Tears of Liscor, page 77
part #9 of The Wandering Inn Series
“I think—she does care about Liscor. But she cares about the Goblins. So…I don’t know what to say.”
“If she cares about the Goblins, she will tell them to move. Need we do anything else besides release them?”
Ilvriss strode ahead of them, towards Liscor’s dungeon. Olesm coughed and eyed the red cloak on Ilvriss’ back meaningfully.
“We might have to return their possessions, Wall Lord. Weapons and armor at least.”
“What? Oh.”
The Wall Lord of Salazsar took a moment to figure out what Olesm meant. He stopped and put a claw on the flowing cloak.
“But it would be a crime to—you don’t suppose I could provide a different cloak in exchange? No?”
Zevara and Olesm exchanged a glance.
“That cloak’s not that valuable, surely, Wall Lord? It’s one of a few artifacts the Goblins have. That damn bell, the axe that I have never seen before, that cloak—it’s just a liquid cloak, right?”
“Liquid cloak? It’s not a—Great Ancestors. Have neither of you any understanding of what this is? This is a Cloak of Plenty! It’s an incredibly valuable artifact! Far more expensive than an axe!”
Ilvriss brandished the cloak at the two Drakes. Zevara raised her brows, and Olesm restrained the urge to whistle.
“A Cloak of Plenty? Are you serious, Wall Lord?”
He nodded.
“I tested it myself. It can replicate mundane liquids. Nothing magical or complex mixtures, which rules out alchemical liquids, but with it, you could provision a thirsty army with water or create a nourishing broth. Or supply [Mages] with blood or other liquid reagents. Of course, that’s hardly the only function of such a cloak. I would have it for myself.”
“How do you mean?”
Olesm couldn’t see Ilvriss needing a fresh supply of water, which was the standard use for objects of plenty. He’d heard of cornucopias that dispensed free food each day, which was a boon to armies and adventurers alike. Although if you ate too much of the enchanted food alone, you’d eventually grow sick. Ilvriss sighed.
“It’s wine, Swifttail. Wine. There are fine vintages—incredibly fine ones—that have no magical component to them at all. In fact, non-magical wines are preferable to magical ones. When did the custom of adding magic to every dish arise? As if that guarantees better taste—anyways, I digress. With a single drop of a quality vintage, I could serve my guests the most delicate bouquets at my estates each night without it costing a copper coin. Even I would consider that a windfall in saved coin, although of course I’d have to keep the cloak secret…”
He broke off, clearing his throat. Olesm and Zevara exchanged a glance. That was Wall Lords for you. Ilvriss stroked the cloak.
“I suppose I must give it up?”
“I don’t think the Goblins care to trade, Wall Lord. Although I can ask Erin if she’d be willing to intercede—I thought the cloak kept changing properties, though. Wouldn’t that be inconvenient?”
Ilvriss looked mildly insulted.
“Changing properties? Oh, you mean if it comes in contact with another liquid. That isn’t an issue, Olesm. Willpower is enough to fix the cloak into whatever property I wish. In this case, wine.”
He raised a fold of the liquid wine cloak. Olesm blinked.
“Have you been sampling that cloak all day, Wall Lord?”
Ilvriss looked mildly abashed.
“Not me. I’m not drinking—I had my subordinates test the quality of the cloak. Along with the [Innkeeper] in my inn and a number of interested patrons. I believe they’re all asleep at the moment. The changing nature of the cloak was not an issue. I knew what I wanted.”
“Really. In my talk with Erin as, uh, translator, she said the cloak kept changing and the Hob who owned it—Rabbiteater—couldn’t get it to stop.”
“The flaw of being open-minded, one supposes. Curiosity will inevitably lead to change. Ah well, if we must give it to the Goblins…I’ll ask about it later. Dealing with this issue takes priority.”
The Wall Lord ignored the look Zevara and Olesm gave each other and undid the clasps of the cloak. He reluctantly handed it to Olesm and kept walking.
A few [Guards] met them at the prison, along with the rest of the Hobgoblins’ gear. Zevara eyed the collection of weapons and armor.
“Put it in a holding spot. We’re not letting them go just yet. How’s the Human?”
