Close Kin (29 page)

"There, M, is your human
blood," explained Marak, pointing to the red part with his quill.
"And there's the elf blood," he went on, pointing to the slim white
section. Emily studied it unhappily. No wonder her magic spells never worked.

Marak picked up his quill and dipped
it, entering her into the registry. "Your age?" he asked.

"Eighteen,"
answered Emily. He entered it along with the results
of the test and then
added Seylin's name and age below it.

"Humor me,
Seylin," said Marak as he wrote. "I want to test
you,
too.

Seylin obediently pricked his own
finger and squeezed blood onto a new disk. When Marak lifted his hand from it,
Seylin's disk showed three colors. Almost the entire disk was white, but a
small section was red, and the tiniest of slivers was black.

"You see," said the King,
"you're not an elf at all. Here's your elvish blood." He pointed to
the white section. "That's quite a bit, but elves aren't like goblins.
They never marry other races if they
have
any choice at all, and only the women can. An elf man
couldn't have children with an elf cross, not even
one as powerful as
Kate. No elf
would ever call you an elf. Do you see this?" he added,
pointing to the tiny black section. "That's
your goblin blood, so
you're a goblin. One drop is all it takes."

Irina's disk was totally
white.

"Now, that's an elf,"
observed Marak with satisfaction. "Is she seventeen, Sable?" And when
Sable nodded, he entered her age. Then he wrote Thaydar's information below
hers.

"Sable," continued Marak. "Sabul,"
he added, writing the char
acters. "'Igniting
the red flames."' He paused and put down his quill
to study the
black haired elf woman before him.

"In the
reign of Aganir Halbi, the elf King named Winter
Frost," he said, "and in the reign of my
ancestor Marak the Antlered,
the goblin King's
military commander claimed the honor of an elf bride, and he and his men
attacked the Top Shield Star Camp. The
camp
lord fell in that battle, and so did his son, but a young elf turned
the
tide. He fought so fiercely that he killed the goblin commander himself, along
with a number of the Guard, and no elf brides were taken that night. As a
reward, the elf King gave that young man the
lordship
of the camp along with a new name, Sabul, the Raging Fire
because he had
fought like a raging fire among the goblins."

Sable stared at the
goblin King in astonishment. "How do you know that?" she asked.

"I read it in the
chronicles," replied Marak. "Both of them. We have the elvish
chronicles, too, for that span of years."

Sable didn't even feel the prick. A
raging fire. Sabul. She remembered her father with a surge of compassion. He'd
been hard on them, but he'd been hard on himself, too, and she wished she could
find his spirit somewhere and tell him about the first Lord Sabul.

"Pure
elf," commented Marak, glancing at the white disk.
"How old are you, Sable?" She came out of her
daydream with
a jolt.

"I know the
number for it," she confessed, ashamed.

"Tell me what you know about
it," suggested Marak. "We can probably find the number."

"Irina and
I share the same birthday moon," began Sable slowly,
thinking
about numbers. "We were both born in the middle month
at the summer camp. When I reached my marriage
moon, that
meant I was eighteen, but
at that same moon, Irina was only twelve.
She won't be eighteen until
that moon comes back next summer."

"Very
good," said the goblin King. "You were eighteen five years
ago, so that means you're twenty-three now. Next summer,
you'll be
twenty-four."
He wrote down her age and Tinsel's information
below it. Sable stared at him in awe and thought about
all the things
he knew: elvish and
reading and writing and magic and enough numbers to count the stars in the sky.
She wondered what it would be like to know so much, and how long it must have
taken to learn.

"That
completes the registry," said Marak, blotting the page and setting the
book aside. "Now I need to put a magical symbol on you
so
that the doors know not to let you out." He took a bottle of gold ink and
a small paintbrush from the drawer and worked the magic
on Irina. "And remember, Sable, that I'll let you out for the full
moon.
Don't try to fight the spell." He worked the magic and studied the letter,
but Sable didn't show the burning that Kate had after her own wedding ceremony.

"Very good,"
said Marak, putting down the ink and brush.
"Now
we come to the Binding Spell, which is the actual marriage. Seylin and M,
you're first," he added, coming over to them. He plucked a hair from
Emily's head and wrapped it around Seylin's
right
wrist. Then he plucked a hair from Seylin's head and wrapped it around Emily's
wrist. As he wrapped the hair, it seemed to vanish
from his fingers, but the hair could still be
seen, deep under the skin,
encircling
the wrist like a thread. Irina came closer to look, and Emily
held out
her wrist so that she could see.

"This
magic," explained Marak, "ensures that the goblin genealo
gies are accurate. As long as the married couple remain
true to each
other, those
hairs can't be felt. If a spouse commits adultery, the hair
begins
to itch, and a rash spreads up and down the arm. That itch only stops when the
spouse names the other guilty party in front of
the King, so I can correct the genealogies if necessary, and in front
of
the other spouse, so he or she
can decide on a suitable revenge. But the
worst revenge is that the
entire kingdom knows about it," he con
cluded
cheerfully. "The confessions always take place at court, and
they're
very well attended."

