When he awoke in the empty bed and tried to make sense of his yesterday, all he recalled was breakfast and insatiable coupling, the memory of which flared so much brighter than the dim room of rumpled sheets, plates of half-eaten food and empty glasses that he became painfully aroused. Though they must have eaten, he did not remember it, and as if these forgotten meals were never consumed, he became ravenously hungry, and slurped down a soggy dumpling that soaked up the saltiness of a cold soup, and when he swallowed the bitter mouthful, it felt so lonely in his stomach that he was hungrier now than when he awoke.
He joined Inglefras on the attached veranda, and pulled the curtain shut.
"Good morning," she said.
"It is a good morning. I slept well, so thank you for that."
"Do you think I didn't enjoy myself? You know little of dryads and less of women."
While Huiln redecorated the adjoining bedroom, the veranda looked the same as when Khyte had lived there: there was a wicker and wire bench covered with cheap cushions, and two planters with the plain but intensely aromatic herbs that goblins cultivated for house flowers. Khyte sat next to Inglefras, then said, "I didn't know dryads had men."
"Who said we did?"
"You referred to yourself first as a dryad, then as a woman."
"You're reading into that, but I admit it-- dryads are both female and male."
"Why haven't I seen any dryad men?"
"While that does seem unlikely, I can't say why."
"Can't?"
"Won't, if you must, but can't is more polite."
"Are you ashamed of them, or do you eat your men?"
"No more guesses, as your willingness to treat the implicit as fact is wearying. Have breakfast. We have a long day ahead. With luck, we'll be on Ielnarona this evening."
Breakfast was a boring mash of cooked grains that the goblins somehow relished. Khyte fell into the morose, black alarm of a heavy coffee drinker in a world with no coffee. Consequently, when they left, Khyte's anxiety doubled theirs, as his healthy sense of caution about the day's undertaking was flooded by the ongoing and unsettling lack of coffee.
"There are coffee houses on the way," said Kuilea.
"We're not stopping," said Eurilda.
"I agree," said Inglefras. "Why risk being recognized?"
"This is why I didn't suggest it," said Khyte, " as our likenesses could be posted at the coffee houses. But thank you for thinking of it, Kuilea."
When Kuilea stubbornly persisted, Khyte felt guiltier about the previous night. "Huiln and I aren't suspects," she said, "so one of us could get coffee."
"Because splitting our group worked out so well yesterday," said Huiln. "By the time we rejoin, Inglefras and Khyte will be honeymooning on Ielnarona." Despite his glum tone, all of them laughed.
Khyte said, "I understand your reluctance, but I won't object if Kuilea goes." When they agreed on a short stop, Huiln glared at Khyte, then stepped into a general store, Kuilea entered a bookshelf-lined coffee house called The Reading Room, and Eurilda, Inglefras, and Khyte, seeing an inn's patio seating well-dressed guests in swanky looking chairs, ducked into the attached stable in fear of recognition. Not that they knew the nobles by sight, but the fashions on display were similar to those at Merculo's castle.
The stable was a menagerie of noises: hay and manure raked by morose looking ostlers, idle beasts stomping and chomping, carriages rolling in, out, and past, and overly loud political opinions that trotted from the patio to the stable.
"Shouldn't one of you stand watch?" asked Inglefras.
Eurilda glared at the princess. While Khyte feared the thought of the two left alone together, he dreaded another opportunity for Inglefras to issue a careless order. "I'll go."
Khyte was watching The Reading Room's storefront when he heard: "Khyte of Hwarn?" He froze, not daring to look at the speaker, and walked back to the stable. When boot heels clicked behind him, he turned with his hand on his sword hilt.
"Khyte of Hwarn?" repeated the smiling goblin, whose fur-trimmed cape, and silver buttons and belt buckle, spoke of nobility.
"If I see him, who should I say is looking for him?"
"While you do not remember me, today everyone knows Khyte of House Hwarn, kin of the King. I sat a few chairs down at the King's feast. How did it feel when the King consulted you on those judgments?"
Khyte was confused, but as understanding settled, he became incredulous. If this aristocrat wanted a chat, he didn't know what Khyte had done. This would mean the noble left after the feast, didn't read The Kreonan House Journal, and might have hobnobbed non-stop on the patio since the near death of his king. Khyte couldn't let such a gift pass him by, as he hadn't had a payday since leaving Hravak.
"Imagine my surprise," Khyte said, "that a low born human could arrive on the Goblin World, enter the prominent House of Hwarn one day, and on another pass judgment with the King and dine with the High Court of Kreona. Yes, it is as you say—it is good to have the ear of the King."
