‘It’s within our grasp. We’ll get it.’
‘Our Gneiss Brethren might still argue with you on that point.’
‘In another few weeks they’ll be left hanging in the wind. Don’t worry about them. They might be suspicious but they won’t risk an all-out incursion without evidence first.’
I finished pouring the coffee, scooped up a handful of gleaming silver teaspoons and lay one on each saucer. The aroma of the coffee was almost overwhelming. I couldn’t help noticing the mound of perfectly formed sugar cubes. I could buy a dozen first-aid kits with what was in front of me. A gnawing physical ache I’d learnt to quash many moons ago returned to the pit of my belly, like an old friend who I didn’t really want to see.
‘What about de Florinville?’
‘He’s leaving late tomorrow night so he’ll be long gone by the time we get it. We’ve had the gallows temporarily removed so he can tour the city tomorrow without any further complaints or unwelcome suggestions. He’ll be appeased enough to give his report to the Prime Minister. We’ll have the time and peace we need to finish up.’
There was a growl from the far end of the table. ‘We’d better have. I have no desire to put our contingency plan into place if he gets too close.’
Ghrashbreg’s response was smooth. ‘We’re ready if he does. If there’s any suggestion that he’s learnt more than he should, then he won’t leave this castle.’
‘Are you going to use pois—’
‘Shh.’
Suddenly, without turning around, I realised the goblins were looking at me. I froze for a beat. Act normal, Saiya. I leaned across the sideboard and picked up three cups and saucers, turned to the table and walked over. Without looking directly at any of them, I placed the cups in front of the nearest three goblins and returned to the sideboard fetch more. The silence was deafening; not one of the goblins said anything until they all had steaming coffee in front of them. When Ghrashbreg cleared his throat and began to speak it was almost a relief.
‘I’ve not seen you before.’ The goblin lord might have believed that humans like me were beneath him but his sharp eyes missed little. I angled my body away from the light to make my lack of a shadow less obvious but it was touch and go and I knew he’d noted my strange attire. He examined me carefully before speaking again. ‘Who are you?’
There were many reasons to lie but I knew from past experience that sticking closely to the truth would be better. ‘My name is Saiya Buchanan.’
‘I suppose you work in the kitchen?’
I offered a tiny nod. ‘Yes.’ I didn’t say anything else. I was determined not to give more information than was asked for. Many a person had come unstuck by babbling too many untruths and spinning too many tales, especially to the goblins.
‘Do you keep your hair short like that for sanitary purposes?’
Sure, why not? I nodded again.
‘And,’ he drawled, ‘judging by your strange dress underneath your chef’s whites, you were on your way home when you were ordered to come here and pour our coffee.’
Another nod.
A well-dressed goblin woman spoke up. ‘That Shantash is becoming a liability.’
Ghrashbreg’s response was mild. ‘He has his uses.’ He kept his gaze trained on me, pinning me to the spot. ‘There’s no need to be afraid of us, Saiya. We don’t bite.’ He bared his sharp teeth as if making a joke. Playing along, I offered a weak smile. Maybe there was a way out of this and, if that meant massaging some goblin egos along the way, I was more than prepared to be that oily masseuse. ‘Come here, Saiya,’ he said softly.
My feet were heavy with the weight of my reluctance. I shuffled over, keeping my head down. Perhaps if I made a show of hiding my face, Ghrashbreg would be more curious about that than anything else. I stood next to him, aware of the goblins watching me.
‘There’s something not quite right about her,’ another of the women said.
Shut up.
Ghrashbreg smiled. He lifted up his cup and held it out to me. ‘Would you like some coffee, Saiya?’ He kept repeating my name, as if that would encourage me to trust him.
‘No, thank you.’ I folded my hands together and kept my head bowed.
‘Go on. I insist. It’s the real thing, you know. Imported from Columbia via the only open supply line. How long has it been since you had a real cup of coffee?’
At least he wasn’t pretending that good coffee was easy for us to come by. ‘A long time,’ I mumbled.
Ghrashbreg’s smile grew, like a genial uncle’s. Alarm bells were ringing in my head. ‘Well then,’ he said, ‘have some.’
If I protested too much, this could go on all night. Salivating despite the situation, I took the cup from him and sipped. Damn. That was good.
