Grizelda (13 page)

Back outside, she slapped herself for being
so stupid. Asking for paper? Hopefully they’d just lose the order
and forget about the whole thing. She looked up and down the
street, trying to decide which way to go next. There were not many
goblins out and about here. Most of them moved along in a
businesslike way, completely ignoring her. Well, at least it was a
lot better than jeers. One goblin hung around on the corner looking
at a storefront. She’d been on her way to the square anyway when
she found the commissary, so she decided to keep going.

But no sooner had she started moving when the
goblin on the corner abandoned his store and started walking also.
She gritted her teeth. It was
him
, that goblin who was
following her. She was sure of it. He ambled from store to store,
purposely avoiding looking like he was in any sort of a hurry, but
he was definitely following her. She picked up her pace, and he
sped up, too.

By the time they got to the square, she was
trying to figure out how she was going to lose him. He couldn’t
keep his cover like this forever. Window-shopping was all well and
good, but he must realize if he kept up like this long enough,
somebody was going to notice. If she crossed the square, he would
have to give it up. There was no way he could up with her and still
pretend to be looking at stores. She set off diagonally across the
square, keeping half an eye behind her to see what he would do.

To her astonishment, he decided to keep
following her. He was not even pretending anymore. He stepped out
into the square, obviously intending to go after her. Then Grizelda
started to get really scared. She broke into a run, and the goblin
ran, too.

Fueled by panic, she put on more speed, not
paying any attention to which way she was going. Once she got to
the other side of the square she wove through the city streets,
taking turns at random. She never looked back to see whether he was
still on her tail. Finally, exhausted, she slowed to a fast walk,
then stopped and sat down.

She was in another of one of those run-down
parts of town on the fringes of the Goblin Union, all abandoned
buildings and cracked, unmaintained roads. The place where she was
sitting had once been the front steps to a factory, now closed
down. There was no other being in sight.

At least she’d lost the spy, then, or
whatever he was. Lord. They’d chanted
kill the ogre
when
they put her on trial. What if he had it in for her? But now she
had a new problem. She’d taken so many twists and turns on her way
out here that she had no idea how to get back to the center of
town. She took her best guess, got up, and prepared herself for a
long walk.

Before she’d gotten more than a block,
though, she was stopped by an amazing sight.

Between a couple of buildings there was a
vacant lot. But even though it was vacant, it was far from empty.
It was dotted all over with broken machines, scattered about like
haystacks in a field. They were leaning shipwrecks, twisted hulks
of metal and broken springs. After patching and repatching them,
the goblins had finally given up on these ones and dragged them
here to rust. They’d scavenged all the useful parts and left
nothing behind but the skeletons. The corpses. This place was a
graveyard for machines.

Grizelda did not want to linger in this
place. It gave her a creepy sensation, as if she’d put her hand in
her pocket and run into something slimy. But just as she was
turning to go, there was a telltale flicker of green light from
between a pair of the derelicts. What could a ratrider be doing
here? Almost against herself, she crept forward.

She moved ever so slowly, holding her breath,
willing herself to blend in to the shadows. She did not have to
worry about being seen, after all. Meanwhile the green light danced
and bobbed, casting crazed shadows across the walls. She crept
around the curve of one of the machines until it no longer blocked
her view. Even exposed as she was, she knew the ratrider would not
see her. And then she watched.

A flock of bats had taken up residence in one
of the skeletons, hanging from the metal slats like so many furry
black seedpods. They were sleeping this time of day, or at least
they should have been. The ratrider moving among them was
disturbing them. She swung nimbly from handhold to handhold through
the roostery, a lantern stick strapped to her back and a
contraption of ropes held in her teeth. All around, the bats
shifted their wings in irritation and wrapped themselves up
tighter.