"Given that opportunity, I would advance many ideas for the good of Kreona."
"I wouldn't mind passing a friend's name to the King. Noble houses, the King's goodwill, and...gold...what are they between friends?"
The experienced politico looked utterly relieved when Khyte solicited him for a bribe. "To be clear that we share the same noble sentiments, I will give my new friend a worthy gift, and he will present my name to the King?"
"Whose name is that," asked Khyte.
"Baron Julgen Iapato."
"Am I your 'new friend,' Baron Iapato?"
"Must you ask?"
"I must."
"Yes, of course."
"Then it is that easy," said Khyte, "I am partial to gold."
Kuilea exited The Reading Room holding a large wooden mug in both hands. Khyte continued, "and as I must rendezvous with His Majesty, haste would hurry both our causes."
"Say no more." Baron Iapato walked briskly to the patio, then into the hotel.
When Khyte took the steaming coffee, Kuilea said, "The mug was extra."
"How much?"
"It's nothing. Does she make you happy?"
Khyte said, "let's rejoin Inglefras and Eurilda. Or you go ahead, and I'll wait for Huiln."
"It's a simple question," she persisted.
"I don't have a simple answer," he retorted. "While the man I was last week would say I misplaced my free will, who I am now is happy to serve."
"This doesn't strike you as odd?"
"That's putting it lightly. It's probably magic, but neither your suspicions nor my own will medicate my infatuation."
"I'm doubly blessed," came Baron Iapato's voice, "to meet both Khyte and Kuilea of House Hwarn." The noble pressed a velour pouch into Khyte's hand. "After my face to face with the king, I'll match this token fee ten-fold."
"You are too kind," said Khyte. Kuilea smiled but said nothing. While Huiln handled the money, the cooking, and the calendar of House Hwarn, Kuilea was the smart one and would be wise enough to hold her tongue. "Here's my brother," said Khyte, as Huiln approached with a sack of purchases. "And seeing that we're late, I'll just say many thanks."
"Thank you, Khyte of Hwarn," said Baron Iapato, "and please reach out after my royal summons."
Huiln and Kuilea entered the stable before asking Khyte what that was about. "It's just a bit of mad money, in the event I'm disappointed by our pay." As he was excited by bilking the Baron, Khyte was not watching his tone, and Inglefras and Eurilda stopped their heated conversation.
"Pay?" Inglefras's face was flushed, and the usually loquacious princess had nothing else to add to that monosyllable.
"As I was saying," said Eurilda. "Khyte thinks The Five Worlds owe him, and with that attitude in play, he's played you—why am I telling you this? You've already put him on your payroll."
"I resent your implications." The dryad raised her voice.
"I resent you," said the giantess. "Let's get on with this."
Now that Khyte was properly caffeinated, the group continued toward The Fair Well with Eurilda bringing up the rear and Kuilea leading the way. Though strategic—Eurilda was the most recognizable villain among them, and Kuilea wasn't a known co-conspirator—their marching order was a natural response to Inglefras holding Khyte's hand and leaning her head against his shoulder. This demonstration of affection was more than they could bear.
As Khyte walked hand in hand with a desirable woman with whom he had nothing in common, he started talking to Huiln. This had the two-fold purpose of rubbing it in a little while alleviating any pressure to converse with Inglefras. A self-taught hedonist, Khyte knew that pleasure must crow to be enjoyed.
"Huiln, what happened yesterday?"
"You mean when I risked life, limb, and freedom to acquire an unnecessary key and map?"
Khyte laughed. "Yes, tell me."
"Is it funny?"
"I don't know, because you won't tell me. But I have an inkling that the comical pointlessness of your heroics would surely undermine your tale."
"Khyte, I don't know who you are."
"You say my name as readily as before."
"You're growing—like a plant. Inglefras, is this more dryad magic?"
"More of it? More of what dryad magic?" To Khyte, Inglefras's smile signified more than her own pleasure. Though not even one syllable, a smile drowns out a multitude of lies. How many lies were covered, how many desires devoured, by that noisome smile?
He only said, "Huiln, are you changing the subject?"
"Yes. My subtle and brilliant efforts are an embarrassment in hindsight, at least until Merculo's men discover the key under my bed."
"A clever hiding place. The guards might ransack House Hwarn, upturn every table and chair, and forget the bed."
"That's just being mean," said Huiln.
"Maybe I'm paying you back for involving me in this rescue through false pretenses."
"Who strung who? Unless you honestly believe Kuilea shot that wire giant by coincidence?"
"I thought it a stroke of luck," lied Khyte, laughing.
