T. Kingfisher - Nine Goblins

There was no change in the humming. It was a tuneless little repetition, hmm-hmm-hmm-hm-hm-hmm-hm, in no particular order.

Why don’t I have a crossbow? I could shoot it from here and save us all the trouble. She should have borrowed one from Sings-to-Trees. Surely he had one for dealing with…something. Rabid foxes or rogue deer or whatever.

She crept the length of the pew, shot another look at the fire—it appeared to be made out of broken chairs and cushions from the pews—and looked for the human. It had moved a foot or two to one side, and was fumbling with something on the ground.

Probably wants syrup on its pancakes, she thought darkly.

She took the chance and scurried to the next pew, and then she heard a quiet glug and had a hysterical urge to laugh, because that was exactly the sound of somebody pouring out syrup.

The tuneless humming stopped, and was replaced by the scrape of fork on plate, and the sounds of chewing. Nessilka doubted she would have been able to hear either if the town had not been so deadly silent.

Did she dare risk another pew?

She had just decided to go down the length of the pew to the far end and use that concealment to move forward when she heard the door creak.

It was louder this time, and damnit, Murray still had his earplugs in, so of course he didn’t hear it, and if they got out of this alive, she was going to box his ears—

The eating noises stopped.

“Hello?” said a voice, shockingly close. Cloth rustled as the human stood up. “Is someone there?”

She stood up. If the human fixed on her, maybe it would overlook Murray.

It was standing less than five feet away. It still had a fork and a plate of pancakes in its hand. Blonde hair poked out from under the cloth on its head, and it—she?—stared at Sergeant Nessilka with wide blue eyes.

“Um,” Nessilka said. “Hi?”

“You’re a goblin,” said the human girl, sounding strangely aggrieved, as if she had been expecting someone else.

“Goblin,” said Nessilka. “Yes. Absolutely. Born and bred. You can tell by the feet, see?”

She held up a foot. This was not strictly necessary, as any idiot could have identified Nessilka as a goblin at a hundred paces, but while the girl was looking at her foot, she was not looking at Murray, who had damn well better be hunkering down behind a pew and pretending to be a prayer book.

“It wasn’t supposed to be goblins,” said the girl.

“Um. Sorry.” Nessilka was not going to go for her club. It would probably be sensible to go for her club, and she knew this human was going to be bad news—innocent bystanders did not make pancakes while surrounded by the piled dead—but it was surprisingly hard to hit a kid who wasn’t doing anything but staring at you. Even a human kid.

I am going to regret this later, thought Nessilka, I know I am, but I’m still not going for my club, what am I, stupid, why am I not going for my club…?

“So…are you here all alone?” she asked instead.

“Oh, yes,” said the girl, a faint tremor in her voice. “The wizard came and—it was horrible—all those people—” She put her face in her hands, and her hair fell down over it in a perfect picture of misery.

Nessilka did not buy this for a second. She supposed it was possible that it was just because humans were The Enemy, but all her sergeanting instincts told her there was a little too much practice in that delivery. If a new recruit had come to her with that kind of theatrics, she’d have knocked him down and had Thumper sit on him until he told the truth.

“I’m an orphan, ” sobbed the girl.

“So am I,” said Nessilka. “We could bond, if you like.”

Somehow she didn’t think the girl was going to take her up on the offer.

“The wizard said these words…”

“Wizard, hmm?” She folded her arms and leaned against the back of the pew. She was pretty sure the girl was watching her from behind her hands and that curtain of hair. “Where did he go?”

“It was so awful! He said these words, and—all those people— ”

“Yes, yes,” said Nessilka, “you said that bit already.” She caught a glimpse of Murray peeking out behind the pew and gave him a death glare. He had the grace to look ashamed, mouthed Sorry, Sarge, and pulled back out of sight.

“He left,” said the girl, sniffling. “And then everybody was dead and my brother is gone and I was all alone—”

“Overlooked you, hmm?” Nessilka began wandering down the aisle towards the altar. Anything to get her eyes away from Murray—maybe he’d be able to slip out the door, not that she could trust him to do anything so sensible...

“I th-think so…” The girl took her hands away from her face. “Please, you must save me! Take me away from here, before he returns!”

“Door’s open,” said Nessilka. “Why didn’t you just leave and go for help?”

“L-leave?” This clearly took her by surprise. Didn’t rehearse that part of your speech, did you?

“Seems a bit weird to stay here and make breakfast while you wait for this wizard of yours to come back.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not very nice,” she said. “It’s been horrible, and I’m the sold survivor— ”

“ Sole survivor,” said Murray, who had never in his life been able to resist correcting someone’s grammar.

Nessilka winced, and wondered when he’d taken out the useless earplugs.

Murray coughed apologetically and stood up. “And you’re actually not,” he said. “There’s at least one old guy in a little house on the edge of town who could probably pull through with a bit of water and some tending.”

“What?” This information somehow did not seem to gratify the human at all. “Old Man Houghton? How—” Her face smoothed out, and she said, in a much different tone, “Oh. That’s wonderful, of course!”

Nessilka and Murray glanced at each other.

“You don’t know! It’s been horrible!” said the girl, and burst into furious tears.

Were all human civilians this wet? Nessilka didn’t much like humans to begin with, what with the taking-her-homeland bit and lately the always-trying-to-kill-her bit, but she’d give the human soldiers this—they didn’t cry at you. Not until you’d cut their legs off, anyway, and that didn’t count.

“Uh, Sarge…” said Murray.

The human sobbed.

“There there, yes, you’ve suffered terribly. ‘Scuse us a minute,” said Nessilka, grabbing Murray by the arm. She yanked him back towards the door and hissed, in furious Glibber, “ Are you out of your mind?”

“I think she’s the one who did it, Sarge!”

“Well, obviously! And I ought to bust you back down to private for disobeying orders!”

“But Sarge, I think—”

“You’re not going to work,” said the girl, in a clear, carrying voice without a trace of a sob.

Nessilka wheeled around, and found that the girl was between them and the door. Her hand dropped instinctively to the haft of her club.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” said the girl. “You were supposed to be elves. The elves were supposed to come and take me away to find John, and you’re just going to ruin everything.”

The human’s eyes were very bright. Crazylight, thought Nessilka. Sane people’s eyes don’t look like that unless they’re dying.

“Let’s not do anything rash,” said Murray, spreading his hands. “We can talk about this—”

Ten steps, thought Nessilka. Over the back of the pew and ten steps and then club her.