The Drake on duty grimaced.
“Good, Watch Captain. Although we had to shut her up several times last night and this morning. She kept trying to get the other prisoners to sing.”
“And?”
“She succeeded.”
Zevara stared at the Drake. Olesm sighed. That said it all, really.
“Anything else?”
“No, Watch Captain. Nothing from the Hobs. Or the Minotaur. The Gold-ranks are clamoring to be let out, though.”
Zevara grimaced.
“I bet they are. Release the overnight prisoners, then, with a warning. We’ll see to the Human ourselves.”
The [Guardsman] nodded. He handed Zevara a key and followed them into the prison. The three Drakes walked down the line of cells as those with menial offenses were let go, provided they’d paid their fines. They walked down to the major holding cells, and Olesm froze as he saw a tall, horned figure standing silently in his cell. Ilvriss stared at the Minotaur who stared blankly at them and looked away.
“Scum.”
The Drakes turned to a cell just before Calruz. Four Hobs sat or stood in their cells, watching the Drakes warily. A young woman lay on a cot. She’d been standing, talking to the others, but she’d scrambled into her bed. She stared up at the ceiling, hands folded behind her head, as Zevara paused before the cage. She didn’t look up. The Watch Captain eyed Erin Solstice and looked at Olesm. He cleared his throat nervously.
“Erin?”
She didn’t respond. Olesm looked at Zevara. The Watch Captain made a face. Was Erin upset? She hadn’t been here more than a single night. Olesm called out to her.
“Erin, we’re going to let you go. You’ve, uh, served your sentence, and there’s a situation we might need your help with.”
“I can’t go back.”
Erin spoke slowly, not looking away from the ceiling. Olesm paused.
“Excuse me?”
He saw Erin’s head slowly turn towards him. The young woman spoke in a slow, monotone voice.
“I can’t go back, Olesm. I’ve been in here too long. Prison’s changed me, man. I’ve seen things. How can I return to the outside world?”
The Drakes stared at her. Olesm scratched the back of his head.
“This is an act, right? You’re doing something like those plays again.”
Erin stared at the ceiling.
“…No?”
Olesm sighed.
“Erin, this is an emergency. We don’t have time for—any of this!”
Erin blinked. She sat up a bit and eyed Olesm.
“It is? Okay, just a few more.”
To Olesm’s consternation, she lay back down and stared at the ceiling.
“It’s funny. I was an honest [Innkeeper] before all of this. I had to go to prison to become a [Criminal]. [Thug]. Whatever. This is a [Thug]’s life, y’know?”
Zevara slammed the cell door open.
“Get. Out.”
“Aw, fine.”
Erin swung herself up. She walked over, stretching. Then she blinked at Ilvriss.
“Hey, Wall Lord. Hey, Zevara. Olesm. How’s the eye? Are you letting me and the Redfangs out? Or just me?”
The Drakes looked at each other. Ilvriss glanced severely at the watching Hobs.
“That remains to be seen. For now, you will come with us. There’s a situation that has arisen that—strangely—we believe only you can resolve.”
“Really? Me? Well, okay then. Let’s go. Hey guys, I’ll be back soon! Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of here, even if I have to bake a cake! If I do—don’t eat the entire thing, got it?”
Erin waved at the Hobs. They waved back. She smiled at them as she left the prison and then looked at Olesm. She didn’t smile then.
“So what’s the problem?”
Olesm shuffled his feet. He couldn’t look Erin in the eye. He’d been—upset—yesterday. And maybe he’d made some rash decisions. But she had hit him. However, Olesm was certain that he wasn’t going to be receiving an apology any time soon.
“You’ll see. Follow us, and keep up.”
——
It wasn’t that Erin resented being in jail for so long. Okay, she resented it a bit. It was already past midday and quickly becoming evening, and she was sick of staring at the stone walls of her cell. Walking through the streets of Liscor did feel great by comparison. Maybe there was something to going to prison after all that gave you a new lease on life.
Anyways, Erin wasn’t about to hold a grudge. At least, not right now. Something was up, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out it had to do with Goblins. Or that it was serious. Drakes and Gnolls were doing that ‘standing in the streets’ thing that meant something was occurring that city life couldn’t work around. And they were coming up to Zevara and Ilvriss, or trying to.