Inglefras sighed. "I'm feeling ignored. Get on with your story, Huiln. It might be more distracting than your gibber-jabber."
"I'm wounded," said Huiln. "That badinage is well-suited for the King's entourage."
"Get on with it," she repeated, a little louder.
"There was nothing to it. Having been hired by the Bankers' Capital Building to hide the vast resources in the catacombs, it was a simple matter of deciding which of my contacts would be my mark. I arrived at the BCB with three different appointments, the third of which was Lord Keplin, a crusty, officious heir with a bad head not only for numbers, but for managing his vices, including the mistress that robbed him blind. While Lord Keplin would never betray his employer, he made the mistake of introducing me to his mistress, Unvyra, who was happy to exchange the map and key for a hefty bribe. In this way, I didn't even need to locate or obtain the items; I simply delegated this subterfuge to Lord Keplin's whore. There was only the problem of getting rid of Unvyra after the fact."
"You killed her?" Inglefras's face made such a close approximation of astonishment that Khyte almost believed her pretended naivete.
"Since I admired her opportunism and didn't want blood on my hands, I pretended not to know the layout, asked her to show me the catacombs, then shoved her in and locked the door."
"That's horrible! She'll starve," said Inglefras.
"Judging by the books I cook, she'll be released today, because they can't keep their fingers out of the catacombs. When someone does let her out, she'll have to explain herself rather than impugn my character. Since in confessing my plot, she'll discredit herself and be labeled a co-conspirator, she'll pretend ignorance and claim she ended up there by accident. She'd be more inclined to throw Lord Keplin to the wolves, as their illicit relationship would lend credence to any fabrication as to how she was locked in their ancient cellar. If I was her, I'd say they were on a drunken bender and Lord Keplin wanted to show off the catacombs."
Khyte said, "you assume she's more clever than vindictive."
"If her character is vindictive, it would be more profitable to blackmail me than turn me in. Which I can afford, being Son of Hwarn." Huiln turned to Inglefras and said, "forgive this rude story, your highness. Freedom suits you well—you seem taller, and more slender."
"Thank you for noticing. Dryads thrive in the open air and the light of the abyss."
'Seemed' wasn't a strong enough word—Inglefras was definitely taller. Yesterday, he had to stoop to kiss her; today, her lips were on the level of his Adam's apple, so that he need only bend, and Inglefras tilt her head for the kiss. Thinking of this was so enticing that Khyte kissed the dryad exactly as he imagined.
"I hate to keep crying dryad magic, but you are taller today."
"That which is natural is no magic at all, and this is normal for dryads."
The Fair Well was an enormous establishment comprised of an art gallery stretching a city block connected to a winery that extended two blocks perpendicularly, so that the combined structure was a cross, and all of it a single story in goblin fashion. On the gallery and winery grounds, there was an arcade of shops and vendors with push carts, and at the winery's base, there was a very busy restaurant. One would call it bustling, except that signifies some chaos, and this restaurant effused restraint in not only its staff but its customers, who queued quietly for fifty yards waiting on tables.
"Why are they so well-behaved in a line that isn't moving?" said Khyte. His mouth watered from the aroma of herbed, melted cheese, and he wiped his lips with his sleeve. Famishment smote Khyte, who had missed more than one meal on Nahure, and his knees shook.
"Fear of the blacklist," said Huiln. "Not only does The Fair Well set the best table, its prices are modest. The owner, Kuvaki, is famous for saying he'd serve a beggar that paid with good manners and respect, although it's been years since Kuvaki deigned to serve anybody, and the snobbish wait staff would never honor that sentiment."
"How do we enter the catacombs? Didn't you say they were in the wine cellar?" asked Kuilea.
"Yes," said Eurilda, "but the gallery conceals an entrance to the wine cellar."
"Wouldn't it be more direct to go through the winery?" asked Khyte, who craved the savory-smelling food.
"Though it smells wonderful, I brought a meal for us to share, and we might be recognized in the restaurant."
"We might be recognized in the gallery," retorted Khyte. "And if I'm to be executed, I'd like to be well-fed."
"When The Fair Well serves dinner, almost no one is in the gallery," said Huiln.
Khyte's stomach twisted and churned, squeezing out an audible groan, and he said, "let's be quick about it, then."
The gallery was not entirely desolate, as it was peopled with life-size sculptures of the great races of The Five Worlds: humans, elves, dryads, goblins, and giants. The sculptor made the curious decision to craft these representations from coins and glue, which ranged from a life-like facsimile of King Merculo made from stacked gold—so that there would be no chance of slighting Kreona's liege—to a hulking copper-coin giant stooped under the low ceiling.
