Chapter 115: The Goblin
My God, when? My coin-purse was tied securely inside my cloak, hidden from the world. Had she truly, in the space of a heartbeat, slipped her fingers beneath the heavy fabric, slit the bag with a phantom’s touch, and made off with the silver?
I hadn’t felt a thing, not even a whisper of movement. If it weren’t for Jared’s eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, and his hands, quick as a striking snake, she would have already vanished into the throng, a ghost with my silver. And… she had a knife!
My gaze flickered to her other hand. Sure enough, a sliver of steel glinted between her fingers—a miniature blade, no longer than a thumb. It was a toy, useless for killing, perhaps even too small for peeling fruit. But for the silent, secret work of slitting a purse, it was perfect.
For a moment, I saw the thought of battle flash in her eyes. She considered raising the knife, but then her gaze met Jared’s. She weighed his strength, the unyielding iron in his grip, and the fact that I stood beside him, a second witness. The fight went out of her. She lowered her hand and the tension bled from her frame, her body going limp in his grasp.
Sometimes, a thief has to weigh the odds. When the trap springs, you must instantly judge your chances of escape. If there are none, surrender is the only sane path. The beating that follows might be a little lighter.
I never would have thought this doll-like girl was one of Jared’s own kind. And to be caught by him, of all people. This was a perfect, grotesque irony—a thief crying "stop thief."
Speaking of which, Jared had just mentioned the local custom for dealing with captured thieves: strip them naked, hang them from a tree, and beat them. Was he truly about to inflict such a fate on this girl? To strip her bare before the leering eyes of this subterranean market and lash her?
The thought sent a dark, illicit thrill through me—no, wait, that was too cruel, wasn't it? Especially for a girl so lovely. Such a beauty, yet a thief? Perhaps I should persuade Jared to be merciful.
“Parula, pick up the money,” Jared’s voice was a low growl. I did as he said, my fingers closing around the cool silver. Then, to my utter shock, Jared reached his free hand under the girl’s skirt.
Wow! Even if she was his captive, did he have to be in such a hurry?
As my mind reeled with wild thoughts, I saw Jared pull a cloth pouch from the darkness beneath her dress. He gave the girl a hard shove. “Get lost! Don’t mess with us again!”
The girl shot the pouch a look of pure, venomous resentment, then turned and melted back into the crowd. I was dumbfounded. “Wait, you just let her go? Weren’t you going to give her a beating?”
“Her skill is too high,” Jared said, his eyes still scanning the shadows where she’d vanished. “She must have a boss behind her, someone like MacDuff. If we beat her, we might attract a whole gang. It’s better to let her go. Besides, I got this.”
He opened the pouch he had taken from her. It was heavy with copper and silver coins.
“Don’t tell me… that’s what the girl had stolen? And you just took it all?” I asked.
“Yes. It’s a rule of the trade. We don’t make things difficult for our own kind, but the spoils go to the victor,” Jared said, his voice flat.
“Ah, so there’s a rule like that,” I marveled. Then a wave of shame washed over me. “I’m sorry. I was too careless. I almost got my money stolen. If it weren’t for your quick eyes…”
“No,” Jared said, comforting me from the cold, practical viewpoint of his profession. “Parula was actually very careful, more vigilant than most people out here. It’s just that the girl’s skill was exceptionally high.”
“No matter how high, you still spotted her and caught her,” I said with a smile. Jared was still the better one.
But he shook his head, a strange look in his eyes. “No. That girl is better than me. I only saw her after she had already made the cut. And I only caught her because my strength and reflexes have been much better these past two days. If this had been three days ago, I might not have even noticed I’d been robbed.”
I was stunned. I hadn’t expected him to hold the other thief in such high regard, his tone laced with a grudging admiration for her craft. According to him, if he hadn’t become a Paladin, he would have been her victim.
“The thieves who work this deep are all masters,” Jared said, his voice a low warning. “I came here with MacDuff once. He was robbed not long after we arrived. He was furious, but he never found the culprit. So Parula doesn’t need to worry about it.”
I nodded, clutching my coin-purse tighter, and followed him deeper into the gloom. After that little interlude, no other shadows detached themselves from the walls to trouble us. Finally, at a sharp turn in the passage, we saw it: the tent the plant shop owner had described.
It wasn’t hard to find. The tent was a beacon of strangeness in the oppressive dark—a large, purple pavilion, dotted with a pattern of silver stars that seemed to drink the faint light. A wooden sign hung above the entrance, bearing the carved and painted head of some hideous, leering creature, a pipe clenched in its teeth.
Pointed ears, pointed eyes, a pointed nose, and a pointed chin, all set in a face of wrinkled, ancient skin. It looked like a sharpened, malevolent monkey, and the pipe it smoked seemed carved from bone. It was a bizarre and eye-catching sigil.
Goblins. A common monster in the legends of the West. The tales varied, but most agreed on one thing: they were insidious, cunning, and weak.
I didn’t understand why a shopkeeper would choose such a sign, but when I lifted the heavy tent flap and stepped inside, I understood. Because sitting on the counter, directly opposite the entrance, was a goblin.
He was even uglier than the painting. His skin was a dark, mottled green, his face a mask of ancient wrinkles, his eyes shrewd and mean. A mouthful of sharp, yellowed fangs jutted from his lower jaw, one of them capped in gold. A matching gold ring was pierced through one of his pointed ears.
He smoked a high-end pipe, and was dressed in a gorgeous silk robe, the very picture of a grotesque nouveau riche. And beside him, flanking his throne-like stool, stood several beautiful maids in revealing, gossamer-thin gauze.
Perhaps because I had seen so many non-human faces in the city’s crowds these past few days, my first reaction wasn’t surprise. Instead, I wanted to see Jared’s.
His expression was one of pure shock. He, too, could see that the creature before us was not human. I leaned close to his ear and whispered, “What do you see?”
“A green-skinned monkey? No, that’s not right…” What Jared saw was indeed the same as me.
“That’s a goblin,” I whispered back. “Be careful. They’re a very cunning race.” Jared nodded, his eyes wide.
“Oh? Customers?” the goblin said, raising its head. Its voice was a high, sharp squawk, but the words were polite enough. “As you can see, I am a goblin. No need to be surprised or alarmed, my friends. Feel free to look around.”
He had admitted his otherfolk identity right away, with a casual, almost brazen openness. I couldn’t help but suspect that it wasn’t just in my and Jared’s eyes that he was a monster. He might not have been disguised at all; anyone who looked upon him would see a goblin.
I remembered the plant shop owner’s words and spoke as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “Old Hawke recommended me. He said I could buy some… special materials from you.”
“Oh ho? So that old fellow hasn’t forgotten to help a friend, has he?” The goblin chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. “Old Goldtooth here has everything. What is it you desire?” He called himself Old Goldtooth, no doubt because of the gleaming fang in his mouth.
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