“Gobleck isn’t hard to learn, if you have a decent teacher,” Gabrielle replied. “I learned it years ago from one of the goblin commanders who can speak the Proper Kingdom Language.”
“I think Thistle was more asking about why you speak it,” Eric clarified.
“Because things would be really boring if I didn’t? Sometimes, it’s two or three weeks between when they kidnap me and when the adventurers would arrive for the rescue. That’s a lot of downtime, and the goblins only let me pack so many books when they would kidnap me.”
“They let you pack?” Eric asked, certain his ears had deceived him like the vile villains they were.
“They did once I explained to them that it would make my downtime more pleasant. Don’t get me wrong, they make a point of teaching me things about the forest and taking me on hunts, but they’ve got real things to do and can’t spend all day defending me from boredom.”
“It’s pleasing to know we have such kind hosts,” Thistle said, jumping in before Eric asked any more questions that might ultimately give the young man a stroke. “Any chance they’d let us out of the cages once we arrive at their war camp?”
“I don’t think so. If it were just me, certainly, but since they don’t know you all, I get the feeling they’re trying to keep up appearances. They didn’t even bring my usual horse for me to ride.”
“She has her own horse,” Eric muttered, slinking down against the firm, yet pliable, wooden bars of his moving cell. “I once stayed up for thirty hours straight to guard her door because we heard goblins were in the area, and she has her own horse she rides away on.”
“Riverjump is not my horse,” Gabrielle defended. “She’s just one I like, and who knows me. Bringing her makes the whole process easier on everyone.”
“Gabby, I think perhaps we should let Eric be for a bit,” Thistle encouraged. “About how far would you say we are from their camp?”
“With no monster encounters, we’ll be there within the hour.”
“Very well. And you, old friend, how are you faring back there?” Thistle called.
Grumph let out a harrumph, which indicated either that he was unharmed and waiting patiently for a new opportunity to arise, or that a sparrow had shit in his porridge.
Thistle nodded that he understood and took a seat across from Eric in the cart. His crooked little mind was already working on a plan for escape; however, it would do no good if his crooked little body was too worn out from standing through the ride. Now was the time to play patient. They would have at least a few days before any more adventurers happened through town. Opportunity would come eventually.
As it turned out, Opportunity had far less patience than Thistle.
The goblin camp was somewhat homier than Thistle had imagined. Certainly, there were bulwarks of defense: archer stations, barriers to trip horses, even a few oddly-colored patches of earth Thistle suspected to be traps. But there were also things that made no sense in this setting, things like goblin children racing around, goblin cooks tending to the night’s evidently sizable dinner, and several goblin musicians warming up their strange instruments as the last valiant rays of sunlight dotted the landscape.
“Gabby, is the camp always so domestic?” Thistle asked. Their cages had been parked next to one another, while Grumph’s sat on the other side of the fire that was the center point of the camp. The goblins had clearly dealt with half-orcs enough to minimize the damage he’d have the opportunity to do.
“No, this is how it is when they aren’t baiting adventurers,” Gabrielle replied. “Once the runner goes out in the morning, they’ll move everyone but the warriors to some other site. Then, once it’s over, they’ll all come back.”
“To what? Corpses?” Eric asked. “Won’t the warriors be dead after they fight the adventurers?”
“What? Why would you think that? This is their home turf, and they know the adventurers are coming. The goblins almost always win, and even if they lose, they’re smart enough to have a retreat plan.”
“Then why do you always come back after the adventurers leave to get you?” Eric kept probing.
“Because they let me go. I’m just bait to lure the adventurers in so they can loot them. Once that’s done, they let me go until they’re ready to trap another party.” Gabrielle looked at him, eyes filled with bewilderment that he’d even needed to ask the question.
“Knock off the innocent act, Gabby,” Thistle chided. “If you really didn’t see anything strange with how you’d been treated, then you’d have told us some of this before.”
“Fine, so maybe the kidnappings weren’t as bad as everyone assumed.” Gabrielle breathed out a heavy sigh and let the faux innocence slide away. “At first, it was scary. But after a while, it’s hard not to find some common ground with people you see every day. Honestly, for the last few years, these events have been like vacations for me, trips outside the protective bubble of being the Mayor of Maplebark’s daughter.”
Eric didn’t know what to say to this, his eyes darting about nervously. As they moved, he saw action in another part of the camp and decided a change of subject was in order.
“Hey, what are they doing over there?”
Gabrielle glanced over. “Oh, it looks like they found an abandoned caravan and are sorting the goods.”
In front of a large building, easily the most hardily-constructed and well-defended in the camp, stood several goblins wearing makeshift armor. Before them were other goblins leading ponies and a cart filled nearly to the brim with bric-a-brac. In the center of the crowd was an older goblin wearing a dirt-brown robe, examining each item as it came off the cart. Some he sent into the building, others were moved to a different spot in the camp, and a few went back on the cart.
“The one in the middle is an elder; he’s tasked with figuring out which pieces of loot have the most value. Those go in the storage building. Bits that are useful, but not expensive, are given out to others in the camp that can use them. The things going back into the cart are for the other scavenger teams to split up, based on who needs what. When they sell the expensive items at market in a few weeks, everyone will get a cut,” Gabrielle explained.
“You’d think the ones who found it would get more,” Eric pointed out.
“Goblins don’t think like that. They regard everyone in the tribe as one big party, and believe in a system of equal treasure sharing,” Gabrielle informed him.
There might have been more discussion of goblin economics, had the elder not chosen that moment to open a small box he’d been handed, revealing a glowing red gem the size of Grumph’s fist. Excited grunts and clicks filled the area around them, many goblins crowding in to get a closer look. From the vantage point of the cage-carts, the three rookie adventurers could make out the soft radiance of presumably magical light and the dazzling red surface. It was only Eric, however, whose eyes noticed the slight swirls of color within the gem, and he didn’t know what to make of it.
“Strange,” Thistle remarked. “If they found an abandoned caravan, one would have expected the people who left it to take such a clearly valuable item.”
“Maybe it was hit by robbers?”
“Robbers who left this much stuff?” Gabrielle said. “I saw them take in small sets of armor and what I suspect was a magical bow earlier. No bandit in their right mind leaves behind equipment like that.”
“They could have been eaten by monsters,” Eric suggested.
“At present, that seems like the most likely option,” Thistle agreed.
Their conversation was cut short by the sound of the door to Thistle and Eric’s cage opening. A pair of goblins stood in the doorway, with several more just outside. The message of “don’t try anything” came through loud and clear before a single click was uttered. Another team of goblins opened the door to Gabrielle’s cage, motioning her to exit with far kinder expression.