Nine Goblins(21)
Murray seemed pensive. He kept turned his head and staring into the woods, a line forming between his eyebrows, and muttering something to himself. Nessilka watched him do this for the better part of an hour until the quiet muttering started to get on her nerves.
“Okay, Murray, you’re a genius. What do you think?”
Murray grimaced. “Sorry, Sarge.”
“Didn’t ask you to be sorry. I want to know what you think.”
“I don’t like it, Sarge.” He made a grasping gesture with one hand, as if trying to pluck an answer out of the air. “There’s something—something about these woods. I can’t quite place it. I’m not seeing the right thing. I’m a marsh goblin, I don’t know quite what I’m looking for. But there’s something that’s…off.”
“Thumper’s a forest goblin. Ask him.”
Murray started to shrug dismissively, and then stopped. “Maybe you’re right. Hey, Thumper!”
Thumper dropped back to walk next to them. “Mm?”
“Tell me what’s wrong with these woods.”
Thumper’s brow furrowed deep enough to plant corn. “Wrong? There’s nothin’ wrong with it. S’perfectly good woods.” He reached out and patted the bark of a passing tree. “Lookit the size of this fellow! Probably half-rotted out. Ant nests. Wasps, too, I bet. Come down in the next big storm and kill us all. Wonderful old tree.”
Murray shook his head, making the grasping gesture again. “No—no—almost—crud! Thumper, what kinds of trees are these?”
“I dunno, oak mostly. Good oaks, not those wretched little pin oaks. Some big pines, but not many. Saw some cedar a while back.”
“Wrong question, wrong question…” muttered Murray, plucking at the air again.
“What’s the right question?” asked Nessilka.
Murray made a quick silencing motion that was a little rude to use on a superior officer, but Nessilka wasn’t going to interfere with genius at work.
“I’m not seeing something. I’m not seeing something because it isn’t there…Thumper, how old is that tree?”
Thumper shrugged. “Coupla hundred years. I’d have to cut it down and count rings to say for—”
Murray’s hand shot out and grabbed the air as if he’d caught a rope. “Cut it down! That’s it! They aren’t cutting it down! Thumper, how long since this area was logged?”
“Logged?” Thumper shook his head. “This is, y’know, peak forest, the old stuff. It hasn’t been logged in the last thousand years.”
“Yes! That’s it! That’s what’s wrong!”
“You’d rather somebody cut it all down?” asked Thumper stiffly. “Fine. What I’d expect out of a marsh goblin…”
“No, no, no! That’s just it!” Murray was practically dancing. “Sarge, they haven’t cut any trees! There’s a human town right over there, practically, and they haven’t cut any trees!”
“That’s a little weird,” admitted Nessilka. “Even we cut trees.”
“Exactly! They need wood for houses and fences and wagons and firewood and all kinds of stuff! But, Sarge, they haven’t touched this forest at all! Why not?”
“Maybe they think it’s haunted?” asked Nessilka, thinking of the clawed hoofprints and the whooshers.
Murray shook his head. “I doubt it. Not when it’s the only source of wood for miles. No. There’s only one reason people don’t cut down a forest. Somebody already owns it. And who lives in forests?”
Nessilka felt a cold prickling crawl down her spine. “You mean—”
Murray nodded. “Elves...”
They kept walking.
There is only so long that you can clutch your weapons and wait for white-faced figures to leap from behind the trees. For the Whinin’ Niners, this was about forty-five minutes. Maybe there were elves. If there were, they’d probably find out soon enough. In the meantime, poison oak was a more immediate concern, and harder to spot.
Nessilka called a halt in the late afternoon. “Okay, everybody take five.” She looked around the Whinin’ Niners, and sighed.
Most of them were doing okay, but the two recruits and Blanchett were about done in. The recruits were just not used to sustained marching, but poor Blanchett was grey-faced and sweating from having to cover the irregular terrain on his crutch.
“Blanchett, sit down before you fall down. Yes, that goes for the bear, too. Mishkin, Mushkin, sit. Murray, you still want to try raiding a farmhouse?”
Murray nodded.