‘Have some more.’
I took another sip, resisting the urge to down the whole thing. Ghrashbreg, however, reached up and gently tipped the base of the cup, causing the rest of the hot coffee to slide down my throat. I swallowed, finishing it all, although my tongue and throat were burning. The same expression remained on the goblin’s face the entire time. ‘You enjoyed that, didn’t you, my dear?’
‘Yes.’ I only just managed not to choke.
He took the cup from me and laid it carefully on its saucer before patting my hand. Then he lashed out like a snake, his squat fingers curving round my wrist and his fingernails digging into my skin. He yanked me forward until I stumbled. With his other hand, he grabbed the back of my head and slammed it down against the table. There was a crash of breaking crockery and a few tuts from the other goblins.
‘Watch the china! That’s expensive stuff and there’s not much of it left.’
Ghrashbreg stood up, all the better to press down hard onto my skull. I sent a wistful thought towards my shadow, trapped somewhere upstairs, and let my body relax. There was no point fighting the inevitable; the odds against me were astronomical. I couldn’t even reach Marrock’s dagger – and even if I could it would do me little good against all of these goblins. One flash of steel and Ghrashbreg would make this even worse for me than it already was.
‘Who are you really?’ Ghrashbreg hissed at me.
‘Saiya Buchanan.’ That’s what I meant to say but it didn’t sound like that when I tried to force the words out of my mouth.
The goblin took hold of my left hand and stroked my little finger. ‘Who are you?’
‘Saiya,’ I expelled in a hiss of air.
With one swift movement, he yanked my finger upwards. I could hear the snapping of the bone even as I screamed. ‘Who are you?’
I gasped, tears streaming down my cheeks and pooling onto the once-pristine tablecloth. ‘Saiya.’
He reached for my other hand and began stroking the little finger. ‘You’re not going to tell anyone about what you heard here, are you?’
‘I heard nothing.’ My words were little more than ragged sobs.
‘I don’t want to break more fingers, Saiya. Fingers tend to be rather crucial for cooks and I do enjoy my food.’ He pulled again, breaking the bone. Pain and nausea exploded through me; it felt as if my own screams were being echoed back at me, reverberating around the room. ‘I can do much worse than break fingers,’ he cooed into my ear.
‘I … won’t…’ it hurt ‘…tell. I didn’t hear anything.’
All at once he released me and moved his hands away. ‘Stand up,’ he ordered.
I staggered up, dizzy. My vision swam but I could just make out the other goblins. Most of them were holding their coffee cups and sipping as they watched.
‘Thank you, Saiya,’ Ghrashbreg murmured. ‘It was lovely to meet you. You are free to go.’
I didn’t need telling twice. I turned, almost tripping in my haste to get away. Tears of agony flared up again as I tried desperately to open the door with my broken, sweat-slicked hands. For a moment, I didn’t think I’d manage it then I got the purchase I needed and stumbled into the corridor.
‘Was that really necessary, Lord Ghrashbreg?’ a gravelly voice drawled. ‘The girl was clearly terrified and no danger to any of us. None of what we said would have made any sense to her.’
‘It doesn’t hurt to keep them in their place,’ I heard Ghrashbreg answer as the door closed behind me.
Dangerously close to fainting, I dragged myself away to relative safety. I was still alive. It was a damned miracle.
Chapter Eight
I stumbled blindly along the corridor. Right now the only thing in my head was to get as far away from Ghrashbreg and his cronies as possible. I was used to detaching myself to survive, both physically and emotionally, but the combination of pain and fear had fired my adrenaline. The almost ethereal calm, which came over me when I believed that Ghrashbreg was going to kill me, had vanished. I didn’t want to die.
Staggering forward, I came to some worn stone steps winding upwards. I had to get to the fourth floor – that was where my shadow was, though I was in no fit state to retrieve it at the moment. I needed a dark hole where I could curl up for an hour or two and lick my wounds.
Ignoring my desperate need to be reunited with my other self, I headed down to where I could be sure of finding an unoccupied room or cupboard. I needed to retrieve my bag with its precious paracetemol. Unfortunately, I was so focused on the agonising pain in my hands and the fear thrumming through my veins that I didn’t realise someone was coming towards me until it was too late.