Grizelda recognized this ratrider. She was
the one in the aviation gear who had given her such a cool
reception at the ratriders’ grotto. She was still wearing that
gear. Heavy boots, gloves, goggles pushed up to the top of her
head, a model of toughness and functionality. Unlike all the other
ratriders, who took their fashion cues from magpies, she wore no
ornaments of any kind.

The ratrider spit out the ropes and slung
them over her shoulder, then, balancing herself, reached out to
stroke the membrane of one bat’s wing. It unfurled halfway, the bat
gave her a reproachful look, then started to wrap itself up
again.

But the ratrider would have none of that. She
caught its wing, while reaching into her pocket for something.

“Hey. I’ve got something for you.”

The bat was curious enough to snap at the
treat she held out. She pulled it away, backing down a roughly
horizontal metal spar, finding a new foothold with each step. The
bat bestirred itself enough to shuffle along upside-down after her,
every once in a while reaching up to have a go at the treat.

“That’s right. Come on. Come on.”

All at once the ratrider tossed the treat
straight up into the air. The bat left its perch in a flutter, and
the ratrider threw herself onto its back. The bat let out an
ear-splitting screech that made Grizelda flinch. It zigged back and
forth like a crazed moth, trying frantically to dislodge its new
passenger. Meanwhile the ratrider was calm, wrestling the mess of
ropes that Grizelda now saw was a bridle down over the bat’s
face.

The ratrider struggled to her feet on the
bat’s back and took hold of the reins.

“Hup!”

The bat responded instantly, soaring across
the top of the cavern in a wide arc. Another twitch of the reins
and it crashed through the roostery, scattering the other bats in
all directions like startled pigeons. Then she sent it diving
skimming low across a stream running through the center of the
lot.

She whooped.

Ratrider and bat seemed like a centaur of the
air to Grizelda. They responded to each other on the subtlest cues,
now that the bat had accepted her dominance, and swooped, zagged,
and barrel-rolled their way across the cavern. The other bats could
do nothing but dive out of their way. Exultant, the ratrider sent
them in a hairpin turn around the pinnacle of one of the
skeletons.

But she must have made a miscalculation,
because the bat’s wingtip grazed metal. That touch was enough to
set off a catastrophe of crumpling metal, as the skeleton, grown
unstable through years of rust and still cave air, collapsed in on
itself. It jangled and crashed to the ground, sending up a puff of
ancient dust where it had stood just a moment ago.

The bat screeched and veered off course.
Grizelda could see the ratrider was wrestling with it, trying to
yank it back into line with the reins.

“Stop it, Apollo! Stop it! Get control of
yourself!”

But the bat was beyond help. It flapped back
and forth in a panic, trying to escape the din that was still
reverberating all around it. As soon as it reached a point that was
near the ground, the ratrider leapt from its back and rolled.

Grizelda was up and kneeling by her in a
flash, all hiding forgotten. Something flew past her head, a flurry
of wings, screeching and heading for the outer caverns.

The ratrider sat up, pulled off her goggles
and rubbed her eyes. She touched her shoulder and winced. Then she
saw Grizelda kneeling over her and leapt to her feet.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Are you okay?” Grizelda asked.

“You saw everything, didn’t you? Ouch!” When
the ratrider took her hand from her shoulder, there was blood.

“Look, you’re hurt, can I take you–”

“No! Why don’t you just leave me alone, ogre?
Why don’t you leave me the hell alone?” The ratrider was standing
hunched with her arms folded. She wasn’t acting like the other
ratriders Grizelda had met at all. Why was she so angry, when she
was only trying to help?

“But–”

“I said scram!” Grizelda looked into the
ratrider’s eyes and saw that she was serious. There was nothing she
could do to help here. A little awkwardly, she backed out of the
machine graveyard and left.

Chapter 12

Grizelda spent the rest of the afternoon
hanging around inside the cafeteria, hoping to avoid the spy
goblin. Late-lunch stragglers came and went as she sat at a table
in the back, avoiding eye contact with everybody. A couple of
times, with a start, she thought she recognized the goblin who’d
been following her, but she could never really be sure.

