What Father Severus had in mind, he didn’t have time to say, for the captain of the guard rapped on the door. The man had changed his shirt, his helmet had been polished, and his beard was trimmed. “Fair Princess, I bid you welcome to Din Guardi. My master, the king, eagerly awaits you,” he cried, giving Ethne a deep bow.
“And the rest of us?” Father Severus said.
“He didn’t mention you,” the captain replied rudely.
“It would be a dire insult to allow Her Highness to go forth without her retinue. Wars have been declared over less.”
Jack admired the monk’s skill. The captain had no idea that Ethne was only the cast-off daughter of the Queen of Elfland. Partholis probably didn’t even remember her. She certainly didn’t recall Ethne’s father. Yet Father Severus had given the impression that she was cherished and that an army existed.
He didn’t lie. He’d merely said, Wars have been declared over less and let the captain draw his own conclusions. It didn’t hurt, either, that Ethne fairly sparkled with glamour.
“Of course, of course. All of you must come,” said the captain, mesmerized.
An honor guard waited outside. They snapped to attention and followed smartly as the group walked through the halls. Though the storm had gone, the sky was still dark. What little light found its way into the fortress was swallowed up by gloom.
A permanent sadness hangs over this place, Jack thought. He couldn’t imagine Lancelot and his knights making merry here, but perhaps they’d been as thick-skinned as Brutus. Brutus was impervious to atmosphere. Come to think of it, where was that untrustworthy slave? He was the true ruler of Din Guardi, but Jack couldn’t see him ousting Yffi, or even Ratface.
The first time Jack had met King Yffi, he’d been too frightened to observe him closely. Now the boy looked for signs of the ruler’s kelpie ancestry. Yffi was taller and bulkier than his men, and his body filled the gilded throne. His feet were encased in very large boots. What lay inside? Claws? Could the king shift his form? And if he did, what happened to his clothes?
Yffi was swathed from head to toe, and even his head was concealed by a leather helmet that covered his face. The only visible part of him were his eyes, sunk like pebbles in a bowl of oatmeal. The effect was extremely unpleasant.
The creature—Jack couldn’t think of him as a man—must have been cold, for braziers burned all along the walls, making the atmosphere breathless. Sweat ran down the soldiers’ faces and into their beards.
“The Princess Ethne,” announced Father Severus before the captain could speak. A murmur ran round the room.
“Ooh, the pretty thing,” murmured one of the men, who was immediately cuffed by his superior. But it was clear they all thought Ethne was extraordinary. She curtsied and twirled around to bestow her smile on the entire company. The men smiled back, not coarsely as they might have grinned at a tavern wench, but with innocent delight. They might have been boys at a fair on a summer day.
King Yffi’s reaction was more difficult to guess. He gazed at her steadily, and for some reason Jack was reminded of a toad watching a butterfly. “How did you get into my dungeons?” he said at last.
“We came by the Hollow Road,” Father Severus said.
Several men gasped. “That be the way of wraiths,” said the captain. “But you be no wraith, Princess,” he added loyally.
“Wraiths may not cross our borders,” said King Yffi, “yet other things enter by the Low Road.” The king’s eyes were as emotionless as a spider’s. “Some of our prisoners have disappeared from the dungeons. We find their chains empty, though unlocked.”
Jack thought of the Bugaboo and the Nemesis hiding down there in the shadows.
“The Hollow Road is used by many, both fair and foul. We have journeyed from Elfland,” said Father Severus. The reaction was immediate and gratifying. The men knelt before Ethne, and those who were wearing helmets removed them.
She smiled, dazzlingly. There were times when Ethne seemed human. Jack liked her best then. She was endearing and oddly familiar, though he couldn’t think why. There were times when she was fully the daughter of Queen Partholis, such as now. She radiated glamour, and not one of Yffi’s men could withstand it.
“An elf maiden! I should have known!” cried the captain. “Such beauty could not be mortal.”
“I saw elves dance on the green when I was a lad,” a grizzled old warrior declared. “Makes me feel young to think of it.”
“I heard them singing,” another said wistfully. “I lay out all night in the dew and nearly caught my death of cold. But it was worth it.”
“Silence! All of you!” roared King Yffi. The men scrambled to their feet and jammed on their helmets. “This fortress is under siege, and all who enter unannounced are suspect. Why didn’t she come by the front gate?”
“Well, you see, Your Majesty, that’s a bit difficult with the Hedge,” began the man who had listened to the elves singing.
“Silence! She crept in like a thief. How do you know she’s not planning an invasion?”
“She could invade my house anytime,” said the man.
“Guards! Take this fool out and give him six of the best. No, make that twelve of the best. Any questions?”
“No, sir. No, Your Majesty. Not a word,” muttered the men as two burly guards dragged the unfortunate soldier away.
“You’ve been far too comfortable,” the king said to his men. “You spend your days drinking and gambling and have grown careless. We invaded this fortress from below. Others could do the same. Elves, kelpies, hobgoblins—”
“Oh, that reminds me. Could you invite our hobgoblin friends in?” Ethne broke in.
“Ethne! No!” cried Father Severus.
“It’s nasty down there. I’m sure they’d like this place better,” she said with a pout.
Yffi signaled, and a soldier swiftly put a knife to the monk’s throat. “Not another word, wretch. The rest of you be quiet too, or he dies. Now, my pretty fay. What were you telling me about hobgoblins?”
“They rescued us from Elfland—Mother was ever so cross when Pega lit the candle. Besides, I have a soul now and want to be a nun. It’s ever so exciting! Anyhow, the hobgoblins knew how to get here, but they hid in the dungeon because they weren’t sure of their welcome. But I know you won’t mind, being a king and all. Or if you do, could you put us out the front door? Although a party would be nice.”
Yffi frowned, trying to strain the meaning out of Ethne’s words. One thing did make itself clear: “You say there are hobgoblins in my dungeons?”
Jack started to object, but the soldier pressed the knife harder against Father Severus’ windpipe.
“Oh, yes! At the bottom of the stairs.”
“Why, I thank you, Princess. Your friends are most welcome,” said the king in a soft voice. “I haven’t had hobgoblin since—I must prepare a feast! Yes! Yes! It’s an opportunity that cannot be missed! Hurry, lads, and fetch me those guests before they leave. We must have wine and ale, cheeses and tarts. Send me the cook and the boy Ratface, if he’s still alive. Let me see, hobgoblin stuffed with hazelnuts. Hobgoblin on a bed of mushrooms. So many choices…”
Chapter Forty-five
GLAMOUR
The hobgoblins, securely bound with rope, were dragged into the throne room. There had been a fierce fight in the dungeons. The soldiers were covered with cuts and bruises. One man had lost his front teeth, but the Bugaboo and the Nemesis hadn’t a scratch on them. Hobgoblin skin, as the Nemesis had boasted, was as tough as old tree roots.