“Keep moving! Watch business! Clear the streets!”
Zevara barked orders, and her [Guardspeople] headed off anyone trying to get to her. The people of Liscor stared at her. And at Ilvriss. And Olesm. And at Erin. She could hear them whispering and caught fragments of what was being said.
“—Watch Captain and Wall Lord. And the Strategist—”
“—the Human. You know, the one who runs The Wandering Inn? The one with—”
“—friends to Goblins. Think she’ll—”
“—Goblin Lord camped right outside—”
Erin looked around nervously.
“So, uh, what exactly is going on?”
“You’ll see.”
Ilvriss glanced impassively back at Erin. The Drakes led her up to the eastern wall, past a large gathering of people. And Erin did see, then. She stared at the Goblins, thousands of Goblins standing on the hilltops. She listened to the roar as they shouted the Redfang’s battle cry. She blinked.
“Huh. That’s a lot of Goblins.”
Erin stared at the Cave Goblins. Her eyes found Numbtongue. She looked around at the grim Drakes, the wary Gnolls.
“So what did you want me to do, again?”
“Get them to leave. Speak to that Goblin. Tell them we will only release the Hobs once they march south. Fifty miles, perhaps. We’ll release the prisoners then.”
Ilvriss folded his arms. Erin stared at him. She looked at Numbtongue, brave Numbtongue holding his guitar aloft like a banner. He still had the manacles attached to his arms, the cuffs at least.
“And then what? They just leave?”
“If they return to the Floodplains, we’ll bombard them. They cannot remain here when the Goblin Lord arrives.”
Zevara’s eyes were hard as she stared at the Goblins. She glanced at Erin.
“You need to make them understand that.”
“I see.”
Erin looked at Olesm. He looked uneasy and kept glancing at her. She gazed at Embria, who was watching her warily, and then looked back at the Goblins.
It can’t be this way forever. Erin had said something like that to Headscratcher in jail. And yet, when she looked at Numbtongue, at the Cave Goblins—her heart hurt. They’d done no wrong. No wrong, if you understood that they had been slaves to the Raskghar before that. And now they were marching on Liscor, peacefully, all for Numbtongue’s friends.
“Okay.”
“You’ll do it? In that case—”
Zevara turned, relieved. Erin shook her head.
“No. Take me back to jail.”
She held out her hands. The Drakes froze.
“Wait, what?”
Erin looked at Olesm.
“I can’t deal with them. And I can’t get them to go. So…take me back to jail. I hear we’re getting beef stew for dinner.”
“You cannot do that.”
Zevara stared at Erin. The young woman smiled a bit mockingly.
“Oh yeah? Why not? I’m not cooperating. What’re you gonna do, arrest me twice?”
“We could kick you off this wall for aiding the enemy.”
Embria offered. Ilvriss quieted her with a look. He stared at Erin and then sighed.
“What do you want, then?”
Erin smiled.
“You’re willing to talk instead of give ultimatums?”
“If there is no other choice…my patience is limited, however. As are the concessions I’m willing to make. The Goblins leaving is paramount. Tell me your demands.”
Ilvriss looked down at Erin. She nodded.
“In that case, give the Redfangs back their gear and get ready to let them go. And let me negotiate with Numbtongue. On my own terms.”
“You’ll get them to leave? Really?”
Olesm looked at Erin. She hesitated.
“I think so. He’s not an idiot. But you have to let the Redfangs go. I’m positive Numbtongue won’t budge unless we do.”
A grinding sound came from Embria. She did not like this plan any more than the others did.
“And if we refuse? If we attack the Goblins or don’t release our hostages?”
Erin shrugged. She stared at Embria without blinking.
“If you kill them or hurt them or refuse to let them go? I guess he’ll stay put. Without hurting anyone or doing much more than this. Horrible, right? He probably won’t hurt me or attack my inn. But I’ll bet you that when the Goblin Lord arrives, Numbtongue will join right up. So there you are.”
She waited. Ilvriss looked disgusted and resigned by turns. Zevara just nodded.