This could not go on. She was going to have
to tell somebody, but she couldn’t figure out who. Crome? He wasn’t
likely to be sympathetic. Most of the other goblins were strangers
to her, and besides, they hated her guts. The only goblin who was
at all her friend was Lenk. All right, then. She’d ask Lenk for
help the next chance she got.

Gradually she realized that all the goblins
in the cafeteria were getting up and leaving. They should have been
coming in for dinner at about this time, but instead, within the
space of a few minutes, the room was completely empty. Not caring
to be left alone when the spy could be anywhere, she got up and
opened the cafeteria doors.

The city square was already crowded, and it
was getting fuller every minute. Like a repeat of the day of her
trial, they were all flowing toward one point, the high, carved
archway in the back, leading to the Union Hall. It wasn’t another
trial, was it? She stepped out into the crowd, getting buffeted
about as she tried to ask the goblins for information. As usual,
they ignored her until finally somebody told her they were going to
Proletarian Theater. That didn’t help much.

By this point she was jammed up in a crush of
elbows and knees and had no choice but to flow along with the
crowd. For the first time, she passed under the archway that led to
the Hall. She’d never realized how massive it was until she got up
close. It was carved all over with old goblin script, and suggested
tons of rock hanging in suspension, ready to fall down on her at
any minute. They used to be important, these goblins. Before they
got poor.

A cold shadow passed over her, then she was
inside the Union Hall. There was a small circular waiting area at
the bottom of the hall, just big enough to contain the goblins as
they were passing through on their way to their seats. Three
equally spaced sets of steps cut into the walls led the goblins up
to the higher levels. Here at the bottom the steps were so shallow
they were almost the same as level ground. The stage where she’d
stood just a few days before on trial was nothing more than a small
black square high above, silhouetted against the glare of
lights.

Well, it looked like something important was
going on, but she couldn’t figure out what. She got shoved by a
goblin pushing past her to get to his seat. She couldn’t just stand
here staring. Judging by the crowds it looked like everybody in the
Union was supposed to attend, so she’d better play along and find a
seat.

Most of the lower rings of seats were already
filled, so she followed the goblins who were filing up the stairs.
The first time she found an empty seat and sat down, she got
herself a sharp jab in the elbow. The goblin next to her glared at
her and pointed upwards. Typical. She got the message and got up
again with a duck of her head.

She moved on, but it was proving hard to find
a seat that was far enough away from the other goblins that they
would tolerate her presence. Halfway up the hall, where the walls
turned vertical, the seating inverted itself. Risers became
balconies and each balcony stuck out a little farther than the one
below it. There were dramatically fewer goblins up here, and before
too long she found a row where the only being in sight was an older
goblin seven or eight seats away chewing on a strip of meat. Either
he was ignoring her or he didn’t realize she was there, so she sat
down.

A moment later, the lights dimmed and a
peevish little messenger appeared at the foot of the stage carrying
a clipboard. He looked around, then jogged up onto the stage.

“May I have your attention, please?”

The murmur of the crowd, as they talked to
each other in low voices and settled into their seats, continued
unabated. He stood around looking uncomfortable for almost a full
minute until Chairman Grendel in the foremen’s balcony stood up and
lifted his arms. Slowly, the crowd quieted down.

“The Council of Foremen has a few
announcements to make before we begin,” the messenger said.
“Firstly, Manufacturing Floor R is being shut down. We repeat,
Manufacturing Floor R is being shut down. All citizens who have
been working on that floor should report to the government building
tomorrow morning to receive their reassignments. Um…”

Well, this was boring. Grizelda struggled to
pay attention to the messenger, who stopped, looked up at the
ceiling, frowned. Then he started reading off of the clipboard
again, holding it close to his face.

“Ogre officials from the township of Yves met
with Foreman Ranshin today and expressed interest in buying our pig
iron.”