The goblin King turned to his new
couple.

"Congratulations on your
marriage," he said pleasantly, "and because you certainly won't want
to take her back to your Guard quarters, Seylin, the goblins have decorated M's
quarters instead.
That required doing some
cleaning, M, so if you can't find anything,
ask Kate where she had
things put. Seylin, come see me tomorrow about new employment that will change
your living quarters."

The
young pair received the congratulations of the others and left
the
room, going back through the stables and down the corridor that
had been Emily's
first view of the goblin kingdom. They paused to
lean out a window together, as they had done on that first night. The
view
of the lake valley, crossed by twinkling lights, seemed one of the most
beautiful sights in the world.

Marak performed the Binding Spell on
Thaydar and Irina, and
now Irina had a hair
of her own to study, black against the whiteness
of her slender wrist.

"Congratulations on your
marriage, old friend," said the King,
"and,
Irina, I hope you'll be very happy. Kate left some clothes in the
dressing room for you to try on until you can have
your own clothes
made."

Thaydar and Irina left the room
together, leaving Sable rather stunned.

"But -- she isn't married now,
surely?" she asked in confusion. "Irina's still just a child."

"It's all
right, Sable," said Marak reassuringly. "I know that rule
about
waiting until the marriage moon is very important in elvish
society, but it's never been true among the
goblins. Of course, if
Irina were
younger, she wouldn't be ready for marriage, but she's sev
enteen, and
that's old enough."

As Sable mulled
this over, the goblin King performed the Bind
ing
Spell, and she was soon captivated by the sight of a thick silver thread
shining around her wrist. She raised her arm and turned it, watching the silver
sparkle in the bright light, and Tinsel smiled at the serious look on her face.

"Congratulations
to both of you," said Marak. "Tinsel, spend
the
week with your wife, and keep her away from crowds. You've been moved into the
most elaborate of the elf-bride quarters, on the
green level. You'll find that your role as husband to an elf lord's
daugh
ter is more important to the kingdom than your role as a member of the
King's Guard, and I know you'll treat it as such. I hope you'll both be very
happy. In fact, I insist on it."

The goblin King
watched the sober young pair leave the room hand in hand. As they went through
the large square room, he saw Sable glance apprehensively at the ceiling, and
he made a mental
note to check up on her
claustrophobia after a couple of days. Then
he turned and surveyed all
the clutter the ceremonies had created.
Tomorrow,
he would come back and retrieve the elf brides' registry
and the magical
items. He still had one more important errand to perform before he could sleep
tonight.

∗ ∗ ∗

Richard
had managed to elude all adult supervision. Emily had left
the stable convinced that he was with Brindle,
and Brindle was sure
he had seen the
boy with Emily. It was hardly surprising that
Richard could accomplish
this. Even without an expert illusionist
for
a father, he had lived long enough on the streets to know how to
make
himself disappear.

Once Richard's
companions left, goblin servants emerged to
take
care of Dinner. They examined the new horse carefully, gave
him a thorough grooming, and prepared him a hot
mash to eat.
While he enjoyed his
meal, they argued over his various features and
faults. Finally, they
turned him loose in a princely stall of his own, cleaned up the area, and left.
Richard watched everything from behind some grain sacks, taking care not to
attract attention.

As soon as the stables were quiet, he
hurried back to the iron door and felt all over its smooth surface for a latch.

"What are you doing?"
inquired a booming voice. "Didn't I just let you in?"

The
boy looked around the empty corridor, but no one was there.

"Which
one of you said that?" he demanded bravely.

"Which one of
us?" The voice was puzzled. "I just see you and
me. And stop that!" it continued as he slid
his fingers over the
hinges. "I'm very ticklish!"

Richard's
mouth formed an O.

"I don't believe it!" he
breathed. "It's the blinking door, isn't it? Well, if you're the door,
then you can just let me out!"

"Sorry,"
replied the door officiously. "No minors allowed outside
without
their parents."

"But I'm
not one of your miners!" exclaimed the boy. "I've never
been
in a mine before now!"

"You're confusing me,"
remarked the door. "I never open when I'm confused."

Richard
began pounding on the iron surface.

"I'm
built to withstand that," it observed stoically.

"Listen,
if you don't open up right now, I'll--"

"Good
evening, goblin King."

Richard froze,
his heart in his mouth. The authorities had him
at
last.

"Good
evening, door," replied a pleasant voice. "Good evening,

Richard. Why are you beating up my door? Are you going
so soon?"
The terrified boy
huddled against the iron surface, his eyes tightly shut.

"Your Majesty, if you'll just
let me out," he whispered, "you'll never see me again.

"I've no
doubt of that," remarked the voice. "Why would I want
to
let you out?"

"You
don't want me here," insisted Richard desperately. "You've
been angry about me
from the start. I know what you think. You
think
I'm not good enough to be one of your goblins. You think I'm
trash,"
he concluded miserably. "And you'd be right about that."

"I think you're very smart, and
I'm impressed at your character. Now, why don't you turn around and look at
me?"