Boliver raised an eyebrow, still looking dubious.
“The skull man will stay here with us,” Direfang commanded. “Only the wizard goes. Another reason for him to return, loyalty to his friend.” He glanced at Mudwort, seeking some approval of his strategy.
“Already told you, Direfang,” she huffed. “The wizard will come back. The wizard will arrange passage and lots of food.” She touched her ragged tunic. “And clothes, Grallik. Passage and food and clothes. Make sure that you bring a lot of clothes.”
“These blue gems will buy those things.” He gently shook the pouches.
“Yes, clothes,” Horace agreed. He had silently joined them, the priest’s bare chest glistening. The water on his face had dried, leaving behind traces of salty white powder. “I should be the one who goes into the town, you know. I am more familiar with ships and sailors-and with contracts. I am certain-”
“But the wizard is willing to go,” Direfang said. “And he has the best reasons to return. Mudwort believes that.”
“Indeed,” Grallik said. He drew his head back and watched a V of birds flying east toward the mountains. “I will go right away. Perhaps I will be able to return by this evening,” Grallik said. “If I have managed to find suitable ships by then.”
Direfang growled. “Need those ships right away, wizard.”
Grallik shook his head. “I said I would bring the ships to you, but I don’t think that’s a wise thing to do in daylight. First I’ll make the arrangements.” His gaze swept over the many goblins who still bobbed in the shallows. “Too many ships on the sea then, too many eyes in that port. You will have to trust my judgment.”
Direfang snorted but said nothing.
“Meanwhile,” suggested Horace, following Grallik’s eyes, “perhaps we should retreat to the cover of trees.”
Boliver spoke up harshly. “No. Leave the goblins in the sea while the Gray Robe is gone. Leave them in as long as they can stand it, Foreman Direfang. Until their skin looks withered like prunes and they can’t feel their toes. Let us hope the water washes away the plague. But they are happy now. Let them be happy. Leave them in until ships come this way and force them to hide.”
“Yes, happy goblins,” said Mudwort, who was already tired of their tedious discussion. “That is good.”
Direfang nodded, looking over toward Saro-Saro, who still refused to enter the water. He was closer at that time and couldn’t help but notice that the goblin had a black spot on the underside of one arm, and a bump was forming on his neck.
GRALLIK’S DAY IN PORT
Grallik weathered the hostile stares of Saro-Saro’s clan as he headed to the shore and turned west, toward the town in the distance. As he approached, he could see that the town was larger than he first thought, built on a low hill and apparently sectioned into estates. The harbor was extensive, and so many dozens of masts stood out against the sky that Grallik did not try to count all the ships.
He was pleased for the opportunity to leave the smelly, noisy horde of goblins behind for a while. That was his first taste of freedom since joining Direfang’s army.
He pulled off his boots and walked barefoot in the sand. His sore feet still ached and were riddled with blisters that he doubted would ever fully heal. After half a mile he threw the well-worn boots into the sea. The uncut gems in the pouches would buy him the best boots in the town-would buy him anything.
He couldn’t help but smile.
Another man, even Horace no doubt, would have absconded with the gems and booked passage on a ship, fled the damnable goblins, whose number seemed to multiply at every turn, leaving them all behind, stranded at the mouth of the river. Horace might even believe that Zeboim had gifted him with the gems and freedom. But Mudwort was right. She knew Grallik would return, hoping she would share her magic. And because Direfang trusted Mudwort, the wizard had been given the task and allowed that blissful time alone.
“I really should leave them all,” he mused. “Forget the magic the little red goblin casts. Live like a prince.” But he knew he would do as he had promised. Magic meant more to him than the gems. And the magic that Mudwort practiced was priceless.
“Where did that goblin get all of these gems?” Reorx’s Cradle, of course, he realized, thinking it over. No one in Steel Town possessed such valuables. And she had more. Grallik had seen the two other pouches at her waist. “That little monster has a fortune.”
Away from the goblins, the air smelled better; it was salt-tinged from the sea and redolent of fish. The sea air was such a welcome change that Grallik breathed as deeply as he could.
The early sky was empty of clouds and growing bluer as the sun peeked farther over the horizon. The breeze was faint and came from the west, bringing with it a hint of baking bread. The wizard’s stomach rumbled.
“New boots,” he said. “A warm meal and wine. New clothes and … clothes …”
He examined his threadbare undertunic, which was stained, ripped, and bloody. His hair was matted and filthy, and the stubble on his face was thick. If, looking like that, he approached any shopkeeper in whatever passed for the town’s merchant district, if he sought out any ship’s captain, any sane person would think him a beggar. If he presented even a single gem to buy something, they would most certainly declare him a thief, call the watch, and throw him in a dungeon. They would confiscate the fortune he carried.
“A raggedy, raggedy man I am,” he said, almost merrily, thinking over the problem. “Whatever to do about it?”
He skirted the waterfront and slipped down an alley between a rickety tavern and a bait shop. He hugged the wall and waited, his mind whirling. He smelled garbage; enough of it was piled outside the tavern’s side door. But he also smelled cinnamon, and he scanned the street beyond and spotted a bakery. Again his stomach growled. It hadn’t taken him long to walk there, and it was still so early that not many people were walking around. Behind him, toward the dock, sailors and fishermen had begun working on their boats, and smaller ships were putting out to sea. But toward the heart of the city, people were just waking up-or still slept.
Grallik waited.
Minutes later a merchant strolled past the corner where he was crouched, and the wizard was quick to act.
“Good sir!” Grallik remained tucked in the alley but reached out a hand and motioned to the stranger.
The merchant stopped and stared, made a move to keep going, then held his place when he saw Grallik hold up something that caught the light.
“I’ll part with this gem for some coins, good sir.”
The merchant edged closer, gazing down the street to his right and left, then looking back toward Grallik and peering behind him to make sure no one else hid, waiting in the alley.
“I’ve need of some coins, good sir.” Grallik didn’t have to work very hard to get an edge of desperation in his voice. “Help me out. I beg you.”
The merchant’s eyes gleamed. Greed, Grallik recognized. Finally, the man came close, and Grallik handed him one of the smaller gemstones.
“How did you come by this?” The merchant stared. “A sapphire.”
“Yes, it is a sapphire. I’ve more.” Grallik stepped deeper into the alley where the shadows were especially thick.
The merchant hesitated only a moment then followed Grallik. A few minutes later, Grallik was donning the merchant’s jacket and trousers and shoving the man’s singed body behind the mound of tavern refuse in the alley. Flies, momentarily disturbed, were quick to swarm anew. Grallik put on the merchant’s boots, finding them tight and hurtful. He clutched the man’s coin pouch and jangled it.
“A fairly wealthy man, were you?” The jacket was of fine material, yet it was old; the same for the trousers. “You should have spent some of your coin on clothes.” Grallik adjusted the shirt and closed the jacket over a burned patch on the chest; Grallik had been forced to aim his fire spell at the man’s heart. He looked inside the pouch. “My, my. This will certainly do. You wouldn’t spend your coins on clothes, but I will.” The merchant had a cap, so Grallik put it on and tucked his filthy hair up and under.