"The truth is the opposite, of course," said Eurilda acerbically, "as goblins, even Kings, are a dime a dozen, and we giants are a rare coinage even on Nymerea."
No one commented on this observation, as that would require pointing out the obvious: creating a giant from copper coins was an insanely expensive undertaking, and using gold would have caused a recession. Realizing the giantess was not her usual rational self, Khyte gave her a wide berth, as he was no doubt the cause of this shift toward instability.
When Eurilda gazed at the statue for an uncomfortably long time, it was Kuilea that answered: "let's not forget why we're here."
"Of course not," said Eurilda.
"Then show us to the Furrow, and let us take our leave of wretched Nahure," said Inglefras. Though the dryad was Merculo's cringing but complacent hostage only yesterday, now she issued a cocksure order to the one she feared most.
"By your leave, your highness," said Eurilda, with no small amount of snark. "It's here, under a ton of copper coins and glue."
The others stared, speechless, at the monstrous sculpture. "So it's under the giant?" asked Huiln.
"I'm not in the habit of repeating myself." Eurilda sighed and sat on a bench.
"What are you waiting for? Shrink it into oblivion!" said Huiln, raising his voice.
"It's not that easy. Though the artist united the coins, it is still not a singular item. Even though one spell might cover a number of surfaces, this statue has tens of thousands of surfaces. Casting dozens of spells at once is beyond my capability."
"When you shrink yourself, your clothes, boots, and even your pack, shrink," said Khyte.
"Despite a few accessories, there's still a singular entity to target. With so many coins, who's to say which is the target, and which the accessory. Really, Khyte, that was a dumb question—you may as well have asked why your eyeballs shrink with the rest of you."
"Now that you mention it," said Khyte, then held up his hands as if to ward away her dark look. "I'm kidding. I have no interest in magic."
"We'll have to push it," said Kuilea.
"That's easier said than done," said Huiln, "unless our giant moves this one."
"As a giant, I might bring the floor or ceiling down, or I might be spotted and the watch summoned. It's not only dangerous, it's unnecessary, because we don't have to lift it, only push or drag it ten feet."
"It's either that or solvent, and picking it apart piece by piece," said Huiln.
"You're joking," scoffed Eurilda.
"I am," admitted Huiln. "Let's finish this before the dinner crowd gets curious about the numismatic exhibit."
Khyte and Eurilda, being the largest, set their shoulders against the stooped copper giant's waist and pushed, while the other three pulled at its outstretched calves. The sculpture wobbled and scooted an inch at a time as they strained and groaned against its tremendous weight. After they moved it two feet, their victory over the coins seemed certain but grueling until the first round of diners wended their way through the exhibit.
When Eurilda hissed "heave!" they gave a shove so mighty the figure jumped a foot, then teetered, and in the glacial expanse of the moment it struck the floor, Khyte glimpsed the exquisite stained glass of the sculpture's face. Glue crumbled, wire filaments burst asunder, and stained glass shards, cascading coins, and larger clumps hammered against them and the distressed amateur art appreciators that wandered in from the restaurant. One of the copper stacks socked Huiln in the head, and the goblin fell to the floor.
The diners ran from the gallery, yelling for help. Eurilda stooped next to the stricken goblin, but not to render aid; rather, she ran her fingertips along the tiles to spring the trap door with an audible click.
Kuilea knelt next to Eurilda and held her wrist to Huiln's face. "He's barely breathing. What do we do?"
"Help me with this," grunted Eurilda. Having pried the lip of the secret door, she struggled with the weight of the solid stone until Khyte knelt beside her, and they strained together.
"Khyte, what are you doing?" said Kuilea. "Look at him."
"We can't take him," said Eurilda. "You can either come to Ielnarona, or face Merculo." When Eurilda spoke the arcane syllables that put gravity in abeyance, Khyte felt his own limbs lightened as well.
Kuilea's face was twisted with contempt and disgust. Then she stood, her face composed again, and drew her sword. "You will help us, Eurilda."
"Good bye, Kuilea." Eurilda seized Inglefras's hand and leaped into the trap door, her cloak fluttering as they wafted through the dimly-lit chasm.
Kuilea turned to Khyte, her chin quavering. "Help me."
Khyte said, "there's no time. Come with us, and we'll come back for him."
"They'll kill him and take our lands!"
"The King may pardon you both. You're kin."
"I can't leave him!"
Khyte was torn, but could wait no longer, as if Eurilda overpowered Inglefras, they could be lost to him quickly in the catacombs. Though there were many things to say, he had no time. "Follow me, Kuilea," he said, then jumped through the trap door.