well, I suppose I could tell you about that. The mistress sent your horse to be
sold."
"Sold!" Tobin's voice spiraled up. "To who? What's happened to him? He could be whipped! Starved! I've got
to "
"Calm yourself," said Erebus serenely. "He won't be abused, he's too valuable. Todd Ah, the mistress' agent
is a tinker. He knows the worth of a good horse."
"But why?"
"The mistress said you'd be less likely to try to escape on foot than on horseback, and "
"But he's my horse! How dare she sell my horse?"
Erebus shrugged. "At least she didn't sell him to the horse eaters. You can always buy him back, if you get free.
Think of it as a small payment for our hospitality."
"But... but..." There was nothing he could do, curse her! And Erebus was right, a horse as good as Fiddle would
be well treated. The humor of it began to strike him protesting wildly at the sale of his horse when his life was
threatened!
Erebus beamed, sensing his change of mood. "Speaking of payment," he continued, "I'd like to get the
information you owe me now." Paper, pen, and ink appeared as if by magic. "About those barbarians . . ."
Outrage warred with humor . . . and lost. Tobin laughed and told him what he wanted to know.
f& f& f&
The next time Tobin heard the scrabbling at the window, he was ready, glancing up cautiously, not wanting to
startle them. But as soon as they saw him looking, the eyes vanished. He heard muffled giggling outside the window,
but it soon faded away.
On the morning of his fourth day of imprisonment, he wakened to the growling of thunder. The sky was gray,
and he couldn't guess the time. He thought it might be late, for he'd worked on loosening the spike far into the night.
The spike was beginning to shift just a little as he pushed and pulled at it. The shackle was turning his skin as green as
Natter's fingers.
Natter seemed disturbed by the weather when she brought his breakfast and nodded absently when he
remarked that the storm would be a bad one.
The thunder grew louder. Tobin had thought the goblins would be busy preparing for the storm and was
astonished when the door opened, revealing a rectangle of writhing dark clouds and a tiny goblin girl, hardly more than
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