“We’ll get the Hobgoblins out of prison. We have some terms of our own.”
She outlined them succinctly. Erin shrugged.
“I’ll tell him that. Now, if you could let me get back to my inn? And give me a key for Numbtongue’s shackles. Oh, and get me a new guitar. His is broken.”
——
Erin climbed down a ladder down to the muddy Floodplains. She still couldn’t leave the city via the gates—not because of the water, but because of the Goblin ‘threat’. She grimaced as her feet landed in the mud.
“Ew. Squishy.”
At least the bridge to her inn was still there. The valleys were still flooded, and Erin could make out dark shapes swimming in the murky waters. She crossed her bridge, trying not to slip on the wooden slats as she clung to the damp ropes. Her inn was farther away than she remembered it being—then again, she’d been used to the magic door so she’d forgotten it was a ten minute walk.
For some reason, the magic door hadn’t connected to Liscor no matter how long Erin had waited. So she made the journey on foot, key in hand. Zevara had refused to get Erin a guitar, and she hadn’t let Erin go buy one either. Erin was nearly at her inn when the door flew open and someone rushed out. Several someones, in fact.
“Mrsha, no, don’t jump—”
Erin yelped and nearly tumbled down the hill as Mrsha leapt at her. Her feet skidded in the mud, and Erin nearly fell butt-first into the mud. She was only saved by Lyonette grabbing her. The two girls skidded halfway down the hill, then saved themselves.
“Erin! You’re back! Are you okay?”
“I’m good! Mrsha, you’re covered in mud! Let’s get to the inn!”
Erin shepherded the muddy Mrsha up the hill and entered the inn. Lyonette was speaking rapidly the entire time.
“You’ve seen the Goblins, right? Numbtongue is leading them! And there was an attack on the inn while you were away, Erin! Someone stole the door!”
“I heard. Olesm told me some of it. And we got the door back?”
“Yes! But the mana stone that connects us to Pallass is—”
“—gone. Which puts Liscor up poo creek without a paddle.”
Erin succinctly summarized the situation. She stared around her inn as Mrsha went to roll on some white towels. She saw heads turn.
“Erin?”
Her inn was full. Not of her regular clientele, but adventurers. The Horns, Griffon Hunt, the Silver Swords…even teams like Bevussa’s Wings of Pallass were there, sitting together. It seemed as though all the teams in Liscor had congregated in Erin’s inn—they were the only ones willing to leave the city with the Goblins so nearby.
“Erin! How was jail? Wait—how’s Bird? Lyonette asked at the Hive, and they only said that he was alive!”
Ceria stood up. Pisces sniffed as he passed by Mrsha.
“It seems we’re both fellow victims of incarceration now. Has your sojourn in prison kept you from noticing the obvious, Erin? There are quite a number of Goblins roaming the Floodplains.”
Erin laughed as her friends greeted her.
“Hi Ceria, hi Pisces. Yvlon, Ksmvr. Hey Halrac, Revi—yes, I saw the Goblins, Pisces. I’m actually supposed to do something about them. Bevussa! I just saw you and Keldrass in jail!”
The Garuda raised a mug, and Keldrass nodded to her. Both teams were sitting far apart and giving each other the stink-eye now and then. It had been a brawl between a number of adventuring teams in the guild that had landed them in prison.
“What are you going to do, Erin?”
The young woman paused. She was wiping away some mud with a towel—not that it would matter since she was going right back out in the thick of it. She scratched her head and shrugged.
“Talk to him. That’s all. I think it’ll be fine. But I need to go now, before Zevara burns my inn down. I’ll be back in a moment to talk with you all.”
The adventurers exchanged a glance. Ceria cleared her throat.
“Need an escort? We have some things we need to tell you, Erin.”
“We’d be honored.”
Ylawes sat up. Erin frowned. She glanced around her inn and noticed a conspicuous absence. And Lyonette was giving Erin a meaningful look.
“No…I think I’m good, Ceria, Ylawes. Adventurers make Goblins uneasy. I’ll go and be back soon. Lyonette, can you walk with me part of the way? Just for a few minutes. Not you, Mrsha. You have to stay.”
